Never Kiss a Highlander by Michele Sinclair (7)

Chapter Seven

Hamish stepped out of the stables and looked up at the sky. It was going to be another cold and windy day. But the air did not smell like rain. Tomorrow the weather could bring rain that would not stop for days, which meant, windy or not, he needed to ride out and meet with Davros today. He might not have another opportunity.

He was about to step back inside and check on the stable boy’s progress when he spied Mairead—the very woman he had been looking for—standing in the doorway of the keep’s entrance with her back facing the courtyard. She stood there for several seconds and then he saw the deep green of her gown disappearing back inside the keep—but not to the right toward the stairwell, but to the left. The only room in that direction was his bedchambers. Hamish crossed his arms and waited. After several minutes, he realized Mairead was not pacing by his door or even pounding on it. She had gone inside.

Stepping back inside the stables, Hamish told Adiran to ready a second horse after finishing with his. That he would be back in a few minutes for them both. The boy nodded, surprised that Hamish remembered his name.

Hamish headed across the courtyard with a spring in his step, eager to find out what Mairead’s reaction was going to be upon being caught. Hopefully, she felt guilty for snooping in his room uninvited. It would make it easier to persuade her to come with him on today’s journey.

Last night, after Mairead had left to check on Rab, he had reconsidered what Robert had been hinting at and had decided to give up his nightly reflection in the great hall. He wished he could just as easily remove Mairead from his thoughts. She invaded his dreams and was the last person he thought of before falling asleep. He woke this morning calling himself a fool. Why should he abstain from Mairead’s company? She was the primary reason being at Foinaven had not felt like a burden but . . . rather enjoyable. He did not just endure Mairead’s company, he wanted it . . . he needed it. Aye, every moment he spent with her was going to make it harder when he left—alone. But if he was going to experience pain either way, he would rather it be later. At least then, he would be back home where she was not constantly around, reminding him of what he could not have.

Hamish was about to pass through the keep’s entrance when Mairead came out, looking down as she dusted her hands off on her skirt. “Find what you need?”

Mairead’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. She saw where his hand was pointing. “What makes you think I was in your chambers?”

Hamish stepped around her and pushed open the semi-closed door. He inhaled deeply through his nose and then said with a grin, “I can smell you.”

Mairead watched in mortification as he went to the nearest table to grab his sword and a travel bundle. She wanted to deny the accusation, but it would be a lie and the big grin on his face made it clear that he was not guessing she had been in there. He knew. “What put you in such a jovial mood?” she asked, trying to change the topic.

Hamish shrugged. “I like the way you smell. Come visit anytime.”

Mairead pursed her lips as he grinned at her again. The sincerity of both the grin and the invitation was almost overwhelming. “Stop smiling.”

Hamish chuckled and then went to hold open the door. “Why? I always smile at you.”

Mairead shook her head and followed him out into the courtyard. She crossed her arms. “Aye, you do. But this morning your smile is unnervingly candid. As if you are truly happy. Normally the curve of your mouth twitches, which I’ve figured out is a clear sign that you are up to something.”

Much of the time Hamish liked that Mairead could read him so well, but right now was not one of them. If he was not careful, she would connect his genuinely happy demeanor to seeing her and the last thing he needed was to empower her with the knowledge of just how much he enjoyed her company. “Ah, but this time you were the one up to something. I wonder, just what of my many secrets did you find?”

Mairead let go a short, terse breath. “You know that I found nothing.”

“I am well aware there was nothing to find. But I am curious as to what you expected to find. I mean what could I possibly have in my chambers regarding my plan for Ulrick?”

“Your plan?” Mairead scoffed. “I knew all along that would be fruitless. I was hoping to learn just what you do in there after the rest of the world has risen and started the day.”

She had already probed Ava on the topic and the girl had been no help. Mairead had hoped that the temporary chambermaid just had not known what to look for, but after examining the room, she had to agree—there was nothing there one would not find in any man’s bedchambers. The few items Selah stored in the room looked basically untouched and everything else was as expected. Hamish had traveled with little and even if he did have more, there was nowhere in the room to hide it. “I won’t give up. I will find out,” she pressed, more to convince herself than him.

“I have little doubt that you will,” he replied, and curled his index finger for her to follow him.

Mairead waited until he was halfway across the courtyard before she picked up her dress and ran to catch up with him. “False flattery will not distract me.”

Hamish stopped in front of the stables and pulled out two fur wraps from the bundle. He held out one to her. “First, I was being sincere. Second, we have known each other for years. You were obstinate then and still are. And third . . .”—he lowered his voice to a sensual level that only she could hear—“when I’m trying to distract a woman, I employ much more pleasurable means.”

Mairead grabbed the fur in her hands and was about to issue a retort when she was interrupted by two women passing by wishing Hamish a good morning in altogether too cheerful voice. Their overt friendliness irked her and she knew there was no reason for it to. Hamish was an extremely good-looking man and other women were bound to notice. It was natural that they flirt with him whenever they got the chance. But did they have to do it right in front her? It was like they knew she had no chance with him and considered her to be no competition.

“Jealous?”

Mairead’s eyebrows shot up as she realized her emotions had been plastered all over her face. Pride took over, saving her with a quick retort. “I probably would be if it were not for all the male company I’ve had lately.”

“I would normally encourage you to join those old farmers again, or even offer you the chance to continue with your search of my chambers, but today, I need your help.” He waved to Adiran to bring the horses.

Saddled horses and a fur covering meant that Hamish intended to travel farther than the village. “Just where are we going?” Hamish did not answer. Instead, he cupped his hands to help her mount the smaller of the two horses. He then pulled the blanket around her and draped it so that it also shielded the exposed part of her legs. The attention he was giving her was unnerving for many reasons, most she refused to acknowledge. “Getting me bundled up is not enough to make me go with you. Where do you want to go?”

“To see Davros.”

“Davros?” She blinked in surprise. “He doesn’t like strangers.”

“That’s why I need your help. Besides, you were going there anyway. I distinctly remember on the day I arrived that you promised him to visit his wife.”

Mairead narrowed her gaze. “Does the reason you want to meet with Davros have to do with your plan?”

He knew she was stubborn enough to refuse if he did not answer. “It might,” he answered. It definitely did if Davros agreed to his proposal. Hamish knew that bringing her along would give Mairead tremendous insight into what he was ultimately devising, but he did need her help. From what he learned earlier that morning, Davros could be instrumental to his success. And just walking up to the man’s front door was not advisable.

“Then you know my answer.”

* * *

Hamish gave a light tug on the reins to avoid a group of children playing chase outside one of the village cottages. The path they were on would soon fork and both led to Davros. The left was a much longer, more circuitous route and followed the river. The right was the opposite. It was a significantly shorter, direct route, but it required one to go over several semi-large hills, a wide valley, and then a small forest. Hamish wanted to go left. Not because the other was more difficult, but because it came uncomfortably close to where he went early in the mornings. Soon he would bring Mairead in on his secret, but not yet. He had other things he needed to put in place first and there was just too great a chance that Mairead would do more than watch or ask questions. She would want to interfere.

Mairead pointed to her right. “There’s a shortcut if we go south and cut across the valley, but this time of year it is muddy and the wind can be strong along the hills. This way,” she said, pointing left, “follows the river before it bends north. It will take us a bit longer, but the path is wider. Farmers and merchants use it and their carts have broken down most of the rocks keeping the mud at a minimum.” She shivered and pulled the fur around her tighter. “It’s also warmer.”

Hamish sent a silent prayer of thanks to heaven. “I’m in no hurry and besides that gown is one of my favorites. I wouldn’t want to see it ruined due to a shortcut.”

Mairead issued him a sideways glance. She was cold and not in the mood to be intentionally riled by duplicitous compliments. Hamish might like her gown, and it could even be one of his favorites, but its potential ruin was not the reason he had so readily agreed to go left. When they had neared the fork, the tension in his body was almost palpable. But the moment she hinted her preference for the longer route, his shoulders deflated and the expression on his face relaxed into the smug grin he still was wearing. And if going right hadn’t been very muddy and were not so bitingly cold with today’s winds, she would have tested her theory by turning around and going that way.

The obvious postulation was that Hamish had lied and the McTiernay army was hidden in that valley. It was big enough, and yet Mairead knew without any doubt that was not the case. In the last week, someone would have reported seeing strangers and the sudden influx of a hundred men or so would definitely have affected the ability for local clansmen to hunt and feed their families. Nothing beyond the normal complaints about the weather had been heard. No one was having to go significantly farther to find game, so it was not an army. But what then? Hamish was a MacBrieve. And they did like to build things. It was not much, but he had fixed those broken scissors. Maybe Hamish was working on something that would help secure the gates. It was Foinaven’s largest weak point.

Mairead shrugged and told herself that she just needed to be a little patient now that she knew where to go for answers. She would soon be able to unravel Hamish’s plans and decide her next steps.

“So how long has it been since Foinaven has had a steward?” Hamish prompted once they were alone and out of earshot from the village.

Mairead was surprised by the sudden question. They had been riding in silence, only talking when necessary. She knew why she had been quiet—the air was bitter and she had buried most of her face in the furs. But now that they had turned north, the easterly wind was blocked by one of the larger hills in the area making talking far more feasible. Hamish had appeared to not be affected by the weather, but perhaps he was. Then again, maybe his silence had been due to a reluctance to give the village gossips any fodder. Whatever the reason, Mairead was glad for any conversation as it would make time pass much faster and the ride much more enjoyable.

“The last steward died shortly after your father,” Mairead began. “Robert decided he could handle Foinaven’s finances better than anyone he could hire and felt that Selah and I had the ability to oversee the servants.”

Hamish pursed his lips together. He had known from the first night that Foinaven had no steward, but he had assumed that the role’s vacancy was only temporary. That there had been no castle steward for some time, however, explained a lot.

To an untrained eye, Robert would seem correct—a steward was unnecessary. Foinaven appeared to be running smoothly. Servants were kept busy. Villagers enlisted help from craftsmen. Farmers, hunters, and the cooks could be seen hauling food in and out of storage areas. But what a good steward would recognize were the areas Foinaven lacked attention. Hamish was far from an expert on such matters, but even he knew that castles—even those erected in stone—required periodic maintenance. Based on Foinaven’s size and number of buildings, the noise of repairs being made should be constant. He had not yet seen anything that posed an immediate threat, but there were several places where rot had taken hold and would soon be a problem if not rectified.

Being a master mason, Robert should have known this and been the first to recognize construction issues and initiate action. And he probably would have, if he had looked. But maintenance involved no creativity. It posed no new challenges. As a child, after Robert built something it had been impossible to get him to repeat it again, even if the item could be very beneficial to his father or the clan. The boredom of repetition always prevented him from finishing. In this, the years had not changed him, though the impact of his neglect was far greater.

The lack of a steward reached beyond structure to personnel and clan matters. If not for Mairead, things would be truly dire. Technically, Selah was responsible for overseeing many of the areas of the castle, but from his vantage point she added no value. She dictated what she wanted, but instead of the steward running around seeing to her desires, it was Mairead. It was possible that it only seemed that way because Selah was tending to Robert, but the dynamic between Mairead and the staff was too seasoned to be temporary.

He was about to probe more on the subject when loud, very angry shouts could be heard up ahead. Mairead looked at him. “It sounds like Seamus and Art,” she said in disbelief. They had passed the village and were now near several large farms. Until the start of the planting season, most of the men relaxed indoors, avoiding the cold and enjoying time off from the long hours of hard work in the fields. “This is unlike them.”

Mairead urged her horse into a trot and Hamish followed her, stopping only when they neared the two men. Both ignored their approach, refusing to break eye contact. With each shout, they drew a fraction closer toward each other, increasing the chances that one of them would soon throw a punch.

Hamish held his breath and then let it slowly go. He would hate to be hit by either man. Despite his own substantial girth, both men matched him in height and were even wider than he was. It mattered little that their size was due more to fat than muscle. The weight behind their punch would not only hurt the recipient, but possibly cause serious damage. A broken nose would heal, but a jaw hit just right snapped—a fate worse than death to some.

He thought Mairead would recognize the obvious danger, but before he realized what she was planning, she had slid off her mount and moved to stand between the two men. He was about to jump down and pull her out of harm’s way, when he realized her presence might be working.

Mairead held her hands up on either side of her. “Art! Seamus! What has you so angry?”

“Ask him!” Seamus shouted, stabbing a finger over her shoulder toward Art.

Art’s dark beady eyes became slits and his face turned red as he began to clench his fists. “I did nothing! Unless ye count catching this lazy scraiste trying to steal me wall.”

“If that’s a wall, then I’m skinny wee caileag.”

Infuriated, Art moved forward and this time jabbed a finger at Seamus. “Then ye best be taking off that plaid and be puttin’ on a little girl’s dress because it was a wall yesterday, it’s a wall today and it’ll be a wall tomorrow!”

Mairead threw her hands in the air. “Art? What wall are you talking about?” From her puzzled expression, it was clear she did not remember there being a wall anywhere on or near his property.

Seamus gave out a single triumphant shout. “Even one of yer own doesn’t think that truagh thing is a wall.”

Art nudged Mairead out of the way so he could again get in Seamus’s face. “Me wife’s da built it and I’ll not be hearing her screeching till the day I die because it was destroyed by the likes of a Faill.”

“We Faills have been in these parts longer than ye MacMhathains and if ye heard me wife nagging all day about them rocks, ye’d be out there with me!”

Art’s fists came up and immediately Seamus’s followed. Mairead’s eyes grew wide as she realized that her presence was no longer enough to prevent the men from fighting. She pointed behind her as she ran to Hamish, who was still sitting on his horse. “This time you have to do something!”

Hamish arched a single brow and reached down to pull out a leather water bag. He took a large gulp, gargled loudly, and then swallowed. Mairead’s jaw dropped open, but the unexpected sound gained him both men’s attention. Seeing his opportunity, Hamish threw it at Seamus, who instinctively unballed his fists and caught it. Hamish pointed at him and the bag and said, “Have some.”

Seamus eyed Hamish for a second and then pulled the plug out to take a swig. His eyes widened and without thought he handed it to Art. Smelling its contents, the farmer immediately took it and downed several gulps. When done, he handed it back to Seamus and said, “Ahhhh, blessed ale. I’ve had nothing but weak mead fer near three weeks.”

Seamus nodded and enjoyed a couple more swallows before capping the bag. When he was done, his thick brows once again formed a straight line as he leveled a glare, this time at Hamish, before tossing him what was left of the ale. “Sharing a drink does not change things.”

Hearing the residual anger in the tone and Art’s grunt, Mairead knew the argument was seconds away from reigniting. If Hamish did not resolve the matter, this time both men would come to blows. Anyone else, a fight would be undesirable, but with these two, the damage they could cause would be horrifying. “You are Robert’s commander. Settle this,” she hissed.

Hamish stared at her for a second and then with a shrug to his shoulders, he looked at Art and Seamus and said, “You’re both farmers, right?”

“Aye,” they both replied, each poised and ready to fight should the other try to sneak in a punch.

“That’s what I thought,” Hamish said with a nod. “What you men need this time of year is more ale. Go to Foinaven and make your way to the buttery. Tell them that I sent you and they are to give you both two large tankards, filled to the brim. Once you’ve finished, then go to the main tower in the courtyard and find something that will put holes through the first floor.”

Each man dropped his fists and stared incredulously at Hamish. Hamish ignored them and instead focused on Mairead. “How many do you think? Five? Six?” Receiving no response, he nodded and looked back at the men. “Six it is. Punch six holes, three a piece, and make them about so big.” Hamish raised his hands and made a circle touching his index fingers and thumbs together. “Once you’re done, head home. Anytime between now and planting, your wives make a ridiculous request just to get you out of their sight, go back to the tower, and make another hole.”

Hamish then reached over and gathered the reins to Mairead’s horse and handed them to her. She took them automatically and remounted her horse. Hamish nodded to the two men, nudged his mount in the flanks, and once again continued toward his intended goal—Davros’s.

Mairead urged her mount to catch up and when she was sure no one was in earshot, tried to decide just which of the multitude of questions pouring through her mind to ask first. “Why would you go and tell Art and Seamus to pound holes in the tower floor?”

“You told me to.”

Mairead opened her mouth, shocked that Hamish would make such an obviously false accusation. “I did not.”

Hamish nodded his head. “Aye, you did. You said to ‘do something’ so I did.”

Mairead licked her lips and shook her head with disbelief. “You think Art and Seamus are going to walk all the way to Foinaven and spend the day cutting holes in the tower floor.”

“Aye.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Not really. Most men really enjoy ale. A tankard of it? I guarantee you both men are on their way and neither of them are thinking about fighting . . . at least not with each other as that would only delay their drinking.”

“And the holes?”

Hamish cocked his head and gave her a sideways glance. “I thought the activity would relieve some frustration. Any man caged in a house with a woman for too long is bound to get edgy.”

“How awful, especially as confined men bring their women nothing but pure joy.” Her sarcastic tone unmistakable.

Hamish chuckled. “I suspect not joy, but stress,” he said sincerely. “No doubt that is why Seamus’s wife sent him out to move the wall in the first place. With nothing to do but annoy her, she decided to give him something outside, time-consuming, and most important far from her. I would have thought all that obvious.”

Mairead sat quietly absorbing what Hamish just said and how it sounded not just plausible, but likely. But Hamish’s solution was not going to be liked by Robert when he finally recovered. “I’m curious to know how you expect to explain the state of the tower floors to my sister and your brother.”

Hamish shot her one of his playful grins that accentuated his dimples. “I’ll just tell him that this is what happens when I follow your advice and get involved with the affairs of the clan.”

Mairead opened her mouth, but almost immediately snapped it shut. Hamish eyed her carefully. Whatever she was about to say, Mairead had changed her mind, and it was not out of fear of his reaction. Her expression had shifted from major frustration to ease and contentment. She held her head up high, allowing the breeze to catch her hair and whisk it around her face. She really was beautiful. And she was also quite confident. Something had given her an idea, but just what it could be, he could not fathom.

Hamish maneuvered his horse around another large puddle, trying to decide on whether to wheedle it out of her or pursue something Art had said. He decided on the latter. “What was all that about Faills and MacMhathains?”

Mairead furrowed her brow, confused by the question. “Nothing more than what you heard. Seamus is from the Faill clan and Art is a MacMhathain.”

Disturbed by what Mairead was implying, Hamish rubbed his chin. He had been at Foinaven for nearly a week and seen at least half a dozen different plaids. He knew several small groups from other clans had joined Foinaven for protection and had assumed they still wore their old tartans because it was a costly—and therefore slow—process to replace them with MacBrieve colors. He was now beginning to think that was a very incorrect assumption. “Why are they not wearing the MacBrieve plaid?” he finally asked.

Mairead turned her head fully this time. Every feature indicated she was puzzled by the question. “Because they are not MacBrieves.”

It was Hamish’s turn to be confused. Twelve years ago, the idea of merging the MacMhathain and MacBrieve clans had seem daunting and his father had thought long and hard about how it should be done. Knowing that unity and loyalty were keys to success, he decided to use Foinaven as the tool to instill them in the clan. At the time, Foinaven had a single stone tower, but the rest was predominantly constructed out of wood. The courtyard was large, but there were relatively few buildings within the castle limits and the main village was located some distance away. Hamish had been young at the time, but as the next leader, he had been very involved in the initial decisions. It had been his idea to gradually move to a stone structure that provided not only significantly more security, but would be something all clansmen could participate in and be proud of. Seeing Foinaven today, even larger and more impressive than his initial vision, Hamish had assumed that is what had transpired.

“And how is that possible if Seamus and Art are pledged to a MacBrieve laird?”

Mairead’s mouth opened, still baffled, before forming a small O as understanding dawned on her. “Robert is not the laird of everyone who lives at Foinaven. He is more of a . . . caretaker I guess.”

Hamish blinked. What Mairead was saying was almost incomprehensible. It was certainly unacceptable.

“I thought you knew. I mean you know that Robert does not sleep in the solar,” Mairead continued. “He refused to move in there when your father passed away as it symbolized a level of authority he refused to accept.”

Hamish pursed his lips. “So what you are saying is there is in fact no MacBrieve laird.”

Mairead bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “Not exactly. He is laird of the MacBrieve clan, just not of the others.”

“And just how many ‘others’ are there?”

Mairead gave a slight tug on her reins to keep her horse next to Hamish’s. “As of last year, there are families from six other clans. Mhic Eain, Ceiteach, Faill, Shyn, Larg, Munro, and of course MacBrieve and MacMhathain. Many relocated here because there was farmland available where there wasn’t any within their clan’s territory. One group came to escape the tyranny of their laird. Others are here because their laird died and their clan had grown too small to protect itself on its own.”

Hamish was dumbfounded by what Mairead was saying. So many questions were coming to him at once he was not sure just what to ask first. So he started with her last—and probably most shocking—statement. “Am I to understand that the MacMhathains never merged with the MacBrieves?”

Mairead took in a deep breath and pulled the edges of her fur blanket closer together. “I am not sure I am the best to answer. I was young so I may not know all the reasons—”

“I suspect you understand them well enough,” Hamish said tersely, cutting her off.

Mairead shrugged, but the gesture was hidden under the fur blanket. “I will tell you what I know, which is not much, but some of it does involve you.”

Hamish straightened his back defensively.

“When you left, your father at first expected you to return and marry my sister as planned. I know he hoped for it for a long time. By the time he agreed to Selah and Robert’s union and what that meant, the two clans had lived together under a single leadership for three years.”

Hamish arched his left brow. “Three years?” He had no idea that his father had kept Robert and Selah apart.

“Aye,” Mairead answered. “He felt that when my father died, he had intended you to be laird, not just the man who married Selah.”

His father was in a way correct. It was all how one interpreted Menzies MacMhathain’s dying request. He had asked him to marry Selah, thereby uniting the MacBrieve and MacMhathain clan. He had then asked Hamish if he would be their laird and ensure both clans’ future and well-being. In Hamish’s mind, being married to Selah was a requirement to being laird and uniting the two clans. Without it, many MacMhathains would question his loyalty and even his right to preside over Foinaven. The MacBrieves may have been the more powerful of the two clans army-wise, but the castle had been part of Menzies MacMhathain’s legacy. It was important a MacMhathain helped continue to oversee it.

But it seemed his father had felt differently. If Hamish had returned when his father was alive, would he have made him laird despite Menzies MacMhathain’s intentions?

Greeted only by silence, Mairead assumed he wanted her to continue. “I do remember your father and brother fighting about it once. He wanted Robert to complete the agreement and take the title and unite the clans. Robert believed they were already united and that forcing any MacMhathain to become a MacBrieve would jeopardize their loyalty. After your father died and Robert took his place as leader, no one questioned Robert’s authority. Things were prosperous at the time and no one wanted to change that. The English were attacking castles in the Lowlands and along Scotland’s waist and all wanted to avoid the strife—as well as attention—a clan war might bring. It was not long before a handful of small clans came to Foinaven for security and were welcomed with no expectations in return. In time, more came and now we live peacefully for each other’s mutual benefit.”

Hamish could tell by Mairead’s sarcastic tone at the very end that she disliked his brother’s community concept, but probably not for the reasons he did. “You disagree?”

“There are advantages,” she conceded. “Food is one and some of the clans specialize in certain skills that support trade.”

“But you also recognize the disadvantages.”

Mairead looked ahead, but tightened her grip on the saddle. “Your brother’s philosophy is one that all should aspire to—peace. But he believes it can be achieved at all costs. Robert wants people to stay because of a sense of community. In his and Selah’s minds, the approach has worked. However, neither will acknowledge the barriers it has erected.”

Hamish knew that Robert was right in thinking that forcing people to join another clan would cause strife and resentment. But temporarily avoiding discomfort and some pain did not create loyalty. It only postponed it, and worse, it made the pain and hardship to be endured later much greater.

Robert did not understand that while fidelity and loyalty may look the same, it was not. Hamish had seen too many battles, too much bloodshed, and too many lives lost to pretend otherwise. He suspected by Mairead’s posture that even without his life’s experience, she felt the same. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“The MacBrieves are loyal to Foinaven as are the MacMhathains, in part due to Robert and Selah, but also after twelve years, many of them have intermarried, making the bond between our clans very strong. With the others it is not the same. Most are too new in the area to have deep roots. They are here because they believe the English won’t venture this far north if war should come again and though at times, life here is difficult due to the weather, there is also plenty of land to farm and there is easy access to fish in the sea.”

“And an inordinately lenient leader who has an unheard of accommodating attitude,” Hamish growled.

Mairead bit her bottom lip. She agreed with Hamish, but she had gotten to know these people and did not like the idea of forcing them to leave just because they were not of their clan. “Most of them are good and hardworking, needing the opportunities that Robert and Selah have given them; however, it is also true that they reap the benefits of a large community and clan.”

“But fail to contribute to Foinaven’s and therefore their protection,” Hamish added. “Robert will never acknowledge that a man’s ultimate loyalty is to himself and his family. It certainly is not to a clan he doesn’t claim.”

“Ulrick has made it worse.” Mairead pressed her lips together until it hurt to keep from saying more. She felt guilty saying anything that went against her sister, but it was also nice being able to vocalize her true opinion about her brother-in-law’s approach to leading a clan. And Hamish was probably the one and only person with whom she could ever do so. “Outside of a few of us—and that includes both MacBrieves and MacMhathains—no one is loyal to Foinaven. Ulrick has made things too distasteful and they know it will become worse if he takes over. He will declare himself laird and I suspect soon after many will leave.”

Hamish took a deep breath and exhaled, relieved to hear of Mairead’s disapproval. If she had supported Robert’s ways, it would have detrimentally affected his ability to relate and talk with her. Though in the end, it would not matter as he intended to sever his relationships with Foinaven and its people. However, knowing that they thought alike on such matters gave him indescribable comfort. He also knew that on some level this meant his feelings for Mairead were growing.

“I doubt Robert knows how fortunate he has been,” Hamish said more to himself.

If Foinaven had not been located so far north or if it had been in an area of any strategic value, the façade of being a large, united clan would have been discovered long ago. It was amazing no one before Ulrick had attempted to seize control. And the fact that Selah actually supported Robert sent a chill down Hamish’s spine.

Once again, Hamish found himself to be relieved that Selah had rejected him. They would have been miserable together. The idea of creating a utopia-like society was a wonderful one, but it was unattainable. Every feeling human being alive at one time or another wished life worked that way. But it simply did not. Men’s baser desires would eventually always come before the good of the community if their own happiness was not in some way tied to the greater good.

“I hope your plan with all of its options can also make Robert and Selah see reason.”

“I have no desire to change Robert,” Hamish said with a grimace. “And if my father could not convince Robert to join the clans under the MacBrieve name, I certainly do not possess the power.”

Hamish was right. His father had tried for years and without success. Even she had once endeavored to get Selah and Robert to consider the advantages of uniting all the clans. But it had been a waste of time and energy.

Still, Mairead had wanted to argue that it was years later and Hamish’s input might be welcome after being gone so long, but she knew it be pointless. Besides, there was no time to state her case. They had finally arrived.

“We’re here,” Mairead said, pointing to a small cottage up ahead.

* * *

Hamish took a bite, closed his eyes, and savored the moment. “Never let your wife cook for a McTiernay, Davros. They’ll charm her right out of your arms and into one of their kitchens.”

Jeán tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Wrinkles were apparent around her eyes, but she was still a striking woman. Her once-dark auburn hair was now a glorious blend of faded copper and rosy-blond, accented by beautiful silvery-white streaks near her temples. And her large brown eyes were beaming from Hamish’s compliment. “I just might run away with you, if you keep flattering me so.”

Hamish opened his eyes, patted his stomach, and watched her melt upon seeing his dimples. His grin grew. Finally! A woman who responded to his smile like he expected. “Then I shall sing your praises until you are mine.”

Davros, completely unfazed by all the flattery being exchanged, pushed his empty plate forward and rested his elbows on the table. “It was another fine meal, mo muirnín. And you, young man,” he said, pointing at Hamish, “may regret those words. I might just hand her over to you the next time she’s in a mood.”

Jeán rolled her eyes, not in the least worried by her husband’s threat. “Did you notice that he only dares to make such comments after he’s eaten?”

“Aye,” Davros said proudly. “That’s because you married yourself a smart man.”

Mairead laughed out loud. She always enjoyed visiting Davros and Jeán. They expressed their love so differently than Robert and Selah, and yet she had no doubt that their bond was just as strong.

They were Munros and had traveled with a handful of families that had come to settle near Foinaven and make a fresh start after their son George was killed at the Battle of Bannockburn. That had been less than three years ago, but to Mairead it seemed like she had known the couple for much longer.

Growing up without parents had been difficult and Selah had done her best. When Mairead was young, Selah had been all things wonderful to her. But as she grew older and aspects of their personalities became more disparate, it had been Jeán and Davros who had helped her to understand Selah’s viewpoint without losing her own. In many ways, they had become family. She was like the daughter they always wanted, but never had, and Mairead suspected they were angels her parents had sent to Earth to help guide her in their absence.

Davros pointed to Mairead but looked at Hamish. “Our Mairead has recently seemed to become quite interested in marriage. How about you?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hamish saw Mairead blush. He did not think it possible someone could turn that red that fast. “I’ve always been interested in marriage, but alas whenever I thought I might have found the right woman, a McTiernay was around to steal her heart first.”

Jeán narrowed her eyes skeptically. “From what I understand there are only seven McTiernay brothers and only five of them are married. So I find it hard to believe that they are the sole reason you are not married.”

Hamish grinned. It was no surprise that Mairead liked the couple so much. He did too. Jeán’s wit throughout the meal proved she was a highly intelligent woman and Hamish suspected that like Mairead, she could be quite tenacious on certain subjects. His gut said marriage was one of them and the fastest way to close the topic was with honesty. “McTiernays may not be the only reason, but women do seem to gravitate into their arms,” he agreed. “And I did come close and was nearly married last year. I was almost ensnared by a stunning creature named Wyenda, whose beauty was just on the outside. So you see? Love has forsaken me and now my heart is so battered and bruised, I no longer think I’m capable of the emotion.” His tone was sincere, with an intentional whiff of melancholy. He hoped it would enlist Jeán’s sympathy and motivate her to move on to less personal subjects.

Mairead tried to catch Hamish’s eyes, but he refused to look her way. She could not believe that Davros and Jeán were pursuing this line of questions. Obviously, Davros had not forgotten that she had been all dressed up on market day and had told Jeán what Mairead had been attempting. The couple knew her position on marriage— that she did not want it. They were also well aware that even if she was inclined to be married, there was no one who had even made her heart stutter, let alone succumb to something like love. But by the way Davros and Jeán were looking at Hamish, they thought that had changed.

Jeán stood up and patted Hamish’s hand. “Well, the past dictates the future only if you don’t learn from it. Who knows? Maybe you will find a nice young lass here.” Her hand just casually waved in Mairead’s direction. “And even better, there are no McTiernays about to interfere.”

Mairead groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Jeán, Hamish is here to deal with Ulrick, not to be set up by you two.”

“Aye, and no smart woman would ever want to tie herself to me.” Hamish hoped his tone conveyed just the right note of finality to it. He was ready to change the direction of the conversation. There was a reason he was here, and it had nothing to do with Mairead, marriage, or being entrapped by love. “As far as dealing with Ulrick, Mairead’s been very helpful about introducing me to Foinaven’s staff and while they are friendly, they seemed to be incredibly tight-lipped about their opinion of their commander.”

Davros leaned back in his chair and entwined his fingers behind his head. “Not surprised. They probably should be quiet. More than one has sought his favor by conveying what they overheard or saw. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ulrick has convinced a few to look out for his interests while he was away.”

Hamish nodded. “I’ve already identified a few servants who fit that description.”

Mairead frowned. She was not surprised that Ulrick had spies, but she did not think it possible to determine who they were. “What are their names?”

“Probably the ones you already suspect, but there were not as many as I would have thought.”

With a snort, Davros unlinked his hands and tapped a finger on the table. “That’s because most are smart enough to realize that such information comes at a price. It brings them to Ulrick’s attention and afterward he is not understanding if you have nothing new to provide.”

Hamish’s brows furrowed. “That explains why I’m having a difficult time discovering who the moles are within the guard left behind than I did among the staff.”

Mairead was confused. If Hamish had easily identified the spies within the castle’s staff, why could he not do the same in the guard? “I don’t understand.”

“Think about it,” Davros said before Hamish could answer. “All those who supported Ulrick left with him. The guards who remained he deemed expendable if he faced opposition upon his return.”

“Still,” Hamish said, raking his hand through his hair. “I doubt Ulrick would have left without at least one person behind to inform him on what happened during his absence.”

“More than likely two or three,” Davros said, nodding, thinking about what Hamish was implying. “And the guard is where he had the most influence.”

Hamish bounced an index finger in agreement. “That wisdom of yours is exactly why I came to see you today.”

Davros smiled. “Not sure how I can help you, but I don’t mind answering a few questions.”

Mairead’s jaw went slack. “Why?” she asked in a forceful tone. “Just why are you so willing to talk to Hamish?”

Jeán’s eyes widened. She looked at her husband, who just shrugged before returning her shocked gaze back to Mairead. “I must say I’m surprised that you object.”

Mairead shook her head. “I don’t. But I just do not understand. Davros, you avoid talking to anyone in the guard and you most particularly dislike to answer questions. So why are you, like everyone else,” her emphasis conveyed her exasperation, “completely willing to open up to Hamish when it is not in your nature?”

Davros fought from smiling. He could see why Mairead would be mystified, especially as he refused to answer many of her questions. But there was something about Hamish that he just trusted. It did not mean he would go to war for him or reveal any deep secrets, but it did compel him to conversations that he might not normally have had.

“First,” Davros began, “I don’t dislike answering questions. I dislike answering ridiculous questions. Most of the ones you pose are about your feelings or worse, someone else’s feelings, or some other female thing I could care less about. Second, Hamish may be here to support his brother, but outside of that, I see him as a McTiernay with no allegiances to any person or clan in these parts.”

Hamish did not respond and was glad that no one looked at him to add anything or denounce Davros’s assessment. Truth was he was not sure how he felt about it. On many aspects Davros was correct. Based on his home, his philosophy, and where he felt most needed and accepted, he was a McTiernay. But he had been born a MacBrieve. He was proud that his father had been Laird MacBrieve and did not want anyone to think otherwise. It had not occurred to him that like Jeán and Davros and so many others at Foinaven, he had been living with one clan while still maintaining allegiances to another. Aye, he wore the McTiernay plaid, but did he too have divided loyalties?

Davros placed his hands on the table and rose to his feet. “Well, I know that Mairead came to say hello to Jeán as she promised. Let’s move our conversation out to the byre, Hamish, so we don’t disturb their time together.”

Mairead’s eyes grew large and displeasure rippled along her spine. She opened her mouth to state that she too was keenly interested in what he and Hamish were going to discuss and would not be left out of the conversation. But before she could utter more than a couple of incoherent words, Jeán grabbed her hand and squeezed. “That is very thoughtful, Davros. Mairead and I do have much to talk about.”

* * *

Mairead’s lips formed a thin line. “Why didn’t you allow me to stop them? I wanted to hear what they were going to say.”

Jeán patted Mairead’s hand and relaxed again in her chair. “I could tell. Every time Ulrick was mentioned you began to fidget so much that even a nothaist could tell that you knew nothing of Hamish’s plans and that none of your methods to learn them had worked. Let me guess. You spied on Hamish and when that did not work, you then attempted to trick him into telling you his plans. What else have you tried? Coercion? Persuasion?”

Mairead reached out, avoiding Jeán’s knowing look, and clasped the half-full mug in front of her. “I tried all of those and I also threatened him. Today, hearing what Hamish had to say to Davros, was my best chance to learn at least his basic strategy. And you cannot convince me that you too are not interested in what it is.”

Jeán smiled and went to pour some more water in Mairead’s mug and refill her own. “Of course I am, but I only have to practice a little patience as Davros will tell me everything after you and Hamish are gone. Besides, if you had insisted on following, you and I both know that Hamish would have left here without disclosing anything important.” She sat back down and gave Mairead a mischievous smile. “And I had my own reasons for keeping you here with me.”

Mairead eyed the older woman. Jeán’s eyes were sparkling with controlled excitement and it gave Mairead a sudden sense of foreboding. “And just what are those reasons?”

“Why to learn more about Hamish of course.” Jeán winked at Mairead, who in return rolled her eyes. “Do not pretend with me, Mairead. I saw you two look at each other. You have finally found someone who not only can meet your level of wit, but he is not at all intimidated by you. In fact, I think he actually enjoys tackling the challenges you pose. So, I approve.”

Mairead’s jaw dropped slightly. “You approve? Of what? Because if you think I am interested in Hamish, I can assure you, nothing could be further from the truth.”

Jeán ignored Mairead and closed her eyes, tapping her mug with the tip of her finger. “Davros said Hamish was rather scruffy upon his arrival, but I must say I found the man to be very good-looking. If I were younger”—Jeán sighed—“and of course never met Davros, you would have to fight for him.”

Mairead had to convince Jeán she was wrong. “You would be fighting with someone else because I’m not interested.”

Jeán took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and exhaled with exaggerated contentment. “How do you not melt each time he smiles?”

Unease began to fill Mairead as she began to realize Jeán was not just teasing—she was serious. “I find it amazingly easy to do.”

Jeán sighed and took a sip of water. “I wish Davros had dimples like that. Got to love a man with dimples.”

“You wouldn’t find them so attractive if you realized those dimples belonged to the most frustrating man alive,” Mairead snapped. “He flashes them to every lady who passes by and they all just fall in line to do with whatever he pleases.” Mairead prayed her words would alter Jeán’s impression. “You know Ava and Sophie?” Jeán nodded. “Well, after a few words and smiles from Hamish, they now inexplicably get along. The man plays on women’s feelings—and a key tool he uses are those dimples you love so much.”

Instead of curbing Jeán’s bubbly demeanor, it strengthened it. Her eyes grew bright and she could barely sit still she was so happy. “Och! Jealousy. Be careful, sounds like you are on the verge of falling in love with the man,” she said, her singsong voice causing a large knot to form in Mairead’s stomach.

Jeán had always had a mercurial personality. Typically, her character was the one she had sported during their noon meal—easygoing with bouts of clever words and insightfulness. When Mairead needed a listener, Jeán had provided support by just being there or by offering insight and wisdom. But when she clasped onto an idea—especially something she was excited about—Jeán became a dogged force of nature. She was unstoppable and confusing at the same time. And in the end, she somehow persuaded you to join her way of thinking. This was about to be one of those times if Mairead was not careful.

Jeán had moved from simmering glee to energetic and was now practically frothing with excitement. If Mairead did not end this misconception about her and Hamish, Jeán would have their wedding planned by the end of the day. She needed to understand that there was no bride and groom!

Jeán hummed and took another drink. “Don’t worry, I’m sure if Hamish thought someone was vying for you, you would see several sparks fly.”

“I’m not worried about Hamish.” I’m worried about you, but Mairead had not the chance to finish her thought.

“You needn’t be jealous. Aye, Hamish is the affable sort, but he flirts to hide his discomfort. I suspect he is much like my Davros and very selective about whom he spends his time with. And I understand you two have spent quite a bit of time together.”

“We are friends, Jeán. Nothing more.”

Jeán placed her mug on the table, her smile suddenly gone. Her brown eyes drilled into Mairead’s hazel ones. “You can fool yourself, but not me, cara. Hamish looks beyond your beauty and sees you, all of you. What’s more he likes what he sees and respects your opinion. Who else have you met who does that?”

“Davros, Robert, little Rab,” Mairead quipped.

Jeán issued her a pointed stare. “You would be a fool to discount such gifts. It is so rare to find them in anyone, but in a good-looking, eligible man who clearly finds you attractive? It’s a miracle. What I cannot understand is why you are spending your efforts learning about this plan of his instead of catching him.”

Mairead suddenly wished Jeán went back to being bubbly. It was not emotionally healthy to consider Hamish in the light Jeán was painting him. “I won’t deny there is an . . . attraction between us, but beyond that you are wrong. I have good reason to doubt Hamish cares about my opinion. The man doesn’t trust me. He won’t tell me anything—from his plans for Ulrick, which I have a right to know, to inconsequential things, like how he spends his mornings in his chambers.”

Jeán raised an eyebrow at that part. “I suspect Hamish does nothing more than any of us do—sleep and dress.”

Mairead snorted and crossed her arms. “He’s in there for hours. Sleep and dress? I don’t believe it.”

Jeán crossed her arms and then raised her hand to tap her index finger against her chin. “Almost,” she said quietly. “Clever. You almost distracted me there.” She leaned forward. “Hamish may not trust you yet, but that is only because he doesn’t realize how much he cares for you. That”—she paused and pointed to Mairead—“will require your help.”

“He does not care—”

“I think you should kiss him.”

Mairead stared openmouthed at her friend for several seconds. Jeán just stared back, her suggestion completely serious. Mairead threw her hands in the air. “Are you even listening to me?”

“To every word. When you return to Foinaven, bathe and have one of the chambermaids do your hair. Oh, and you can wear that one gown that—”

“Jeán, whatever you are thinking a bath and a gown would accomplish, you could not be more wrong. We have already kissed and nothing happened.”

Jeán’s eyes grew large and the excitement from a few minutes ago returned anew. “That why you are so scared. You liked it.”

Mairead tried to look disgusted. “He had a beard at the time. I imagine it was the same as kissing the top of a man’s head.”

Jeán ignored her. “He liked it too I expect. So how many times have you kissed?”

“Only once!” Mairead exclaimed. “And it was just to shut me up. What’s more, is that we both made a deal that it would not happen again.”

“O’ mo chreach! You both really liked it.”

Mairead threw her hands up in the air. “And you really aren’t listening to me.”

Jeán shrugged. “You wouldn’t either if you could hear what you are saying. If neither of you enjoyed the experience, a deal to prevent it from happening again would be pointless, no?”

Mairead knew she was gaping but was unable to come up with a valid argument. What Jeán said was true, but Mairead was not going to admit to it.

Jeán gave her a knowing grin. “You’ve probably thought of little else since you struck that silly deal. And I don’t blame you. A man that good-looking as well as funny, intelligent, and caring. You’d be insane not to kiss him again. Besides, how else are you going to know how you really feel about him?”

Mairead pushed back her chair and stood up to pace, despite the small area. “I’m going to indulge you for just a moment. Let’s say you are right. That I did enjoy his kiss and agree that he is somewhat close to the type of man I might want to spend my life with. I will even entertain the idea that he is attracted to me. But beyond that? You heard him talking about that woman Wyenda almost ensnaring him. He believes love only ends in tragedy. I don’t want a man afraid to love, but one who will embrace it completely. But even if I didn’t, it would not matter. Hamish is leaving Foinaven. And this time he will never return.”

Jeán shrugged. “Then let him know that you are willing to go with him.”

Mairead swallowed. Leaving Foinaven was just not something she was willing to consider, but she was not about to tell Jeán that. It would start a stream of questions that would never cease until the woman knew everything. And no one needed to know these secrets. They were hers to handle alone. “And leave Foinaven? Never see my sister again?” Mairead finally responded. “Abandon her when she needs me?”

“People leave their homes and their families all the time. I left mine when I came here three years ago. I wanted a chance for new memories. Do not let family keep you from a chance to be happy. But we both know that Hamish and Robert are speaking again and his willingness to stay here for a few weeks means it would not be that difficult to convince him to return periodically for a visit. As far as Selah needing you, your sister is several years older and was the one who taught you most of what you know about running a castle. Aye, her approach is soft, but she knows what needs to be done. And there is always the option of hiring a steward.”

Jeán paused to stand up and move to clutch Mairead’s hands in her own. “Davros believes you were husband hunting the other day. Were you?”

Mairead looked at the ceiling to avoid looking Jeán in the eye. “Aye. But it is not what you think.”

“If you want to tell me, I’ll listen.” Mairead shook her head and closed her eyes. Jeán squeezed her fingers. “Mairead, you sometimes get so focused on an idea that you find it hard to consider that there may be other alternatives.” Mairead opened her eyes. What Jeán was saying was true. Had that not just happened a few days ago when she thought the only solution to Ulrick was an army? “Be broad-minded, Mairead, especially about yourself and your future. Be open to discovering your true feelings and only then decide what you want to do. Don’t end a possibility too early. You and Hamish have a connection. I saw it. So did Davros, and you both feel it. What that means, could it turn into something more, is something you will need to find out.”

Mairead swallowed. “How?”

Jeán gave Mairead’s hands a final squeeze and let them go. “First, let Hamish know that you do trust him by actually trusting him. Let go this need to know his plan. I understand you feel vulnerable, but men want women who believe in them, not their plans.” Then, with a grin and a playful wiggle of her brow, she said, “Next, you must kiss Hamish. And not just a peck but in a way that would make Davros blush. When it is over, there needs to be no doubt on how you feel about each other.”

Mairead bit her bottom lip. How she wanted to give herself permission to just succumb to her desire to kiss Hamish, for it had not diminished in the least. If anything, it had grown. That was what worried her. Based on her response to his touch when she believed she was not attracted to him, kissing him now could be dangerous. For she was fairly certain that once she was in Hamish’s embrace, she would lack the control to keep things merely at a kiss.

* * *

“I appreciate your listening,” Hamish said as he followed Davros out the byre and back outside. The barn emitted a mixture of smells from all the birds kept in there. Hamish had been surprised that Davros had so many. Most independent falconers only had one or two birds; this falconer had ten.

Instead of heading back to the cottage, Davros turned toward a clearing. He shielded his eyes. The sun had come out and the wind had died, warming the air by several degrees. He stared at the set of nearby hills. “Let me think. Now that you’ve explained what I’ve been seeing, I have much to think about. And that also includes just how your brother is going to react.”

“You think Robert will cause problems?”

“I like Robert MacBrieve and his wife. He respects people and has the capacity to be both generous and frugal when appropriate. And yet while he cares, he has no experience with military matters or keeping a clan secure. A good clan leader can learn these things, but your brother lets his own personal philosophies cloud his ability to accept reality. And yet Robert is still the one with final say over Foinaven and its security. He is a major factor and one you cannot control.”

That did not bother Hamish. “One never controls most elements of any situation, but that does not mean they are not predictable. The key is not to depend on any assumption. Plan, act, and always have options when things take a twist.”

“And you are prepared for your brother?”

Hamish smiled reassuringly. “I wouldn’t be here if I did not expect to succeed.”

Davros pursed his lips and after a few seconds nodded. “Never thought I’d support a MacBrieve in a confrontation, but I believe you will succeed. Moreover, I want to be there when you do.”

Hamish’s smile widened, as he felt oddly triumphant to have convinced the falconer to join his cause. He leaned against a tree, glad the sun had made an appearance—even if it was only temporary. It was almost comfortable outside. “You called me a McTiernay just a little while ago.”

Davros nodded but kept his gaze on the distance. “That I did.”

“I’m not one, by the way. Rightfully, I am a MacBrieve.”

“No one will know who you are until you do. But it does bolster my confidence thinking a McTiernay is spearheading this endeavor, not a MacBrieve.”

Hamish knew he should be insulted by the somewhat insensitive comment. But he wasn’t. “I guess I should not be surprised that you say that.” Hamish had been born a MacBrieve but never felt like one. They were either administrative judges or builders like his brother. They were not a clan of warriors. “My father used to feel displaced at times. I remember him telling me once that it didn’t matter whether we fit the MacBrieve mold, we would just change it. Our legacy of MacBrieves would be one of warriors and leaders—men of strength and honor. He did not realize his legacy would live through Robert, who has not needed to break the mold. He is a true MacBrieve.”

It was Hamish who was the fraud. It was why he had always been more comfortable with the McTiernays. He loved Robert, but he had an indescribable bond with Conor and his brothers. Hamish understood them, and more important, they understood him.

“I’m glad you like Mairead.”

Hamish blinked. He had been so focused on his inner monologue, he had not been listening to what Davros had been saying until the very end. But even without knowing how Davros had led up to such a statement, it was not difficult to discern what he was implying. And two could play that game. “I do in fact like her. Very much. She is fiercely loyal and very protective of those she loves. That is what makes her so willing to confront and challenge anyone she thinks is in the wrong.”

“I think you enjoy the challenge.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I like being around anyone with spunk and find that few women have the gumption to say their thoughts. Most either sit quiet and obedient-like or just glare in silence.”

Davros nodded and glanced back at Hamish. “You find a lot of women with gumption with the McTiernays, I take it.”

Hamish had answered that question earlier, when they were eating. He had met only a few women who had the mettle Mairead possessed, and each time their hearts had all been swept away by a McTiernay. But this time it was not a McTiernay who was preventing him from pursuing Mairead. “We are just friends, Davros,” he finally said.

“Friends,” the falconer repeated as if mulling over the concept. “Hard to be just friends with someone who is your kind of woman. I know. I tried that with Jeán for a while.”

Hamish was well aware of what Davros spoke. Just this past year, one of his closest friends, Craig McTiernay, had fought for months his feelings for the woman who later became his wife. If Craig had never admitted the truth, Hamish had little doubt that he would have sought Meriel to be his own, disregarding Wyenda without a second thought. Meriel had been the one to make him realize that a relationship with a woman could be much more than just physical.

“I’m not sure I have a ‘kind’ of woman. I can find something I like about almost any female, just as I can find things that I don’t like about them. Things that I would not want to be tied to. Unfortunately, they seem to be the very things you don’t discover until after you make a commitment.”

Davros broke out into laughter. “You have no idea how right you are. The stuff that I learned about Jeán our first year of marriage . . .” Davros stopped mid-sentence and got lost in the memory for a minute before facing Hamish and saying, “But it is all worth it if the woman loves you and you love her in return.”

“I have no doubt that what you say is true, but right now, Mairead’s interest in me is limited to what I have planned for Ulrick.”

“She will have to know sometime.”

“But not yet,” Hamish countered.

“I know she has been hounding you and I could only imagine some of the things she has done to trick you into divulging your plans.”

“You know Mairead very well.”

“I do,” Davros agreed. “And a few times I have been tempted to teach her a lesson about being too pushy with her curiosity. Is that the reason you don’t want to tell her about what is going on?”

“Not in the least. I would tell her if I could, for I suspect she has insights that would prove very helpful. But Mairead and Selah are close. They may disagree with each other on many things, but the risk of her confiding in her sister is too high.”

“It’s possible but unlikely. Still, Jeán and I will keep your secret.”

“Thank you. I just wish you could help me with understanding why Mairead is so insistent on knowing my plans.”

“Mairead has always been inquisitive, which is why I know how annoying it can be at times. Selah might be the lady of Foinaven, but it is Mairead who shoulders much responsibility. She is used to being the decision maker and knowing all that goes on.”

Hamish did not disagree, but he did not believe that was the reason behind Mairead’s persistence. It went beyond wanting the comfort of knowledge to something more akin to fear. But what about? She had believed him when he promised that Ulrick would not succeed in taking Foinaven away from Selah and Robert. “Whatever it is, I think it is linked to her desire to find a husband.”

“That’s a complicated leap.”

Hamish agreed, but his gut still told him it was an accurate one.

Davros pointed to the cottage and signaled to Jeán that he saw her wave. “I wonder why men who are so capable of preparing for battle, examining all aspects from the improbable to the likely, do not do so when it comes to personal matters. They leap to assumptions and dismiss options, believing that certain impediments exist which prevent them from pursuing happiness, instead of just seeking the truth.”

Davros waited until he caught Hamish’s eye. “I do not know for sure how Mairead feels about you and I wonder if you even know how you feel about her. But I do know that Mairead is smart, steadfast, and generous as well as uncommonly beautiful, though she doesn’t really know it. And if the right man wins her heart, she’ll aggravate and delight him for years. But if she surrenders to the pressure of marrying someone who will not appreciate her bold ways and fondness for creating challenges, she will be miserable. Much more so than if she had just accepted the few things that made it seem impossible for her to be with the right man.” Davros turned and walked back to the cabin.

Hamish stood unmoving and watched the falconer be welcomed by his wife at the door with a kiss. The man had seen much in his years and held a lot of wisdom. But he was wrong about Mairead not being afraid. And he was wrong about Mairead’s interest in him.

Mairead might be searching for a husband, and while part of Hamish wished it were otherwise—she did not want it to be him. Oh, Mairead might have been interested if he were not leaving Foinaven, but her sights were on the next commander—a man who would have power and influence. And yet, if that were it alone, she would have already enticed someone to ask for her hand. No, there was something more and if Hamish were to guess, Mairead did not want to marry at all and was hoping to find a way to keep that from happening.

That was why she wanted to know about his plan; however, that was not enough to get him to confide in her. Too much was at risk.

But that was enough to make him decide it was time to do some probing of his own.

* * *

They had not traveled far from Davros’s home when Mairead came to a stop at a fork in the route back to Foinaven. Hamish slowed his mount to a stop next to Mairead’s. Once again they were faced with a choice of paths. To the right was the road they used to get to the cottage. Hamish suspected Davros only used it when he went to the river or on market days when he needed a cart. The path to the left was narrow in places in that it went through some woods, but when it emerged on the other side of the trees, it sank into a fairly steep valley. From there it was about an hour to Foinaven, a trek with which Hamish was intimately familiar.

Mairead turned her head and looked at him with an indiscernible expression. They both had said very little since they left the cottage. If her and Jeán’s discussion was anything like the one he had with Davros, she was thinking of all that had been said—or not said, in his case.

Mairead pointed toward the wooded path. “I want to go this way and we both know it is not because it is the shorter route back. But I also know that you are not ready for me to see what is there.” And without another word of explanation or argument, she pulled her reins to the right and aimed her horse toward the river.

Hamish sat stunned. His heart momentarily swelled with an indescribable emotion. A couple seconds later it vanished, replaced with wariness and suspicion. Mairead was way too stubborn to not at least ask to go the way she wanted. For her to immediately resign to his wishes she had something else in mind and he needed to be ready.

He urged his horse to catch up to Mairead’s and then matched the unhurried speed she had set. “What are you planning?” He decided to take a direct approach. He doubted it would work, but if it did, it would save him a lot of time and energy. “You are far too stubborn to simply concede after you have made up your mind. And I don’t believe that talking with Jeán for an hour changed that about you.” At least I hope not, he added to himself.

“I’m stubborn?” Mairead half asked, half repeated with a snort. “That’s amusing coming from you. Every person in northern Scotland has been told stories of how obstinate the McTiernays can be. And living with them for so long, trust me, you have become exactly like them.”

Mairead gave him a sideways glance. The look in her big honey-and-green-colored eyes practically dared him to deny that he was any different. And for a second Hamish was once again transfixed. He finally broke free from her gaze. Then he began to chuckle. Soon he was full-out laughing for he finally understood just what Conor, Cole, Craig, and the rest of the McTiernay brothers had been up against for so long. “The McTiernays may have a reputation for being stubborn—and they would probably pummel me for saying this, but every one of them—well, the married ones at least—yield all the damned time.”

Mairead shifted her jaw. “I’m assuming you mean to their wives.”

Hamish nodded and quickly got his laughter under control for Mairead’s expression did not hold nearly the amusement his did. If anything, it was rather chilly. He sucked in a short breath hoping that he had not accidentally plundered into unfamiliar and potentially volatile territory.

“Perhaps the McTiernay men are not yielding to their wives, Hamish. Perhaps, they are merely realizing that the women they cherish—and I suspect heavily rely on for support and advice—were right.”

Hamish shifted in his saddle, suddenly somewhat uncomfortable. Mairead was miffed. But she was also wrong. Too many times he had inadvertently heard Laurel’s “winning” justification during one of her and Conor’s arguments. Hamish would never say her point of view was ludicrous—Laurel was a very smart woman and could outsmart most men if they were not careful—but there was only one reason Conor had “yielded” to some of her more absurd positions. He had simply been disinclined to argue.

Hamish just now realized that assumption had only been partially correct. Aye, Conor had been disinclined to argue, but not for the reason Hamish had always assumed.

Hamish took another sneak peek at Mairead. The woman was breathtaking when she was riled. The rigidity of her back accentuated her figure. The color of her skin glowed and her eyes blazed. But right now, Hamish did want to bask in the beauty of her anger. More than anything he longed to see her smile and know that he was the cause. Conor always used four choice words to create that very effect. “Perhaps you are right.”

Immediately Mairead visibly relaxed and her soft mouth curved into a sensuous, mysterious half smile he could not quite figure out. But he liked it.

Mairead shifted the reins from her right hand to her left and after a long minute, she said softly, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Hamish watched as she contemplated her answer and her teeth began to play with her bottom lip. “I know you still think I am completely wrong about why men yield, but I really appreciate you for saying otherwise.”

“And you wonder why men are confused by you creatures,” Hamish mumbled under his breath.

Mairead crinkled her brow. “We are not that difficult to understand. Despite what you think, women rarely seek to win a verbal battle. What we want is not to be found right or wrong but to be heard. No one likes their opinions to be dismissed, and especially not without consideration.”

Hamish tugged the reins to avoid a muddy hole. Women absolutely wanted to win arguments. Mairead may think otherwise, but it was only when she was victorious did she believe she had been heard. And it was not just women who were like that, men felt the same way. “I hear you, Mairead.”

“Do you? Because I don’t believe you have yet to really listen to me when it comes to your plans with Ulrick.”

Immediately tension ran through Hamish and he instinctively raised his defenses to do battle. “I’m listening now,” he said honestly. And he was. He always had . . . hadn’t he?

Mairead’s furrowed brow eased a bit. “You think my need to know your plans has to do with curiosity, a need for control, or a lack of trust in you, but it is none of those things. Out of the two of us, it is you who is lacking trust. There is obviously something in that valley you do not want me to see. For if I do, you believe I will be compelled to tell Selah and Robert. I don’t believe I would and it hurts that you think I would, but not having any idea of what it could be, I guess I must allow that you may be right. Only something immoral would compel me to inform my sister and Robert as they are responsible for this clan. However, I trust you and know that you would never cross that line.”

Hamish listened to all she had to say and this time he heard something he had not before. You think my need to know your plans has to do with curiosity. Hamish’s tongue slid along the inside of his cheek. Need to know, Mairead had said. Not want. Once again, he had the feeling that this tied back to Mairead’s reluctance to marry despite what she had done or said. “And I also trust you,” he replied. “You now know where to go to learn about my plans and I am trusting you to wait until I am ready to show you. And I never believed your reasons for learning them were so shallow as mere curiosity or a simple need for control. I’ve always known they went far deeper. I wish you would tell me the truth. I might be able to help.”

Mairead swallowed. Her reasons needed to remain her own. She was not sure what Hamish would do if he knew the nature of all Ulrick’s threats, but she had no doubt that he would do something. And every scenario she came up with involved her relinquishing what little say she had over her future. All except one. Hamish killed Ulrick. If that happened it did not matter if Hamish knew in advance. But if Ulrick lived—which was the more probable outcome based on Robert’s request for no bloodshed— then Hamish would undoubtedly decide that he was honor bound to protect her. The only way to ensure that would be via marriage—either to some McTiernay he hand-picked or worse—Hamish would feel pressured to wed her himself.

Those options were not acceptable, they would not work, for leaving Foinaven was not an option. The only way Hamish might stay was if he loved her, and even then, she could not imagine it being enough to withstand working with Robert.

Mairead nudged her horse to turn toward the river. Once at the bank, she slid off its back and let it drink. She looked into the distance. The land grew flat so the sea was visible—though just barely. But she could feel it.

She waited until Hamish dismounted and stood beside her. She took a deep breath and held it for a second. Then let it go as she spoke. “You are right. There is much more to why I want to understand how you intend to deal with Ulrick. A lot has happened while you were away. Much of it has been good, but unsurprisingly, there have been some difficulties. I am hoping your plan might rectify a few of them.” Mairead then looked him in the eye. “You will learn nothing more from me. Like you, I have a right to my secrets.”

Hamish studied her for nearly a half a minute. Mairead’s gaze never flinched and he knew she meant every word spoken. “Keep your secrets, Mairead. I will not pressure you into telling me, but if you ever do want me to listen, know that I will.”

Mairead was both relieved and grateful that she would not have to fight him on this. She had seen him debating whether or not he should probe and just how hard. But in the end, he had opted to respect her wishes.

Mairead bent down and picked up a smooth rock and rolled it around in her hand. She eyed him again and then threw it. It skipped once and then sank into the water. “Just what was it that Davros said to you? I am not sure how to react to your being so cooperative.”

“I suspect it was very similar to the conversation you had with Jeán.”

Mairead picked up another rock and then put it down. She did that twice more before finally selecting one that was larger, but also flatter and more evenly balanced. “I doubt it, unless Davros also has a bizarre fixation with your dimples.”

Hamish laughed out loud. “Um, I do not recall that subject coming up. However, I cannot believe my features were all you talked about for an hour.”

Mairead shrugged and then reached back, and with a sharp flick of her wrist, let the rock fly. She smiled when it skipped several times before disappearing. “Depends on what you mean. Jeán really does like your dimples.” Mairead paused and Hamish found himself thinking, Do you? But before he could finagle asking the question without being obvious, Mairead flashed him an impish grin. “But we did talk of more than just your smile. However, the topic of our conversation never strayed from you.”

A shot of nervous energy erupted in Hamish and he felt the sudden need to occupy his hands. Following her lead, he bent down and found a rock for skipping. “That is both telling and frustratingly vague.”

He threw the rock. He was a master at skipping stones and was disappointed when a ripple caused by the current prematurely ended what should have been a good throw.

“You are still good,” Mairead said. “Remember when you taught me?”

“Aye, though I wasn’t sure you did.”

“I remember everything you said to me back then,” she whispered, and threw another stone. It too hit the water wrong and immediately sank. Frustrated, she picked up two more rocks and was about to try again when she felt Hamish’s arms slide around her back to guide her movements.

Immediately Mairead’s heart started beating faster. She knew what Jeán would say if she were there. Turn around and kiss him. And while Mairead wanted to do just that, too many women in Hamish’s past had focused on only their needs. And when they decided he was not what they wanted, his heart had become a casualty. She refused to be like them. Aye, she needed to decipher what her true feelings were, but she was not going to play games in order to do so.

“Jeán thinks you are attracted to me.” Mairead paused and glanced over her shoulder at Hamish. “Are you?”

Curled around her, Hamish was so close to her lips that it would have taken no effort to press them against his own. However, not doing so was unbelievably hard. “You already know the answer to that,” he replied huskily.

Mairead pulled back so that she could turn around but did not completely step out of his grasp. “That’s not an answer.”

Hamish’s green eyes grew dark with intensity. “Then, aye. Most sane men are attracted to a beautiful woman,” he said flippantly. A muscle flicked angrily in her jaw. She took a step back forcing him to let her go.

Hamish could not blame her. He had known he was not going to be able to physically push her away, so he had said something to make her do it. Her anger he could handle. But it was not anger he had seen flash in her eyes just before she pulled away. It had been pain. He had hurt her and it wrenched him to know he was the cause.

He wished he could tell her the truth. Tell her that he craved her lips, that he had tasted nothing better in his life and how they haunted him every night. But saying such things would only cause more pain, because a simple kiss would not quench his thirst for her. It would only create more desire. And Mairead deserved a man who could give her more than a kiss.

Mairead stuck her chin up and waited until she was certain she had his undivided attention. “Would you kiss me again if I asked?”

Hamish swallowed. He had just reaffirmed that was something he was not going to do again . . . didn’t he? “I . . . I am not sure that would be a good idea. For either of us.”

Mairead took a step forward, reclosing the gap. “I’m asking for a kiss—nothing more.”

Hamish shook his head, fighting his instincts so he could remain in control. He needed to ignore what she would feel like and focus on what would happen if he succumbed to her offer. He was losing the battle. “I won’t be trapped into staying,” he muttered in an accusing tone.

Mairead put a hand on his chest and looked him in the eye. “And I won’t let the act of enjoying a mere kiss tie me to a man either. Hamish, I’m not thinking about the future right now. I just want to know if what I felt that day in the great hall was a fluke.”

Every muscle in Hamish’s body froze. His mind, however, was whirling out of control. He knew their kiss had affected her, but it was still shocking to hear Mairead admit it. And she was not seeking promises, just answers.

“A kiss is not a commitment, Hamish.” Mairead let go a small chuckle. “If it were, I would be married a few dozen times by now.”

A few dozen times? A surge of jealousy shot through him at the image of her kissing a long line of men. If he thought about it rationally, at the age of twenty and two it would have been more surprising if Mairead had not been kissed a few times. She was beautiful and probably highly sought by many as a potential wife. But Hamish was incapable of rational thought with her so close. The heat of her hand was making his blood boil and her fresh scent was causing his body to make demands of its own. All he could think was that he needed to erase the memory of every man’s touch but his own.

Powerless to stop himself, Hamish could not pull his gaze away from her lips as he slowly, inevitably, lowered his mouth to hers. His arms gathered her close in case she suddenly realized what was about to happen, because Mairead was not going anywhere. She wanted to know if the passion of their kiss had been a fluke and he was not going to keep her wondering any longer.

He brushed his tongue across her lips, silently urging her to open for him. When she did, Hamish invaded the sweet warmth he had been dreaming of for days. He kissed her long and soft and deep, capturing her tongue and drawing it into his own mouth. It seemed hardly possible, but she tasted better than he remembered. The more he sought, the more she gave him—her eager response perfectly matching his own fervor.

A shiver rolled through Mairead as she committed the kiss to memory. This was her first real kiss and it was more than she had ever dreamed it could be. She was unprepared for the feelings being created within her. She should be terrified. Hamish was searing her senses with intimate aggression that should make her run away. But each masterful stroke of his tongue only increased her desire.

The other day, Hamish had awoken feelings that were now burning out of control. She said she liked to play with fire, but kissing Hamish was like embracing an inferno. And yet, she wanted more.

Hamish groaned as Mairead began to move her hands up along his chest. She was returning his kiss with an innocent, but nonetheless intense level of passion he never sensed in another woman. When he felt her fingers clench his shoulders, his lower body similarly clenched with need. Mo chreach, Mairead was soft, warm, and inviting. She was everything he had ever dreamed of in a woman; consequently, kissing her was the most dangerous thing he had ever done. He was not just in danger of doing something that would lock them together forever but in danger of losing his heart. This time there would be no broken pieces to mend.

Mairead sensed Hamish was about to pull away and refused to let him. She twisted her fingers into his hair and held on. Jeán had wanted her to learn how she truly felt about Hamish. Mairead was not sure of anything at the moment. She had been unprepared for the feelings Hamish was igniting in her. Later she could analyze just what they meant, but right now all she wanted was to sink her soul into this kiss.

Hamish moved his hands to cradle her face as he drank hungrily from her lips. He could not get enough of her lips, her taste, her touch. He wanted to consume the essence of her vibrant spirit. He needed to get closer, to feel more of her, taste more of her.

The full force of his hunger broke over Mairead. The kiss was growing in intensity. It was now darker, more demanding, and far more blatantly erotic. It was as if Hamish was unconsciously testing her desire. Mairead did not think; she only felt. And what she felt could be summed up in one word: “more.” She leaned into him and with her fingers buried in the softness of his hair, she held his mouth to hers. She did not want this kiss to end.

Mairead moaned with pleasure into his mouth, stroking his tongue with her own, matching his wild, ravenous desire. Hamish’s body was tight. He wanted to lose himself within her. Her breasts had contracted until her nipples were firm little nubs pressing urgently against his chest, begging to be touched. Without thought, his hands became as undisciplined as his mouth. He stroked a warm path from her shoulders to the base of her spine and then up her stomach until they cupped her breasts, reveling in their fullness.

Mairead shivered as he gently squeezed one nub. Even through the material, he could feel her respond and using both thumbs, he began to tease the hard peaks. She moaned but did not pull away, instead arching her back, encouraging him to continue.

As he feared, kissing Mairead did not quench his desires. It had stoked them to levels he could not control. Unfamiliar emotions began to churn him. Need tore through him, ripping away all his carefully constructed defenses and leaving only the agony of knowing she could never be more to him than she was at this moment. And yet he couldn’t stop.

The hot, sweet, sensuous kiss went on and on, suffusing her body with an aching need for more. Hamish was making her body come alive and the more he touched her the more she wanted to be touched. To remove their clothing and feel his skin against hers. His arms were taut with muscle, and his body was excitingly harder than hers. Mairead clung to him in confusion and desire.

Gu sealladh orm, he could feel the fire growing in her. Her needs fed his and vice versa. To know this woman would be unlike any experience he would ever have. He wanted her and she wanted him and he was about to throw all reason aside when a piercing sound of two drunk men singing yanked him back to reality and—where he was, whom he was with, and just what he had been about to do.

 

 

When Hamish’s lips released hers, it took several seconds for Mairead to realize just why he stopped.

 

 

Mairead blinked and looked around. She saw no one, but she could hear a very drunk and a very out-of-tune Seamus and Abe coming. Soon they would be around the corner and in sight and her chest was still heaving with the effort it took to breathe. She would have thought she was the only one deeply affected by their kiss except for Hamish’s own uneven intake of his breath.

Hamish made sure that Mairead could stand on her own and then stepped away from her. He collected the reins of both horses and handed one set to her. He was just about to mount his horse when the two men came into view. Both waved at Hamish and he walked toward them, providing a distraction and time for Mairead to fix her hair. However, he doubted either of them could focus well enough to recognize the telltale signs of what he and Mairead had just been doing.

“I see you found the ale. How’s the tower floor?”

Abe threw an arm around Seamus’s shoulders. “I thought you were ar buile for wanting holes in the tower floor. Still kind of do.”

“Not me,” Seamus said interrupting, “I’m thinking of building a floor in me barn just so I ’ave somethin’ to pound on when me wife nags at me again.”

With that Abe started singing again and Seamus joined him as they continued to stumble their way back home.

Hamish waited until they had turned the next bend before he went back to Mairead to ask her if she was ready to return to Foinaven. But when she had looked at him, he knew he was in trouble.

Her eyes were still misty with passion and her lips, red and swollen, beckoned to be kissed again. He thought her taste had haunted him before, but it was nothing like it would be. She was sweet and spicy and he would forever crave her taste. The effect she had on him was dangerous for he could see himself giving anything to have it again.

Hamish looked away. He wanted to think that he would have stopped their embrace before it had gone any further. But deep down he was not sure he would have. Even now, it was taking everything he had not to walk over and resume where they had left off.

He mounted his horse and tried to clear his mind, but it was not working. He needed space away from her or he would have no chance at regaining control over the emotions she had stirred within him. Why had he kissed her? Did he want to lose his heart to someone he could not have? Because he was on the verge of doing just that. And if Mairead felt even a tiny bit of what he did, then he was setting her up for heartache as well. They needed distance from each other and right now. He just prayed she understood that.

“The village is just around the corner,” he said as Mairead mounted her own horse. With his thumb, he pointed in the direction Seamus and Abe had gone. “I think it might be best if I make sure those two make it back home and to their wives. Otherwise, they might pass out and freeze to death before anyone finds them. Are you able to travel the rest of the way yourself?”

Mairead nodded. She normally would have chafed at the question. But the way her emotions were spinning out of control, she was glad to finish the journey by herself. “I will see you later.” And with those words, she urged her horse toward Foinaven.

Hamish had not missed how the tension in her shoulders had eased upon hearing his suggestion that they part. He should have been comforted by her ready agreement to travel alone.

But he wasn’t.