Chapter Eight
Mairead woke with a start and sat straight up in bed. She shivered. Her feet were freezing. She reached for a blanket to pull around her, wondering why it was so very cold in her room. As she rubbed her eyes, her mind slowly stirred to life and she looked around. The almost-always-present clouds had yet to return, letting rare winter starlight stream through her bedchamber window. It was not very bright, but it was enough to see what she was wearing.
With a thump, Mairead fell back against her mattress. She was not sure what time it was, but if the temperature of the room was an indicator, the fire had gone out hours ago, which made it the middle of the night. That meant she had not only missed dinner, but everything else she had intended to do before she retired.
Selah had probably come to get her, but rather than waking her, decided to just let her sleep. Mairead rolled over. Sometimes she loved her sister’s generosity, but this was not one of those moments. Selah should have woken her to help with Rab, handle dinner, and if necessary, deal with Hamish.
Mairead had stopped by Robert’s chambers to say hello after she had returned from Davros’s but had not been allowed to stay long. His condition had become worse and he was now running a low fever. A fever was not unexpected and though Robert always pulled through his illness every year, it was getting more and more troubling to hear him struggle to breathe. The only thing Mairead knew to do was pray and be there for her elder sister.
By the time she had finished talking with Selah and doing what she could to lift her sister’s spirits, Hamish had still not returned. Knowing the evening meal would not be for at least two more hours, Mairead had decided to retire to her room to lie down. The day had been long and she was exhausted after being unable to sleep the last couple of nights. But mostly, she needed a quiet, private place to think . . . and to remember.
Never had she thought that within minutes of lying down she would fall asleep. But she had.
The last thing Mairead could remember was sitting on the bed and slipping off her shoes. She had been thinking about Hamish, about their kiss and what it meant, but before she had come to even one conclusion she must have fallen asleep. Mairead rolled so that she could stare at the ceiling and flopped an arm across her forehead as her memories of her dreams returned in flashes. In them, Hamish was kissing her again. In some, he just vanished, leaving her to shrink and eventually turn into dust. But in others, he had declared her to be his. He fought off Ulrick and then reclaimed his right to Foinaven, where they lived the rest of their lives happily together.
Mairead squeezed her eyes shut as the hazy memory of him kissing her to prove his love began to replay again. Flinging her arm to the side, she grabbed the pillow, put it over her face, and then screamed into it with frustration.
If only that future was even slightly possible. But it was not, and entertaining the idea that it could ever happen was pointless. And yet that knowledge did nothing to quench the passion Hamish had stirred in her.
Groaning, she rolled her legs off the bed and stood up to remove her outer clothes and become more comfortable. She threw two logs in the hearth and nudged the nearly dead embers until they sprung to life and caught the wood on fire. She then splashed some water on her face, brushed her hair, and returned to bed.
Snuggling down under the covers to get warm, Mairead curled up on her side and wondered if Hamish had been grappling with what happened between them the same way she was. Maybe, for he had been gone far longer than it would have taken to see Abe and Seamus home. But then again, she was not even sure when he returned. Maybe he had gone to the valley and never gave their kiss any thought for she had been the one to insist that it would be a simple kiss and it would change nothing.
Problem was, to her, what happened by the river was much more than just a kiss. It felt like she had found where she belonged. She suddenly knew where she could be happy every day for the rest of her life, where she would be safe and loved and free to be herself.
Mairead pulled the blankets and murmured curses at Jeán. Aye, a kiss proved that she was far more interested in Hamish than she had wanted to admit. But just how far did her emotions go? Was she in love with him? Mairead was not sure.
Desire by itself was not love and would always fade with time. But Mairead had been infatuated before and this was different. Those times she was enamored of one or two characteristics, but not the man as a whole. With Hamish, she craved all of him—even the things that drove her insane. She wanted him and just as he was. So was this love? She was afraid to answer without knowing how he felt about her. He desired her. But he had since the moment he had arrived. Had their kiss also caused him to rethink his feelings? Would he even allow himself the possibility of loving her?
Mairead closed her eyes. Her feelings were so raw and turbulent. No matter how she looked at them, they were impossible to define. Why was it easy to discern the feelings and character of others but difficult within herself? She never struggled to see the emotions that drove people, whether it be love, envy, or even hatred. Why could she not discern the truth of her own heart as easily?
Mairead bolted back to a sitting position. She really could easily recognize the motivations of others, it was just knowing what to look for. The matters of her heart may always be a mystery; however, the truth about people’s loyalties did not have to be. She knew just how to help Hamish flesh out the moles in the guard.
Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it—her idea required both her and Hamish to spend a significant amount of time together.
* * *
Hamish slid off his horse and entered the castle gates, wondering why Foinaven even had them. All an enemy needed was a few lit torches and the wooden barrier would cease to be.
He had gotten an especially early start that morning to give himself enough time to travel a little farther and meet with some people Davros thought might be influential in his plan. The falconer had been correct. They were exactly whom he was looking for, but he had not known where to look for them.
He entered the stables and handed the reins to the very lethargic stable boy. Adiran, who had helped him prep to leave, must not have gone back to sleep. Hamish could see it in the lad’s eyes and suspected that same weariness could be viewed in his. But his fatigue was not caused by the early departure, the distance he had traveled, or even the stressful time he had dealing with those who did not know him, even by reputation. He could have never left—he knew that he would still feel this deep weariness.
It was all because of Mairead.
She was the one who convinced him a kiss would be nothing more than that. And he had let himself believe her. But it had been much more than a kiss. Kissing was something he had done much in his lifetime and never before had the activity made it difficult to do even the simplest of functions. But what made it worse was knowing that for Mairead it had been just a simple kiss.
When she had not come down for dinner, Selah had sent someone for her. Hamish had felt his jaw actually drop when the servant returned and said Mairead had retired early for the evening and was already asleep. Until then, he had thought the sparks that flew between them had been plaguing her thoughts as much as his own. Unfortunately, knowing that was not the case had not lessened the turmoil going on inside of him.
He wanted Mairead more than he had ever wanted any other woman. But it was more than a physical craving; he loved spending time with her. He loved looking at her, laughing with her. He even enjoyed arguing with her. If he had met her a year ago, he would have already pronounced to the world that he had fallen in love. And he would have been right. For he now knew that he never loved anyone before Mairead. Those rejections that had hurt so much at the time had wounded his pride—not his heart.
But with Mairead, his heart really was in jeopardy. His only protection was to keep such feelings to himself. Because saying them aloud did not bring happiness; it only brought pain. No, this time before he succumbed to any emotion—especially to the ones building inside him—he was going to be absolutely positive they were returned. And right now, that was dubious.
She desired him. But did she love him? Could she love him enough to leave Foinaven, her beloved home, and the last of her family—her sister? Hamish was not sure any woman could love him enough to do that and not regret the decision.
Crash!
Hamish stepped back out into the courtyard to see several of the older boys wrestling with one another. Their faces were familiar for he had seen them running around and annoying the servants. Like their fathers, they were bored waiting for planting season. Being so young, they were teeming with energy and had no place to release it. Their mothers had probably chased them out of their homes and to keep from being yelled at, they had come to Foinaven to pass the time. Most found the havoc they created to entertain themselves extremely vexing, but Hamish found their presence fortuitous.
Hamish walked toward a rotund merchant. His plump face was bright red with fury and Hamish could not blame him. A half dozen boys had been wrestling with one another, rolling and tackling, unaware and uncaring of what was in their path. When one boy tackled another, the two collided into a parked cart, carrying a box of clay pots. The impact sent the pots flying and when they landed they all broke but one.
Upon seeing the merchant grab the back of two of the boys’ leines, the rest of the lads stopped fighting and hid. Hamish was not sure just what the merchant intended to do. He suspected the merchant did not know either.
Hamish arrived at the scene and gave his most withering look to both lads. “I’ll deal with these two.” His voice was cold and he saw both pairs of eyes grow wide with fear. “I’m standing in for Robert until he is well.”
The merchant lived in the village and had seen and heard of Hamish as a soldier, but this was a matter of commerce, not battle. “These delinquents cost me this month’s wages.”
Hamish doubted it was a whole month, but the man did have a point. “I will have Mairead meet with you and see that you are appropriately compensated for your loss.” Then Hamish looked down, staring hard at one lad and then the other. “Which means you will need to reimburse Foinaven for its loss.”
One boy swallowed and fear completely took over the other at the thought of going home and telling their fathers. It was clear they knew neither of their families earned enough to pay for the pots.
Hamish gestured for the merchant to let them go. He did and then huffed as Hamish pulled them to the side so that he could go back to what he was doing before being interrupted. One boy glared at the other and just before he was shoved in retaliation, Hamish got their attention. “Just what are you two arguing over?”
“He,” one boy said with a sneer, “says Ulrick could fight the Mackays when everyone knows they are the most fearsome warriors of the north.”
“Are they now?” Hamish asked.
The other lad crossed his arms, gave a withering look to his opponent, and nodded. “My da says Ulrick could rip them to shreds. He says the Mackays are cowards that were off their lands. And his sister,” he said, pointing to the other boy, “married one of them, making him a coward too.”
“Ulrick is a cheater where the Mackays are the meanest Highlanders in all of Scotland. They gut people and leave their entrails to be eaten by vultures.” The shout was followed by a shove and Hamish had to pull them both apart.
“First, it is true that the Mackays were forced out of Moray and resettled nearby.” He looked at the first lad, who was indignant. “But that was long ago. I happen to know King Robert personally and can tell you that he is very appreciative to have such strong warriors on his side.” The lad relaxed a little and gave him a nod.
Hamish turned to the other lad. “Your father is correct. Ulrick is a sly fighter and is willing to use any means to slay a foe. I have seen him many times to be ruthless in his approach. I cannot say that I find many of his tactics honorable, but they are usually successful.”
The boy swallowed. Hamish had just told him that in a way he was right about Ulrick, but he got the feeling that he was fighting for the wrong side.
“I hope that was a worthwhile thing to fight about because you both will be spending some time repaying their costs.” The boys looked at each other and then at Hamish blinking rapidly. They had thought they were going to have to go home and attempt to get the payment from their fathers. Severe punishment would certainly follow, but Hamish spoke as if they could pay him back, not their parents. “I think hauling rocks will keep you out of trouble,” Hamish continued. “Not small ones either. And I want them in two piles, one on either side of the castle gates. I’ll pay you wages, which will go to reimburse the pots, but once done, if you do a good job and work hard, you can stay on and keep the additional wages you earn.”
Both boys had gone from afraid, to relieved, to shocked, and were now almost busting with excitement. “Aye, we will!” they both shouted simultaneously.
Before they could dart off and brag about what had happened, Hamish put up a hand to stop them. “And tell your friends that I saw them. I know who they are and they too have to help, for they contributed to the damage.”
“You’ll pay them?” one lad asked, still not quite believing that he was about to get wages.
“Aye. Now go and the next time I see any of your faces, you better be hauling rocks.”
Both boys nodded in agreement and then immediately ran off to find their friends.
“Keep their wages?” The question came from the merchant who had been lurking behind him. Hamish was unsurprised. The man had looked disappointed when Hamish had pulled the lads aside. He had wanted to hear them being punished and threatened, not rewarded.
“They will be earning it.”
The merchant blew out his already chubby cheeks. “Aye, hauling rocks is laborious, but they need to learn a lesson.”
Hamish thought about teaching the merchant a lesson on eavesdropping but decided that it was not worth it. “What would you prefer? Punished lads seeking ways for revenge? Or lads learning the value of a hard day’s work while keeping them and their friends from causing men like you any trouble.”
The merchant twitched his lips and then after a moment shrugged before going back to his cart and broken pots.
Hamish headed for the keep, feeling much better. He had intended the boys to start collecting rocks a couple of days ago when he had last seen them causing problems, but he had been unable to. Mairead had been there and would have thought his actions were a direct result of her meddling. He valued her input, but he was not about to let her think that she could dictate his actions. That precedent would haunt him for years.
Years? He closed his eyes shut. What was he thinking? When had he started thinking of their relationship in years? When had he started thinking of her and him in a relationship?
What he needed was distance. Maybe he should go tell Selah and Robert that he was going to spend a couple of days with Amon and his family. Hopefully, a little time would give him the perspective he needed.
“Hamish?”
Hamish’s eyes snapped open. Mairead was exiting the keep and heading straight for him. God, she looked radiant. Positive energy poured out of her. She looked fresh and vibrant. Certainly not like a woman who had any difficulty sleeping.
“Hamish?” she repeated as she came to stand before him.
He made a mistake and inhaled. “What?!” he bellowed, and moved to go around her. He knew he had no reason to bark at her, but women who smelled like her should be locked up.
Mairead froze with her mouth open in shock. She only came back to her senses when she realized he was about to enter the keep and disappear into his room. She ran and caught up with him just in time. As she grabbed on to his forearm, he stopped. “I know that you are frustrated,” she said, “but I can help.”
Aye, she could help. Starting with letting go. “I’m not frustrated.”
“Of course you are,” Mairead pressed. She then lowered her voice. “But I can help. I know how to identify just which guards are moles for Ulrick.”
That’s why she thought he was grumpy? The moles? And he had thought she could read him so well. Then again, Hamish was relieved that in this case she could not. For he certainly did not want her knowing that he had barely slept last night because his mind could not stop thinking about her. A problem she obviously had not shared, based on her irritating cheerfulness. He really needed to put space between them and get some clarity.
“Explain,” he said in a low voice, his gut warning him that he should just leave. That by even listening to her he was about to get himself into trouble.
Ten minutes later, Hamish entered his chambers. His gut had been right. And while Mairead’s idea would probably work, it meant that he was going to have to spend the entire afternoon with her.
So much for perspective and clarity.
* * *
Mairead leaned her small sword against the stone fence next to where Hamish was standing and then hopped up to sit on the waist-high stone wall. She was breathing hard and was glad to be able to sit. The stone hedge was one of many the farmers used to delineate boundaries, to corral livestock and mark farmland. She had actually helped build this particular wall almost ten years ago. Made of granite cleared from the fields, the double dyke consisted of two stone walls built parallel to each other that was then filled with smaller rocks and covered with a smooth, rounded cope stone.
Most farmers erected single dyke walls by simply piling stones on top of one another. It was quicker, but it also meant that every couple of years they would have to take precious time to fix, and oftentimes completely rebuild, large sections again. Then Robert had offered an alternative that he had learned as an apprentice. He showed the farmers how to construct the wall using an interlocking pattern so that the weight of the stones created enough pressure to keep them in place. No mortar was needed to create stability and it required very little maintenance. The wall looked the same as it did the year it was built and Mairead suspected that unless someone took it down, it could potentially be there for hundreds of years.
Hamish kept his eyes anywhere but on Mairead. She was still breathing heavily and it was very distracting. He also knew that he was not the only one to notice. “I have a water bag attached to my saddle.”
Mairead nodded and went to go get it. Her latest sparring partner watched as she sauntered up to the horse. Hamish coughed and forced his face to remain impassive, when he really wanted to punch the man for appreciating some of Mairead’s most delectable attributes.
“Anything else?” the man asked.
Hamish unclenched his jaw. “Aye. You did well. You can return.” It was a lie, of course. Any soldier who could not defeat Mairead within seconds was near worthless in battle and Mairead had sparred with him for almost three minutes.
They had told all the guards to meet out in the large field just outside Foinaven in small groups. That Mairead was insisting she show Hamish the skills of the soldiers. He had suggested they face each other, but Mairead had insisted on sparring with them.
The man flicked his wrist, swinging the two-handed longsword in the air. “You impressed?”
Hamish looked at the weapon. It was dull and dented, but it would not have mattered if it was fresh from the silversmith. The man wielding it was a poor soldier. But like most of the ones Hamish had seen, the man had the potential to be fairly good, with the right training. “It’s evident that you’ve held the weapon before.”
The man grinned, taking Hamish’s words as a compliment. He lowered the blade and shifted his gaze back to Hamish. “And if I was lacking in skill?”
Hamish shrugged indifferently. “Then that would be the problem of Foinaven’s permanent commander. Not mine.” He pointed to the group in the distance. “You can tell the next two to come up.”
The guard glanced at Mairead, who was pushing the stopper back into the water bag. “You want two? Not one?” he asked continuing to blatantly stare at her.
Hamish felt his anger rise but outwardly forced himself to remain relaxed. “I’ve appeased Mairead enough,” he said nonchalantly. The man was trouble and Hamish had no inclination to teach him a lesson and stifle the man’s arrogance. “If we do not speed this thing up, we will be out here in the rain and I’m cold enough.”
The guard flashed him a crooked smile, then returned his gaze to Mairead. When she looked at him, he gave her a nod and turned around to stroll back toward Foinaven. As he passed the dwindling group, he gestured and the next two men started coming toward them.
Hamish glanced at Mairead, glad she had taken her time. Her delay had been intentional. She knew the guard was going to say something and elected to be out of earshot when he did. Hamish still could not believe he let her spar with the man, but Mairead would not be dissuaded. He could tell the men were refraining from using their full strength, but Mairead had made them work nonetheless.
She was fast and accurate and had great balance and focus, but it was clear that she lacked the strength and weight to wield even a lighter, shorter sword against a man. Mairead knew it though and had resorted to distraction to help her odds—and it had worked. The woman had flirted, and laughed, and teased with each one of them. When she flirted with the first man, it had taken everything Hamish had to keep from ending this insane idea of hers. But Hamish refused to let her know that he was jealous—more than he had ever been in his life. And secondly, her idea was working.
Mairead re-hooked the water bottle and then came back to lean on the wall next to him. “Lumley is definitely one of Ulrick’s men.”
“Aye.” The man was a weasel. Hamish had sensed it a few days ago when he had met with all the men. Most had been wary to talk in the beginning, but not only had Lumley been eager to talk, he had asked bold questions for just a guard. Hamish answered them, which made the man even more cocky. His ill-placed arrogance did not concern Hamish. The more overconfident he was, the easier it would be to use him later. Arrogant men tended not to be suspicious.
“He hangs around a lot with Jollis.”
Hamish nodded. “You were right. I can definitely see the difference in how Lumley attacked versus the two men before him.” He patted the wall next to him, hinting for her to sit down. “And now that I know what to look for, you don’t need to prove yourself with a sword anymore.”
Mairead grimaced but hopped back onto the wall. She was tired and was not sure that she could have continued even if Hamish was asking her to stop. “And did I?” He arched a brow at her. “Did I prove myself?” she explained.
Hamish took a deep breath and crossed his arms. He was entering dangerous territory, but his gut said that he needed to be honest. If she continued down this path, she would only hurt herself and arm an attacker if she ever really did try to use the sword in defense. “You lack strength and stamina, and it is clear that you have never been properly trained, but”—he raised his hand to stop her from getting defensive—“I have to admit that I am also impressed. You have speed and instinct. And believe it or not, I support the idea of a woman mastering use of a weapon. A sword, however . . .” He pushed himself off the wall and walked toward the two more men who came into view, not finishing his thought.
Mairead listened as he gave them the same encouraging speech as he had given the others, telling them why they were there and that it would not take long. Hamish rejoined her and the two began to spar. Almost immediately she knew neither of them had spent any time being trained by anyone—let alone Ulrick.
“We can safely discount those two,” Hamish muttered, before halting them and instructing them to send the next pair.
Those trained by Ulrick definitely had certain habits the others lacked. They were subtle, techniques Hamish would have thought to look for if Mairead had not suggested it. Ulrick’s men liked to attack first and always at the leg, not anywhere high on the body. They seemed to parry effectively, but once an opponent knew their moves, it was easy to deflect as they knew only a handful of maneuvers. It was one of the reasons Mairead had been able to perform as well as she had. She could predict what they were going to do. And those who had not trained under Ulrick were so poor at fighting that Mairead would have beaten them if she had the strength and stamina.
For the next couple of hours, they watched the guard spar and Mairead was pleasantly surprised to find herself enjoying the afternoon. She had expected the tension between her and Hamish to be high after the kiss yesterday and at first she had been right. Both had felt uncomfortable and neither had been inclined to talk about what had happened or what it meant. Both still struggled with defining what it was that they wanted in the light of the obvious passion they shared. And until they could, neither had anything to say.
It was that silent mutual agreement that enabled them to leap past the previous afternoon’s events and onto safer subjects. And once they started talking, their conversation easily flowed from one topic to the next. She loved that he laughed at her warped sense of humor and in return he showed his own droll wit. They seemed to be able to talk about anything . . . with one exception. And each was privately grateful that the other did not want to explore it at this time.
Hamish looked at the last two men coming into view. “Any more after them?”
Mairead gave a quick shake of her head. “They are all that is left and neither are Ulrick’s men. They lack skill and discipline. I don’t know why Ulrick kept them as part of the guard.” Hamish knew. Ulrick needed men to leave behind. “Now that you know who the moles are, what are you going to do?”
Hamish barked out a laugh. “You will never give up, will you?”
Mairead rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I can,” she admitted. She was no longer trying to trick him into revealing anything for it was no longer necessary. She knew where to go for answers but would not betray his trust. He would show her when he was ready. But that did not mean it was in her nature to ignore secrets. She hated not being included.
His elbow nudged her knee. “Remember—I like a persistent woman.”
Mairead produced a small smile and raised her brows high. Then with a smirk she said, “As long as she trusts you.”
“Aye. As long as there is trust.” He chuckled softly. Then signaled for the two men to spar. As expected, the two were more of a danger to themselves than to others. Hamish quickly halted them and told them that the weather was causing him to end things faster. Both men looked relieved and began the trek back to Foinaven.
Mairead watched them leave, somewhat sad that their afternoon was over and that there was no longer any reason for them to spend so much time together. “What are you going to do about Ulrick’s men?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Mairead repeated incredulously. Then wondered why she was surprised. She would have been looking for potential “accidents” to send a message to anyone else who was thinking about squealing to Ulrick. So of course Hamish intended to do just the opposite.
Without thinking, Hamish grabbed her waist and helped her down off the wall. “I never did intend to do anything. I just wanted to know who not to trust when the time came.”
A loud crack of thunder followed by a long rumble filled the air. Hamish went to go get his horse. He had hoped to have time after they were done to ride out to the valley before nightfall, but the weather had other plans and was growing colder. Lightning lit up the sky and the following boom was almost deafening. “We need to get back before one of those finds us,” Hamish said, and without asking for permission, swung her onto his horse and then jumped up onto the saddle.
Mairead shivered and Hamish pulled her back into his arms. They felt wonderful and she wanted nothing more than to lean back and nestle into his chest. She needed to focus on something else. “With Jollis, that makes four.”
“Aye, that’s one more than I expected.”
“Do you think we caught them all?”
“Most likely. Three of them I was already suspicious of. If there are more, we will discover them now that we know who most of them are.”
Mairead nodded, loving the vibration as he spoke. She wanted to hear more and thought of just the question to ask—something she had been dying to know most of the afternoon. But before she could even utter the first word, Hamish urged the horse into a gallop and talking became impossible.
They had left for Foinaven about five minutes late. They were still outside the gates when the rain, which had been blissfully absent the past couple of days, seemed to be making up for lost time. By the time they reached the stables, they both were soaked.
Hamish swung his leg over and then helped Mairead down, who immediately dashed back into the courtyard toward the keep. He handed Adiran his reins and gave the lad a few instructions before heading in the same direction. He entered the main keep entrance and stopped short when he nearly ran into Mairead. He had thought she had gone to her room to dry off and get into warm, dry clothes. It was what he intended to do, but she was clearly waiting for him.
Mairead hugged herself. Having grown up in the north, she was acclimated to the cold and it normally did not bother her, but the combination of being wet and the wind hitting her in the face as they rode back had chilled her to the point her teeth were chattering. She had been dashing toward the keep when she realized that she had yet to ask her question. And she wanted an answer to it more than she wanted to be warm again.
“Wh-wh-what were you g-g-oing to say ab-b-out w-women using swords?” she finally got out. She was not sure why it mattered so much to her, but it did.
“You need to go upstairs and get dry clothes on.”
Mairead squeezed herself tighter. “I w-w-ill, but f-f-f-first I w-w-w-ant to know what you were g-g-going to say.”
Hamish blinked. He had no idea what she was talking about. “When?”
Mairead rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You said that I had s-s-some skill with a sword, that y-y-you like women who know how to use a w-w-weapon. Then y-y-you said ‘however.’” Her hazel eyes glared at him. “I now hate that w-w-word by the way.”
Hamish pointed to the stairwell. “Get dry. We can talk about this later tonight.”
Mairead gave a single but violent shake to her head. “T-t-tell me now.” She did not want to wait until dinner for chances were high that Selah and little Rab would be there and Hamish had already told her that she would have the great hall to herself. “Tell me,” she pressed.
Hamish thought about carrying Mairead up to her room, but the stubborn glint in her eyes spoke volumes. She would just march back out. Answering her was the quickest way to get her warm. “It is nothing to freeze over,” he huffed. “I think women should know how to use a weapon, but . . .” He looked at her. His brow furrowed deeply as he debated his next words, but he was also cold and wanted to go change. “. . . listen. Don’t get mad, but why the sword?”
Mairead’s eyes became wide with indignation. Her jaw dropped. “You don’t think a woman can wield a sword?”
“Not a claymore.” Hamish knew of only one woman—Colin McTiernay’s wife—who was decent with a sword, but it had also been especially made for her. Even so, Hamish had always thought the idea of women and swords ridiculous. “Most men find them difficult to use, but that is not my point. Even if you could become proficient, when would you use such a skill? If you are going to put energy and time into mastering a weapon, why not one that you would use, such as a bow and arrow? It’s not my strength, but lucky for you, it is Davros’s. I’m sure he would be willing to teach you.”
Mairead’s gaze narrowed and he knew that she did not welcome the suggestion. “Just think about it. What’s the point of learning a weapon if you can never apply your skill?”
Mairead shivered again and he pointed to the stairs. “Get dry and warm, lest you become like Robert.” This time his voice brokered no room for disagreement.
Mairead spun on her heel and rushed up the stairs. She ran to her chambers, glad she had seen no one. It was still a couple hours before nightfall, but the heavy clouds made it seem like it had already arrived. The small fire was struggling to remain alive and Mairead quickly tossed a couple more logs into the hearth before stripping.
Her mind was no longer even thinking about being wet and cold. What Hamish said rattled her far more than being caught outside in the rain. He had been trying to be nice, but she still heard what he meant. Even if I could get proficient. She had never thought herself an expert with the sword, but she had thought herself decent. She had held off several men for quite a while. But now she wondered if that just indicated they were even worse than she knew. What did she know of a true warrior’s skill? The only time she had seen one in action, besides Ulrick was Hamish, when he disarmed Jaime. But if she really was not any good, that meant she was vulnerable.
And that was the last thing she needed to be.
All this time she had been wanting to know what Hamish had planned for Ulrick, hoping she might be protected as well. She had even considered marrying a stranger so that he might keep Ulrick from coming after her. Even last night, she had dreamed that Hamish stayed at Foinaven, shielding her from harm.
She had it all wrong. She didn’t need someone else to protect her. She needed the ability to protect herself.
Hamish was right. She had been training on the wrong weapon. A sword, even a bow and arrow—these were for offense, to hunt or attack.
Knives, however, were different. Ideal for close-quarter fighting, the biodag was a stabbing weapon and the perfect means to defend oneself. If she was going to learn how to use another weapon, it would be the dirk and there was only one person she wanted to train her.
But how was she going to convince Hamish to work with her and teach her what she needed to know without telling him why?
* * *
Selah helped move the pillow to a more comfortable position behind Robert. “You sound better, but you don’t look any better.”
Robert nodded, his eyes closed. He was exhausted, but they both knew from past years that he was finally on the mend. His fever had broken in the early morning hours and he had been able to eat food and drink a good bit of water. He opened his eyes and when they fell on Selah, they softened. “What has been happening?”
Selah sat down next to him. “Little Rab is his normal self. He is worried about you, but I have assured him that you will be better soon.”
Robert sighed and successfully fought the need to cough. His throat felt like it was on fire whenever he did. “I miss him.” He took comfort in Selah’s loving gaze. “Is that strange to miss your five-year-old son?” Selah smiled and shook her head. “He is so creative and sees the world through such innocent eyes. Eyes I once had.” His throat constricted and the coughing spasm he had fought finally won.
Selah laced her fingers with his and tried not to look worried. “Your fever broke, but you still have a ways to go before you are better. Remember that before you decide to jump out of bed. That healer we sent for a couple of years ago was very clear. This cough will go away, but it becomes deadly if you do not allow yourself to completely heal.”
Robert squeezed her hand. “‘Deadly’ is such an unbecoming word for you, dear.”
“I’m not waffling on this, Robert.”
He smiled, hearing her serious tone. “You must admit that the timing of my illness has worked in our favor.”
A short, exasperated breath escaped her. “In your favor, not mine. I do not like to hear you in so much pain.”
Robert took back his hand to cover a cough. He relaxed against the pillows. “It’s worth it if my plan is working.”
Selah pursed her lips in frustration. “That is because you did not see Hamish tonight. Something is bothering him.”
“I think you mean someone.”
“Well, it is to the point that I think he might decide to leave.” Robert looked at her then, the intensity of his eyes growing. Selah nodded. “We might be forced to tell him everything we know to keep him here.”
Robert’s gaze relaxed. “Not yet.” His tone was filled with assurance, but Selah was not comforted. “Listen to me. Hamish will do what is right. He did twelve years ago and he will do so again. He is too honorable to do anything less.”
“He is an honorable warrior, I agree, but this is different.”
“Nay. It is the same, Hamish has just demonstrated it more as a warrior.”
“You are just as honorable, Robert.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “I can lift a sword and wield it to defend my home, but I am a MacBrieve. We are builders, farmers, and judges and we are good with money, but Hamish is like the McTiernays. That is why I know he will do what is right. Trust me. My plan will work.”
Selah bit her bottom lip. “What about Mairead?”
“I thought you said she was in love with him.”
Selah wringed her hands. “Aye, she is. You only have to look at her to see just how much she loves him, but she refuses to admit it. And Hamish is just as bad. Why do you think I’m afraid he might leave? They are both doing everything they can to resist their feelings, not succumb to them. I . . . I . . . I think it just happened too fast.”
Robert cocked a brow. “It only took one look for me,” he reminded her.
“And for me, but we accepted it. I doubt if either Hamish or Mairead has admitted the truth to themselves, let alone each other. They will still be in denial by the time Ulrick arrives.”
Robert took a deep breath and waited for Selah to look at him once more. He needed her to remain hopeful. “Hamish and Mairead may deny what they feel, but if they are really in love, they will not be able to resist for long. And when they finally do admit their feelings, are you ready for what will happen? You and she will no longer be living together at Foinaven. It is even possible you might not see Mairead for a long while.”
Selah swallowed and then stood up. She went to the window and looked down into the courtyard. The rain had persisted for hours but had finally stopped an hour ago. “We knew when we started this that things would change for everyone. I want my sister to be happy.”
“She will be, my dear. I promise. And it won’t be much longer. Another week, I suspect. By then, hopefully I will be out of this bed and attending a wedding. Then we can focus on our true goal.”
Selah pulled her eyes from the courtyard and shifted her gaze back to Robert. “I wish I had your faith, but right now I am not sure if any of our goals will be achieved. You were not at dinner. You did not see them.”
Robert patted the spot next to him on the bed. “There is always a messy stage when building anything, but out of that mess comes the most beautiful creation. And what we are about to create, sonuachar, is something beautiful and long lasting. I am doing this for all of us.”
Selah sat down and when he opened his arms, she leaned into his embrace. “And if we are wrong about Mairead and Hamish? What then?”
Robert shrugged. “Then I will tell him the truth. Mairead will be protected. I promise you.”
Selah said nothing and took comfort from once again being in Robert’s arms. She hoped he was right. If they had to tell Hamish the truth, it would change everything. Aye, Mairead would be protected physically, but her heart would be destroyed.
“Tha gaol agam ort,” Robert whispered. “Trust me, my love.”
“I do, a ghrà mo chroì, I do.”