Never Kiss a Highlander by Michele Sinclair (3)

Chapter Three

 

Selah peered over her sister’s shoulder and out the window to the busy courtyard below. She softly clicked her tongue. “The crowds on market day have grown the past few months. Have they not? I’m surprised anyone can find what they are looking for.” She moved back to her chair to resume her needlepoint.

Mairead smiled inwardly. Her sister would never outright say that she was wasting her time by trying to find a single person in the packed courtyard, but that is what she had meant. To all who met her, Selah was the kindest of souls, never having a reproach or an ill thought about anyone or anything. And while it was true that her sister was incapable of hurting anyone intentionally, to assume she was incapable of faultfinding was a serious misjudgment, for Selah harbored the same critical thoughts as anyone. She was just a master at repressing and rephrasing her honest opinion. It was the same with her husband, Robert, who led this motley band of clansmen. Neither of them could outright say a harsh word to someone, even if they had earned their scorn and disapproval.

One just had to look at Selah to know that Mairead was not the only one anticipating Hamish’s arrival. Her sister had bound hair and dressed herself as a properly married woman. Her barbette was neatly tucked around her chin and pinned at the top of her head, the ends hidden under her prettiest filet. She was not wearing a veil, but one only had to glance at her to know her marital status.

Mairead thought the ensemble incredibly restrictive and completely unnecessary. When she married, nothing would get her to wear one of those headdresses. Everyone had seen her hair either loose or in a simple braid for years. The idea that marriage required noblewomen to hide their hair made no sense and she would refuse to succumb to such nonsense. Especially when it meant constant discomfort.

A moment later Mairead felt a twinge in her neck due to the weight of the complicated braid pulled into an intricate knot. Instantly she felt regret at being such a hypocrite and reached up to rub her neck. “You do not have to wait with me, Selah.”

“I do not mind.”

Mairead gave her older sister a knowing look. “You do not fool me. You followed me in here and have done little but needle me about looking out the window, while sneaking a peek yourself. Your actions only prove your interest in whether Hamish has arrived is just as great as mine. I’m just not making you admit it out loud,” Mairead said saucily.

Eight years separated them in age and because their mother died of illness a year after their father, Selah had been her guardian, mentor, and counselor since she was eleven. She had taught Mairead all she knew on what it was to be a woman, a friend, and someday a wife. Her efforts were appreciated and many of the lessons taken to heart, but their personalities were too dissimilar for Mairead to adhere to—or even believe in—all the advice Selah continually bestowed.

While her sister was predisposed to be unusually compassionate, Mairead was inclined to be candid. Sometimes Selah hinted that she might be a little too honest. If she was, Mairead blamed Selah and her husband, Robert. Growing up constantly trying to interpret what they truly thought had been tiresome. Mairead wanted no one to misinterpret her opinion.

“I do not know what you mean. I only came to keep you company while little Rab is napping. He rose rather early this morning,” Selah replied, neither confirming nor denying her anticipation.

Mairead grimaced and quickly turned away before Selah could see. Her five-year-old nephew was not the only one who had been awakened by his father’s hacking cough. All in the keep had been. “How is Robert doing?”

“Resting finally,” Selah said with a sigh, trying not to sound worried. “I just pray that he will stay in bed this year until it passes.”

Mairead nodded and looked back out the window at the busy courtyard below. Every year, her sister’s husband became ill when the cold weather came. This year had been no different. The day after Epiphany, Robert worked with a sore throat, and as expected a couple days later, he had a hacking cough and found it difficult to breathe. It usually lasted two or three weeks—if he rested—and then he would be well again until the next year.

“Does the constant drumming help you search?” Selah asked as she forcefully plunged her needle down into the cloth, signaling that the noise irritated her.

Mairead gripped the side of the window frame to still her fingers. “The sun has been up for nearly three hours and it is almost time for the midday meal.”

“And how is that relevant to your search?”

Mairead glanced back over her shoulder with a scowl. “It means that Hamish should have arrived by now. I could have ridden to Amon’s and returned twice by now.”

Selah shrugged. “Perhaps Davros only thought he saw Hamish. He has never actually met Robert’s brother. It could have been someone else entering Amon’s home last night.”

Mairead knew Selah was needling her. “Davros has the eyesight of one of his falcons and he said the man had the same height and coloring as Robert. He was also on horseback, had been traveling, and was carrying a sword. It was Hamish,” Mairead exerted. Then with a touch of cynicism, she added, “Which also means your and Robert’s ridiculous plan to get his brother to come home worked.”

Selah bristled. “I completely support my husband’s decision on what to do concerning his brother,” she said crisply, a clear hint that she thought Mairead’s condemnation a step too far.

Mairead rolled her eyes. She did not want to argue with Selah. Neither did she want to live with the results of her inept brother-in-law’s actions. However, his latest plea to have Hamish return home was one that she not only secretly supported but also had prayed for. When the herald had returned letting them know that Hamish had sent him ahead to warn them of his arrival, her heart had soared. Not with joy, but relief. For nothing short of Hamish and his army could save them all from a horrible fate.

Mairead tilted her head to lean against the window frame and continued to study the busy courtyard. In the early morning hours, as many temporary structures that could fit within the castle walls had been erected. It seemed like the whole village had come to Foinaven to trade, barter, and buy goods. The crowds were now so thick it made it difficult to identify those whom she knew very well, let alone a man she had not seen in years.

Mairead had been only ten when Hamish had decided to leave Foinaven, his family, and his claim to lead the newly combined MacBrieve/MacMhathain clan. But the years had not erased her memory of him or the kindness he had shown her. It had been Hamish who had told her of her father’s death. He had taken her out and shown her how to skip stones along the water, answering all her questions even though her mother thought ten years old was too young to understand such loss. The following year, when her mother passed away, it was the memory of his words she had used for comfort and strength.

Hamish had told Mairead to stop trying to imitate her sister and just enjoy being the person she was. That the light-colored freckles sprinkled along her nose and cheeks made her appear more interesting, and her propensity for “unnecessary truthfulness” would someday be appreciated by a self-reliant man, who would find the trait far more appealing than meekness. She had known that what he said at the time had been just to make her feel better, but nevertheless, she had clung to his words throughout the years, especially in periods of self-doubt.

Hamish had been huge and strong, able to make anyone who threatened him or those he loved tremble with fear. He had shown her that men were capable of both strength and kindness.

Then he had left, only to never come back. And despite her young age, she had understood why.

Throughout the years, tidbits about Hamish trickled in from time to time. Traveling merchants always brought news of the larger clans—the McTiernays in particular—knowing Robert’s interest. The fact that Hamish remained unwed after twelve years mystified her sister and brother-in-law. But not Mairead.

It was clear part of Hamish still loved Selah. Nothing else explained both his prolonged absence and his remaining a bachelor for so long. It also meant that Hamish would not stay but leave as soon as he could—and for the very same reason he had departed more than a decade ago.

All this Mairead understood and accepted as inevitable. But it did not matter, for Hamish was bringing with him hope and the chance to actually save not just the clan, but herself.

“I think I might go down there,” Mairead said, and lifted her head off the windowsill. When she did, several dark gold strands of the intricate weave along the back of her nape got caught on a crevice and were pulled free. “This is why it is pointless for me to do my hair!” she groused. “I spent a good hour in a chair this morning letting Annot yank on my scalp for nothing. I should have just tied it back like I always do.”

Seeing Mairead reach up to take the whole thing down, Selah jumped to her feet and exclaimed, “Stop! It is not that bad. Give me a chance to fix it before you do something rash.”

Mairead ignored her sister and kept working at the tresses until they were free. She swung her head back and forth, feeling relief now that the heavy mass was loose about her shoulders.

“Come here,” Selah said, pointing to the chair she had just occupied.

Mairead’s eyes narrowed with distrust. “It’s too uncomfortable and you and I both know that it would not stay. Something would cause it to come down again. My hair is impossible. I’ve accepted it. So should you.”

“At least sit and let me brush it out. Right now it is a mess and you would never have allowed Annot near your hair this morning if you were so disinterested in your appearance.”

Mairead pursed her lips, then pushed Selah’s needlework aside and sat down. Immediately Selah retrieved a brush and began to fuss. “Your hair is so beautiful. It’s such a rich color and seems to shine on its own. Even when you leave it down, as it is now, you could attract any man you wanted . . . if you but tried.”

Normally Mairead would have mocked the idea. Mostly because catching a man’s eye had never been an issue, though Mairead sometimes wondered how many of the men who had sought her affections actually liked her, or just sought what a marriage to her might give them. It was an immaterial point as she had never met anyone whom she could share what her sister had with Robert—true love.

“I have no desire in attracting a man,” Mairead lied, unwilling to answer the questions to follow if her sister suspected the truth.

Selah scoffed. “You’re allowing me to brush your hair and I noticed that right after Davros told us that he saw Hamish entering Amon’s last night, you went and found Annot to have her work on your hair. And you changed into your most flattering gown.”

Feeling caught, Mairead licked her lips. She still refused to admit to her sister the real nature of her intentions. Selah could never know the threat Ulrick had made just before he left. She would feel responsible to do something and whatever conciliatory thing Robert and she devised, Mairead was positive it would only make things worse.

Though she hated it, Mairead had no choice. She had to continue to lie. “It is not what you are thinking, Selah. I simply wanted to look my best for Robert’s sake as well as yours when Hamish arrived.”

Mairead looked down to avoid looking at her sister and smoothed out the gown. She remembered vividly the response she got the last time she wore it. That night and the week after, she had received much male attention—even a couple offers of marriage. They had not been the first to seek her hand, nor had they been her last. If marriage were all it took to save her, there was always a widower in the need of a mother for his children.

No, the man she married could not just be anyone. He had to be someone whom Ulrick would be afraid of. And if this gown she was wearing could still elicit the same power of appeal, that someone would be arriving today.

The ankle-length chainse was a shimmering gold and had a rich green-colored, knee-length bliaut over it that brought out the color of her eyes. A band of intricate needlework circled the long sleeves of the tunic. The golden color enhanced the tawny strands of her hair and complemented her olive skin tone, but the cut also highlighted her curvaceous figure—which made Mairead feel at unease.

She and Selah were undoubtedly sisters. Both were of the same height, possessed golden brown hair and hazel eyes, but where Selah’s skin was flawless, Mairead had freckles scattered along her nose and cheeks. Where Selah’s hair was straight, Mairead’s was wild and untamable, but at least she could braid it down her back. Her shapeliness, however, was impossible to disguise. It was the one thing that kept anyone from mistaking one from the other—even at a distance. Where Selah’s thin frame made her appear delicate and graceful, Mairead possessed a much fuller figure, with curves and breasts that were forever getting in the way.

“I would not be surprised if one of Hamish’s men took one look at you and spirited you away from Foinaven.”

“Selah . . .” Mairead said hesitantly.

Selah shook her head. “I’m in earnest. In this dress, you are going to catch the eye of every man coming with Hamish. It is possible that one of them might catch yours as well,” Selah said as she continued to brush the wayward strands.

Mairead sat completely still, wondering if she was really that transparent.

“If it happens, just remember to charm the man a little, and I promise he will be yours,” Selah encouraged. “It only took a few days with Robert to know he was my destiny. When the right man comes along, you will know it too. Don’t resist it, little sister. I want you to be happy and this might be your chance.”

Mairead blinked. How could she be so blind? Was this the reason behind Robert’s insane idea to send Ulrick off and cause their clan to be so vulnerable? To get Hamish to return with eligible men for Mairead to marry? It was ludicrous, but then so was sending off the majority of one’s army to fetch a priest.

Pride shouted for her to refuse to participate. She would marry someday, but on her terms and not for convenience. She wanted someone she could trust. Someone she could rely on to be dependable and make hard decisions and stand behind them. She wanted someone she did not have to guide and encourage or worry if a strongly worded phrase would cause them to retreat. She wanted someone she could be proud of, whom she could support and love. In return, she wanted to be appreciated and respected. Most of all she wanted what Selah had with Robert. A partner who understood and loved her and someone she loved in return.

But that dream was not to be and her pride had to accept that destiny had other plans. If anything, she was fortunate that Selah and Robert had created this opportunity. She might have wanted a man to love, but what she needed was a man who lived far away. Such as a man who lived with the McTiernays.

Mairead started to squirm and Selah reached out to clutch the sides of her face to keep her still. Mairead sighed with resignation as she felt the familiar tugs on her scalp. Selah was braiding her hair. Mairead was shocked when less than a handful of minutes later, her sister took a step back.

“There,” Selah said, and smiled at her handiwork. “I just brought the sides back to allow everyone see your lovely face. Not a man in sight could resist you.”

Mairead patted the back of her hair. Two braids on each side were tied together allowing her hair to fall in waves down her back. “More than likely, the only males who’ll find me irresistible will be the merchants, which makes a pretty gown and fixing my hair a waste of time. They would think I was attractive with matted hair and rotten teeth.”

Selah ignored her. And pulled free one small lock from one of the braids so that it fell down the side of her cheek. “Even better.”

Mairead darted her eyes upward, still unconvinced. “I’m just going down to talk with Davros, Selah. And he cares not about my hair.” And before Selah could reply, Mairead escaped to the hall. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the closed door, finally free to feel the fear she felt inside.

Taking a deep breath, she began her descent, reminding herself that all she needed to find was one man in Hamish’s army willing to marry her and take her back with him.

Mairead suddenly stopped her descent. Her thinking had been completely wrong.

Oh, she was right about having to let her dream of marrying for true love go, but that was not the only one she had. There were others—one of which she had given up on. She did not have to leave her beloved home and family. She could stay at Foinaven and even help ensure her family remained at its head.

All she needed was a Highland warrior from a powerful Highland clan. Several such men would be arriving with Hamish. How hard could it be to convince one of them to marry her?

* * *

Hamish tried to think of another song—any chant or verse—to replace the one he had been humming all morning. He did not know the words, but little Fulanna had been singing it this morning and the haunting melody refused to stop plaguing his thoughts.

He gazed up ahead. Foinaven was not far now and he soon would be within its walls. His stomach growled reminding him that it was at least an hour, probably more like two, past the time for midday meal. Normally he would have stopped to eat, but he was already much later in arriving than he had intended.

He and Amon had left early in the morning to meet with several of the men who used to be part of his father’s guard. Their discussions had been enlightening and only supported what Amon had told him the night before. They had spoken of their frustrations with Ulrick and his tactics and many offered suggestions, most of which included some variation of sending for help from the McTiernays and permanently taking over as commander. Hamish had made it abundantly clear that he refused to entertain any ideas of this nature.

Living with the McTiernays, Hamish had learned to always have many options when walking into a situation. He may have come north alone, but he had not come devoid of ideas. He was here to free his brother from Ulrick’s clutches and give his clansmen a chance at security. Afterward, it would be their responsibility to ensure this one-time-only opportunity was not wasted. Amon agreed with Hamish’s desire to keep his plan confidential while secretly helping it come to fruition until the time came to let others know.

Hamish approached the castle and paused to stare incredulously at the point of entry through Foinaven’s curtain wall. The stone walls themselves were thick, solid, and extremely well built. They were tall and formidable and Hamish would have been impressed if the protection they provided was not completely negated by a massive weakness—two large wooden doors that were currently wide open, allowing anyone entry. There was no barbican, no portcullis, not even a gatehouse that could effectively keep anyone inside safe from those outside.

Hamish let go a deep sigh as people stepped aside to avoid him as they moved freely in and out of the castle. Such defense structures were meaningless if throngs of people were allowed to come and go inside at will. Hamish wondered at the point of having a castle, let alone an expensive stone one, with such a weakness. He found it difficult to believe his father would have agreed to such a key requirement to the castle’s security.

Hamish gave a small shake to his head and slid off his horse. The ground was soft from last night’s rain and hissed a squishy sound. It was immediately followed by the feel of cold mud oozing between the seams of his shoes and along his toes. He looked down and grimaced. He was already filthy from the morning’s activities, but he had been able to keep his feet somewhat dry until now.

This time of year meant rain, which in turn meant mud and a choice of a daily bath or dirty feet at night. He was tired of the latter and the feeling of sludge between his toes was something he particularly disliked. Luckily, at Foinaven he could replace a frigid dip in the river with a bath of heated water in a fire-warmed room. It was probably the only perk he would actually enjoy while at Foinaven.

Giving a small tug on the reins, he led his horse through the castle entry and began to weave his way toward the stables. The stable boy spied him and after several seconds finally ambled his way over to get the horse.

Hamish again told himself to hold his tongue—that any lack of responsiveness regarding Robert’s staff was not of any importance to him. “Is the courtyard always this crowded?” he asked the lad.

The stable boy scrunched his nose in confusion. “It’s market day,” he grunted, and took the reins Hamish was extending. The bandy-legged lad was older than Hamish originally thought. He had long, straggly, ginger hair and bloodshot eyes, which indicated that his lack of speed was not due to lack of will or pride but lack of sleep.

Hamish untied his saddle bags, swung them over his shoulder, and pulled free his sword. “Get started on cleaning my horse and giving him something to eat. After I get something to douse my own hunger, I’ll come back to help you.”

Red-streaked eyes stared incredulously at Hamish for a minute, but then realizing that he was serious, the young man straightened his back and produced a wary half smile. “Aye, sir.”

“Your name?”

“My name?” the lad asked as if no one had ever done so before. “It’s, uh, Adiran.”

Hamish turned to leave. “Feed my horse first, Adiran,” he said over his shoulder. He knew the boy did not really believe he would return, and Hamish doubted the young boy had the energy to clean and attend to his horse properly.

Stepping back into the bustling, overly packed courtyard, Hamish looked up into the sky and flexed his foot. The mud between the toes of his left foot included small pebbles, which were extremely annoying. It looked like the clouds were going to pass, taking with them the possibility of rain—at least for the next several hours. Others must have realized it as well for it seemed all in the vicinity had come to haggle and buy and sell. There was very little room to maneuver in the crowded bailey, making it difficult to get back to where the kitchens were located, assuming they were still at the north end adjacent to the great hall. There Hamish hoped he could find not just food, but also the chance to remove a layer or two of grime from his body.

The layout of Foinaven looked to be unchanged since when he left. Its rugged inland landscape was formed from isolated sandstone peaks forcing the castle walls to conform to the undulations of the hill. The flattest parts of land, and therefore easiest to build large structures, were against the northern and western walls. That fact had not changed in twelve years. What had was the increased number of structures, the replacement of wood with stone, and the sheer number of people both in and outside of its walls.

Hamish began to maneuver his way through the throng, taking full advantage of his size and height to motivate people into moving out of his way. All types of merchants seemed eager to sell or barter every type of good from leather, woven material, candles, soap, stuff for horses, to tools for work or home. Hamish even spied several people next to a cart looking at what appeared to be basic furniture. His stomach, however, was far more interested in finding good food.

Dried meat was all around him, but after days of such fare, he wanted something different. His nose was telling him that somewhere nearby was fresh bread. His stomach rumbled again and he was about to stop and ask just who was selling the bread, when a small stall caught his attention.

Along the stall’s corner wall hung leathers, tools, and various items used to erect the temporary structure. An L-shape bench completed the merchant’s stand. Propped into a hole at the corner and each end was a long, thick stick that stood three feet into the air. A thin rope connected the sticks, upon which hung sparrows, a couple of herons, a rabbit, and one very large goose. The merchant was most likely an archer or a falconer, but he was also married, for small game and fowl were not all he sold. Three loaves of bread were on the bench, just below the trussed birds. And more important, they smelled fresh and their golden crusts proved they were not overbaked. But the best indication of their quality was the number of spaces between the loaves. Several had already been sold.

Hamish readjusted the bags on his shoulder and stepped sideways to avoid being clobbered by two people jostling a barrel down the narrow path. He was about to make his way to the merchant when he stopped cold. The falconer was not alone. He was talking to a woman, who was leaning over the bench, giving Hamish the perfect view of the lower half of her profile. Suddenly food was the lesser of things his body craved.

Hamish twitched his lips, surprised at the unexpected jolt of desire. It had been a long time since he had craved a woman’s touch and he had truly begun to wonder if he ever would again. Maybe time did eventually heal all wounds. Then again, maybe time had nothing to do with it. Hamish could not recall ever seeing a female body with luscious curves so perfectly proportioned.

Angled the way she was, it was hard to guess her height, but envisioning the long legs hidden beneath her bliaut, he suspected she was slightly taller than average. Hamish flexed his fingers as he watched the play of the green gown over her curved buttocks as she swung her hips slightly back and forth. Unlike tall females who possessed a thin, willowy shape, the lady before him had breasts and hips ample enough for a man to thoroughly enjoy. If a pretty face and a quick mind came with that shapely body, she would be his vision of a perfect woman.

Mo chreach! What was wrong with him? Of course it would be here, at Foinaven of all places, for his body suddenly to return to life and demand attention. Hamish took in a deep breath and exhaled, reminding himself that the most he had time for was to learn the woman’s name. He certainly was not going to remain long enough for anything more.

Hamish closed his eyes and fought to regain control. He had spent months without a woman and his body could wait another few more weeks until he was back home to seek a female’s company. Besides, had he not painfully learned that women—especially the kind who looked that good from the back—were nothing but trouble?

He opened his eyes just as a ray of rare sunlight caught her dark gold hair as it fell down her back in loose waves. Unbound meant she was most likely unwed and available. Hamish looked up to the sky. He had long suspected God was not vengeful or fearsome as some priests would have their followers believe, but instead quite mischievous. He was certainly having fun now. The woman probably had a high-pitched voice that could make vultures fly away in terror.

Feeling somewhat barely back in control, Hamish walked toward the merchant, trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes from looking at the delicate arch of the woman’s back. The thought of her sinful curves and how they moved was going to keep him awake tonight, and probably a few others.

Hamish blinked as his toe came into contact with something. He righted himself just in time, barely avoiding stepping on a young girl sitting just underneath the falconer’s bench with her legs outstretched. Seeing him and how he almost crushed her limbs, the child pulled them up to her chest and hugged them. Her huge, fear-filled brown eyes traveled slowly up Hamish’s body, taking in the large weapon in his hand, until they met his green ones. He smiled, but her expression remained unchanged as she stared at him. Hamish realized why and could almost hear Laurel yell at him to shave his beard.

He put away his sword and then winked at the child, pointing at the colored pebbles she had dropped near her leg. The girl glanced down and, seeing the rocks, grabbed them in her hands. Within a couple of seconds, she forgot he was even there and began to play, with her legs once again stretched out to hamper those walking by.

Hamish slightly parted two of the game birds so he could gain the falconer’s attention, and hopefully sneak a look at the woman. Unfortunately, the man was standing right in the line of view. Hamish bit his bottom lip and fought the temptation to move down a little. Why let reality disturb the fantasy? He didn’t need to know she had an overly large pug nose between two wide-set uneven eyes.

Hamish was about to ask the man about the bread, but before he could utter a word, the falconer said, “I tell you I have not seen Hamish within these castle gates.” The man’s tone was weary as if he had given the same answer several times that day.

“Thanks, Davros, but if you do see him, please let me know.” Hamish felt his jaw drop. Her voice was just as lovely as her figure. Rather than drive men away, it had a lilting quality that could lure a man’s soul and more astonishingly, she had been looking for him. “Oh, and tell your lovely wife I said hello and hope to see her soon.”

“I’ll tell her, and I’ll also tell her about you being so gussied up today. Jeán’ll be interested in knowing why. Though it’s not hard to guess.”

Hamish heard a fake gasp of shock. “Davros, I have no idea what you are talking about. ’Tis a dress I have not worn in some time, but all else needed to be washed,” she said emphatically, but Hamish could tell the merchant did not believe a word. Neither did he.

Hamish closed his eyes. Their conversation indicated she was indeed not married, and hoping, of all things, to attract his attention.

“Can I help you?”

Hamish reopened his eyes as the merchant slid the birds farther apart on the string. Brilliant blue eyes spied him and immediately sparkled with recognition. Hamish, on the other hand, could not ever remember seeing the man before.

The falconer was on the short side, but his hands were large and calloused and looked like they belonged on a man much larger. The wrinkles on his face were evidence of hours squinting and made him look much older than Hamish suspected he actually was. With the exception of a few gray strands near his temples, the man’s hair was still a vibrant jet black, hinting at his true age.

Hamish pushed forward a coin and glanced to see if the woman had left. She had not, but God definitely had a sense of humor, for she had turned around and was now leaning back on the makeshift counter looking out at the crowd. “I was hoping to buy a loaf.”

The man took the coin and with a chuckle said, “Your eyes are not on the bread.”

Hamish raised his gaze to study the man. Seeing only friendliness reflected in the man’s blue eyes, he returned the falconer’s smile. “’Tis bread I’m wanting, but I’ll admit that I cannot imagine it being as tasty as that.”

Davros picked up a loaf and handed it to Hamish. “Take the bread, but beware. That over there,” he said, pointing to Mairead with his thumb over his shoulder, “may look like a sweet morsel, but most find her to be a bit sour.”

Hamish took the bread and immediately pulled off a piece. “Perhaps she’s just been waiting for some sweet words and a pair of strong arms, friend,” he said, popping it into his mouth.

Immediately the woman’s back went rigid. She then stood straight up, indicating she had not only heard but also understood Hamish’s comment. He expected her to quickly walk away, but instead, she turned the corner to address him face-to-face. Hamish looked at the falconer. The man just grinned and gave him a shrug that said he had given him fair warning.

Hamish turned and all thoughts of appeasing flattery vanished with nothing in their place. He should have known. He could practically hear God’s laughter. Of course she would be gorgeous. The one time not a single McTiernay was within miles to challenge him for a beautiful woman’s attentions would be here at Foinaven. A place he was soon to leave and never return to again. And not even the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was going to change that.

It also did not seem to matter what he felt about her because it was clear she did not return his sentiments.

When she had turned the corner, the woman had her finger up and her mouth was open, no doubt in preparation to release a scathing comment. However, one look at him had stopped her.

She finally closed her mouth and lowered her hand. Hamish could tell the moment she remembered just why she had turned to face him. Her hands curled into fists, which she placed on her hips. “Why is it that men desire their women to be attractive but never think to make themselves more appealing in return? Do you think we are so desperate that it only takes a few sweet words for us to fall into a pair of strong—and filthy—arms?”

Hamish opened his mouth to reply, but she waved a finger to stop him. “Do not bother to speak. I would not be able to hear a word you say. I am too distracted by that nest you are wearing on your chin. It looks like it has been out in the rain and the snow for the past two months and I can smell you from here.”

Instead of being affronted, Hamish leaned back and started to laugh. The woman had spirit. “True, but unlike you, I am not aiming to catch another’s eye.” He let his eyes travel down her form and back up, blatant appreciation shining in their green depths. “In my experience, when a woman puts on her finest gown, she has one goal. She is out to catch a man.”

Davros coughed and with a chortle said, “He has a point.” Mairead turned her head and glared at him. Davros just shrugged. “But in your case, it’ll take more than a dress.”

Hamish found the merchant’s assessment hard to believe and was about to say so when the woman hissed, “I do not need a dress to find a man to marry.”

Hamish smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “Probably not, but I suspect you are hoping it will help capture a certain man’s attention.”

Mairead’s hazel eyes shot wide open and Hamish knew he had assessed the situation correctly. She took a step forward. Her eyes crinkled as she studied him, which surprisingly accentuated her other facial features. Next time Father Lanaghly preached about how God loved everyone and they were all created equally, Hamish fully intended to relay the cruelty of this moment. He may have been visually disappointing to Mairead, but he could not say the same about her.

She did not possess the classic features of beauty such as high cheekbones and porcelain skin, but she was breathtaking all the same. Sprinkled along her small upturned nose and pink cheeks were faint freckles. Her gold and green eyes were rimmed with long dark lashes and the fire that sparkled in their depths spoke of a quick mind and fiery, irrepressible spirit. It was her mouth, however, that was most appealing. Made for kissing, it looked soft and supple with the lower lip slightly fuller than the upper, begging to be suckled. Altogether, she was the kind of woman a man went to war for. In another time, place, and circumstance, Hamish would have even fought a McTiernay to have the chance to win her.

“Hamish?” she asked softly, taking another step closer.

“That is the name I was born with,” he said teasingly.

Mairead pointed a finger at him and started shaking her head. “No. You cannot be him. Hamish is . . . a fearsome warrior. He is courageous and kind and . . . handsome. You”—she paused to lick her lips—“are only large . . . rude . . . and dirty.”

Hamish looked down and made a show of inspecting himself, examining the nicks and scrapes along his outstretched arms. “Aye, I am not as pleasing to look at as usual. It’s hard for us courageous warriors to be handsome all of the time. But then”—he paused to give her a wink—“maybe I just need the help of a woman’s touch.”

Mairead’s mouth fell open. She glanced at Davros, whose blue eyes momentarily widened at the suggestion. But after a second, he only shrugged, eager to discover what was going to happen next.

Her eyes snapped back to Hamish as her shock morphed into anger. “First my sister and now me?”

Sister? Hamish stared at the woman. He could not remember being with a woman from this far north ever visiting the McTiernays. Just who was she?

His puzzlement must have been obvious for she announced crisply, “I’m Mairead. Selah’s younger sister. And you . . . you bearded eyesore,” she stuttered as she marched up to him, “are nothing like how I remem—” Mairead’s eyes opened wide and her arms flew in the air.

Upon hearing just who had stirred his body to life after being dormant for so long, Hamish had frozen with shock. He realized too late that Mairead had failed to see the little girl’s outstretched legs. He instinctively reached out just as she tripped, but Mairead was too far away. He was unable to catch her before she fell—face-first—into the cold mud.

Mairead pulled herself up on all fours. Hamish bent down to help her up, but when she looked at him, he decided against the offer. Raw fury poured out of her hazel eyes, making them incredibly appealing.

Hamish swallowed. He needed to get control of his growing desire and remember just who was glaring at him. And more important, just who her sister was.

“I might be nothing like you remember, but you, little Mairead,” he said with a chuckle and a wink, “are exactly the same!”

* * *

Mairead shook with fury born mostly from embarrassment. She may not have been sweet and docile like her sister, but that did not mean she was prone to losing her self-control—and that was exactly what had happened. And it would happen again if she ran into anyone before she was able to duck into her chambers.

Mairead reached her floor and peeked out of the stairwell to the narrow hall. Thankfully, no one was in sight. She ran to her room and closed the door, sighing with relief. Then, without warning, the emotions associated with every mortifying moment hit her again. Her shoulders slumped and she slid down the door, letting the tears begin to fall once more.

Crying. Of all the things she could have done while lying in the mud in the wake of such humiliation. Why had her emotional state and body selected crying? Her only consolation was the horror and guilt her tears had created in Hamish MacBrieve’s eyes when he had finally assisted her back to her feet. Weeping was a pathetic way to win the upper hand. It symbolized all that she was not, and yet, in this case, it had been her biggest ally.

No one argued when she entered the kitchens and ordered for everyone to vacate so that a maid could prepare her bath right there in the room with the ovens. Hellie, the head cook, looked sympathetic and nodded in understanding, causing her graying, once-pale blond ringlets to bob enthusiastically. Being a kind woman, she then reassured Mairead that it was an ideal time for a break, being it was so early in the afternoon. The meat still had a few more hours to roast and many of the staff were eager to go out in the market. One of her helpers had even nervously thanked her for not asking them to haul buckets of water up to her room. Mairead groaned as she rested her head against her knees. Everyone had been so stunned by her physical state they had searched for anything to say that would keep her from breaking down completely in front of them.

Wiping her cheeks, Mairead could feel the grime being smeared on her skin. She had tried to use her sleeves to remove as much dirt as possible, but her gown was so muddy it had made things worse. Only a bath would remove the muck embedded in her eyebrows and hair. After taking a deep, calming breath, she rose to her feet and poured some water in a bowl to clean her hands. She refused to soil her spare gown just by carrying it to the kitchens.

After selecting a clean set of clothes, Mairead paused to peek out the window, searching for the source of her misery. She sighed with relief as she saw Hamish working with Adiran cleaning a horse just outside the stables, which were thankfully located on the western wall, opposite from the kitchens. She took another deep breath and glared at the back of his head, feeling some of her self-confidence return. She might have fallen in the mud. She might have broken into tears. But both her disheveled and emotional states were temporary and excusable. Hamish, however, was going to remain looking scraggly and unkempt, for that beard had been left unattended for far too long.

When she had realized who he was, she had been shocked. He looked so different from what she remembered. But from this distance, his movements triggered her memories of him. Hamish held himself in a manner unlike any other man. He was completely at ease and yet also fully in command of all that was around him. She had no doubt that, if he wished, Hamish could remove the massive sword sheathed at his hip and either injure or kill a would-be attacker before they got off one strike regardless of where he was or what he was doing. She bit her bottom lip, imagining Hamish in fighting mode. That would be something spectacular to see—even in his ratty state.

Feeling the mud crackle as it dried along her hairline, Mairead left the window and grabbed a brush and some soap to add to her load before quickly making her way back to the kitchens. Once again, she encountered no one in the keep and all eyes in the courtyard purposefully looked away. Upon seeing Mairead in the kitchens, one of the cooks added three kettles of boiling water to the water already in the tin contraption that was on the floor next to the large hearth. Hellie then quickly shooed everyone out of the room, leaving Mairead finally, and blissfully, alone. She wasted no time stripping every nasty garment off and immersing herself into the warm waters.

Her brother-in-law was a born tinker. He was always taking the most commonplace objects and looking for ways to improve or even reinvent them. Luckily, her sister loved warm baths. The river was always frigid, even in the summer. In the winter, the water was so cold most resorted to a simple sponge bath, for it was difficult, let alone very uncomfortable, to wash in a barrel. After hearing her and Selah complain one night, Robert had spent the next several days with the blacksmith. The end product was what he called a bathing bowl. The metal, somewhat oval container was not very large, but one could sit in it—though the bather’s knees had to remain bent. The ability to relax in the warm water brought a level of bliss that was hard to describe.

Mairead could not recall ever needing its calming effects more.

* * *

Mairead MacMhathain.

Every woman who had ever entered Hamish’s life, even briefly, was either a version of heaven or hell. Laurel and Meriel fit the former whereas Selah and most recently Wyenda absolutely fell into the latter. Just knowing Mairead’s name should have ended the debate as to which category she fell into. But seeing the wet, beckoning vision before him, Hamish changed his mind.

Mairead unquestionably belonged to both.

When he had spied her sneaking into the kitchens, he had hustled over hoping to get a chance to speak with her before she ran back up to her rooms to clean up. He had assumed she was requesting water be brought up for a bath, but when he entered, he was surprised to find the large room was empty. Long tables were piled with various food items in various steps of preparation, but not a single person—cook, baker, or even scullery maid—was in sight. Hamish could not recall any castle’s kitchens ever being so eerily silent. The McTiernay cook, Fiona, was always yelling at someone at this time of day.

Believing he had been mistaken and that Mairead had disappeared into another building, Hamish was about to leave when he had heard a moan coming from the back room where the oven hearths were located. Curious, he went to see who had made the noise and why, but again, no one was in sight.

He was about to turn around and exit the room when a head popped up out of a large, odd-shaped metal basin. Keeping her eyes closed, Mairead let out an audible, heartfelt sigh and leaned back so that the base of her head rested on the tub’s edge.

Hamish found himself rooted to where he stood, unable to move or speak. Though he could only see the creamy skin of her shoulders and the upper curves of her chest, he knew she was completely naked. His breathing quickened and it sounded so loud to his own ears, he felt sure Mairead could also hear him. But if she was aware of his presence, she did not act like it. Instead, she lifted her leg into the air and began to run the small cloth along her calf and slowly up over her knee. Hamish swallowed, feeling every muscle in his body harden with sudden, painful desire.

Mairead finished with her left leg and was about to wash the other when out of the corner of her eye she saw him. She squealed and dropped low in the water. “Mo chreach! Yer aff yer heid!”

Hamish could only stare, mentally agreeing with her accusation. He had lost his head and if he found out that any other man had ever seen her in such a state, he would ensure they would literally lose theirs as well.

Mairead could not believe this was happening. She thought she had already reached the epitome of possible embarrassment, but she was wrong. Slunk down as far as she could in the water, she waited for Hamish to quickly apologize and depart, leaving her alone with her mortification, but the damn man just stood there staring as if he was waiting for something.

After several more silent seconds, whatever embarrassment Mairead felt turned into fury. “Why are you still here? Are you trying to torment me? Because I already know you are a toll-tòine. I need no more proof.”

Hearing her curse snapped Hamish out of his shock and he immediately recognized her insult was justified. He was blatantly staring at her as if he were a young lad and Mairead were his first glimpse of a woman. In some ways, he believed she was, for never before had he seen true female perfection. Every honorable bone in his body knew he should move and do as she asked and disappear from sight, and yet, something inside him resisted. Hamish recognized it was a hopeless battle. There was no way he was leaving knowing that she was in here alone for another man to accidentally find. The best he could do was turn around.

Mairead had to be having some kind of nightmare. She had to have fallen asleep and her mind was toying with her, creating what had to be the worst possible conclusion to what had already been a horrible afternoon. She closed her eyes and slowly reopened them. Her stomach turned over. Hamish was still there. The only change was that he had turned around and was now leaning against the table between him and the bathing bowl. The man obviously had no intention of leaving. “What is wrong with you? Do you want to find yourself at the altar by nightfall?” she screeched.

Hamish blinked. He had not considered what would happen if someone found out that he was in here while she was bathing. What surprised him was that he found the idea almost appealing. Almost. The idea of Mairead in his bed was more than a little tempting. But as his wife? Certainly not. His primary reason for coming north was to cut all ties with his brother and his wife—not create new and even stronger ones. No situation, even this precarious one, could induce him to change that goal. And no one, not even Conor McTiernay, had the power to force him into marriage.

But Hamish had no intentions of telling Mairead that.

“Your mind really is focused on marriage,” Hamish chortled, thankful his voice did not convey the physical tension he felt in his lower regions. “Good luck, but you should give up including me in those dreams, m’aingeal. Even if you ask really nicely, I will say always no.”

Mairead gaped at his back. “I must be having a nightmare and it is you who are dreaming, if you thought for one moment I would ever want to marry someone like you. And . . . and . . . what in the devil’s own are you doing?” Mairead stammered as she watched Hamish remove his sword and then lean over to pick up a carrot. A second later a loud crunch filled the air.

Hamish asked himself that very question. He swallowed and said, “Thought that was obvious. I was coming in here to look for food and where I could get a bath. Now I guess I’m guarding you,” he answered, glad to have thought of something plausible to explain his continued presence.

When he had laid his sword on the table, his peripheral vision had cursed him with another glimpse of just what he was “guarding.” She had shifted to a more comfortable position and now sat farther up in the bowl. Her wet hair hung in dark waves down her back and shoulders, and her chest rose and fell with every breath. Hamish had gathered every bit of control he had to turn around and look away.

“You are . . . you’re . . . gun chiall!”

Hamish crossed his arms and smiled to himself. “I’m back at Foinaven, a place I vowed never to return to, in the dead of winter, arguing with my naked sister-in-law in the middle of the day as she bathes in the castle kitchens. I think we’re both insane.”

Mairead squeezed the wet piece of cloth in her hand and toyed with the idea of throwing it at him. Feeling helpless made her even more outraged. “Toll-tòine,” she muttered.

“You already called me ass,” he said in an infuriatingly agreeable tone of voice.

Mairead slapped her hand down hard in the water out of frustration, uncaring that water went everywhere, and let out a stream of curse words. Rather than being shocked, Hamish just laughed.

The muscle in the side of Mairead’s jaw flexed. Hamish was nearly as dirty as she had been and she knew just how uncomfortable it was. “Unless you want to greet your brother, and my sister, in such a filthy state, I would think you might want to head toward the river before the sun sets. It would take more water than we have at Foinaven to get you clean.”

Hamish heard her implication and wondered how many others thought he still had any interest in Selah. In truth, he had barely thought about her since arriving at Foinaven.

Her sister, on the other hand, was stirring something in him that was dangerous and forbidden. Deep down he knew he was once again on the path to pain for there was no way he was getting involved with anyone—let alone Mairead—while at Foinaven. But that pain could be easily avoided as long as he did not get emotionally involved. Meanwhile, it was great to feel alive again. To feel desire again. And he could think of nothing that made him feel more like a fully functional man than guarding Mairead as she finished her bath.

“I think I’ll just wait and use that contraption you’re in. If it got all that mud off you, then it can handle the little bit of dirt and sweat on me.”

“Little?” Mairead scoffed under her breath. Hamish said nothing and the only sounds were him munching on the carrot. “Fine!” she said crisply. “But I refuse to let you rob me of my bath.”

She then proceeded to the rest of her body all the while keeping an eye on Hamish, waiting for him to turn around and steal a peek. But after several minutes she realized he never would. And why would he need to? she asked herself. He had already seen everything there was to see. And obviously, he had little desire to see more of it.

Mairead watched as he extended his arms out and then massaged his neck. She stretched the same way after she trained the farm boys who desired an opportunity to learn how to use a sword—even if it was from a girl. She glanced down at the sword on the table. It had to be incredibly heavy for it was like him—huge. It was of course bigger than the small one she used, but she doubted any of the men around Foinaven could wield it. “Do you always carry that heavy thing around with you?”

Hamish finished swallowing the last of the carrot and said, “Only when I am busy protecting delectable damsels as they bathe.”

Mairead rolled her eyes. “And that happens a lot, does it?”

After taking in a deep breath, he exhaled. “Not as often as I would wish, believe it or not.”

“Well, I don’t believe it,” Mairead snorted. “Your reputation with women precedes you.”

His face puckered and Hamish was glad he was facing away from her so that Mairead would not know that her comment had struck a nerve. What reputation with women could he have? Besides the one of failure? For it certainly was not one of conquest. Hell, for the past several months, rumors were that he was living the life of a monk. And they were true.

The silence to her accusation riled Mairead once again. Why would he deny his reputation with women? He was probably proud of it. “Do you always sneak peeks at helpless women as they bathe when all they want is just a few moments of peace? Don’t you have something else you need to do? Shouldn’t you be trying to find Robert and let him know that you have arrived?”

Hamish lifted his right arm and waved a finger. “Well, um, traveling this time of year has made me rather dirty, which you have suggested more than once that I rectify. To which I agree—especially before I see either my brother or his wife after being absent twelve years.” He uncurled another finger. “Secondly, I doubt you have ever been helpless, Mairead. And as far as sneaking a peek—” He inhaled to pause for effect, and then blew it out and uncurled the third and final finger, before dropping his hand back to his side. “I feel no need or incentive to ‘sneak a peek.’ You have nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Mairead glared at his back. “I suspect your experience with women is limited to spying. Not even women who like beards would let that hairy monster on your chin get remotely close to them.”

Hamish’s jaw tightened. His facial hair was wiry and grew incredibly thick so that after a couple of weeks of no trimming or maintenance, it was definitely an eyesore. After four months, it had become the ideal female repellent. Still, he did not like the idea that Mairead thought he was actually naïve when it came to women. He may not know how to capture a woman’s heart, but he absolutely knew how to make a woman’s body sing with pleasure.

“Trust me. I know how to please a woman and have made many a female smile for days after a few hours in my company. You’re just fortunate there are far more enticing things to nibble on in this room than you.”

He was lying, of course. Not even a starving pauper would find a royal meal more enticing than Mairead in her current nude, wet state. Even a eunuch would prefer to stare than eat.

Mairead tried to think of a cutting retort, but nothing came to mind. She licked her lips and crossed her arms, placing them on the side of the bowl to rest her chin. From the back, Hamish’s physique was the most enticing she had ever seen. His leine pulled across his broad shoulders outlining the tension in his muscles and hinting of his enormous strength. She had never seen a man look more powerful . . . or sensuous.

“Are you going to stare at me or finish bathing? It’s not fair if I don’t get to stare at you in return.”

Mairead flushed and shrank back into the cooling water. There was no way he could have known she was looking at him. “I thought I had nothing you had not seen before.”

Hamish swallowed and gripped the edge of the table in an effort to retain the last shreds of his self-control. He was not about to reveal that he had been watching her reflection in the copper pot on the table across from him. His eyes had been practically glued to her shimmering form, wondering what she was thinking. Her facial expression had lost all of its anger and for a moment she looked like she was having an erotic daydream. He had been forced to say something to annoy her for if she licked her lips one more time, he would not still be wondering what they tasted like.

The water sloshed and he knew by the sound she had stood up and was stepping out of the bowl to dry off. If he had any sense, he would announce that guard duty was done and dash out of the room. But once again he was riveted to where he stood. Thankfully, she had moved so that she was no longer being reflected in the pot. The vividness of his imagination was almost excruciating, but deep down, he knew that the image his mind was conjuring was nothing close to the real thing. If he actually saw proof of that, no amount of honor would have kept him from turning around and acting upon his desires.

Hamish gripped the edge of the table harder and prayed to God she would soon end his torture.

“—tonight? There is plenty of room in the bastion with most of the men gone. I am sure Selah and Robert would welcome them to stay there.”

Hamish blinked. He had missed something. “Them? Who?” he asked, clearly puzzled.

“Your men,” Mairead repeated. “Those large warriors who made the journey with you.”

Hamish crinkled his brow. “No one traveled with me. I came to Foinaven alone.”

Mairead stepped into view. She had finished tying one side of her bliaut and was working on the other. “What do you mean? Was there a delay? When do you expect them to arrive?”

Hamish crossed his arms and peered down at Mairead’s expectant expression. He forced himself to focus on their conversation and not on her lips. “There is no delay. There are no men. And there will be no men. Robert only asked for me and so only I came,” he replied simply.

“You’re serious,” Mairead whispered, feeling like someone had just punched her in the stomach. “I just assumed you knew about Ulrick. That he was the real reason you made the journey. I must tell you ab—”

Hamish put up his hand to stop her. “I know about Ulrick and he is the real reason why I’m here.”

Mairead furrowed her brow and began tying off the last string on her bliaut. Once done, she threw her hands in the air. “I thought . . . I had heard . . .”

“Heard what?”

Mairead took a deep breath and then exhaled. “We were to understand you and Laird McTiernay were fairly close. So I had assumed he would offer men to come with you, especially if you knew of our situation.”

“I know enough and Conor did offer.”

Relief spread through Mairead. All hope was not lost. “Then you can send word—”

Hamish shook his head, cutting her off. “I told him no and I have no intentions of changing my mind.” He held her gaze for several seconds, his own dark green eyes devoid of humor. The sudden absence of his easygoing demeanor sent a shiver up her spine. “Now that you are dressed and no longer are in any danger of being caught unawares, I’m going to take my bath. You are welcome to stay and be my chaperone, but I’ll understand if you have other things to which you must attend.”

He saw her jaw tightened and knew by her silent reaction that he had hit a nerve. Mo chreach was Mairead breathtaking when she was angry.

The green in her hazel eyes blazed. Her back straightened, which created a rigidity of her shoulders that accentuated her already enticing figure. The effect was making her damn near irresistible. For a second, he feared she might actually call his bluff and stay. But without another word, she just turned and walked proudly out the door just as the last vessels of his composure slipped away.

He wondered if she knew just how close she had come to being thoroughly kissed.

* * *

“Rab, it’s time for you to go find your mother or Noma. I need a few minutes to talk to your uncle alone.”

The young boy stared for a moment at his father, who was lying propped up on pillows in bed before leaving to seek his nursemaid. Though Rab was only five years old, the resemblance between father and son was unmistakable. Rab had the MacBrieve dark auburn hair and while it was hard to make out what his physique would someday be, his thin frame hinted that he would be tall and lean. Rab also had Robert’s high forehead, dark thick lashes around much paler green eyes, and round cheeks, all proving which MacBrieve brother was Rab’s father.

Robert started to cough forcing him to sit up for a second. When done, he slumped back against his pillows and massaged his temples. “I’m so sorry to be receiving you like this. It is not how I planned to welcome you home,” he said apologetically for the fourth time since Hamish had entered the room.

“Think on it no more. Good company and food can be enjoyed in any setting,” Hamish said, studying his brother as he continued to sit in a chair several feet away.

“I admit to feeling awful, but I come down with this illness around this time every year and it is more of an annoyance than anything. I can’t breathe, I’m constantly sniffling making me sound as pitiful as I look, and this damn cough—” Robert’s explanation was cut off by another short spasm.

Hamish was very familiar with the aggravation of his brother’s plight, having experienced something similar a few years ago. It had taken about a week for his head to stop feeling like it weighed as much as a boulder and for him to finally breathe again, but the respite was slight. For it was followed by nonstop sniffling and a sore throat exacerbated by constant coughing. And while Robert was right that the illness was typically not life-threatening and just highly uncomfortable, it was not always so. Hamish had heard of it lingering in some people’s lungs and the result then was almost always fatal.

“You have a fine son, though I think I scare him. He has hardly said two words in my presence.”

Robert leaned back again and managed a smile. “He’s shy and is constantly assessing all he sees, but once he becomes comfortable with you he will ask so many questions, your mind will spin.”

“So he’s like you in temperament as well as in looks.”

Robert returned Hamish’s smile. “Aye. It is strange to see a miniature version of yourself. He has even begun taking things apart, though he has yet to figure out that he must also learn how to put them back together.” Robert took the cloth in his left hand and ran it against his very red nose. “I hope you have a passel of sons yourself someday. Though I am surprised you do not have them already.”

Hamish quirked an eyebrow. “I actually like my freedom, but that doesn’t mean I am against the idea of someday knowing what it is like to be a father. Meanwhile, I’m glad you and Selah are truly happy.”

Surprisingly, Hamish was being completely honest, for seeing Selah and Robert together at dinner had not been the emotional hardship he envisioned it would be. Whatever feelings he had had for Selah had long since died, and in their place was not animosity but ease and acceptance.

“Selah looks well,” Hamish added, “and you have a fine son. Things worked out as they were meant to.”

Born with all the features of a classic beauty, Selah was the lovely and sweet-natured woman he remembered. Robert on the other hand looked much older and Hamish could see the results of stress that came with leading a clan.

Selah had refused to let Robert leave the warmth of his rooms in the keep, but neither did she want to deprive her husband of participating in welcoming his older brother home. As a compromise, they had all agreed to have dinner in Robert’s dayroom with him.

Mairead had been late joining them and avoided making eye contact for almost the whole meal. She had pointedly chatted with Selah about various situations of the castle—including the need to make changes to the kitchen staff.

Hamish was glad someone recognized that the quality of the meal was significantly lacking. The bread was unusually hard and he personally had prepared more tasty meat using a stick and a campfire. But Selah had ended any discussion about replacing one or two of the more uncooperative cooks almost as soon as it began. The concept of dismissing those not doing their job satisfactorily was repugnant to her. She worried for their families and refused to threaten their livelihoods.

Thankfully, about this time Robert announced his energy had depleted to the point he needed to lie back down. Taking advantage of the opportunity to escape the ongoing argument between the women, Hamish had quickly suggested he join him. Robert had readily agreed and nudged his son to stay with his mother.

Now that it was just the two of them, this was the first chance Hamish had to converse with his brother alone. Suddenly the distance created by the last twelve years could be felt once more.

“Why?” Robert asked, looking Hamish directly in the eye.

Hamish leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He was not going to pretend he did not understand the question. “Though I admit to being cross with fate for a while, I never was angry with you or Selah. But you had to understand why I could not stay.”

“Aye,” Robert acknowledged wearily. “I understood. But not why it had to be for so long.”

Hamish sat back up and clenched his jaw. “There was no reason for me to return.”

“Father’s funeral was not a reason?”

“He was dead, Robert. He would have had no knowledge of my being there or not. You had become laird and I did not want anyone to question your right to being chieftain.”

“What about later? My other entreaties to come?”

Hamish scoffed. “Entreaties? Did you forget that I damn near killed one of your men who actually thought he could physically force me to return with him?”

Robert closed his eyes and sighed. “He admitted to being a little overzealous. I unwisely asked to bring you with him by any means possible.”

“He was a fool.”

“I’m sure in your eyes he was one. But he was trying to honor my request.”

Hamish took in a deep breath, tempted to call his brother a fool as well. He probably should wait to bring up his brother’s latest request until Robert was feeling better, but delaying the inevitable would change nothing. “What were you thinking when you let Ulrick leave with most of your men?”

His brother waved a hand dismissively. “I had my reasons and I still believe they were good ones.”

“If you think that I’m here to take Ulrick’s place,” Hamish cautioned, shaking his head, “you are mistaken.”

Robert laughed, but only for a second before it changed to a hacking cough. When it subsided, he leaned back against his pillows once again and sighed. “I would welcome you here by my side, leading the men, being my permanent commander, but after twelve years of your not wanting to be in my presence for even a visit, I am not under any delusion that you are here to accept such an offer.”

Hamish eyed his younger brother thoughtfully. “Not permanent, maybe, but don’t deny you are seeking my help in the interim as commander.”

Robert sniffled and grunted as he wiped his nose again. “I do and I am not above using my sickness to help persuade you of my need. But I promise I understand its temporary nature.”

Hamish pursed his lips. “Is that all or is there more you want from me? Because I suspect you need help in removing the commander you currently have.”

His brother nodded solemnly and closed his eyes. “Ulrick is a problem. I thought making him commander would suffice his need to be in control. Unfortunately, he does not work well with people.” He opened his eyes again and held Hamish’s gaze. “You must know that I am disinclined to send any man or woman away from Foinaven, but it is time for Ulrick to find a new home. It would be better not just for us, but for him.”

Hamish arched a brow in surprise. “Ulrick does not merely want control, Robert. He longs for power. He seeks to replace you, not a home.”

“You cannot know that.”

Hamish’s eyes became wide and he bobbed his head. “I don’t just know that . . . everyone around you does! All but you can see Ulrick’s intentions. How can you not accept that?”

“By offering a man the opportunity to change, there is the chance he can and will. Condemning him allows no flexibility. No hope. I don’t want to teach Rab to look for the ill in people because he will always find it. It takes effort to find and nurture the good.”

“Then I should leave now. I know Ulrick too well to waste my time looking for the good in him. What good there was disappeared long ago leaving only his desire for personal gain.”

“That is the reason why I asked you to come and why you must stay. You understand Ulrick. Therefore, you can negotiate with him,” Robert countered, just before another coughing attack.

Negotiate? Hamish had to have heard wrong. “I am not a negotiator.”

“Damn cough,” Robert muttered when it finally subsided. “You could be and Ulrick will only respond to one of his kind,” Robert continued. “Someone he sees as an equal. He will talk with you.”

Hamish fought the compulsion to drop his jaw and just stare at his younger brother. Robert had changed in the past twelve years, but not in the way Hamish hoped. Becoming responsible for lives had made his brother even more of a peacekeeper.

Robert still did not recognize that it was more dangerous and more of a folly to overlook or discount the threat some people pose. His brother had always believed there was good in everyone. Hamish did too, but that did not change the fact that for many people, the enticement of personal gain outweighed the common good. A good leader recognized with whom and how to exploit that trait so that not just the individual, but all could benefit. A good leader also knew how to identify those few who would never be satisfied. The ones who always wanted more and would be ruthless in getting it. Negotiation did not stop people like Ulrick. Only a show of greater force could trigger their survival instinct and get them to stand down.

“I’m not sure that I can be the commander you want. You and I see things too differently.”

“I know we do, but you still came. So you must believe as I do that Ulrick needs to be handled.”

Hamish stood quietly for a moment. What little strength Robert had at the beginning of their conversation was nearly depleted. “If I stay, I will act as I think best.”

Robert nodded. “That is all I am asking and I agree to let you handle the situation as you wish.”

Hamish felt twenty pounds had lifted from his shoulders. “Then I will help you handle Ulrick when he returns.”

Robert’s body relaxed and he managed a smile without coughing. “Thank you. All I ask is that we do so peacefully, without bloodsh—”

This time it was not a cough cutting his brother off, but a sharp, angry shout from down the corridor. Hamish decided it was probably for the best that their conversation came to a temporary conclusion. His brother wanted a plan that involved no bloodshed. It was something Hamish desired as well, but it would be up to Ulrick to decide whether blood would be spilled. Not Hamish . . . and not Robert.

Meanwhile, Hamish had addressed the most immediate concerns. He would stay at Foinaven as commander only temporarily and then help banish Ulrick upon his return.

He only had to negotiate with his brother as to how.

* * *

“I would lower your voice,” Selah suggested calmly. “For if you wake Rab, it will not be I or even Noma who goes in and deals with him until he falls back to sleep.”

Mairead studied her sister’s quiet demeanor and knew that she was not bluffing. Rab was a good little boy, but his mind was fast and it never stopped when awake. One could put him to bed, but unless someone was with him to ensure he stayed there, he would rise and find something to keep his mind occupied. Sleep only seemed to overtake him at the point of exhaustion and not before. If he woke now, his energy would be restored enough that it would be some time before he fell back to sleep.

“I never would have asked you why you were so quiet at dinner if I had known it would upset you. I would rather have remained curious,” Selah said, and moved to sit on one of the chairs near the hearth.

The dayroom was centrally connected on the floor with easy access to her and Robert’s bedchambers as well as her son’s. It was not a large room, but its size made it easy to heat, making it Selah’s favorite place to talk or even be alone. Mairead liked the room as well, but she preferred the great hall. It was where her memories of her father were the strongest. He used to sit by the fire and let flames calm his thoughts as she sat relaxed against him.

“I’m more than upset,” Mairead grumbled, and began to pace once more, “and you should be too! I was bathing!”

“You said that before,” Selah replied as she reached over to pick up a small piece of needlework she used to practice designs before creating them on a large tapestry. “You were in the kitchens covered in mud.”

Mairead opened and closed her mouth twice at her sister’s nonchalant reaction to all that she had said. “I cannot fathom your reaction right now. Unless rallying to my defense would reveal Hamish’s return is troubling you far more than you want anyone to believe.”

For the first time, Selah showed her own mounting frustration and put the cloth down in her lap and raised her eyes. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Mairead. You act as if I should be outraged, but you have already assured me that nothing dishonorable happened. If anything, Hamish acted as what he claimed to be—your protector. And you certainly needed one bathing in the kitchens where anyone could have walked in.”

“You are deliberately misunderstanding what I am telling you.”

“Trust me, it is not deliberate,” Selah mumbled. “It is you who refuse to tell me what truly has you so upset.”

Mairead paused and stared at the flames in the hearth. Her sister was right. She had been mad about Hamish refusing to leave, but that had nothing to do with her current angst. “Hamish is no longer the same person he was, Selah.”

“None of us are, dear. Can you imagine how different you are to him? When he left you were ten and far less easily agitated.”

“You should have heard him. I’ve never heard anyone so excessively arrogant.”

Selah stopped her stitching and gathered her thoughts. “Remember when Robert was overseeing the construction of the corner towers? Everyone thought him so conceited, but they were just not used to working with a master builder who had reason to be so self-confident. I suspect that like Robert and masonry, Hamish knows what he is doing when it comes to Ulrick.”

Mairead’s eyes snapped to Selah’s, but her sister did not flinch. “He came alone.”

“Aye,” Selah replied, “but he did come.”

“But why did he not bring any men to help us?”

“I’ll admit to assuming he would bring men with him, but Robert and I do not see how this is an issue. We do not need additional men. Plenty remained here to guard our gates and help those who need it, especially now that Hamish is here to assist them.”

Mairead glared at Selah, unable to believe what she was hearing.

Selah was shocked by the intensity of her younger sister’s gaze. Putting aside her needlework, she rose to her feet and placed a comforting hand on Mairead’s arm. “Is that what has you so upset? That he came alone? I promise there will be other chances to meet eligible men.”

Mairead closed her eyes. How could she say that she had no desire to marry when a man was exactly what she had been hoping to find? “Hamish may be huge and strong and the best warrior in all of Scotland, but he alone will not persuade Ulrick to leave Foinaven. It will require a show of force, an army sizeable and skilled enough to engage Ulrick when he returns.”

Selah gave Mairead’s arm a little squeeze. “Robert believes otherwise.”

Then Robert is a fool, Mairead thought to herself. And so am I for believing Hamish was going to be the salvation of not just Foinaven . . . but me.

Mairead shuddered, recalling Ulrick’s last words to her. She had seen the cold look in his eyes when he had said he wanted Foinaven and he wanted her, and nothing would prevent him from either goal.

Mairead might not be able to stop his army and she could not leave, but it was possible to keep Ulrick from using her to secure his position. Despite his threats, she could marry someone—she just needed to choose the right Highlander. He needed to be a man who could not only help defend Foinaven, but one who could protect himself from Ulrick’s vengeance. Before Hamish arrived, she had only one viable option—the Mackays.

Clan Mackay lay on their western border and rumors held that they were ruthless warriors, who protected what was theirs through any means necessary. No one at Foinaven ever met any of the Mackays and most did not want to. Traveling merchants had told too many tales of how hostile they could be to anyone posing a threat to their people or the lands they occupied.

Unfortunately, marrying a stranger belonging to a ruthless clan was fraught with danger, for her husband could turn out to be someone just like Ulrick. He also might not be content to be commander and seek to overthrow Robert. Then she would be responsible for everyone’s downfall, including her own.

She had to change Hamish’s mind and ask for help.

Selah looked up and spied Hamish leaning on the doorframe. Mairead saw Selah’s smile and glanced toward the door. As soon as she saw Hamish, standing there relaxed as if he had been there some time, her temper threatened to explode again. “Why am I surprised? Of course you are here. You probably listened to the entirety of our conversation.”

“Only the last part about you being upset about my not bringing men so that you can find a suitable husband,” Hamish replied with a wink, unable to stop himself.

Mairead’s jaw went slack. “How many ways and times do I need to say this? I do not want a husband!” she shouted.

Selah clucked her tongue. “Remember little Rab,” she whispered.

Mairead took a step toward him. “I do not want a husband,” she reiterated, this time in a harsh whisper. “What I want is for Foinaven and its clansmen to be safe from Ulrick and his schemes to take over.”

Hamish stared down into her hazel eyes and saw that she spoke the truth. “Then you no longer have to worry.”

This time it was Selah who swallowed and looked at him anxiously. “So you agreed to stay and help Robert convince Ulrick that he should find another home?”

He matched her serious tone and replied, “I did.”

Mairead took in a deep breath and exhaled. Her shoulders relaxed and she gave him a dazzling smile. He had not realized it, but this was the first time he had seen her smile. He thought her fiery temper made her tempting, but when she smiled, the world seemed to fade away.

“I assume it’s too late to send word tonight, but I will have the herald ready for you in the morning to send word to Laird McTiernay.”

Hamish crossed his arms and pretended to look puzzled. “Why? I already explained to you that I have no intentions of asking Conor McTiernay for help, and that especially includes any men.”

“But you just said—”

Hamish felt his jaw tense. For a few seconds, sheer terror—not anger—had reflected in her eyes. That kind of fear was deeply personal. Was it concern for her sister and the future of the clan? Or something more?

“I said I would help Robert deal with Ulrick. And I promise that I don’t need the McTiernays to help me with this task.”

Task? Mairead mouthed. “You may be the best swordsman in all of Scotland, but that is going to be of little use when Ulrick returns with a few dozen mercenaries at his side.”

Hamish could not help himself from grinning and rocked back on his heels. “Best swordsman in all of Scotland . . . I like the sound of that.”

Selah chuckled. “If you thought Hamish was arrogant before, he definitely is now, thanks to your flattery.”

Mairead glared at Hamish. “I wasn’t flattering him, I was insulting him.”

Hamish leaned down and whispered in her ear, “To be insulted by the prettiest lass in Scotland is the best flattery I have ever received.”

“I give up,” Mairead replied, and headed toward the door. She paused at the door, glanced at him, and then looked back at her sister. “That is what I was trying to tell you. Hamish and his overconfidence are going to endanger us all.”

Hamish watched her leave, completely intrigued. “She’s feisty.”

Selah narrowed her gaze. “And by the sparkle in your eye, I’m guessing you like feisty.”

Hamish put his hand up to stop her from saying anything more. “I only admit to enjoying a woman who can argue her mind.”

Selah licked her lips and studied him for a minute. “I’m glad that you understand Mairead is family, but right now I’m more concerned about Robert and what you told him. Can you do what you promised . . . um, regarding Ulrick?”

“We have yet to resolve all the details. But Selah, you must know whatever solution I put into place will not stop others in the future, not if Robert continues to lead the way he has been.”

Selah gave him a kiss on the cheek and smiled. “Robert only needs you to handle Ulrick. He has the future firmly in hand.”

An unexpected jolt of jealousy shot through Hamish. For the first time in twelve years he wished he had what Robert did. He longed not for Selah nor the feel of her soft lips on his skin.

He wished for something far more profound—that someone trusted and had the same level of faith in him.

* * *

“Selah,” Hamish said, “it has been a long day and I would like to retire, but was hoping to change rooms.”

Selah blinked at the odd request but quickly recovered. “Of course, there is a room next to Rab’s the servants keep clean for he sometimes uses it to play in. But I warn you, he rises early and can be very loud. Mairead is on the other side of him and mentions it often. You really would be more comfortable on the first floor.”

“Would it be too much of an imposition to ask for the room on the bottom floor?”

Selah remembered Hamish stopping there earlier that evening to peek into the storage space. People may have thought her to be the kindly sort who did not look for ulterior motives in others, but that did not mean she never recognized them. “It would not be an imposition at all, but it is so drafty and we use it primarily for storage. The courtyard is just on the other side of the wall. Even little Rab would offer less noise.”

Hamish shrugged. His reasons for being on the bottom floor would make the sounds from a typical morning courtyard irrelevant. “The noise will not bother me and I noticed it already has a bed.”

Selah remained hesitant. She would not call the simple wooden frame a bed. It certainly was not a comfortable one. “Well, aye, it does, but Hamish, it has not been cleaned for use in some time, and the mattress is made of straw. I am not even sure the room has any wood for a fire.”

Selah widened her eyes and looked at him imploringly. Hamish could see again why he thought her to be so beautiful so many years ago. Her delicate features and serene and kind nature were indeed beautiful, but the pull and the allure she had over him were no longer there. He wondered if it would have dwindled if they had married so long ago. His gut told him to just be glad that Robert and she had fallen in love and were still happy.

“Selah, a soldier considers himself fortunate to rest his head on a straw mattress. Besides, I’ve been sleeping outside for days and last night took shelter in a barn. One more evening in the company of a little dirt will not be an issue.”

Selah pursed her lips together. She was used to persuading people to her point of view, not the other way around. But Hamish would not budge. He just stood and looked pleadingly at her. At last, Selah bit back a smile. “You are not as charming as you believe you are.”

“Ah, but you agree that I am charming.”

“Aye, despite that awful beard of yours. Thankfully, my sister seems to be impervious to your efforts,” Selah said. She then picked up a candle and slid between him and the doorframe to head for the stairwell.

Hamish laughed and turned to follow. “I suspect Mairead is well acquainted with men’s flattery.”

Just before she reached the stairwell, Selah stopped and looked at him. “She is. She has had much practice in recent years in deflecting fanciful comments coming from your kind.”

Hamish said nothing and waited for Selah to continue. He was not surprised that Mairead had suitors. He was surprised to find that he was slightly jealous of the fact.

“Just remember that Mairead is my sister and that makes her part of your family.”

Hamish took the last step and exited the staircase. “I know who she is,” he said.

Mairead was many things, but he did not see her as a sister. But she was Selah’s, ensuring any desire he had for Mairead would remain only that. He was absolutely not going to act on those desires.

“Good,” Selah said, and stopped in front of a closed door. She placed a light hand on his arm. “Do not concern yourself about Mairead. She will come to appreciate your being here despite your lack of company. But you should know that you are at your most charming when you’re not trying not to be. Just be yourself.”

Hamish reached over and picked up her hand to kiss it. “I’ll remember that.”

Selah shook her head and said “I give up” as she opened the heavy door. There were several rooms on the ground floor, but this was the one he had peered into earlier. It was also the only one with a bed and a fireplace. The spaces of the others were smaller and built solely for storage of food, materials, and weapons. “It looks like I was mistaken. There are several large logs stacked near the hearth. It is cold and damp, but at least you will be able to make a fire.” Selah paused and looked at all the dust. “Are you sure you would not like to stay somewhere else, just until tomorrow night?”

Again, Hamish shook his head and stepped into the room. “Selah, this is fine,” he said with a satisfied sigh. “Besides, I think Mairead would prefer the additional distance between us. Now go. I know that you want to check on Robert before you retire.”

It was obvious he was trying to get rid of her and Selah once again felt the stirrings of curiosity. But she refused to yield to the temptation to ask him. Mostly because she knew it would be a waste of time.

“Hamish?” she asked, lighting the candle on a small table near the center of the room.

“Hmm?”

“I . . . just wanted to thank you for coming. I know it was a lot to ask after what happened. I did love you. I never lied about that. I just . . . with Robert . . .”

Hamish looked her directly in the eye, knowing it had taken everything Selah had to bring up the topic. But he was glad she did. For just as his brother needed to hear Hamish felt no animosity toward him, Selah needed the same. “All really is well, Selah. I have learned the difference between love and being in love. And you were right to follow your heart.”

“It’s just in following my heart, I broke yours. I’ve always regretted hurting you. I never wanted that.”

Hamish was tempted to say that what she did to him was far more than break his heart. She took his future and nothing she said now would change that. But then neither would pointing out that painful fact. It was done and one of the main reasons he had returned was to put the past behind them so they could all move on. “That wound was mended long ago. I’m happy for you and Robert, and I want you to be happy for me.” Hamish came forward and took Selah’s delicate hands into his own. “I am more than content with the McTiernays. They respect me as a fighter and the ladies even appreciate my charm,” he said with a wink.

Selah felt something tight within her finally relax. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him once more on his hairy cheek. “You are more than a fighter, Hamish. You’ve always been so much more. And I am so glad you have finally come home.”

Hamish moved to the door and opened it a little wider, said good night for a final time, and then closed it. Another time he would point out that he was not home and that Foinaven had not been his home for a long time. He was merely a visitor.

Turning around, he walked toward the overly large fireplace and placed the candle on the simple wooden mantel. One poke proved the logs were rotten, but more important, that it had been a long time since the hearth had been used. Hamish quickly removed them, stepped inside, and began to slide his hand along the stones. After a couple minutes, he found a groove around a large stone and followed it. He smiled feeling the thick layer of grime. No one had been here in many years. The room did not require the sizeable hearth, but it seemed no one had ever been curious to find out just why it had one.

This room and its fireplace were one of the first things he and his father had built when they first started renovating the keep. Being new to Foinaven, they were unsure how welcome they would be and created a secret passageway leading from the castle to a tunnel, which ended just outside the village. Hamish wondered if his father had ever told anyone about it. Perhaps it had been forgotten. Hamish hoped one or both possibilities were true, for being able to come and go without anyone knowing was going to be very helpful in keeping much of his plan a secret. Secrecy added complications—just one of which would be trying to explain his absence—but it also added a level of freedom.

Hamish put his shoulder on the deceptive stone and pushed. He felt it shift and then shoved against it once more. It was large but not very thick, making it look far too heavy to move. Feeling the air on the other side, he stepped back into the room, grabbed a torch, and lit it using the candle. He then stepped back inside and examined the passageway to see if it was still clear. It was. Hamish followed it, burning cobwebs along the way until it ended.

Surprisingly, it was not overgrown brush that blocked the way out but a decaying barrel. Hamish nudged it with his knee. As suspected it was empty and easy to maneuver. Stepping out of the tunnel, he was relieved to see that the large boulder marking the exit was still there, but the massive rock was no longer outside of the village boundaries. Now it was definitely within them. Thankfully, the hour was late and no one was about.

Hamish looked around as best he could and decided the situation was not as bad as he first thought. The area around the boulder was being used to dump unwanted and broken items. Most looked like they had been there for a while. It was almost perfect. Carefully Hamish tilted a rotted cart so that it hid the opening without actually blocking it. Being in the shadows gave him easy access in and out, but it also enabled him to stay hidden and wait for the right time to join the village crowds without being seen.

Returning back to his room, he started a fire and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to ignore the stink from the fumes. Deciding it was worth it to be warm, he lay down and let his thoughts drift to all that had happened that day. One person in particular kept coming to mind: Mairead.

For some reason, he could not control his thoughts—or his words—whenever he was around her. After she left the kitchens, he had left as well, deciding to bathe in the river rather than the warm water. He told himself it was because her scented soap had caused the water to smell feminine. But, in truth, he required something far more frigid to get his body back under control.

After washing in the cold waters of River Naver, he had vowed to stop saying anything that would get things heated between them. It was not as if he wanted to flirt with Mairead. He had not flirted with anyone in months. He had been acting on some strange survival instinct. She had made him uneasy, and he had needed her to be just as uncomfortable.

Hamish rubbed his temples and focused on his brother. It had not taken more than a few minutes of conversation to realize Robert was exactly who he expected him to be—a well-intentioned but weak-willed leader. That discovery changed none of his plans, however. Hamish refused to put in permanent measures that would ensure Robert remained laird. That was his brother’s responsibility. And unless he changed, someday—probably sooner than later—someone would seek and successfully take advantage of Robert and his pacifist style of leadership.

But it would not be Ulrick.

Hamish may have come alone, but despite what Mairead thought, a large army was not what was needed. Ulrick was about to discover just what one man who had lived and fought alongside the McTiernays could do.

* * *

Selah sat down at the small table and unpinned her braided hair from its knot. She began to finger the long braid, unraveling it from its weave, when Robert started coughing. By its thick sound, she knew he was also having trouble breathing. It happened every winter and he always got well, but that did not stop her from worrying.

“You are getting worse.”

Robert drew in deep breaths and grimaced from the pain in his throat. How he hated this time of year. “My throat and chest, aye, are not improving as fast as I would like, but my heart and mind are finally at peace. Yours should be as well, sonuachar.”

“Do you truly believe Hamish will stay?” Selah twisted so that she could look and see if he spoke the truth when he answered.

Robert’s eyes were closed and he was leaning back against the propped-up pillows, but he was also smiling. “Aye, at least for now. I told you he would.”

“It was still a great risk you took to get him here.”

“There was very little risk, sonuachar. I have yet to meet a more honorable or loyal man than my brother. Who else would have stepped aside for us the way Hamish did?”

Selah wiggled out of her gown so that she stood only in her chemise. “I do not think there are many.”

Robert sighed, which resulted in another brief coughing spasm. “Give up everything for the love and happiness of a younger brother? Nay, Selah. Only Hamish. That’s why I knew he would come and why I knew he would help.” He opened his eyes and held her gaze. “And that is why I know my plan will work. I know my brother.”

“I believe you. Just as I believe you know how to take care of all our family’s needs,” she said, as she slipped under the covers and moved closer to her husband’s prone form.

Robert patted her hand and said, “Indeed. I am a master mason. So trust me to build the perfect future for—” Before he could finish his thought, he began to cough again. This time, the fit lasted nearly a half a minute before he could breathe and lie back down again.

Selah sat up and looked down at him. “I just wish you could fix your poor body. Your being sick—”

“Could not have come at a better time,” he finished for her. “It made it much easier to persuade Hamish into accepting the role as temporary commander. I consider this damn cough to be God’s gift. He knows how stubborn Hamish can be. Just look how long it took for us to get him here.”

“And the lengths you had to go to.”

“I’m just glad he came when he did,” Robert said, giving her hand a slight squeeze.

“And Mairead?”

“I’ve been building this plan for some time, but Mairead is the reason why we are doing it now. I have not forgotten that.”

Selah lay back down at Robert’s encouragement. “I just hope you have considered Hamish when it comes to her. The tension between them was palpable and it was not all anger that was sparking between them.”

Robert opened his eyes and gazed at his wife. “Really?”

She nodded.

Robert smiled to himself. His plan could not be working better.