Chapter Five
Mairead pulled the tartan around her to help with the biting cold. The wind had picked up since this morning, and the clouds overhead were accumulating. Soon it would be dark and the cooler night air would definitely bring rain. She entered the keep, leaned against the stone wall, and closed her eyes, fighting the inclination to bang her head out of frustration.
Despite what Hamish thought, Mairead did trust him. And she did think he was highly intelligent. And not only did she believe he had a plan to deal with Ulrick, she also thought it more than probable it would work. But those beliefs were not nearly enough to calm her troubled thoughts. Hamish’s plan, whatever it was, solved one of her problems—keeping Ulrick from taking over the clan and ousting her sister from her home. However, whether his plan might also resolve her other problem was unknown. If it did not, she still had to find a way to protect herself. Yet if the result of Hamish’s plan rendered Ulrick unable to threaten her or anyone else again, that changed everything. It would mean she was free to choose her future—a privilege she swore never to take lightly again.
Mairead had lain awake thinking about the possible methods a skilled warrior like Hamish might employ to confront Ulrick. Hamish might not have meant to give her clues to what he had in mind, but he had. His plan aimed to avoid bloodshed—or at least minimize it. It was clear that it did not require an army and his comments suggested that any confrontation would not happen close to Foinaven. Based on that final fact alone, Mairead could only surmise that Hamish planned to surprise Ulrick prior to his arrival, probably on the outskirts of their land. Without even a small contingent of fellow soldiers, it was not going to be battle, but one-on-one. Hamish must have intended this fight to be between just him and Ulrick.
At first, the image of them battling face-to-face horrified Mairead. Hamish getting injured—or even killed—was unthinkable. However, the more she mulled over the idea, the more her fears dissipated. Because no matter how she envisioned the fight, Hamish was always the victor. She had seen Ulrick train and Hamish’s brief encounter with Jaime gave her enough to compare speed and skills. Hamish would win, and he knew it—which made such a fight the only logical plan possible.
She just needed some way to prove it.
Upon waking this morning, Mairead realized she did not need to understand the details of what Hamish had in mind—just the basics. Just enough to verify his plan would take care of not just her family—but permanently remove Ulrick as a threat, thereby securing her freedom to marry when and whom she chose. To learn that level of information ought to be simple for it would not take much to confirm her assumptions. She had mistakenly thought that nothing was faster—or easier—than eavesdropping.
Mairead pushed herself off the stone wall, searching for some of the positive spirit she had from earlier that morning. Her plan could still work. It just would not be nearly as easy as she had assumed. Like most men, Hamish was being incredibly uncooperative, even when he did not mean to be.
Mairead began a slow ascent up the keep’s stairs, thinking upon the day’s events and vowing that the next time she and Hamish met, she would be doing the outwitting. This morning, she had quickly met with the most critical of the castle staff and gave them their daily instructions, including how any follow up or noncritical staff should go to the Lady of the Castle. Selah would not like it. Mairead had always handled much of the responsibilities, especially anything that was remotely confrontational. But since Robert had become ill, Selah had foisted practically all the remaining castle responsibilities onto Mairead’s shoulders as well, only to fuss later at decisions Mairead made that were not in line with her ways of doing things. But Selah’s management style was avoidance and therefore time-consuming, and Mairead had things to do.
She had planned to spend the first part of the morning observing Hamish and had immediately gone to find him, thinking he would be in discussions with one of his guards. But no one had seen him. Even the soldiers she had assumed he was with had not spoken with him. Mairead had just come to the conclusion that she must have missed him when Hellie informed her that if it was like the previous two mornings, he was still in his bedchambers! Hours after everyone had risen! What was he doing in the mornings? With all the noise about, it could not be sleeping.
Mairead eyed the keep’s door for almost another half an hour before she finally gave up and went to meet with the farmers who supplied the majority of food to the castle’s guard. Candlemas was fast approaching and the day after the feast marked the beginning of the growing season. Everyone needed to be prepared.
These particular decisions were usually something Robert handled, but her knowledge on castle and general clan needs meant she was usually involved in the discussion. Her brother-in-law was a very passive man when it came to fighting, but he excelled at anything financial and always seemed to find a resolution that made everyone happy. It was one of the primary reasons so many had flocked to Foinaven and stayed, despite Robert’s overall weak leadership style.
Today, Mairead was very glad Robert had requested her presence the past couple of years. Overall the meeting had gone smoothly and quickly, despite her being a woman. No doubt because there was not enough time to wait for Robert to recover and everyone knew that these decisions and agreements had to be made.
She had been about to begin the short trek back to the castle to spy on what she had hoped was an awake and active Hamish when she stopped short. He was standing by the village well—far from where she assumed he would be—at the castle, either still in his bedchambers or with the guards swapping stories. But what caught her by surprise was that he was not alone.
Quickly Mairead had ducked around the corner behind the cottage from which she had just emerged and peeked out to see what Hamish was doing. She was not quite close enough to hear what he was saying, but she knew it had nothing to do with his plans for handling Ulrick. He was smiling and chatting with two women who looked completely uninterested in getting water. It was not long before their small group started to grow. Doors opened and several more clanswomen headed to the well, all carrying empty water buckets they had no intention of filling.
Mairead had kept hidden, watching the spectacle that Hamish was not just causing, but enjoying. Almost half of the women who had gathered were unmarried, and most of them were younger than her. What did they see in him? Aye, the man was large, but he was hardly attractive! But deep down, Mairead knew the answer. Something about Hamish drew a woman to him. And to her mortification, she was not completely immune. But unlike the foolish women flocking to his side, she had no difficulty controlling those impulses. His mysterious allure did not negate the fact that he was the most frustrating, uncooperative, and secretive man she had ever met!
Mairead had forced herself to look away. Closing her eyes, she fought back the compulsion to stomp out and snatch Hamish from those possessive, seducing looks and smiles. But that act would make everyone think she was jealous—including Hamish. And it was most certainly not jealousy she felt. If she had to name her emotion it would be resentment. Aye, they were keeping him from her goal. For as long as he was with them, it was pointless spying on him!
Several high-pitched voices coming toward her had caused Mairead’s eyes to pop open with alarm. Immediately, she had changed her expression and had tried to look deep in thought, but it had not mattered. She doubted if a single one of them even saw her as they passed by, all talking over one another about their encounter with Hamish. Mairead had only been able to pick out bits and pieces. Some of the single women were arguing with those already married whether Hamish meant something more with his compliments, for it seemed he had been flirtatious with all of them. The one thing that all of them had agreed was that he was the biggest and most thrilling Highlander they had ever met.
After all of them had passed by, Mairead had slowly looked around the corner for another glimpse. Hamish had left the well’s edge and thankfully started to saunter away from where she was hidden. Able to keep from being spotted, Mairead had covertly followed him for several minutes, unable to decide whether she was envious or pleased with what she was witnessing.
Clansmen and women who would normally never stop to talk to anyone—let alone a stranger—did so, again and again. Foinaven was a collection of clans pulled together out of necessity. It created an atmosphere that could not be characterized as distrust, but wariness. People were cautious around those they saw every day. But to outsiders? They were between unfriendly and hostile. And yet, Hamish had moved with ease and his welcoming demeanor seemed to invite passersby to say hello. It made no sense. Aye, he was a MacBrieve and came from this region, but most of the clansmen stopping to talk with him had not been with the clan twelve years ago. Something Hamish did or said somehow convinced one person after another, regardless of age or gender, to stop and engage him in a minute of conversation.
When Hamish returned to the castle, his puzzling behavior only got more baffling as he went from engaging and friendly to unaffected, silent observer!
One of the farmers who had come to deliver meat from that morning’s butchering directed his mule to turn too sharply, causing the empty cart to fall over. It not only startled the jenny, the accident also freed it, enabling the bucking animal to run all over the place, wrecking anything in its path. Instead of helping the stable boy and the hobbling farmer to rein the animal in, Hamish just moved to the side to keep out of the lad’s way. Mairead had felt her jaw actually drop in shock.
When the bottler and the castle carpenter argued, Mairead found herself praying it would come to physical blows, thinking only a man of Hamish’s size could stop them. The argument never did escalate beyond a string of heated words and when it was over, Mairead wondered if it was fortunate that her prayer had been unanswered. The two men might have pummeled each other into bloody masses with Hamish on the sidelines thinking “that’s how men work out their differences.”
Then there was the last incident where Mairead had been sure Hamish was going to intervene. Several older children were playing chase nearby, causing a ruckus to all those working in the vicinity. Despite shouts by their elders for them to stop, they continued dodging in and out of stalls and jumping over crates and barrels all the while ignoring all cries for them to behave. Hamish just avoided them as he headed to the kitchens, only to emerge with a partial loaf of bread. Within minutes he was back in the middle of the courtyard, by himself, quietly eating his bread, just watching the fracas be resolved by one of the older servants.
Most of those bustling around the castle sent him several cautious glances, their mannerisms a mixture of wariness and curiosity. Like she, they wondered why he just casually stood nearby, never interfering. But the longer Hamish remained, looking unconcerned with much of what was going on around him, the more everyone returned to their daily routine with no concerns about his interfering in their affairs.
Mairead had not been able to see Hamish’s eyes due to the distance and her vantage point, but she could tell that he was studying everything and everyone. Probably had been since the moment he walked into Foinaven. And yet no one realized that Hamish was mentally logging every detail of their lives. And while she was impressed at his ability to observe life in Foinaven as if he were not there, it still grated her that he was not doing more.
Foinaven and its people were desperate for strong leadership—even if just for a few days or weeks until Robert recovered. And Hamish could give that to them, but not if he continued to refuse to offer guidance or establish order on the even simplest of things!
When another cart came in disrupting her line of sight, Mairead had decided she needed a better vantage point and had taken a step back in order to maneuver closer to the stables. She froze when her back came into contact with something large, bulky, and warm. She inhaled, knowing immediately not what—but who—it was.
Turning around, Mairead stared at Hamish’s chest, refusing to look up. She wondered just how long he had been aware of her watching him. Forcing herself to answer his gaze, she tried her best to put on a slightly surprised but relaxed expression. It immediately turned into a grimace.
Hamish was bestowing on her one of his largest and most triumphant grins. No longer was there any doubt whether he had seen her following him around. Only question was when had he caught her and her gut said it had been some time ago. Along with everyone else he had been observing, she had somehow captured his attention.
Seeing her scowl, Hamish widened his grin. “I’m going to talk to the candlemaker and ask him for some additional candles for my room. Want to introduce me? Or do you prefer watching me from a distance?”
Mairead had forced herself to unclench her jaw and smile back. “The candlemaker’s name is Conley. You can find him in the north wing over there,” she said, pointing across the courtyard, “next to the silversmith.”
“Coming?” He used his thumb to point where she told him to go.
“Um, I’m too busy standing here doing nothing but stare at people. The importance of which is something I am sure you understand,” Mairead replied, refusing to pretend she had not been watching him. Impossibly, his smile only grew. She bet she could count all his teeth.
Hamish rocked back on his heels. “Well, just in case you are tempted to follow me again, when I leave the candlemaker, I’m going to the buttery and get a drink, and then I’m going to visit Robert.” He then crossed his arms and leaned down to whisper, “I won’t be meeting the guards until the morning and I’ll start with those in the towers. You can follow me if you want again tomorrow, but up by the battlements might make it pretty difficult to eavesdrop.”
Then he had winked at her.
Just the memory of it made Mairead want to bang her head on the stone wall. The man defined what it meant to be infuriating. She was not sure how Hamish did it, but he always seemed to be one step ahead. Mairead did not consider herself to be a controlling person, but typically she was the one who knew all that was around her. Inexplicably, Hamish now had that power and if she did not find some means to yank that control back, her sanity would soon be in jeopardy.
Mairead paused just as she was about to push open the door to her chamber. A smile she had not felt all day curled her lips as an idea came to mind. It was not the cleverest of ideas, but it could not be any worse than eavesdropping had proven to be.
Best part was that even if it did not work, it would teach Hamish what it was like to be at the mercy of something he could not control.
* * *
Hamish heard the door open and smiled to himself as he heard Mairead’s footsteps come toward the large hearth. He had just finished polishing his sword, which had been desperately in need of his attention. The entire time he had been working the metal back to a deadly shine, he had been thinking about her and their short encounter that afternoon.
He had asked Mairead to join him to see the candlemaker for two reasons. Partially, because making her realize that she had been caught spying would rankle her. As anticipated, her eyes had come alive and she had bristled with energy. Mairead was naturally pretty, but mad, she was gorgeous. However, the main reason he had wanted to aggravate her was something he would never let anyone—especially Mairead—know. The woman was incredibly good at spying.
It has been by pure chance that he had observed her behind him. Hamish doubted anyone else in the castle had known she was in the courtyard. Once he had realized what she was doing, he had decided to see just how good she was at reconnoitering. What he discovered was both impressive and disconcerting. Mairead was a natural. She moved neither too late or too early and she always had a place to go where she could remain hidden and yet have a line of sight to him. It was a miracle he had spotted her.
He could not afford to let her continue this latest strategy of hers. Sooner or later it would work and everyone would be aware of details before he was ready. Just when his brother learned certain aspects of his plan were critical to its success. Hamish’s best option had been to make Mairead believe her spying was a hopeless act and to give it up.
He had thought it had worked too when she had left his side in the courtyard. At dinner, however, he was not so sure. Mairead had cheerfully enjoyed their less than tasty meal, oozing with a blend of satisfaction and confidence. Her expression was identical to the one Laurel McTiernay wore when she was about to teach Conor a lesson. Hamish’s instincts all screamed that he was about to be taught something he had no intention of learning. And yet he could not wait to discover what it was.
Hamish hummed as he heard Mairead enter the great hall. Seems it would not have to wait. When her footsteps neared, he pointed to the chair she had sat in last time as he glanced over his shoulder. He was about to ask her to join him when he saw that Mairead was carrying a small bag in her hand. She was swinging it back and forth and the mischievous smile she wore should have made him wary. Instead, he found himself entranced.
She had changed into a simple dark green bliaut that hugged her curves perfectly. Her hair was no longer in a complicated knot but down, hanging over her shoulder in a very loose braid. He had thought Mairead could not be more beautiful than when she was angry, but the woman standing before him now took his breath away. Her hazel eyes snapped with excitement and in the firelight, she practically glowed with anticipation. The scent of her fragrant soap settled around him and he knew that if she came within arm’s reach, he would be unable to stop himself from pulling her into his lap and kissing her. And in his current state of mind, she would only have to offer a fragment of the passion she displayed a couple days ago before he disclosed anything she wanted to know.
Hamish cleared his throat. “What do you have there?” he asked, setting aside his sword and cleaning tools.
Mairead bit her bottom lip and wiggled her eyebrows. She moved the small side table so that it was in between the two hearth chairs and then dumped out the contents of the bag. “For someone who prefers to be in control—” Hamish coughed into his hand, causing her to glance his way. Seeing his left brow in a high arch, she quickly amended her statement. “For two people used to being in control, I thought it would be interesting to see what would happen if we let fate—not your obstinacy or my inquisitive nature—decide just what each other knows.”
Hamish eyed Mairead carefully and then picked up the knucklebones to study them. “Determination and persistence. Fantastic qualities rarely found in a woman.”
“What about curiosity?”
“Interesting choice of words. Most would call what you do spying.”
Mairead stared at him pointedly and then glanced at the bones in his hands. She tried not to look too eager, but Hamish had yet to agree to play. “If you agree to play, I will have no reason to observe you anymore.”
Hamish laughed as he rolled the playing pieces in his hand, realizing that if he did agree, her presence would be a sensual form of torture. And yet sending her away was impossible. It had been too long since he had felt anything and what Mairead stirred inside of him was something he was not willing to let go—at least not yet.
Nodding, he pointed at her chair again. “So what rules are we playing by?”
“Whoever wins the round gets to ask the other a question,” Mairead stated simply.
His agreement had come suspiciously easily and much too quickly. It was unnecessary to say that the other must not only answer, but do so honestly. And until just a moment ago, she had not been afraid that Hamish would tell an untruth, but that he might not agree to play. Now she wondered what element of her brilliant plan was amiss. The smile Hamish was wearing was far too genuine.
“Count by knuckle or set?”
Mairead licked her lips and smiled. “Set of course.”
“Who goes first?”
“You,” Mairead answered. “You’re the guest.”
Hamish shrugged and then shook the four small bones in his hand before dropping them. Each sheep knuckle could land in a way that provided one of four results: flat, twisted, concave, or convex. There were various ways to play with the pieces. Counting by set meant that rather than each bone holding a value, the combination of all four determined one’s score.
Mairead looked down and frowned. Hamish had rolled one of each shape—the highest scoring combination. She swept the bones into her hand and tossed them on the table. She rolled a dog—four concave shapes—which of course, was the lowest of all set values. She sat back and asked, “Your question?”
Hamish studied her and found himself wishing they were playing another type of knucklebone game—one that involved the removal of clothes. His lower body immediately reacted to the thought. He quickly adjusted his seat and said the first subject that popped into his mind. “Why do Foinaven kitchens function so poorly?”
The question took Mairead by surprise. She had thought he would ask about that afternoon and what she was doing in the courtyard to which she had already planned a truthful but innocuous reply. But no, his mind was like that of all other men—either on women or his stomach. She had hoped it would be her as the dress she chose normally attracted a man’s attention, but it seemed Hamish was immune. “Is the food really that bad?”
Hamish blinked. One of Mairead’s semi-loose curls had fully escaped and now hung across her forehead. “Um, well, I’m used to Fiona’s cooking—she runs the McTiernay kitchens—and she is one of the best in the Highlands.”
Mairead watched his face change to one of longing as he thought about the McTiernay cook and her food. “So, aye, it is that bad. At least compared to what you are used to.”
Hamish suddenly felt a little guilty. “Aye, but there is a price to pay for good food. Fiona’s a tyrant to all who enter her kitchens—it doesn’t matter who. I have even seen her speak sharply to the laird.”
Mairead furrowed her brow and then reached up to play with the loose curl, wrapping and unwrapping the strand around her index finger. “Hellie is a good cook, but she could never be a tyrant. She is too sweet natured to run the kitchen and its staff.”
“True, Hellie is nothing like Fiona,” Hamish said, trying to think about anything other than what Mairead was doing with her hair. “I remember her as a child. My father could bark and yell and she would just paste on a smile and tell him that all would be better soon.”
Mairead tucked her feet underneath her and then absentmindedly began to play with the end of her braid. “Aye. She is still the same way. No matter how poorly anyone performs in the kitchens, she offers only words of encouragement.” She paused and her face shifted to a frown. “Hellie would be able to prepare better food if she had better help. And for that Selah is to blame. Not one person in this castle fears what will happen if they do their job poorly—therefore most do.”
Hamish winced. “People don’t usually respond well to threats.”
Mairead narrowed her eyes and issued him an “I know that” look. “Maybe not, but they don’t respond at all to my sister’s empty, softhearted pleas.”
“True,” Hamish agreed, sliding the bones into his hand.
“But it’s more than just low expectations. Many are given responsibilities in things that they just despise doing. I’ve spoken to Selah about the situation, but she refuses to listen.”
Hamish handed the bones to Mairead. “Your sister will never be a taskmaster, but perhaps if she were to learn that her efforts to keep the people in their positions were not felt as a kindness but something more akin to punishment, she might be a lot more open to changes in staff.”
Mairead took the bones and watched Hamish as he sat back and stroked his mangy beard. His suggestion was straightforward and highly likely to work with Selah, and yet it had never occurred to her that an emotional plea would be far more effective than a logical one. Hamish surprised her and once again she found herself drawn to him in a way that she could not explain.
She tried to imagine him clean-shaven like he had been twelve years ago, but the young man she envisioned did not correspond to the one before her. The years had changed him and Mairead imagined that his face was now like that of his body, hard and chiseled. The mental sight of him shirtless formed and Mairead bit her bottom lip, wondering if it was close to reality.
“I’m waiting on you.”
Mairead glanced down at the knucklebones in her hand and realized what he meant. She let them fall. “I was just thinking about what you said.”
Hamish picked up the pieces and rolled them. He was not sure how much longer he would have lasted if she had kept staring at him so attentively. She had been studying him, almost as if she was trying to see him. And then, without warning, her eyes had darkened with desire.
He glanced down, hoping that he won. The combination value was just slightly less than Mairead’s. He grimaced and decided that if he could not ask, he would prompt an answer another way. “I suspect you were thinking about me.”
Mairead refused to acknowledge or deny the statement and pointed down at the winning set on the table. “Just why do you flirt with women?”
The question had not been the one she had intended to ask next, but she needed to end the current conversation and at the same time turn the tables and make him feel uncomfortable for once. Plus, she was actually extremely interested in the answer. The man never stopped flirting and Mairead found herself constantly battling her emotions because of it.
Hamish shifted in his seat at the unexpected inquiry. They both knew the purpose behind her request to play this game and her question should have been about Ulrick and his plan. As far as his flirting, it was just something he did, especially in situations like now, where he needed to regain control of the situation and his body. But in general, he did it merely because he enjoyed making women smile and seeing them blush. Nothing more.
He might not be a saint, but his reputation of being a ladies’ man was highly exaggerated. His fellow soldiers thought he was just as friendly with women privately as he was publicly. Rather than correct them, Hamish used their mistaken impression to his advantage. It kept them from prying into his personal business and allowed him to be alone at night without being taunted. And when he wanted company, he was quite selective in whom he sought out. There were a handful of widows who were lonely too but only wanted some periodic company, not marriage. Hamish doubted he was the only one they saw, but the arrangement worked. At least until several months ago when he foolishly thought he was in love with Wyenda. Afterward, his desire for women had vanished and even now the prospect of going back to the widows held little appeal.
“Is it a complicated question?” Mairead prompted, her large hazel eyes blinking periodically as she stared at him.
Hamish returned her gaze, refusing to be rattled. “On the contrary.” He collected the bones and then rolled them. “My answer is simple and therefore I’m not sure you will believe me. The truth is, I enjoy it.”
Mairead gave him a pointed look. She thought about arguing for a better, more complete answer, but what she saw in the dark green depths made her realize there was not one. With an exasperated sigh, she rolled the bones.
Seeing he had the better hand, Hamish grinned. “My turn. Why should I stop flirting?”
Mairead snorted and rolled. “I doubt you could even if the King of Scotland himself demanded it of you.”
Hamish picked up the pieces and clucked his tongue. “That was not an answer.”
Mairead narrowed her eyes and remembered the young girl’s comments from that morning. “Why flirt with women you have no feelings for? It is akin to lying, giving them hopes of something more when the only thing you are interested in is amusing yourself.”
Hamish leaned forward. “First, it is not simply to amuse myself. Second, I have never been inclined to refrain from flattering a woman when it was deserved. Third, offering a few kind words is not a proposal of marriage. If anything, flirting helps when dealing with those of your frustrating sex. A playful comment can eliminate tension. And last, I have never known simple, well-intentioned words to ever hurt anyone.” He dropped the bones.
“Kind words,” Mairead mumbled to herself before counting the bones and gathering them in her hand. “Flattery never hurt anyone. Flirtation, however, is insincere. It’s dishonest from one who never plans to marry.”
Hamish quirked a brow.
Mairead began to repeat what she had heard that morning. “Ah, lass, you are much too pretty to want attention from an old man like myself. I have no doubt that there are many young suitors eagerly seeking your hand.” Mairead rose a brow. “Was that not what you said to one of the girls at the well?”
Hamish felt his face redden, realizing Mairead had been following him even longer than he had suspected. His blush must have been noticeable because Mairead bit her bottom lip and began to giggle. He swallowed as he fought the compulsion to taste that lip himself. He had been doing well so far, enjoying her presence and how open and easy they were in each other’s company. Friendship was something he had only briefly experienced with one other woman, but this was becoming deeper, far more compelling, which meant far more dangerous. A practical, cautioning voice began whispering to him to focus on the game, not on her.
Ignoring her muffled mirth, he cupped the four sheep knuckles in both his hands and shook them vigorously. His violent action caused Mairead’s laughter to break free. Rather than being miffed that she was enjoying his discomfiture—though she was egregiously mistaken as to its cause—he fought from joining her. Her laughter had not the melodic quality some women possessed, which he admittedly had found quite alluring on certain occasions. Instead, hers was honest and the sincerity of it had an appeal all of its own.
“I doubt shaking them harder makes a difference,” Mairead said, showing no guilt over her amusement.
Hamish continued shaking, but he spared her a single, highly arched eyebrow. “That is not exactly what I said.” He dropped the bones, pointed at the winning result and then her. “Just why do you think I don’t want to marry?”
As soon as he asked the question, he wished he could take it back. He had been thinking of Mairead when he had been pummeled with questions from all those women. She was so unlike them, which was why he suspected her string of suitors was quite long. And the thought had not set well with him this morning and it still didn’t. But he did not want her thinking that he could become one of them.
Mairead looked down contemplatively at her losing combination of knucklebones before picking them up and rolling them. “The other night—you spoke of that woman Wyenda. It sounded like you had given up on ever marrying.”
Her accurate assessment caused Hamish to be motionless for a second. He was glad the game gave him something to do. Thankfully he lost the round for he still was at a loss for words at how easily she seemed to read him.
Mairead smiled when she saw four convex shapes appear. The topics of marriage and flirting were interesting, but it was not the purpose of the game. She needed to bring it back to his plans for Ulrick; problem was he was well aware of her ultimate goal. But what he did not know was that tonight all she wanted was enough information to confirm her assumptions. For that, an indirect question would be far more successful.
“Why must you control everything?” she finally asked.
Hamish had leaned forward to pick up the bones but stopped and instead sat back. “Quite a peculiar thing for you to ask.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Hamish shrugged. “I don’t need to control everything. Not in the least. And my actions here at Foinaven prove that point exceedingly well. I did not control Selah, my brother, or my coming back here. And of all the people to say that I have a need to control everything, I find it incredibly odd coming from you. I have never met any female who desires control more. And trust me, I’ve met a few crazy women. Crevan McTiernay married one.”
Mairead felt her jaw tighten as a frisson of anger raced through her. “And is he unhappy?”
Hamish pursed his lips and returned her stare. When it was clear that she would continue to wait for a reply, he said honestly, “Quite the contrary. Then again, Raelynd trusts Crevan.”
“You say that as if I do not trust you.”
“You don’t.”
Mairead scooted forward, but when she did, her hair tie got caught in one of the tacks used to upholster the chair. Frustrated, she pulled the tie, freeing her hair, and then looked up pleadingly. “Hamish, I do trust you. I do believe that you have a plan and that it will work. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be using a game to learn more about what you have in mind, but every method and means I could devise to thwart your efforts.”
Hamish could see she spoke honestly, and knowing that she really did trust him rattled him almost as much as seeing her hair fall all around her. With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath. He had always wanted a woman to believe in him, but Mairead obviously did not, otherwise she would not be pressing to find out just what his plans were.
“Why follow me then?” he asked, remembering the very first time he saw her and how upset she had been that he had come north alone. Before she could answer, he waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t answer that.” He reopened his eyes, caught her gaze, and held it. “What is this ‘need to know’ really about? Because I’m thinking this is less about my plans and more about yours and how I ruined them, unless you still are going to deny you were hoping to meet a potential husband the day I arrived.”
Mairead stared at him for almost a minute, barely breathing. “Perhaps I am just ready to settle down.”
Hamish continued to hold her gaze for another minute. He did not for a moment believe that her motivation was simply a yearning to be a wife and mother. Over the years, he had met plenty of women who fit that description and Mairead was not eagerly looking for a husband . . . and yet she had been seeking one when he had arrived. So if Mairead did not want to marry, why had she been compelled to find a husband? It did not make sense, for no one compelled Mairead to do anything. But something was inducing her inordinately strong desire to learn about his plans with Ulrick and he wanted to know what it was. For the level of her angst was certainly not due to a simple lack of knowing.
They continued bantering back and forth for a while, each carefully scripting questions and cleverly avoiding answering those they didn’t want to. They found themselves not only to be enjoying the game, but also each other’s company. Hamish learned as much about her by the questions she refused to answer as the ones she did and wondered if Mairead was similar in her discoveries about him. Her questions were incredibly clever and he consistently was trying to outmaneuver her with his answers. While each answer he provided seemed nondescript by itself, he suspected that his efforts were about as successful as hers.
When he thought about it, he now knew more about Mairead than any other woman—including those he had spent a few hours with for countless days. Granted most of those hours had been spent focused on more physical needs, but the talking they had done had been more about the clan or the weather. Not about themselves. And more terrifying was that in some ways Mairead now knew him better than anyone. I mean his friends and fellow soldiers knew the basic things—important things—like how he fought, enjoyed looking at a pretty face, and how much ale he could enjoy and still be functional in the morning. But personal things? Like his favorite color, time of day and year. Not just what his favorite foods were, but why it was his favorite and many other things that went far deeper—like what he thought about when he was by himself and where he liked to go when he wanted to be alone. And though he never outright stated his feelings on what had happened twelve years ago, an astute person could construe his feelings and Mairead was very, very astute.
Hamish may have been able to keep her in the dark about his plans, but he was in dangerous territory about himself. The game needed to end.
He picked up the knucklebones and began to shake them. “Last roll. If you win, ask the question you really want to know. If I win, then be prepared to tell me why you were husband hunting if you have no desire to marry.”
Mairead gulped as Hamish let go. She had hoped she had escaped that subject as he had not brought it up again. In the hours they had been playing, she had told him much about herself. A few times she had wondered if she had told him too much.
Mairead looked down at the table. Her heart stuttered. Not a single convex shape landed and his roll would be difficult to beat. He gave the bones a nudge so Mairead could reach them. She rolled, held her breath, and then sighed in relief seeing the coveted shapes appear. She got to choose the topic. And it would not be about why or whom she intended to marry.
Mairead knew what she wanted it to be, but asking what his plans were would be a wasted question. There were so many ways to answer that question honestly without divulging a thing. But maybe a more pointed inquiry might be best. Something that not only plagued her curiosity but if she was right, its answer might just give her the insight she needed. “Just what do you do in your bedchambers in the morning?”
Hamish inhaled, immediately regretting it as her scent filled him. The woman was eating through all of his defenses. He rose to his feet and moved to pick up his things.
Realizing that Hamish was not just standing to stretch his legs, Mairead jerked to her feet and closed the distance between them. “You’re leaving? But you didn’t answer my question.”
Hamish made the mistake of looking down into her hazel eyes. They had grown large and liquid and her honey-colored hair gleamed in the firelight, swinging around her waist with every movement she made. He had to get out of the hall. Immediately. The desire he had worked so hard to suppress was about to take control and if their last kiss was an indicator, Mairead might not stop him if it did. “I’m tired and someone I know believes I rise late enough as it is.”
Mairead stared into his eyes. Their deep green color had grown so dark it was like looking into fathomless pools, swirling with emotion. Every nerve ending had awakened to their unspoken message of want and desire, causing an unfamiliar feeling to build deep inside her. Disregarding the voice in her head telling her to be careful, she listened to the one that was jumping up and down, reminding her that he did not answer her question. So instead of taking a step back, she did the opposite and moved even closer.
Moving to her tippy toes, she lightly clutched his arm for support and closed the remaining distance. “Your refusal means that I am right. You rise early, probably earlier than everyone.” Then leaning in close, she murmured into his ear, “I believe you are secretly plotting something in your chambers, no doubt related to your plans. Someday I will learn what they are.”
Hamish stood completely still as her heels returned to the floor. It took everything he had to fight for some modicum of control. But he refused to let her know how much she affected him and reached out to caress her cheek. “No need to wait. I’ll tell you right now exactly what I am doing in my chambers.”
Mairead’s eyes closed, reveling in his touch.
Hamish knew he was playing with fire, but he could not stop himself. “I am only doing what everyone else does in their chambers,” Hamish replied. A second later, her eyes flew open and her jaw dropped as his implied meaning was understood. Before she could say a word, he leaned down and she could feel his soft beard against her skin. He whispered in her ear, “I sleep. Nothing else. Until tomorrow, m’aingeal.” Then he gave her a light kiss on the cheek.
With the feel of his warm lips still on her skin, Mairead’s heart began to pound so furiously against the walls of her chest she felt lightheaded. She reached out to clutch the back of the chair Hamish had been sitting in for balance. Between his tender kiss and the invitation to try again tomorrow, her mind was racing.
In the past few hours, she had revealed more about herself than she had intended. Nothing secret. Nothing important, but altogether Hamish knew her in a way few did. But he had known her even before they had played. Determination and persistence. Fantastic qualities rarely found in a woman. Hamish had meant what he said. He actually admired her stubbornness.
Mairead waited until Hamish disappeared out the door before collapsing in the chair. She had been a fool. She had spent all afternoon, dinner, and most of this evening convinced that whatever strange attraction she had for Hamish was under control. If anything, his unexplainable lure was only growing, drawing her to him.
If the man could read her before, now after their little “game” he could probably predict her own thoughts and actions. That alone was enough to terrify her, and it would, if it were anyone else. With Hamish, rather than feeling judged, she felt accepted. She had been surprisingly comfortable telling him about herself. But what was more profound was what she had learned about him. He, too, had given her a peek of who he really was. An intelligent, complex man who was far more introspective than he let others—even those close to him—believe. A man who was deeply affected by the circumstances of those around him and despite his words and actions, he was still extremely loyal and connected to this clan and his brother.
The more she learned, the more she wanted to know despite the risk it posed. For she was on the verge of losing her heart to a man who knew her like no other would. A man who made her feel strong and feminine at the same time. A man whose pull she could not deny.
A man who, in the end, would break her heart with his inevitable departure.