“Lady McTiernay, you are scaring me far worse than all those angry lairds trying to flay my skin off with their questions. If you would just tell me what you wish to know, I will do my best to answer.”
Laurel took in a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. “I appreciate your candor, Adanel, so you will have mine in return. I brought you here for the same reason you were brought before the lairds in the great hall. I need to understand your role in what happened to my husband.”
“I can only tell you what I told them.”
Laurel gave her a half smile. “Aye, but they interrupted you countless times, inserting their own opinions. Here is what I know, Adanel. If you and Dugan had never met, my husband would never have had his head smashed and a knife lodged into his chest. I would not have gone into early labor. I would not have almost lost my life and that of my son’s. My family would not be in turmoil right now, and I would not have a gaggle of angry lairds hovering about shouting everything they speak.”
Adanel swallowed, nodded her understanding, and then began to tell her story once more. At first, she was full of contrition, knowing some of the consequences of what she and Dugan shared. But as she spoke, her voice became more clear and assertive. She was not the reason the McTiernay chief had been attacked. Dugan had been just as present during their liaisons as she. He also could have come after her, and he could have investigated Conan’s attack in the fall. Then there was Conan and Laird Conor McTiernay, neither of whom were respectful to her brother when he had told them about her pregnancy. Many people could have done a number of things differently. Aye, she was one of them, but she was not the sole reason, and she certainly was not behind the actual attack. No one was going to come to her defense, and those few who would were being ignored or not allowed to speak. It was up to her to stand up for herself, and by the time she finished telling Laurel about her latest fight with Dugan, including how she revealed the truth about her pregnancy, there was no shame or repentance in Adanel’s voice for any of her decisions.
“Why did you not tell Dugan the truth about your fake pregnancy earlier?”
Adanel widened her eyes. “Before we left?”
Laurel nodded.
“Because Nigel had been right. Dugan was offering me a means of escape as well as a promise to keep me and my friends safe and that was mostly because he thought I was carrying his child.”
“But you said that taking you ensured your father would follow. Dugan would have brought you with him even if you had told him the truth.”
Adanel looked at Laurel for a long moment and then asked, “If you were me, would you have taken the chance that Dugan might understand?”
Laurel did not answer and instead asked another question. “When you and Dugan met, you said that you had first thought to leave the loch and never return or see him again. What changed your mind?”
Adanel sat still for a moment. “I admit that knowing he was a McTiernay soldier gave me hope that maybe I could convince him to take me away from my life. But even if I had learned that Dugan never could or would help me escape my father, I would have still come. I’m not sure I can explain how important those few hours each week were to me. Imagine for years having to be careful of everything you said or did and then suddenly getting the opportunity to be yourself. When I was with Dugan, I did not have to be careful of what I said, where I was, or who saw me. I could laugh, argue, even be silly if I felt like it. Freedom is addictive, Lady McTiernay, and I think Dugan felt similarly. Whatever labels, expectations, and limits we lived with disappeared when we were together. He made me feel safe, and I had not felt that way in a long time. I wanted more. Can you blame me?”
Again, Laurel did not answer. “How much more?”
Adanel licked her lips. “As much as Dugan had been willing to give me,” she answered honestly.
“And what about this other man, this Daniel?”
Adanel looked down at her hands. “Daniel was a wonderful man, and I cared for him greatly. He was sweet and kind, and did not deserve to be chopped into pieces with me being forced to watch, unable to stop it from happening just because he made the mistake of falling in love with me.”
Laurel pulled her head back and her composed veneer was lost briefly as she looked nauseous from learning exactly what Adanel had meant earlier when she said her father had killed the only man who ever truly loved her. “I . . . I’m sorry.”
Adanel swiped a tear. “Because of what my brother did to your husband, you know what it’s like to watch the man you love die and not be able to do anything to stop it.”
Laurel nodded, her gaze suddenly distant. Adanel knew she had gone back to that awful moment. A second later, Laurel shook her head and became present once more. “And what of your mother? You never mentioned her.”
“There is little to tell. My mother was the eldest daughter of Laird MacLeod. When she married my father, the MacLeods got free access to a port they did not have to spend resources to maintain and control. Therefore, Bàgh Fìon became a common stop for those ships carrying the more profitable goods. My mother got pregnant with me almost immediately, my brother a few years later.”
“Was it a happy marriage?”
“I have been told that while my Mackbaythe grandfather was alive, my father repressed his proclivities, and they were amicable toward each other. But when my grandfather died, my father became a different man. Two years later, my mother learned she was once again pregnant. Eògan was already acting out, hurting animals, other children—doing anything he could to get our father’s acceptance and attention. My mother tried to stop him, but could not. She lost her life with her decision to end her pregnancy. I was mad for a long time at her, but as Eògan grew older I came to understand why she did not want to see another son turn evil,” Adanel finished, brushing away tears that began to fall.
Laurel reached out, clasped Adanel’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. “I am sure she never meant to abandon you or your brother.”
Adanel sniffled and once more attempted to wipe her cheeks dry. “My brother grew up idolizing my father more out of survival than anything else. In the end, though, it did not matter. Eògan became just like him and deserved to die.”
“Was your mother’s death the reason why your father did not try and terminate your pregnancy?”
Adanel nodded. “He needed me alive. He had been planning his alliance with Laird MacCoinnich for eighteen years. And while another few months of waiting was not ideal, he had rather risk my giving birth, which he knew my mother survived twice, than force me to take juniper.”
“I understand why you claimed to be pregnant; you said that you were trying to gain more time.” Adanel nodded. “But I find it incredible that no one noticed the truth for eight months.”
Adanel snorted. “My guards did. Brùid almost immediately realized that I was faking symptoms. He made sure that only he and Nigel saw me for any length of time. As for keeping others in the dark, it was surprisingly easy. My father had decreed me to be locked away from everyone and ordered that I have no visitors. It was my punishment, but the sequester allowed me to perpetuate the illusion. I just made sure to always walk around with a pillow under my bliaut that periodically got larger.”
“And so you were there, in the tower, for eight months just waiting for Dugan,” Laurel murmured incredulously.
Adanel shook her head. “Only until I learned that he refused to marry me, despite my being pregnant. Remember, I was told Conan was the man whom I had been meeting.” She waited for Laurel’s nod in understanding. “After that, Nigel and Brùid planned another escape for me. I was to fake my death during labor and escape on a ship.”
“Is Daeron MacCoinnich really that awful? I mean to run away where you knew no one.”
“Did you not do the same? Did not Lady Ellenor?” After three days of listening to chambermaids whisper in the halls, Adanel had learned quite a bit about the McTiernay wives.
Laurel opened her mouth and then closed it. �
��Aye, we did. The idea of marrying someone we did not love, even if they were not completely awful, was not an option either of us would consider.” She tapped her chin. “But what I don’t understand is what Laird MacCoinnich has to gain from his son marrying you. Eighteen years is a long time to wait. If he really wanted the port badly enough, his army is large enough that he could have just taken it by force.”
“My mother’s family, the MacLeods,” Adanel answered. “They would have blocked the entrance to Upper Loch Torridon and shut down the port. However, my marriage to Daeron would allow him to take over the port without opposition because I am half MacLeod, especially if Daeron maintained the same agreement my father had. Meanwhile, Laird MacCoinnich had been given many concessions over the years to make it profitable until Daeron came of age.”
Laurel took a deep breath, looked Adanel in the eye, and then slowly exhaled. “I have just one more question. Why would your father declare war on the McTiernays? Even if your brother had attacked Conan and not my husband, we would still be where we are now. At the brink of war.”
“My father does not have a large army to lose. The MacCoinniches will be doing the fighting, not him. In his mind, they are working for him, though I doubt they realize it.”
Laurel pursed her lips in deep thought and after several seconds stood up, opened the door, and called out to the guard waiting to escort Adanel back to her room. As they waited for him to arrive, she said, “Thank you, Adanel. I think I understand better now what happened. I promise you are not a prisoner here, but I do think it is best if you return to your room for now. I will make sure food and drink are sent to you.”
* * *
Once Adanel left and was no longer in sight, Laurel turned, opened the door to her bedchambers and immediately frowned upon seeing the unrumpled bedcovers. The bed was rarely used for she and Conor always shared the one in his solar. She loved this room though and used it regularly to change, bathe, and prepare for special occasions.
Stepping inside, she closed the door and then walked over to the large man looking out the window to the courtyard. To her, he was just as good-looking as the day they met. His wavy, dark brown hair was slowly graying at the temples, but his gray eyes were the same as they ever were, reserved, strong, and full of warmth and love whenever they looked at her.
Laurel tilted her head so that it rested on his shoulder. “Did you learn what you needed to know?”
“Aye,” Conor replied, and kissed his wife on her head. “I did.”
“She really is innocent.”
He chuckled and gave her a slight squeeze before returning his gaze to the activity below. “At least of trying to wage war against us.”
“Adanel has been through so much, and what happened today . . .” Her voice drifted off. “It was not right, Conor. You should have heard your brothers. I cannot imagine what they would have done if you truly had died,” she murmured, and then shivered at the thought.
“Lady Adanel will be fine. Dugan would not have brought her all this way only to let her come to any harm.”
Laurel disagreed. There were a lot of ways to cause a person harm and physical injury was only one of them. Conor should know that after all they had been through, but she uncharacteristically kept her potentially quarrelsome thoughts to herself. When she and Conor argued, they did it fully, vocally, and always passionately. Unfortunately, neither of them were ready for fighting—and the resulting making up—yet.
To the surprise of all, Conor was recovering much quicker than Laurel from the events of that horrendous night. The blade that everyone believed had killed him had not penetrated deeply. She had roused just as Conor was about to be stabbed, startling the attacker and reducing the power behind the strike. The knife that had her screaming had been lodged in his breast bone and had not been his first wound, or his most serious injury.
Most of the blood everyone had seen on Laurel’s lap and hands had come from the blow he had taken to the back of the head. A day later, when he finally woke up to the relief of everyone, he was told that he had a new son, but his wife was still in serious danger.
Laurel had named their baby Brion after the MacInnes soldier who had calmly taken over the scene. All focus had been on Conor and safely removing the knife. When they discovered there was also a head wound, Laurel had felt her first pain. It had been sharp and not one that preceded the natural progression of labor.
Her nine months of pregnancy with Brion had been fairly uneventful, but his delivery had been anything but ordinary. Stressed and worried about Conor, Laurel had been unable to relax, causing it to take hours for him to arrive. Then the blood came, and she had lost consciousness.
Shock had taken over the castle, and husband and wife were placed in their beds. The McTiernay brothers and their wives took vigil, waiting and praying for a miracle to happen. And to their shock and profound happiness and relief, it did. Conor had awakened first and, upon learning about the state of his wife, demanded that she join him in the solar. A few said it was coincidence that Laurel roused once she was by his side; some said it was just not their time. But most who knew them believed it was their love for each other that had kept them alive, each refusing to let go, willing the other to stay.
“You promised to rest while you listened,” Laurel softly chided.
“I did.”
Laurel lifted her head and looked back at the tidy bedcover. “Unless you made the bed for the first time in our marriage, you did not rest.”
“I don’t need to lie down to rest. My head no longer hurts, and the cut on my chest was not deep. If anyone should be resting, it is you. You pretend otherwise, but you are still weak.”
“I am not weak. I just tire easily, and unlike you, I do rest when my body tells me I should,” she clarified, wrapping her arm around his.
Conor looked down and gave her a small smile. “See that you continue to do so or I will make you. I mean it, Laurel. If I should ever awaken again to find you . . . not with me, you and I will have words. And I will win.”
Laurel went up on her toes and gave him a soft, lingering kiss that held every bit of meaning and love of the more passionate ones they shared. She again rested her head on his shoulder. “What has you so preoccupied?”
He pointed to a dust cloud in the distance. The Star Tower was one of the tallest in Scotland, allowing guards and watchmen to see far into the distance. “See that?” he asked, pointing to the horizon. “We will soon have company.”
Laurel stiffened and raised her eyes to meet his. She knew dread filled them and fought to get a grip on her nerves. She hated fear. Hated reacting to it. Hated knowing what it did to Conor seeing her afraid when he could not afford to worry about her right now. “You come back to me, or it will be me having words with you.”
Conor turned, and with a groan, he gently grabbed her by the waist and claimed her mouth in a white-hot kiss. Every nerve in her body sprung to life like it had from the first time he had held her in his arms. One simple passionate embrace was all it took for her to feel his never-ending love for her. His tongue invaded her mouth, touched every corner, tasting her, until she was overwhelmed completely.
When their mouths eventually parted, Conor gently caressed his lips against hers and brought his hand to her face, slowly moving one of the wisps from her forehead. Then, with just the tips of his fingers, he tenderly traced her face, touching every hollow, feeling every curve he had kissed so many times. Finally, he murmured, “Laurel, I need to go.”
She blinked and realized someone was knocking on the door. Colin was on the other side saying Laird Mackbaythe had arrived, and as Adanel foretold, the MacCoinniches were riding with him.
Conor went to the door, and as he opened it, Laurel pointed her finger at him. In the most serious voice she could muster, she said, “I mean it, Conor, we will have words and heaven is no place for us to fight.”
He grinned and gave her a wink. “Can’t imagine God would want to deprive us the pleasure of ma
king up, love.”
And with that he was gone.
* * *
Taking several deep breaths, Laurel smoothed her bliaut, straightened her back, and then went through the door that connected her bedroom to her dayroom. Eleven pairs of eyes immediately locked on to her, each swirling with questions that were barely being contained.
“Well, ladies, did you learn what you needed to know?”
Laurel was not lying when she said she was using the chambermaid’s room to keep from being interrupted. But there had been much more behind the location than a simple need for privacy.
It had become clear after the first hour that Adanel’s interrogation in the great hall was less about getting information and more for espousing anger on a shared target. Each question had been preceded by a condemning lecture or a small speech of foreboding. The previous week had been filled with mostly shock and fear, but with her and Conor recovering, anger had taken over not just the McTiernay brothers, but their allies. Eògan’s death and Laird Mackbaythe being unavailable made Adanel the sole recipient of their ire.
In truth, Laurel had not felt guilty about letting it go on for so long. The Mackbaythes had almost cost her the life of not only her husband, but that of her son as well as her own. It was not an easy thing to just let go. But hearing Adanel’s combative comments to Laird Crawford, Laurel had realized that there was much more to the woman’s story, and it would never be heard in such a hostile environment. Adanel should have been cowering and weeping under such abuse, and yet with each new verbal slice, the woman’s resolve not to cower and accept their judgments became only stronger.
Laurel learned Conor felt a similar frustration when she had gone to check on him and discovered that he had been listening behind the servant’s entrance. He had suggested that she bring Adanel to her dayroom and have a private conversation—one that he would secretly listen to and from there make the final judgment to her fate.
How to Marry a Highlander Page 16
