“That your father had something over the blaigeard, and once I learn what that is, MacLeod will be a problem no more. I just need to figure out what it was. First, though, I need to knock some sense into my port master.”
Adanel sat up. She had forgotten her original question. “What exactly is Fearan doing?”
Dugan stabbed his fork into a potato and popped it into his mouth. “Your friend Kara may be the best cook in the Torridon mountains, but she’s married to a toll-tòine,” he finally said.
Adanel leaned back in her chair, stunned. People who worked the docks loved Fearan and to hear Dugan think otherwise shocked her. “Fearan?” she asked, still not quite sure why Dugan thought so little of the man.
“Aye,” Dugan affirmed. “The port may be deep enough to allow a ship to come to the shore, but that doesn’t mean you can get to the dock from just any direction in the bay. You have to know how to navigate the deeper part of the waterway and that man has not shared his knowledge of the channel with anyone—ever. He is holding the damn information hostage, uncaring of whom he hurts just to make a point that he is important. Unfortunately for him, Conor appointed the one McTiernay who knows quite a bit about ports and channels. So if Fearan wants to have a battle of wills, he is going to have it, and he is going to lose. You may have come home only to lose your best friend after all. For if Fearan doesn’t start cooperating soon, Kara is going to be living somewhere else, for they sure as hell won’t be welcome here.”
Adanel stopped midbite and slowly let her fork down. “I don’t understand,” she murmured, realizing just how bad things were going to get. Based on what she had heard from Fearan earlier, he was not going to back down. Kara might think her man was shy, but he also had a streak of pride that ran a mile deep, and it was about to be tested in a way it never had before. Dugan was not her father, and it seemed Fearan’s knowledge of the port did not hold the same leverage it had in the past. “Fearan has been running the ports for years without any issues.”
“That’s the problem. He’s no longer running the ports! He refuses to support the safe docking of a single ship—including the larger fishing trawlers that bring in food for the clan.”
Adanel had not known that. The fishing boats would be unaffected by the MacLeod blockade as they usually just went out in the bay. Many of the families did have someone to go hunt a few times a week, but fish was the primary diet for most of their clansmen. “If that’s true, soon there is going to be a problem. Most of what we eat comes from the sea. If people grow hungry, they will blame you.”
Dugan sat back and crossed his arms. “Which is exactly what Fearan wants to happen.”
Adanel rose to her feet and went to go stand by the window. She looked out and could see the inn in the distance. Somewhere inside were Fearan and Kara, unaware that their future was in jeopardy.
“But why?” she finally asked, turning around. Her face had morphed from bewilderment into one of indignation. “Just why would Fearan do that? Doesn’t he realize what will happen? That the clan will be injured and the only person who won’t lose will be you?”
A sudden desire to pull her into his lap almost overtook him. Seeing Adanel angry on his behalf made his whole body tighten with need. Rising to his feet, Dugan went to stand next to her. “I have no idea why. I’ve been focused on the docks and getting a handle on what goods we have to ship. The buildings were looted pretty badly before our arrival, but Garrett helped me with a few unannounced raids, and we were able to secure much of what was taken.”
Adanel reached out and grasped his arm. “So there are no issues with the army?”
Dugan briefly closed his eyes, thinking the torment of her lies were nothing compared to the torment of her touch.
Shifting, he broke her light hold and went to go throw a couple of logs onto the fire. He needed something to keep his hands busy or he needed to leave, which would have been the smarter of the two choices. But he had yet to discover why Adanel had wanted him to come and visit her tonight, and in truth, he was not ready to leave her company. It was surprisingly cathartic to talk to her about Fearan and have her not automatically take the port master’s side, which he had thought she would do.
“Outside of not a soul knowing anything about fighting or using a weapon, the army has been the least of my worries.” When they had ridden up to the port, he, Garrett, and Loman had surrounded Adanel in preparation for an assault. To their surprise, they had not been attacked, but welcomed.
Most of the soldiers serving under Laird Mackbaythe disliked him intensely and hated what he had forced them to do. Those who had local families or businesses joined only to receive necessary protection, but it was at a great personal expense for they had been miserable.
The true power behind Mackbaythe’s army was the mercenaries Adanel’s father had hired—all of whom with the exception of Garrett—had left the moment word came of Mackbaythe’s death. Their absence left those in the army wondering what was to come.
Unlike their fellow clansmen who had felt the brunt of their laird’s apathy to their well-being, most of the soldiers had witnessed firsthand Laird Mackbaythe’s abhorrent cruelty and the enjoyment he derived from others’ pain. Hearing that he had died and that the clan was being taken over, the soldiers had rejoiced. In their mind, the McTiernays offered a chance at true prosperity, and with Dugan as laird, the respect they never had as soldiers would be theirs. Everyone knew McTiernay soldiers were esteemed by every clan in the Highlands. The men were not only eager to train and learn, their attitude was infectious, making recruiting something unexpectedly far easier than Garrett or Dugan had anticipated.
“Training for most of them is hard. Most McTiernays begin at the age of sixteen or even younger to practice basic maneuvers so they have rudimentary skills when they join the army, even as a first year. Most here lack even fundamental skills, but they are willing to learn and they are much better at listening than young boys. We just need to be patient. Skill comes with practice and time.”
The latter of which we do not have, Adanel thought to herself. Much could be accomplished in a year, but to have an army skilled enough to defend itself against MacCoinnich when Loman and the loaned soldiers returned back home? No one could accomplish that. Not even Conor McTiernay himself.
Dugan finished stoking the fire and placed the poker next to the hearth. He looked around her chambers. “I wouldn’t have thought you would want to return here.”
Suddenly nervous, Adanel brushed her palms on the sides of her bliaut. Almost all of their safe topics had been covered. “I didn’t think so either, but before it was my prison. Now it is my safe refuge.”
Dugan bobbed his head in understanding. “Right now, maybe it’s best you stay here until the keep gets cleaned. When it is, you will be eager to live in the castle. The furnishings in the rooms are a luxury I’m surprised a clan this small can afford.”
“As I only recently discovered,” Adanel huffed with disgust, thinking of how her father must have gotten the money. “But I do plan on moving my chambers to the keep once I can prepare rooms. Here”—she looked up and carefully chose her words—“there’s just a lot of people coming and going that I don’t know. Brùid is big, but he is only one man.”
Dugan frowned at the implication. “Are you saying Garrett has men sleeping here,” he said, pointing to the floors below them, “while you are staying in the tower?”
Puzzled, Adanel said, “Aye. I’d say at least two dozen men. And I know as soon as I leave he plans on using this floor as well so he can use the bottom floor to store weapons.”
“Has anyone bothered you?” Dugan demanded, his tone suddenly chilly.
Dugan had led soldiers for many years and was not naive to their ways. When they were off duty, they liked to drink. Many just passed out, but some got belligerent and others became overly vocal. He fit the latter category and in an inebriated state had a couple of times revealed his whole life story to Cole. It was how Cole knew about
his history running a port, and also how Cole knew that he had at one time been enamored with his wife, Ellenor.
Thinking about it now, Dugan wondered why Cole had not nailed him across the jaw and sent him packing. If one of his commanders—especially Loman—said similar things to him about Adanel, Dugan was not sure he would be so understanding.
“Maybe I should tell Garrett to keep the tower clear until you get the castle ready.”
Adanel clasped her hands in front of her. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Dugan’s brow furrowed. “Clearing the tower or getting the castle ready?” Seeing her reaction to the latter, he asked, “Did something happen?”
Adanel threw her hands up in the air in mock resignation. “That’s the problem. Nothing is happening.” She began to pace in the small area. “If I’m lucky, my requests only get ignored. Most of the time, if I ask something to be done, like cleaning your solar so that you have a decent place to sleep, I come back and the situation is even worse than how I left it. I’ve tried being firm. I’ve tried being nice and everything in between. I’ve even tried ignoring the insult so whoever did it would not get the satisfaction of knowing how much it bothers me.”
Dugan reached out and caught her hand just before she spun around to walk back to the bed. “So what have you decided?”
Adanel blinked. “Decided?” she murmured, having no idea what he was asking.
Her focus was on the soft touch of his thumb as it caressed her wrist. She looked up and the intense heat of his gaze burned her up from the inside out. His face was calm, his body relaxed, but his eyes . . . they were burrowing into her soul saying, I know you. I know you as no one ever has. I want you. I will have you.
“Did you make a decision on what you want to do? Or do you need my help?”
“Oh, um, a little of both,” Adanel answered as she reminded herself to breathe. That deep attraction they had felt upon first meeting, their instant connection for reasons that could not be explained, definitely still existed. It was almost as if she needed to touch him and be touched by him, like she needed air or water. Something primitive and utterly feminine deep inside her was coming to life and the idea of asking for his help as a first step toward rebuilding his trust was suddenly overwhelming.
Adanel sucked in a quivering breath and took several necessary steps back. She needed to explain her plan and ask for his help. To do that, she needed to think. Instinctively she waved her finger, gesturing for him to remain where he was. “I . . . um . . . aye, I need your help.”
“You said that.”
“Well, stop looking at me that way and maybe I can tell you why!”
“What way?” Dugan pressed, though he knew already. He was like a wild animal scenting a female in heat, and it took all his concentration to control his basic urges. If she had not moved back, she would be in his arms right now. That may not have been the reason why she called him to meet her here, but it was the reason he had come and the reason he had stayed. The memory of what it felt like to hold her, be with her . . . he was getting hard just thinking about it. Being with Adanel was a pleasure unlike anything he had ever known. He wanted to experience it again . . . and again and again.
Adanel stared into Dugan’s blue eyes. There was no mistaking their dark look. Her every nerve ending was responding to their unspoken message. Desperately Adanel tried to focus on something besides his eyes and wound up staring at his chest. Once again, she momentarily lost composure. Spinning on her heel, she walked to the window and looked outside, praying she could force herself to maintain a respectable distance from him. “What you did today, with the dock workers . . . I think I want to do something similar with the castle staff.”
“Bold step. But are you sure you want to banish them? Higher wages will keep men wanting work at the docks, but removal might not achieve what you hope in your case.”
“I’m not talking about banishing them, but I am talking about dismissing all of them. No one thinks I will do it because they know that I need staff to help me with the castle just as much as they need their positions.” Adanel glanced back over her shoulder and, seeing Dugan still safely across the room, she turned back around. “That would change if they saw someone else doing their responsibilities in their place.”
“You want to use the soldiers.” Dugan whistled, knowing how much the idea would be disliked. At the moment though, he did not really care. With each look Adanel sent him, he could see her desire and almost taste her on his tongue—hot, wet, and woman sweet. It was taking everything he had to keep from agreeing to whatever she wanted and then charging across the room, ceasing all their talk.
Adanel nodded, trying to look unaffected by the heat of Dugan’s gaze. But a few feet of separation were doing nothing to stop her awareness of him. “I need just enough to remove all castle staff as well as those working in any building or nearby jobs connected to the castle and to keep them out. Then with six more to work directly with me I’ll be able to make my point. There are three in particular I hope to borrow for I realized on the journey here, they are remarkably good cooks. The kitchens are not dangerous nor are they heroic; however, if people saw that I could get replacements for one of the hardest jobs in the castle, they would realize everyone is vulnerable.”
Dugan closed his eyes and forced himself to think through what she was proposing and not on how her rapid breathing was causing her chest to rise and fall. “Might work. What do you need the other three for?”
“One to help me assess the castle and what needs to be repaired first, and the other two just need to be hard workers, regardless of the task given. Until I’ve gone through each room, I’m hoping your men can prevent anyone from coming near unless you or I approve.”
“This is going to take how many days?”
Adanel winced, unaware she had stepped closer to Dugan. “Most likely a few, which is why I needed the guard to keep anyone from returning.”
That last bit hinted at the true nature of her plan. “And where are these dismissed servants going to sleep? Don’t most of them stay in the castle? I know the blacksmith and the baker live there. When they lose access, won’t that mean they lose access to their home? Their beds?”
Adanel’s face lit up, and she took another step forward. “That is exactly what I’m hoping they realize. As far as places for them to stay and sleep, it is summertime. Soldiers sleep outside all the time. I did it for a week on the way here and survived. They will too, and as far as food?” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips twisted into a cynical smile. “We have yet to be served even one decent, edible meal. They left us to fend for ourselves. It’s their turn.”
Dugan reached up and tucked a lock of her red hair behind her ear. “I knew you would find a way, Adanel,” he said softly, deliberately using his own desire to ignite hers.
Hearing him whisper her name chilled her to the marrow, disabling her ability to retreat. The scorching heat arcing between them was almost palpable and yet she remained frozen, unable to move, even if she wanted to do so. If Dugan touched her in any way she was doomed. Her whole being was already committed. It had been since the first moment she had seen him a year ago.
“Adanel . . .” Her name was a soft growl of swiftly mounting desire as Dugan’s hand slid underneath her hair and curled around her neck. His need for her was all-consuming, and she had only seconds to stop an embrace that would not end with a simple kiss.
Adanel caught her breath at the relentless, deep need that etched his mouth and filled the blue pools of his eyes. Dugan was no longer the playful, skilled lover from last spring intended upon seduction and mutual pleasure. He looked at her as if she was his only need, his only desire—his entire world. Looking at him now, she realized Laurel McTiernay had been right. Dugan was just as consumed by her as she was by him, even if he refused to admit it.
“Dugan,” she whispered.
His thumb played on her lower lip, halting whatever she was going to say. The caress w
as soft and teasing. “Inside and out, you are more beautiful than any female I have ever seen. Every time I hear your voice, see you, talk to you, I want to take you into my arms. Murt, all I have to do is think about you and I need to feel you, be with you.”
Unable to delay another moment, he leaned down and brushed his mouth lightly across hers, urging her to comply. When he heard her soft whimper from deep in her throat, the sensual sound pushed reason aside. His other hand came up to cradle her face, and he drank hungrily from her lips as if she were a drink of the sweetest water and he was a man dying of thirst.
Adanel’s hands went to his shoulders and responded in kind. Feeling his tongue sweep across her lower lip, she wrapped her arms around him and opened up to him, moaning as he deepened the kiss.
She had kissed Dugan many times, in many ways. Hungry and demanding; long, soft lingering embraces that seemed to last for hours; hot, all-consuming kisses that drove all thought away but need and desire—but he’d never kissed her like this. Adanel did not even know she could be kissed like this. It both drained her and at the same time refilled her with a love for him that had not diminished at all despite all the pain, the arguments, and the distance.
Blood roared, wild and hot, through Dugan’s veins. Balanced on the dangerous edge between joy and agony, one hand palmed her buttocks while the other tunneled into the thick waves of her rich auburn hair. Could he really have forgotten so thoroughly how wonderful it felt to have her in his arms?
Moving, he slowly walked Adanel back until her knees hit the bed. His hands were on a mission. One undid the laces of her bliaut, and the other traced her spine from her slender neck down to her hips until the last of her clothes had fallen to the floor. A gentle shove had her gasping as she fell back. In seconds, he removed his belt and plaid, and then tore his own léine off, the last bit of hindrance separating them. Then he was on her, basking in the feel of her soft naked skin against his own. It was almost more than he could bear.
How to Marry a Highlander Page 24
