Tempting the Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  Blond ringlets bounced as Brenna dramatically slumped her shoulders and rolled her smoke-colored eyes. Raelynd took pity. “But just because I have to return does not mean you cannot stay and play with your brother.”

  The little girl crinkled her brow at the thought, but a second later let go a long sigh. “Well, someone should look after him. I can’t wait until Meghan gets back.”

  Raelynd watched the little girl scamper off. She had never met Meghan, nor was she likely to, as she was visiting Ellenor and Crevan’s brother, Cole, until the birth of their second child. But whoever she was, Brenna and Braeden loved her. They talked about her continuously and Raelynd found herself often wishing she had someone saying such flattering, admiring things about her when she was not around.

  Ignoring any distractions, Raelynd went directly to where the weavers worked and waved at Meriel to stop and meet with her. Where Raelynd had felt nearly tortured with boredom for most of the day, Meriel had been perfectly happy and content. She had found and been welcomed into the small group of people who made much of the materials used not just by the castle, but by many clansmen and women. Meriel, of course, had no desire to make plaids, blankets, or rugs. She preferred to design and create intricate tapestries that were generally acclaimed to be some of the most beautiful in the Highlands.

  Meriel quickly packed up her things and met Raelynd in her chambers on the third floor of the North Tower. She wasn’t in the room more than a few minutes when random thumping and scraping could be heard. “What is that?”

  “Better question is who,” Raelynd answered, “but that is another discussion. First, I just learned that Lady McTiernay is having a small gathering of selected people from the clan to dine at the Great Hall. And our presence is required.”

  Meriel instantly paled. “When?”

  “When else do the McTiernays do anything? Sundown.”

  Meriel sank into the nearby chair as Raelynd began to rummage through her things to find the black velvet gown she was going to wear that evening. “What is it about sundown the McTiernays like so much?”

  “I have no idea.” Raelynd grunted with satisfaction at finding the garment. She was glad she had decided to bring the somewhat striking gown. It fit her impeccably. The intricate gold embroidery along the hems coupled with the sheer, light cream chemise she wore underneath, made the ensemble both simple and elegant.

  The night had hardly begun and Crevan could already feel his skin crawling. Raelynd was acting far too confident, knowing the merciless intent of Conan’s desire to embarrass her once again. And his disagreeable brother seemed oblivious to the trap she was setting. Who was going to win this battle was hard to determine, but Crevan was finding it difficult to listen to their insincere exchanges of flattery and do nothing. Everyone present at the small dinner group knew an explosion was imminent, and yet with the exception of him, all—including Craig and Meriel—were blithely conversing.

  “I heard that you especially wanted me to be present,” Conan drawled with mocking charm.

  Raelynd gave him a side glance accompanied with a small disingenuous smile. “I did. I did you a disservice the other night. Men prefer women to enhance their meals, not make them unsightly.”

  “Well, tonight, you, Lady Lyndee, could enhance even Crevan’s solemn night skies.”

  Crevan gritted his teeth at the star-gazing reference. He wondered if Raelynd remembered the first time they had met on top of the tower. But based on her lack of reaction, it was unlikely. It rankled that she had forgotten and he suddenly wanted to get her attention. “Raelynd,” he began, emphasizing her Christian name and not the silly one she had conjured, “I should caution you about becoming f-friends w-w-with my brother.”

  “Why, isn’t he capable of being friends with a female?” she asked, her eyes wide with false innocence, but Crevan knew that look. It was far from harmless.

  Crevan was about to answer, when Conan took advantage of the brief silence. “No, my brother doesn’t think I can be friends with a woman. But then neither do I. Women are for . . .” He paused to look back at Laurel at the other end of the table and when he saw her engaged in conversation, he dropped his voice and continued, “Producing babes and taking care of the home.”

  Crevan glanced at Meriel, waiting for her to say something, but Meriel and Craig were too busy talking to each other and ignoring the rest of the party to be even vaguely aware of the discussion taking place.

  Meanwhile, an undeterred Raelynd smiled and placed her elbows on the table to rest her chin on interlaced fingers. “What about pleasure? Aren’t women necessary for that? Even for you?” she asked loud enough for the entire table to hear. As intended, it got the interest of all.

  Crevan choked, but Conan just narrowed his gaze. Their little game had shifted unexpectedly and once again his brother relished the attention. “Aye, women are needed for that and other things. Including taking care of themselves. I’m glad to see that you and your sister can look decent, that is, when you try real hard.”

  Crevan could feel his blood begin to boil but one glance at Raelynd told him that while last night his interference was appreciated, tonight it could result in serious damage to his well-being.

  Raelynd raised her brows and let go a deep exaggerated sigh. Crevan noticed that Conan suddenly saw what he had known for some time now—that Raelynd was quite intelligent and surprisingly cunning. Aye, she was immature in some areas, but those were limited to few. Only a fool would believe her lack of management skills meant all her social abilities were just as weak.

  “I wanted to ask you, Conan, about all those items you store in the North Tower, but maybe I should just tell Lady McTiernay instead about the pests that I think have moved onto the fourth floor since you have vacated your room. Perhaps I should even suggest that everything get cleared out and cleaned. Maybe I’ll even volunteer to help,” Raelynd said smugly, and then reached over to plop a piece of cheese in her mouth.

  Raelynd had made the remark only loud enough for those at their end of the table to hear, but the look in her eye made it clear that she had no qualms about restating it so that all in the room could learn of Conan’s secret trips back to his study. “‘Se peasan a th’annad.”

  “‘Se bleigeard a th’annad,” Raelynd returned, glad to see that her calling him a brat was far more painful than him calling her a pest. Conan would never truly respect her. It was unlikely he would ever even like her, but he would no longer underestimate her either.

  “Céard atà uait?” Conan grumbled.

  “An apology,” Raelynd said simply. Conan’s angry blue eyes pierced the distance between them, but he remained silent. She did not say when, but they both knew she didn’t intend to let anyone leave until Conan uttered the words.

  Instantly, Crevan was on guard. He knew his brother, and Conan would not so easily admit defeat, especially not with an apology as Raelynd had just demanded. Just as Raelynd believed she had a trump card against his brother, Conan most likely held one against her. Laurel must have also recognized Conan’s dark look and concluded that she needed to become engaged with the other end of the table.

  “Lyndee, Meriel,” Laurel called out, “what do you both plan on doing to entertain yourselves for the next month?”

  Both women looked at each other for the answer, and then to Crevan and Craig. But they, too, were just as baffled as to what to say.

  Laurel sat back and gave a nod to Aileen, which was not missed by any of the four. “I know that you intend to spend a lot of time with your betroths. . . .” she said, drawing out the one word, watching with hidden mirth at the squeamish reaction it received.

  “You are right,” Craig interrupted, “but unfortunately, being gone for so long, we have much to do. So while we will come spend time—”

  “—w-w-when we can—” Crevan added.

  “—our work will take us away from the castle sometimes for days. . . .”

  Crevan suppressed the urge to say weeks, but he kn
ew from how Craig was rattling with excuses that his brother agreed fully with his sentiments.

  Laurel shrugged with reluctant acceptance. “So what will you both do in the meantime?”

  Aileen, Laurel’s best friend, sat forward and said, “You both are to get married in a month, correct?” After seeing two slightly bobbing heads, she added, “Then why don’t you make your wedding dresses?”

  Laurel nodded. “I’ll even supply the material.” That made Conor slump farther down into his chair with his lips pursed even more in irritation. He had bought those beautiful materials for his wife, not for two dresses that were not going to be worn any time soon or by someone related to him by blood or marriage.

  Sensing her husband’s tension, Laurel reached over and clasped his hand, but continued to study the other end of the table. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping out with Brenna. I have to address some responsibilities and will be in and out of the castle for the next few days. Braeden will spend most of his time with his friend Gideon or his father. Glynis, our head housekeeper, has agreed to look after Bonny, but having Brenna as well is just too much for her.”

  Meriel nodded her head; Raelynd bobbed hers more enthusiastically. Taking care of Brenna was a gift. Meriel would be thrilled to make a dress, but to Raelynd, the chore would be sheer torture. Besides, looking after the little girl would be easy for Brenna could practically take care of herself.

  Conan opened his mouth to make a sharp retort, but Raelynd’s gaze swiftly descended upon him and she pointed up to the imaginary floor above them. “Meriel and I are ready for our apology. And just be glad we are not demanding it to be even more public.”

  With a great show, Conan rose slowly to his feet and coughed several times into his fist. Pasting on a fake smile, he said to the group at large, “I would like to humbly apologize for my behavior at the arrival of Lady Raelynd and her sister, Lady Meriel. It was my intention to provoke my brothers as I had not seen them in several months, rather than inflict pain on either of them.”

  “Why, I almost believe you,” Raelynd whispered teasingly.

  Conan produced an earnest grin and with his chin, he gestured to the group on the other end of the table. “If I had known such a statement would cause the looks on Hamish’s, Finn’s and Aileen’s faces down there, I would have done so much earlier. Thank you.”

  Raelynd fluttered her eyelids and sighed. “Ah, Conan, I will always be available to help you become a better man and brother.”

  “Lucky me.”

  Crevan was about to choke. The insincere flirting between Raelynd and his brother had transformed to one of a different nature, and if possible, one that was significantly worse. Their banter’s tone had transitioned from caustic to affable. Too many times had Crevan witnessed Conan woo women, and even those who knew of his brief attention span fell prey to his charms. Unfortunately, at the moment, all of his brother’s charisma was focused on Raelynd, and it was working.

  “Stop it,” Crevan heard himself hiss.

  The angry pitch seized Raelynd’s attention. “What?”

  “Stop encouraging my brother,” Crevan answered, his voice barely above a soft whisper.

  Straightening her back, Raelynd stared Crevan directly in the eye. “At least your brother goes after what he wants and doesn’t suppress his feelings by calling them friendship.”

  Conan, picking the worst possible time to physically intrude, leaned over and stuck his head close to theirs. “Can I listen? Or are you afraid, brother, that I just might steal her away from you?”

  Furious, Crevan pulled back, his eyes cold and proud. “From me?” he scoffed. “O-once again, you are mistaken. Raelynd thankfully is not my problem, she’s Craig’s.” Then he stood up and with a small nod to Laurel and his eldest brother, left the Great Hall.

  Later that night, Meriel leaned back in the big chair situated in Raelynd’s room to stretch her arms and release a long yawn. “I cannot believe how little Crevan spoke this evening. Do you think it was because of how he talks?”

  The comment momentarily stunned Raelynd. Aye, Crevan was not as talkative as his brother Craig, but in her mind, he was far from silent. And even when Crevan was more quiet than usual, to believe his speech was behind the reason was absurd. “I doubt it. Crevan seeks approval from no one.”

  Meriel shrugged her shoulders and yawned again. “I guess you are right, but I would think his speech would seriously annoy you.”

  “Me? No. Why?”

  “I don’t know. You just always demand perfection from everyone regardless of who they are or what faults they have.”

  Raelynd turned to argue, but closed her mouth slowly without saying a word as memories of life at Caireoch Castle came to mind. Too many of them were of her being highly critical of those around her. “I’m tired,” she lied, “and you keep yawning.”

  Meriel rolled her eyes, but pushed herself out of the padded chair and headed to the door. “I know when I am no longer wanted.”

  The door closed and Raelynd went to sit down and think in the chair her sister had just occupied when she heard a soft single knock. Letting go a deep, perturbed sigh, she called out, “What did you forget?”

  Raelynd had hoped her sister would just pop in, grab whatever item she had left behind, and quickly retreat back to the second floor, but only silence filled the room until another single knock was heard. Meriel would not be going away. Rising, Raelynd strolled to the door hoping her slow speed would irritate her sister as much as being forced to get up and answer the door did her.

  Grabbing the rope, Raelynd gave it a yank. Nobody was there. Raelynd narrowed her gaze and stuck her head out into the corridor just in time to spy Conan sneaking up the staircase. “Was that you knocking on my door?”

  The disappearing foot halted in midair and then stepped back down, followed by its mate. A second later, Conan was in view, sauntering up to her door. “First, it’s not your room, and secondly, your question makes it seem like I was pounding desperately to get your attention.”

  Raelynd crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame, refusing to let him think he could intimidate her with his swagger, his close presence, or his words. “Normally I would agree that two knocks are hardly the sounds of desperation . . . unless of course they were made by you and upon my door.” She paused and then looked down the empty corridor once more. “How did you get in here? Lady McTiernay has ordered at least two soldiers to guard this tower to prevent those not allowed from coming in,” she finished, pointing a finger toward his chest.

  Conan smiled and deep dimples appeared. On most men they would have come across somewhat feminine, but not on him. Strangely, they caused his cheeks and chin to appear more angular and therefore more rugged. The man was devastatingly good looking, maybe the best looking of all the McTiernay brothers, but he lacked qualities that Crevan had, which kept him from being anything other than nice to look at—if he weren’t such a burraidh.

  “I doubt Laurel posted them to guard you from me,” Conan countered.

  Raelynd blinked once. “We finally agree. Nevertheless, how did you get in?” The question was more than just mild interest. If he could sneak in, then she could slip out.

  “I have my ways.”

  Raelynd rolled her eyes. She was not in the mood for his games and stepped back to close the door. But before she could do so, Conan whipped out his hand and stopped her. She gave him what she hoped was a withering glance. “I’m sorry, Conan. If you are looking for a good night kiss, you’ll have to go elsewhere.”

  “Raelynd, you don’t need—”

  Raelynd held up her hand and interrupted, “I’m Meriel.”

  Conan opened his mouth and Raelynd readied herself for a caustic remark. But instead, his face transformed from the normal confident one filled with arrogance and self-conceit to one of weariness. “Let’s call a truce, shall we? I know you are not Meriel and it is obvious that no matter how quiet I try to be, you are going to know when I’m in my
study. So I won’t tell Laurel about you and your sister’s little act of defiance—and believe me when I tell you that I am doing you a great favor in that regard—and you don’t tell her I’m still staying upstairs.”

  With a small shake of her head in disbelief that she was about to agree to anything Conan put forth, Raelynd shrugged her shoulders in acquiescence. “First tell me how studying maps creates all that noise.”

  Just the mention of his favorite subject changed Conan’s demeanor yet again, this time into one of an eager youth. “Whenever I’m trying to work out a problem, I walk. Helps me think and nobody does that better than me,” he finished with a wink, and turned to saunter back to his room.

  Raelynd just shook her head. “Good night, a bragadair na mblat is na mbreth.”

  Conan pivoted back around at the satirical compliment but instead of issuing an insult he just studied her. “You, Lady Schellden, I just might have underestimated.”

  “Oh, surely if you did it was only by a little.”

  Conan licked his lips in a poor effort to hide his smile at the clever rejoinder. “I’ll admit you are not nearly the insipid, dumb creature I originally thought you to be, but that doesn’t mean I like you.”

  Raelynd laughed at the concept. “And I doubt that I will ever truly like you. But I have good reason behind my contempt.”

  “As do I,” Conan stated with complete seriousness. “You would be no good for Craig. You do not have true feelings for him.”

  “Do not worry about Craig. He is aware that I do not love him, just as I know he does not love me.”

  “And yet supposedly you are to be married.”

  Raelynd locked her jaw and with an unwavering stare, answered, “Aye.”

  Conan quickly marched back to where she stood and, moving in very close, he whispered, “Why? Why marriage? Just who are the four of you protecting? Your father?”

  Conan just asked her the one question she wanted answers to herself. But as she had none to give, Raelynd merely shrugged, trying as hard as she could to maintain a blasé persona. “What was it you just said? You have your ways? Well, we have our reasons. Your brothers know what they are doing.” They better, she added to herself.