“What are you good at?” she asked
The unforeseen question surprised him and he sat up. “What do you mean?”
Rowena spread out her hands and shrugged her shoulders. “Just that. What can you do well, maybe better than well?”
“I know a lot about weapons.”
Rowena sighed. Every Highlander knew how to fight. “Anything else?”
Cyric scratched his chin. “I can help people with their problems. My grandfather tells me that I have a way with finding out what people want and getting them to get along.”
“Then start there. Show my uncle you can solve problems, not just cause them.”
“How?”
Rowena smiled and hopped off the table, grabbing the mug before he could. “I don’t know. You just said that you did. But I would start by getting sober.”
Cyric waved his hand at her. “I’m always sober. Not really good at drinking too much. Besides, I don’t like drunks.”
Rowena was relieved though not surprised. Men who did drink often learned quickly how to keep from sharing their thoughts—especially self-denigrating ones—when drunk. Cyric was unlike any Highlander she’d ever known. Physically he was the size of one, and if his muscles were a sign, Cyric was not lying about being able to use a sword. But he was far more refined and handsome than most swordsmen she had met.
When she had first encountered him, she had thought him useless due to years of being pampered. And while he had definitely been coddled, she suspected that was only one layer of him. The insecure need to gain his father’s respect was another. But if one looked hard enough beyond those two impressions, they would realize there was far more to Cyric. In actuality, he was a very complex man, full of intelligence, wit, and a desire to improve. He was learning lessons he should have been taught years ago, but he was learning them.
Cyric Schellden was indeed more than she had originally believed and she suspected the laird would think so too if he gave his nephew a chance. She just hoped Cyric would find a way to earn it.
“Just remember,” she said as she moved to the doorway, “one cannot prove himself with things he knows nothing about. Don’t try to be a Highlander. Just be yourself.”
Chapter 13
Meriel poked her head into the last place she could think her sister would be—the kitchens. Built between the Great and Lower Halls with doorways giving access to each, the kitchens were actually a set of smaller rooms merged together. The vaulted ceilings and large central hearth made the rooms appear larger and airier than they really were. Only a handful of servants were inside working; all but one turned to look at her and smile.
Almost everyone they had met at McTiernay Castle was nice and supportive, with two exceptions. The steward and the cook.
“Fiona?” Meriel asked timidly. “Do you know where—” But before she could finish the sentence the gray-haired, stoutly built woman pointed her stubby finger to the back. Meriel sighed in relief. The woman could cook but she was also incredibly difficult and could berate one with her tongue just as well as someone else could with a stick.
Meriel angled her head and behind the kitchen she could see fragments of the scullery, a place she preferred to avoid. Grimacing, she walked through the kitchens and stopped at the open door that led into the enclosed grassy area. In the middle were two figures, one large and one small, hunched over an indeterminable object. “Well, that is one way to look after Brenna,” Meriel commented, gaining their attentions.
“Come over here!” Raelynd called out eagerly. “Brenna is showing me how to make scented soap.”
Meriel’s eyebrows rose questioningly. How her sister could be interested in such an endeavor was a mystery to her, but then Raelynd had always needed to understand how things were done. “It helps me run things smoothly,” Raelynd would say. Meriel often thought things ran smoothly in spite of her sister, not because of her. There was the steward after all. Besides, nothing ever went wrong, so how hard could running a castle be?
Even here with Lady McTiernay gone north for the day to visit a friend, things were in order and working as they should. Of course, if they didn’t, Fallon, the McTiernay’s steward, would be right there, demanding to know why. After the past three days, Meriel learned how thankful she was that their steward was nice. Fallon’s temperament matched that of his frizzy gray and red hair. A judgmental soul, he constantly stroked his wild beard and chided her for always being where she shouldn’t, before ordering her back to her room. Brenna had tried to excuse the man, saying he was crusty around people with whom he wasn’t familiar and it took a while to get to know him. Meriel had opted to stay out of his way as in a month she would be home and back to her old routines.
Raelynd picked up the gray speckled mass. “Come smell!”
Meriel refused and so Raelynd came to her, placing the nondescript lump under her nose. The mass smelled of roses. “Nice.”
“I know it’s roses and you like camellias, but they don’t really have the fragrance needed for soap. Begonias also do not—”
A deep booming voice took over the conversation. “How you two women manage to be where you shouldn’t all the time is a mystery. Unless you intend to help prepare the meals, leave these kitchens. And do not venture into the inner bailey until it is time for dinner. Some of the men are going to train in the courtyard and I will not be responsible for your safety. It might be safer if you just stay in your rooms.”
Meriel joined her sister in giving the man a scathing stare, but the burly steward was unfazed. Knowing they could do nothing else, Raelynd and Meriel brushed past him with Brenna in tow, grabbing some food as they exited the kitchens. Such thievery would put Fiona in a foul mood, but that was Fallon’s problem. He could deal with the cranky woman.
As they entered the North Tower, they saw Fallon gesture to the guards and knew that he was ordering them to prevent their exit. “It’s like we are prisoners!” Raelynd exclaimed, marching up the stairs to Meriel’s room. The untidy bedchambers had become their daytime haven with all the light and nights were shared in Raelynd’s room by the fire.
Meriel followed Raelynd and Brenna up the stairs and into her room. Slipping off her shoes, she walked across the odds and ends to the windowsill where her latest incomplete masterpiece lay waiting for attention. “I spoke to Craig about the guards and he refused to do anything! He didn’t understand why I would care about them wanting to make sure we are safe!”
“Safe!” Raelynd huffed, and fell onto the bed, landing on her stomach beside little Brenna. It was the one place in the chaos Meriel called a room anyone could sit or, in her case, lie down. Raelynd watched as her sister immediately picked up the garment that had received her nearly undivided focus for the past three days. “Aren’t you done yet?” Raelynd moaned.
Knowing Raelynd was only bored, Meriel spread the light gold bliaut out. “Look what I’ve done so far. I’ll make a chemise from this,” she said, holding up a piece of sheer linen, “and then I will embroider the hems in gold and pearls. Isn’t it lovely?”
Raelynd looked toward the windowsill and nodded in agreement. The gown was going to be beautiful, just as everything Meriel did with a needle and thread was. “It is too bad that it shall never be worn.”
“That is where you are wrong. It will be worn, by you, on your wedding day.”
That comment got Raelynd’s attention. “I’m not going to—”
Meriel bristled and pointed to Brenna. “Of course you are going to wear this dress, Lyndee. Even if you weren’t getting married to Craig, you would have to eventually marry for the sake of the clan.”
Raelynd grimaced. “I don’t think you should call me Lyndee anymore.”
Almost dropping her needle from shock after years of her sister refusing to respond to anything else, Meriel looked up and asked, “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Raelynd said with a shrug. “To make Father happy.”
Meriel did not believe her but she knew better than to pre
ss Raelynd for the truth. Her sister had been acting odd since this trip began and probably would not be back to normal until it was over. What she needed was her freedom.
“I need to get out of here,” Raelynd exhaled, echoing her sister’s thoughts.
“Why don’t you go riding?” Brenna suggested, picking up a brush, hoping to play with Raelynd’s long hair. “That’s what Mama always does. She says getting away to go riding not only helps her, but me, Papa, Bonny, and probably has saved Braeden’s life.”
Raelynd chuckled, wishing she could. But the one time she had gone near the stables, Fallon had intercepted her. She and Meriel would be allowed to ride if their future husbands accompanied them. Everyone else, however, was busy and it was too dangerous to allow them to venture out alone.
“What did Craig have to say this morning?” Raelynd asked, knowing that he usually stopped by briefly to say hello to Meriel before he left for the fields. But according to Brenna, Crevan had yet to make an appearance anywhere near the castle.
The little girl knew almost everything that was going on inside the curtain walls. Brenna couldn’t be deemed a gossip as she usually did not share what she learned, but she was a master eavesdropper and no conversation was safe from her ears if she was running around. And according to her, Crevan had not set foot inside the castle walls since the dinner party three nights ago.
Crevan was staying away just as he promised, only Raelynd never dreamed he actually could. Not if he truly felt about her the way she believed.
Meriel plunged a needle into the gold cloth. “Craig really did not talk about much today. I think news came from Father and before you ask, I didn’t learn anything. Craig would only say that plans were going just as they should be and in a month we would be going home.”
Raelynd coughed and when Meriel looked, she pointed to Brenna. The little girl had just unplaited Raelynd’s hair and was busy brushing but she was also listening.
“Ouch!” Meriel cried, and then sucked her finger. “Oh, no, it’s ruined!” She picked up the broken needle so that all in the room could see. “This! This is why I should be with the seamstresses and weavers. There I could sew with others who understood what I was doing, appreciated its difficulty, and I could replace broken needles!”
Raelynd’s and Brenna’s eyes popped open. It was rare to hear Meriel raise her voice and both knew who she was yelling at—Fallon, who claimed she could not join the seamstresses as they were too busy to entertain her.
“Is this right?” Brenna asked as she completed the intricate braid Raelynd had taught her.
Raelynd pulled the woven hair in front of her and inspected the overly loose braid. Seeing the apprehensive gray eyes, she sent Brenna a glowing smile. “It’s wonderful! I can’t believe how much you have improved. Now you can help me fix this bed.”
“Don’t you dare!” Meriel shouted. This time her anger was directed at those in the room.
“What?”
“Start cleaning. First the bed, then you will be straightening around the bed and before I can stop you everything will be put up and impossible to find. Sit back down and don’t try it again.”
“Then what else are we all to do? You cannot sew and I’m tired of doing nothing.”
“We could go swimming,” Brenna offered.
Raelynd mopped her brow. “I would, but we are stuck in this hot tower.”
“I’m not stuck,” Brenna countered.
Meriel leaned forward and in her typical soft mellow voice said, “Unfortunately, sweetheart, you are. Those guards won’t let us leave and I doubt they will let you go anywhere either while training is going on.”
“No one ever watches the back way.”
Raelynd’s and Meriel’s spines both went rigid. “Back way?” they repeated simultaneously.
“It opens on the other side of the wall. It’s how I sneak into the village.” Brenna’s grin grew until it took over her whole face. “Even Braeden doesn’t know about it. He thinks he knows everything. But he’s wrong. He just knows boy stuff.”
“Brenna,” Raelynd hollered, picking the little girl up and swinging her around. “You are my new, most favorite friend. Let’s grab some food and go on a picnic followed by some swimming!”
Brenna was the first out of the murder hole, followed by Raelynd and then Meriel. Just as promised, the secret exit hidden by a broken cart that held a large stack of freshly chopped wood had led to the other side of the castle walls.
Walking on the outskirts of the village, all three kept quiet, hoping not to catch anyone’s attention. As they maneuvered past the last set of cottages, Brenna started to giggle. Raelynd scanned the scene and spotted Aileen’s son, Gideon, and Braeden playing swords with sticks. “They are going to be so jealous when I tell him what we did. Teach him for thinking girls can’t have any fun.”
Meriel licked her lips. “Do you think we should be doing this? I don’t want to get Brenna in trouble.”
Brenna tried to glower, but her pale blond hair and gray eyes set in an angelic face completely countered the attempt. Her voice, however, conveyed the stubbornness she felt. “I’m not a little girl like Bonny. I’m big enough to know how not to get into trouble.”
Raelynd pulled Brenna back behind a cottage and out of sight. “Are you now?”
“Aye,” Brenna confirmed, bobbing her head up and down. “I’m as old as my brother and he’s always in trouble. Papa took him to see the training fields and Braeden almost got chopped up while everyone was training. I would have known to wait. But I didn’t get to go.”
“Just how far are the training fields?” Raelynd asked, wondering if Crevan had been spending time there.
“Not far from the loch. They are close to where Crevan sleeps at night.”
“How do you know where Crevan is sleeping?”
Brenna shrugged. “He told me the other night when I asked where he was going. He said he likes to look at the stars by the water near the rock where I learned how to dive. Do you want me to show you?”
Raelynd’s green and gold eyes twinkled with anticipation. “I would love for you to show me. I’m guessing it is a perfect spot for a picnic.”
The area Brenna took them to was perfect for a picnic. Trees crowded most of the loch’s shoreline, but they were enjoying one of the few places that had a wide clearing with the forest to the left and rolling hills leading back to the castle on the right. In the far distance the majestic gray giants of the Torridon Hills could be seen.
Meriel licked her fingers after swallowing the last piece of bread and lay down to stare at the cloudless sky. “Fiona really is a good cook.”
Raelynd nodded and stretched. “Think she would let us live if we sneaked some more food out tomorrow?”
“Probably not, but I say we try,” Meriel said, laughing.
Brenna, not understanding, stood up and declared, “I’m hot. I thought we were going swimming.”
Raelynd grinned and got to her feet. “You are correct and I say we tarry no longer. So strip off—”
A ghastly scream like a woman in terror engulfed the clearing, blocking out all other sounds. It was followed by a moaning sound and Raelynd was instantly chilled to the bone. “Where is it?” she whispered to Meriel, who was also busy searching the scene.
“It can’t be,” Meriel murmured to herself. “It’s not night. We didn’t do anything.”
Brenna began to shake and huddled close to Raelynd as another, even louder shriek filled the air. “What is it?”
“A wildcat,” Raelynd answered as she stroked the little girl’s back while trying to find out where the danger was coming from. She had never seen one live, but she had witnessed the damage a wildcat could cause when hostile. And by the sound of the cries, this particular animal was very unhappy and aggressive.
“There,” Meriel said, and pointed directly to the edge where the forest met the grassy hills, making it equidistant from either direction the three of them chose to run. They could move into
the loch, but unlike other felines, wildcats were not afraid of water and even liked to fish.
Raelynd, finally spotting the animal, let go a soft curse. Well-defined with brown and black stripes that matched a thick ringed tail ending in a blunt black tip, it was just as she feared. A wildcat—one of the most treacherous predators in the Highlands. It could grip its prey, climb trees, fall unharmed from great heights, and sprint with blinding speed.
Hissing, the large cat’s hackles were raised and it was staring at the three of them, constantly inching closer. They were its prey. The only thing Raelynd could think of was that its cubs were nearby and it considered them a threat. And if that were the case, simply leaving the area was not an option. The cat would chase them and attack until it was assured they posed no further danger.
The cat snarled again and Raelynd knew they had very little time before it charged. “Meriel, take Brenna and when I say run, you two head as fast as you can back to the castle and get help.”
Meriel’s eyes grew large. “What are you planning?”
Raelynd reached down and picked up a large, partially eaten leg bone, hoping the scent would be enough. “I’m going to distract the cat by climbing that tree and throwing it this bone for food.”
Brenna squeezed Raelynd’s waist, burying her head. “Mama would kill it.”
Laurel’s ability with a bow and arrow was well known among the western Highland clans. Until now, it was never a skill Raelynd had any interest in learning. “Everything will be fine, Brenna. Just reach out to Meriel and . . . now! Run!”
The moment Meriel had Brenna’s hand clasped in her own, Raelynd had given the signal and they started running in the direction of the castle. As they had walked to the loch it had not seemed that far, but now the distance felt massive. She wanted to look back and see Raelynd and know where the cat was, but it would only slow them down. If Raelynd’s plan worked, they needed to get help as fast as possible. If it did not, then she and Brenna had no time to look around. Their only hope was encountering someone before the wildcat reached them.
Tempting the Highlander Page 19
