He didn’t give her a chance to respond, turning quickly to make his leave. He knew his visit had been successful. He’d left the poor lass wanting more, with her heart beating wildly in her chest. In a week’s time, she’d want no other man but him, of that he was sure.
* * *
Three Days Later
Arran rolled drowsily out of bed as he cursed Kip for creating so many tasks for him to complete in the stables that day. He knew it was unusual for someone in his position to work in the stables, but he didn’t care. Keeping busy was the only thing keeping the drinking at bay and the pain in his heart at a safe distance.
He threw open the door to his bedchamber to see who felt the need to disturb him so late in the evening, and he had to blink several times to make sure he was seeing correctly when he saw Mary standing in his doorway.
“Mary? What are ye doing? Ye should’ve been in bed hours ago. Ye work too much as it is.”
Mary waved a hand in dismissal at Arran’s words as she stepped inside without waiting to be invited in. “I doona need ye telling me when I should be in bed, and I doona work too much. I work just the proper amount. ’Tis only that ye work too little that ye think anything more than that is too much.”
“Ah. O’course ye are right, Mary.” Arran knew better than to argue with her and so he simply smiled and crossed his arms as he prepared to hear what she had to say. “Now, what do ye need? Ye havena been in my bedchamber this late since I was a wee lad.”
“Ye are right, and I see ye haven’t changed yer bad habits at all. Ye still doona have enough common sense to check and make sure ye are properly clothed before ye invite company into yer room. For goodness sakes, cover yerself lad, I think ye have blinded me.” She shielded her eyes dramatically as Arran glanced down at his entirely naked self.
“Ach, Christ, Mary! I’m verra sorry.” Scrambling, he reached for something to cover himself, finally deciding to simply sit on the edge of the bed so that he could sit under the protection of fabric.
“Doona apologize, lad. ’Tis no like I havena seen a man naked before. Why, I used to clean that little backside of yers when ye were only a wee laddie.”
Arran rolled his eyes, wishing Mary would spit out her news so that he could return to a peaceful slumber. “Ach, let’s no talk about me backside. What’s brought ye here?”
“Ah, right.” Mary stopped grinning and faced him head on. “I’m verra worried about Edana.”
“Aye? Why?” Arran was awake now. He’d been worried about the lass too, but he didn’t understand why Mary would be. He straightened up in the bed, eager to hear her explanation.
“For the past three evenings, I have seen Tormod, the visitor who they all say is Ramsay’s bastard nephew, sneaking into Lady Edana’s room late at night. It isna proper for him to visit her after dark.”
“Ye are right, it isna, but they are our guests, and I doona think ’tis our place to instruct them on how to behave themselves. Besides, I doubt he is doing anything to the lass she wouldna want him to.” He believed his own words, but he couldn’t deny how uncomfortable the thought made him. He wasn’t jealous of Tormod. He didn’t care about Edana in that way. But he had seen the lad interacting with some of his men and did not like the feeling he got around him.
“No, I doona think he is hurting her, Arran. I think he is using her so that he can become laird. Ye know that our visitors decided that whomever becomes laird should marry Edana. I believe he is trying to make her want to do just that, which would be fine except for I doona think Tormod is a good man. No even much better than Edana’s father.”
“Aye, I agree with ye, Mary. I doona like the lad either.” Arran lay back on his bed, gathering the blankets to cover himself, drumming his fingers back and forth across his forehead as he tried to think of how to best proceed.
Only one plausible solution crossed his mind. Although the idea didn’t thrill him, it was the only way he saw to keep his new friend from entering a horrible marriage. With no hope of his own true love coming back to him, what did it matter whom he married anyway? He sat up in the bed to tell Mary his plan. “I know what I shall do, Mary. We shall have a series of games to test the strength and leadership of all the men who enter. Whoever wins shall marry Edana and become laird of Kinnaird’s old territory.”
Mary drew her brows together, and Arran knew she did not yet understand his plan. “Aye, fine. But how do ye think ye shall get the Kinnaird Clan to agree to such an arrangement, and what if Tormod wins? That will do nothing to keep her from him.”
“They will agree because they are all eager to name a new laird. If they do not, they will no longer have the hospitality of staying on our land. And Tormod willna win.”
Mary’s scrunched eyebrows rose in question. “And just how do ye know that? He’s quite a strong looking lad.”
“Tormod willna win because I plan to enter. I will win and marry Edana meself.”
Chapter 11
Scotland
Present Day
I was unsure of how they’d convinced me to leave with them. It certainly meant losing another job, and I dinna have any other friends that could help me in obtaining another one once I returned to Edinburgh from our trip back into the country.
I continued to question me decision as I sat in the back of the small cramped car next to Bri’s friend, Mitsy, who had thankfully settled down. I was sure that she thought us all mad. How could anyone not after hearing our story? All the same, she was no longer hysterical, and it was undeniable that she’d been in desperate need of a good night’s sleep. She looked much better, even quite striking, with her long, red curls fixed nicely no longer matted down by tears.
As we pulled up in front of the all-too-familiar inn near the castle, I realized that it was a potent mixture of fear and hope that had caused me to agree to stay here with Eoin for the next week. I’d sworn to meself that I wouldna return when I left, and I was terrified to do so now, but I was even more terrified of letting this opportunity slip away. I’d suspected last evening in the pub that there was more to Bri and Eoin’s visit to this time than Bri’s desire to finish some things she’d left undone. Somehow their visit involved me.
My suspicions were confirmed this morning when they’d asked me to leave town for a week to keep Eoin company and watch over him while Bri and Mitsy left for Mitsy’s wedding. Eoin was more than capable of taking care of himself, especially if he was staying with Jerry and Gwendolyn, or was it Morna? None of us was sure of how to refer to the magical innkeeper anymore. Something remained that Eoin wanted to discuss with me, and me curiosity over that something was enough for me to leave me position in Edinburgh and run toward uncertainty once again.
It seemed likely that Eoin’s news might only break me heart further and make me wish I’d remained in Edinburgh. He’d not said much about me father when I’d asked him. Perhaps he was ill or had discovered that I was gone. I hoped he hadn’t. I wouldn’t be able to bear the guilt of knowing I’d caused him such pain.
But what if it was something else? What if now that Eoin was married to someone else, Arran wanted me to return home to be with him? The thought made my stomach flutter excitedly, but just as quickly it turned to an uncomfortable churn as I realized what I knew must be true. Arran didn’t want me to return. He probably didn’t care that I was gone. If he did, he would have come here himself. He had far too much pride to allow his brother to make such a request of me.
The car had been parked for some time, and everyone else was unloading their belongings as I remained in the backseat, a familiar depression gliding over me as me latest realization drained away all the hope I’d had of Eoin’s news being good.
After this week, I would return to the city, jobless once more, and I would start again.
Me own reflection in the window to me left startled me, and I jumped as Bri lightly knocked against the window. “Come on inside, Blaire. They have food laid out for you and Eoin. Mitsy and I have to be on our way to t
he airport. Our flight is in a couple of hours.”
Doing me best to manage a smile, I apologized and joined the others inside. Shortly after, Bri and Mitsy drove away, leaving me to wallow in me nerves over what sad news Eoin had yet to share with me.
* * *
Austin, TX
As the song came to its end, Bri pulled away from her dance partner, smiling as she pulled him in for a hug. “Thank you, Daniel. You’re a wonderful dancer.”
“It was my pleasure, dear.” The man, forty years her senior, kissed her hand before showing her back to her seat. “And you’re right. I am a wonderful dancer. If we’d only been able to go on our date, you would know that already.”
Bri laughed as she sat down at the now empty table. All of those seated next to her were out on the dance floor. “My loss.”
Daniel winked and tipped his head as he glided his way back onto the dance floor, no doubt, looking for the next beautiful girl he could impress with his dance skills. Bri smiled to herself as she thought back on that night on what seemed like so many months ago when she’d been set up on a blind date with Daniel. Her mother’s sudden arrival had kept the date from ever beginning, but thinking back on the shock she’d experienced when first laying eyes on Daniel and the moments of awkwardness that had followed, Bri was reminded that she had some choice words to share with the groom.
It had been Mitsy’s new husband, Brian, who’d arranged the blind date, and the lack of sense in the match did nothing to help Bri’s already questionable judgment of him. Tonight was not the time or place to chide the groom. With plans for her to return to Scotland and thereafter back to the seventeenth century the following day, Bri suspected she was just going to have to let this one slide.
Not that she would be able to find the groom to speak to him if she wanted. The last time she saw him had been at the beginning of the reception during the cutting of the cake and the first dance. Since then, Mitsy singly navigated the crowds of guests eager to congratulate the happy couple. From the beaming smile on Mitsty’s face, it didn’t seem that she’d taken note of her husband’s absence.
Deciding she could go for a restroom break and perhaps for a little search and rescue mission for the groom, Bri stood and left the reception hall. Arriving at the women’s restroom, she was met by the unfortunate staffer who had been dealt the task of cleaning up the puke of some tipsy wedding guest.
“Sorry. I don’t think you want to come in here right now, but if you go to the end of the hall on the right, there’s an office. If you enter, there’s a bathroom connected to it on the other side. It’s fine if you want to use it since you’re part of the wedding party. I should have this mess cleaned up for the other guests shortly.”
“Thank you, I think I’ll do that.”
Making her way down the hall, Bri found that her need to use the restroom lessened as she grew more apprehensive of who and what she would find in the office. A noise of a carnal nature came from behind the office door and, as she pressed her ear up against the wooden surface, she could hear the deep male voice, drenched in a thick Texas accent, urging the moaning woman in his company to say his name.
To Bri’s dismay, the name the woman screamed was no other than “Brian.”
* * *
Bri fled the closed office door before her presence was discovered and quickly downed several glasses of champagne as she decided what she should do.
In the end, she’d watched her best friend, laughing and beaming as she moved through the reception hall, and knew that while she couldn’t bring herself to tell Mitsy what she’d heard, she also didn’t trust herself not to say anything.
She’d approached her dear friend on the dance floor, made her excuses claiming to be sick, and hugged her neck hard. Fighting back tears with a heavy heart, Bri hopped into a taxi that would take her back to her hotel.
Chances were, she’d never see her friend again, but she wanted to leave Mitsy the option of a new life if she decided she wanted it once she learned the truth about her louse of a husband. Mitsy would eventually, Bri was certain. She only wished that she could be here for her when she did.
Passing a post office on her right, Bri knocked on the plastic panel behind the taxi driver’s head to get his attention. “Can we stop here just for a minute before continuing on to the airport? I just need to run inside and get a stamp. I need to put something in the mail before I leave.”
“Sure thing. Meter’s running.”
Climbing out of the cab, Bri walked to buy the stamp, hoping with every footstep that if Mitsy needed it, she would be able to believe the words she’d written inside.
Chapter 12
Scotland
1646
Tormod’s eyes locked with hers as Edana watched him rise from yet another victory, this time in the sword competition. She shivered beneath her clothes at the tingly rush that cascaded over her. She was in love, she could say so without hesitation. Only a week ago, her future had seemed bleak, wrought with uncertainty and a plan for vengeance that she didn’t know how to carry out on her own. Now, with Tormod by her side, happiness no longer seemed so impossible.
He loved her as well and although he’d yet to tell her so, she knew it by the way he treated her. She’d felt she could trust him instantly and had quickly told him about her true feelings toward the Conalls and her desire to destroy them. She’d expected him to reprimand her, tell her how wrong she was to think that way, but instead, he’d expressed his own hatred. Together they’d plotted all they could do to destroy the powerful family once they were married and Tormod was laird.
Now, all that stood in their way was the final round of the so-called ‘games’ that Arran had dreamed up. She found it sickening that her clansmen had so easily agreed to trust her future to a contest. Only a group of men would be so thoughtless. When Arran put the idea to the clan, she’d openly voiced her misgivings on the proposal. With the men eager to return home and with no better solutions themselves, they all boisterously agreed to Arran’s plan, throwing aside all thought or concern for her own feelings.
The only thing that had calmed her was Tormod’s reassurance that he would win the competition for her. And she believed that he would. He was close to doing so already. Only one more person would Tormod have to best, and that was by far the most surprising revelation that came out of Arran’s idea.
Not only had Arran stood before her clansmen suggesting how to choose their leader, a move that she saw as highly inappropriate and insulting to their intelligence, but he had also asked the clansmen to grant him permission to enter the contest as well. The people of their clan had worked and lived together for decades and, in time, they would have been more than capable of solving their problem of leadership on their own.
He moved into a lengthy speech where he vowed that if he were to win, as he obviously thought he would, he would be a fair and strong leader, unlike Edana’s father. Each word was another dagger destroying any fond memories her clansmen might have had of her father. Each word stoked the fire of hatred that burned within her for Arran and all of the Conalls, each of them so self-assured in the righteousness of their actions.
To her utter dismay, her clansmen had wholeheartedly welcomed him for entrance, many boasting that they would be rooting for him to win, few even questioning the purpose of the competition. Why not just name Arran laird now?
What a fool Arran was. He thought he could trick her into liking him with his kind words and feigned concern for her wellbeing. ’Twas even more foolish still for him to have such utter confidence in his ability to win her and her territory as his prize. Tormod would never allow it, and if he did, Edana was certain she would kill herself before marrying a Conall.
With archery being the only competition left, Edana stood to go in search of her beloved. She wanted to wish him luck and perhaps steal a kiss with the man she would soon call her husband.
* * *
Tormod stood in the corner of his tent, hunched over as he caref
ully examined each of his arrows looking for any inconsistency, any warp in the wood, that would impact his shot. Archery was his strength, but he knew Arran was masterful with a bow as well. He could leave no room for error if he wanted to become laird. It was within his grasp. He would be laird by nightfall. Then in a few short weeks, his marriage to Edana would be bound with consummation. He could finally end the dreadful task of pretending to like the disgusting wretch.
The rustle of fabric to his left caused him to spin, eager to see who was entering. He’d asked to be left alone so that he could concentrate in silence before the last challenge. His sister entered, and he was not surprised that it would be she who gave no credence to his wishes.
“Fia, why are ye here?”
She ignored his question and moved over to his arrows, grabbing one as she raised it in question to him. “Do ye think ye can win?”
The question angered him, and he ripped the arrow out of her hand before continuing. “Aye. I can and I will. Do ye no think so?”
She shook her head in denial. “No, I do think that ye can. ’Tis only I doona think that ye should.”
Tormod couldn’t believe what she was saying to him. She was just as eager for their family to gain a place of leadership once again. She too had been denied her birthrights because of the sins of their parents. “Why the hell would ye say such a thing, Fia? ’Tis within our grasp now. We will finally be allowed in the castle that should have always been our home.”
“Aye and we shall be, but doona do it today, brother. The people of our clan want Arran to win today. If ye defeat him, they will only resent ye. Claim the lairdship in a way that will earn the respect of our people.”
Morna's Legacy: Box Set #1 Page 27
