Chapter Three #3
Laurel shot a finger at him and then pointed at the Warden’s Tower.
“Take Mhàiri’s things to her room, and I better not learn that a single thing from either of those carts ended up in your chambers.
In fact, you, Seamus,” she said to a large guard who exuded masculinity and had snuck in with the commander, “keep Conan from losing his way.”
Seamus grimaced and came to stand by Maegan.
He had dark blond hair that was a fraction too light to be called brown.
His forehead was prominent and tan, his chin was marked with a distinctive cleft, and his hazel eyes were mostly green with chips of gold.
Maegan smiled up at him. Then, to Mhàiri, she said, “Seamus, here, is one of the laird’s elite guards and one of Scotland’s deadliest soldiers. So have no fear. Your things are safe.”
“Don’t tease,” Seamus grumbled, but there was no bite to his words. He twisted his perfectly sculpted lips. “It’s bad enough I have to deal with Conan. The least you could do is feel sorry for me.”
Maegan just continued smiling before shifting her focus back to Laurel and Conor. “They did not think they could have more children,” she explained to Mhàiri.
The youngest girl, who had curly dark brown hair and perceptive gray eyes, came running up to Maegan, bubbling with excitement. “Did you hear? Mama is going to have a baby! Do you know what that means?”
Maegan shook her head. “What, Bonny?”
Bonny sighed as if she thought the answer obvious. “Uncle Conan understands.”
Conan bobbed his head up and down. “That I do. I loved the day my brother Clyde was born and I was no longer the baby.” Conan reached down and swung the little girl in his arms. It was evident to anyone looking at them that they both adored each other.
The warmth in Conan’s expression softened all his features and, if possible, made him even more appealing.
For a brief second, Mhàiri wondered what it would be like to have him look at her in such a way.
Bonny nodded. “People will finally believe I know something. Before, it was only Conan . . . and Mama, but that was only sometimes. I will be so glad not to be the baby.” She then assessed Mhàiri. “I’m Bonny.”
“Um, I’m Mhàiri.”
“I know. I know lots of things.” Bonny looked at the carts. “Did you read all of those?”
Mhàiri nodded, but before she could say anything, the word “How?” echoed in the courtyard.
Conor’s question recaptured Mhàiri’s attention, and she swung back to see what was happening between Laird McTiernay and his wife.
Conan snorted. “After three children, you should know by now.” Mhàiri glanced over her shoulder and gave him a cold look and mouthed for him to be quiet. Conan shrugged his shoulders, but seeing her continued glare, he gestured that he would try.
Thank goodness Conor did not appear to have even heard his younger brother. “But I thought . . . we tried for years and nothing . . . never . . . not once. You said that we couldn’t have any more.”
Laurel nodded. Tears starting to emerge. “I thought so too. I thought I would never conceive again. That my childbearing years were over. Then, during the party when Craig and Meriel were visiting, I got so sick. I was not able to keep anything down.”
“That was two months ago!” Conor roared. “You’ve been keeping our baby a secret this whole time!”
“Aye!” Laurel shouted back, getting so close that they were nearly touching. “And it was far from easy, but I’d do it again! Guess why? For you! That’s why!”
That brought several chuckles from the crowd, and unfortunately for Conan and Seamus, theirs were the loudest. “Seamus! Conan!” Laurel barked.
Both immediately stopped laughing, but only Seamus had the good sense to look contrite.
“I am glad to see that you are in such good moods as you are now also going to help Mhàiri unpack all her things.”
“You kept silent for me?” Conor asked. “But why?”
Laurel took a deep breath and sighed. “Remember what happened after that party? You had to visit the Schelldens about which soldiers of his you were going to train during the winter months. That took longer than expected. You were gone nearly three weeks. Then, the very night you came home, word came that things were happening with Cole that demanded your immediate attention. You had to go, but I knew that if you thought for a moment that I was sick—especially pregnant and sick—you would refuse to go, even though there was nothing you could do here except drive me crazy with your concern!”
Conor’s jaw tightened. Mhàiri did not know either of them, but after watching Conor the past few days and hearing his anger and concern during their fight, she had no doubt that Laurel was right. Conor would not have left no matter how important it was that he meet with his brother.
“I might remind you that I almost lost you twice and both times were when you were pregnant.”
Hearing that, Mhàiri’s eyes widened.
“What I’m experiencing is common for many women. We get sick! Hagatha says that sometimes it lasts until the baby is born. Thankfully, for me, it is getting better. The last couple of days I have felt only tired. Not ill in the least.”
Conor softly clutched Laurel’s upper arms. “So you really are fine.”
“Aye. I am well. Crabby due to lack of food, but other than that, I am very well.” Laurel’s voice went soft as her arms slid around Conor’s stomach.
“Truly?”
“Completely fine.”
Conor grinned. “Not feeling ill at all?”
Laurel’s blue eyes twinkled. “Aside from arguing with you, I’m feeling perfectly well.”
“Good.” Then, with a big grin, Conor swept her into his arms and headed straight for the massive tower across the courtyard. “And remind me to tell you later about when Conan and Mhàiri met.”
Laurel’s face lit up with anticipation. Then she looked over her husband’s shoulder and shouted, “Maegan! You’re responsible for Bonny and the twins!”
Maegan uncoupled her and Mhàiri’s arms. “Guess that is over! Glad this one ended on a happy note. They usually do, but you can never tell.” Maegan’s eyes grew wide as saucers as she realized how shocking everything must be to someone who had been living in a priory.
“Oich is oich! I hope that that didn’t alarm you any.
I can only imagine how a laird and lady publicly fighting might come across to someone with the church. ”
Mhàiri sighed with a smile. “My sister was with the Culdees, not I. I stayed in a cottage next to the priory and helped them where and when I could.” Mhàiri used her chin to point at the spot where the argument had taken place.
“As for the laird and lady fighting, I was surprised at first, but truthfully, they reminded me of my own parents. They, too, shared an intense passion for each other. It is something to be envied, not shunned. That is what love was supposed to be. Passionate, intense, and honest. Nothing held in reserve. If I ever fell in love, that is how I would want it to be.”
Maegan chuckled. “You will get along fine here then, but you’re wrong about the love part. Love doesn’t need to be intense. What I have with Clyde is just as strong but thankfully without all the volatile sparks.”
“Clyde? Isn’t he Conan’s younger brother?”
Maegan nodded and got a dreamy look in her eye. “He’s my true love, and we are getting married the moment he returns.”
“If you two are going to stand around and gab, then I’m leaving. I have other things to do,” Seamus grumbled.
Conan snorted. “The sooner you learn to ignore women and their constant nattering about every little thing, the happier you will become.”
Mhàiri ignored him.
Maegan whispered, “Conan is not, um, comfortable with people.”
“I don’t know,” Mhàiri countered with a sly smile. “Maybe everyone else is not comfortable with Conan.”
Maegan pulled her chin back and looked at Mhàiri strangely. Then after a few seconds, she shrugged her shoulders. “You’re both smart and into books. Guess it makes sense that you would like him too. All women do . . . at least for a while.”
“Conan and I have discussed his appeal, and he knows that I’ve become immune to his charms,” Mhàiri said, glancing over her shoulder to see both Seamus and Conan shamelessly listening to their conversation. “Unfortunately for him, he is not yet immune to mine.”
Conan guffawed. “See? Nattering. Even when you think maybe by chance it just might be something worth listening to—” Conan cut his hand through the air. “It turns out to be nothing.”
Maegan closed her eyes and sighed. “The only female who can put up with that one is Bonny.”
Fallon clapped his hands and the steward successfully got everyone’s attention. “I want these carts out of the courtyard before the sun sets.”
Seamus crossed his arms and leveled a steady stare at Fallon.
“I’m not carrying a damn thing. It’s Conan’s responsibility to get all this up to her room.
” He gestured to Conan with his thumb. “Not mine. I was just supposed to make sure it all arrived there. And while Conan is many, many irritating things, he is not a liar or a thief. So my job is done.”
Conan looked at Mhàiri and gave her a wicked grin.
Mhàiri took a step closer to him and, jabbing a finger at the large chests in the cart, said, “Every scrap that is in these carts will be moved into my chambers.” Then she looked at Seamus. “And if it isn’t, you’ll be the one responsible.”
Seamus cocked his head to the side and smiled. “Don’t worry. Conan won’t dare defy Lady McTiernay.”
“I just might, knowing you would join me in my misery,” Conan warned, hinting that it might be worth the price to see Seamus squirm. “Now help me with these chests.”
Seamus clearly thought the threat an empty one. “You hate to wear itchy clothing too much.”
“I’ve got the horses, but I refuse to deal with the carts.” Mhàiri searched for the face that went with the gruff voice. A second later, she could see an old, thin man with little hair and a hump on his back yanking on one of the harnesses.