Chapter Four #4
Conan’s brows arched. He thought similarly.
Like him, Bonny was quick to learn languages.
Though she was only seven, her mother had already started teaching her how to read both English and Gaelic, and he had focused on making sure she understood the basics of Latin.
Her aunt Ellenor could instruct her on Italian and French after he left, whenever she was ready, and he knew someday, Bonny would not only learn to read these other languages, but speak them, mastering them in a way he had never been able to.
But Bonny was not only an academic. She had a natural instinct when it came to people.
Her sister, Brenna, had it as well, only it manifested itself differently.
Bonny was not as obvious with her understanding, which made her, in a way, more dangerous.
A good example had been last night and the mention of Mhàiri needing somewhere to put her own manuscripts and books.
He still suspected there was far more to Bonny’s suggestion than just kindness.
“The shelves?” Conan put forth again.
Mhàiri turned to look at him this time. “Um, oh, the shelves,” she stuttered, having forgotten why she had come to visit. “I, uh, first wanted to thank you. I know that Conor put you in an awkward position.”
“Conor didn’t. I believe we can blame BonBon for that. She and Brenna have unusual influence over their father.”
Mhàiri clicked her tongue. “Over everyone. I’m coming to realize that more and more,” she said softly without expanding on what she meant. “But I do need them. The shelves, I mean. Nothing fancy like you have. Anything solid would work. And while probably a carpenter could do it . . .”
“You want someone who understands what it will be used for.”
Mhàiri nodded, her green eyes looking relieved. “I don’t have nearly as much as you, but it still, well, is a lot. You saw the bags and the crates, but all three of the large chests are also full of bound books.”
Conan leaned forward in shock. “All three of the large chests?” Mhàiri nodded. “What about that small chest?”
“That contained my personal things. I know it seems like I have more, but I could not imagine traveling with the number of dresses Maegan has loaned me. I would need a cart just for clothes alone!”
Conan had thought the small chest probably had some of the more precious manuscripts that she had wanted to ensure would not be harmed during their journey.
But instead, that was what held all her female garb and stuff.
It was difficult to fathom. Every time Crevan’s wife, Raelynd, had shown up at McTiernay Castle for an extended stay she had brought mountains of frilly things with her.
Craig’s wife, Meriel, was not much better.
Conan rocked back, rethinking about the amount of work the project was going to take, for it was much bigger than one small bookcase with two or three shelves.
Thank goodness the room Laurel had put her in had the space.
Bookshelves the size Mhàiri needed would not fit in one of his brother’s old rooms here in the North Tower.
“I know the amount of work is significant and Conor did not know what he was asking of you.” Conan’s lips twitched.
She was right about that. “And if you no longer want to help, I’ll understand and work with a carpenter, but if you were willing to build them, maybe I could offer you something in return for your help. ”
Conan’s brows shot up. Something she could offer him. It was as if the good Lord actually wanted him to kiss her. “I can think of something,” Conan said huskily.
The change in his voice was unmistakable. Mhàiri scrunched her brows in confusion. “You think I mean to . . . that I was offering to . . . kiss you?”
Conan ran his tongue on the inside of his cheek and took in a deep breath. Mhàiri was acting as if she were not interested in him, when he knew that was not the case. “Why not?” he posed. “I know you have longed for a kiss, and I can think of no better way to show thanks.”
Mhàiri’s mouth opened and closed so many times she felt as if she were a fish out of water.
“You know I long for a kiss?” she repeated.
“Why would you . . . ?” Her eyes grew as large as saucers before rolling into the back of her head.
“Bonny,” she muttered, throwing her hands in the air.
The twinkle in Conan’s bright blue eyes confirmed her deduction.
Mhàiri wagged a finger at him. “I’ll admit that I did want to kiss you at one time, but that feeling passed rather quickly the first time you intentionally snubbed me. ”
Conan flushed at the accusation. “I never snubbed you,” he denied, shaking his head as if that made it true.
Mhàiri cocked a single brow. “Really? You are denying that you have been intentionally ignoring me?” Conan stopped moving his head.
“As Bonny no doubt disclosed that entire conversation, you also know that I have never been kissed before. So it is less me wanting to kiss you, and more like me wanting to kiss someone who won’t see the act as a commitment or a profession of undying love.
And now that you know all this, I can’t kiss you.
It would only place me even deeper in your debt. ”
Conan feared Mhàiri might actually mean what she had just said. “I promise you that I would not take it that way.”
“But I would. Besides, it is no longer necessary. Maegan has introduced me to several of Seamus’s friends, and so I am certain my ignorance in that area will not last for much longer.”
Conan had the sudden urge to find Seamus and punch him in the jaw. It had never occurred to him before, but Conor allowed an inordinate amount of single men around the castle. No wonder Seamus was constantly fussing about Maegan and all the men around her.
Conan wanted to go to each and every McTiernay clansman and warn him that Mhàiri was his.
His alone. That no one was ever to learn what it would be like to touch her soft, warm lips but him.
But Conan knew if he did anything like that—even hinted to anyone that those were his feelings—he would be opening Pandora’s box, just like the Greek myth from Hesiod’s Works and Days, which was on one of the shelves in this very room.
Also, there was Laurel’s reaction to think about.
There was no telling what his sister-in-law would do if he showed signs of possessiveness toward Mhàiri.
Laurel might do everything in her power to foster a connection, making him the sixth McTiernay brother subject to her matchmaking schemes.
Or—more likely—she would make good on her promise and do everything she could to interfere, ensuring Mhàiri was swept off her feet by someone else.
Unaware of the warring thoughts Conan was having, Mhàiri wandered closer to where he sat on a stool.
Nearby was a chair that looked as if it had been stolen from the great hall.
She pointed to it. “That is the most surprising thing in this whole room. The great hall hearth chairs are very comfortable and by having one here, you are practically inviting guests to come in and sit and stay for a good . . . long . . . while.”
Conan returned her playful smile. “Which is why I discourage visitors. That”—he gestured toward the chair with his thumb—“is a result of my sister-in-law Ellenor, who stayed here at the castle before she married my brother Cole. She is impertinent and stubborn, but also gifted in languages I did not know. She helped me translate some maps and insisted on having a comfortable place to sit while we worked. If I got rid of it now, Bonny would think I didn’t love her anymore. ”
Conan was in the workplace portion of his study, sitting in the middle of an L-shaped table.
Multiple papers were all over one half, and on the other, he had one of his more favorite maps uncurled and blocked out.
Next to it was the drawing Mhàiri had been working on during their journey from the priory.
“Using Bonny as an excuse is . . .” Her breath caught as she recognized her handiwork. “What is that?”
Conan looked to where her eyes were locked and saw her partially completed landscape. “That is your drawing,” he answered, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “You knew I had it.”
Actually, she had forgotten about it. “Because you wouldn’t give it back to me,” she countered. Her eyes darted to his, and their pale green depths were no longer warm and soft, but cold and aloof. “What are you doing with it?”
Conan was not really sure why Mhàiri was suddenly so angry.
In his mind, his keeping the drawing was actually the highest form of flattery.
“I was trying to figure out how you did it. How you made things look so real, but so far all I’ve done is wasted a sheet of vellum trying.
” He handed the picture back to her. “You have a gift I have no hope of ever being able to replicate.”
Mhàiri snatched the paper from his hand. “You told me that it was wrong. That this was of no value. That I was wasting my time. That I had no appreciation of what I could do. And yet, you want to replicate it.”
Mhàiri turned and walked to the door. She needed to leave.
All the memories from that night were crashing back on her.
She had felt so angry, so guilty, so lost. For a fleeting moment, she had even considered giving him some of her precious hemp paper.
Mhàiri’s hand was on the door when she remembered.
Hemp paper. Murt! That was the reason she was here.
To offer Conan some for helping her with the shelves.
Slowly she opened the door and then turned around. Conan was staring at her, clearly searching for something to say but fearing it might make things worse.
“In exchange for the shelves,” she said stonily, “I will teach you how to draw like I do.”
Mhàiri turned around to exit. Just before she closed the door, she said, “Lessons begin tomorrow after the noon meal on the hill near the large tree.”
* * *
“I told you that you should have given the drawing back to Mhàiri,” Bonny chided as she emerged from her hiding place.
Conan was at the window staring down into the bailey. “Not now, Bonny.”
“Girls don’t like it when you take their things without their permission.”
Conan watched as Mhàiri entered the courtyard and marched toward the Warden’s Tower. “I said not now, Bonny.” His words were a lot more clipped, and he hoped his niece would take the hint.
“Well, she can’t have been all that mad at you. She did offer to teach you how to draw,” he heard another voice say.
Conan turned around and narrowed his gaze on Bonny, who just shrugged.
He had suspected Bonny was nearby hiding, for she had been visiting him when he had heard someone come up the stairs.
They had both thought it had been Seamus, and he had sent Bonny into the secret passageway for her to exit the room and the tower.
He was not surprised to learn that she had lingered once she had heard Mhàiri’s voice.
Brenna, however, was a complete surprise.
Bonny walked over to his desk and pulled out the vellum that he had used to try and recreate Mhàiri’s landscape. “I don’t think drawing is something you learn how to do by looking at it.”
Brenna clasped her hands behind her back and swayed up on her toes and then back down. “That’s why Mhàiri is going to give him lessons,” she said with a smile. “Can we come with you?”
Conan took in a deep breath and strode to his door. He swung it open and pointed to the outside corridor that led to the stairwell. “Out!”
Bonny grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her toward the exit. Just as they went through, she said, “When you go tomorrow, remember you’re the one who doesn’t know anything about drawing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he barked.
Bonny looked up and stared him directly in the eye. “It’s just that you like telling people what to do, even when you don’t know what you are talking about.” Then she turned and left to find her sister, who had gone down without her, leaving Conan’s mouth agape.
Bonny did not have to go far. A couple of flights down, Brenna sat on one of the narrow winding steps, waiting for her.
“Can you believe it?” Brenna giggled and shook with pure joy.
“Things are working out perfectly. Just you wait, Bonny. With a little bit of help, Mhàiri and Conan will fall in love and get married. Then, Uncle Conan won’t leave and Mhàiri will stay here forever! ”
Bonny stared down at her feet. She liked Mhàiri—a lot.
She was smart and funny. She was also honest and direct, everything Bonny liked in a person.
And she did think that Mhàiri was good for her uncle Conan and that they could fall in love.
However, she was not sure that Brenna was correct about any of the rest.
While she wanted Uncle Conan to stay and never leave their home, she did not think it was going to happen.
Since she could remember, he had been planning to leave and see the world.
He wanted it more than anything, and Bonny feared that if he did not get to leave, her uncle would end up very unhappy .
. . and being in love was not going to change that.
She did not know Mhàiri as well, but from what she had learned, Mhàiri also did not want to stay, even if she did like it here.
The only way for Brenna’s plan to truly work was if they somehow convinced Conan and Mhàiri they needed to leave together.
That, however, seemed way beyond the ability of a ten-year-old, even a smart one, to mastermind.
At some point, they were going to need their mother.