Chapter Five
The next day, Conan trudged up the hill toward the large tree where Mhàiri sat.
He had known exactly which one she had been referring to when she had told him where to meet her.
There were several trees in the area, but one was an enormous oak that stood out amongst the rest. It had been huge when he was a lad, and his father had told him that it had been just as big when he was a small boy.
Conan had no idea how old the tree was, but it had to be the oldest tree in the area.
And everyone knew of it. If someone said, “Meet me by the tree,” one knew exactly what and where they were talking about.
Conan gritted his teeth. Mhàiri’s back was to him. She was sitting on a blanket drawing, completely unaware of his approach and completely unaware that he was deeply conflicted about meeting her.
He had been in a foul mood all morning. It had begun during the first meal, when Mhàiri had barely acknowledged him. It had not been anger that greeted him but indifference. It had been as if she had forgotten yesterday and had reverted back to ignoring him.
Then, an hour before they were to meet, his mood had gone from sour to irate when Conor had requested his presence in the lower hall. He had barely taken a step in the room when he saw the scrawny piece of redheaded filth that had held a sword on him just over a month ago.
Upon seeing him, Conan had charged in, immediately demanding to know what the maggot was doing on McTiernay lands, and why Conor had not yet removed his head.
The answer had startled him to his core.
Anger had flooded through every fiber of his being so fiercely that it had taken everything not to pummel the man to unconsciousness.
Even now if he closed his eyes, he could see every movement, hear every word.
“What did you say?” Conan asked slowly, his icy tone enough to send shivers through not only the weakling, but his brother.
The redhead narrowed his dark, beady eyes and arrogantly leaned forward.
“You McTiernays,” he spat, and Conan could see the man’s rotten teeth despite his young age.
“You got my sister pregnant this summer. My father demands you marry her and pledge yourself and the McTiernay armies to him and our family.”
Conor did not say a word, but it was not necessary. Conan knew that it never happened. Even if he had done what the sùibhealtan claimed, his brother would never pledge even a dull blade to a man such as the one before him. “Your sister lies,” Conan snarled.
Fury filled the redhead’s gaze, causing him to start to quiver and sputter. “Do you know who I am?” he finally got out. “My father is the laird of—”
Conan cut him off. “I don’t care! ” he roared, slamming his fist on the table, making the thin man jump in fear. “Go home and tell your sister that she should not have named a man who would never allow himself to be a pawn.”
“Honor demands that—”
“You know nothing about honor, or you wouldn’t be trying to blackmail me into accepting your sister’s bastard bairn. Hard to believe I’m her lover as the first time I journeyed north of the River Carron was around the time I saw you running away from a fight like a bleidire.”
“And why should I believe a McTiernay?” the irksome man snorted, his deep-seated hatred showing.
Conan did not know this man nor did he have even the remotest clue why the man hated McTiernays, but he was beyond caring.
Conor tapped his finger on the table, getting the attention of both Conan and the unwanted visitor.
“Perhaps you would trust the word of our priest, Father Lanaghly?” His question sounded calm, but the man was a fool not to understand what that meant.
He had no idea how close he was to meeting his death.
For that last insult had been lobbed not just at Conan, but at Conor and every McTiernay clansman.
Conan, however, was done. He slammed his fists down on the table and leaned over it, his heated glare enough to make the man hold his breath.
“Nay,” he said, removing the option. “We don’t need to bother the priest. This conversation is over, and the only reason you are leaving here alive is to deliver a message.
Go tell your father, the laird, that nothing in this world or in the heavens above could persuade, let alone force, me into marriage with anyone—pregnant or not.
My future does not include a wife, and your sister’s future is one of her own making. She should have kept her legs closed.”
Refusing to endure any more lies or insults, Conan had stomped out of the hall and gone directly to his rooms. There, he had found Bonny and shooed her out, making it clear that Brenna best not come near him either.
Unable to sit or think, he had paced back and forth, waiting until Conor stopped by.
Finally, after what felt like an interminable amount of time, his brother had arrived.
“Did you find out who he was?”
Conor shook his head. “I did not want him to have the satisfaction of telling me. Plus, like you, I didn’t care.
I only told him that if he takes a step onto any McTiernay lands, it will mean his painful death.
” He glanced out the window. “Finn’s escorting him to our borders with instructions to muzzle him if he utters a single word. ”
“That man is full of rage and is a fool. He’ll be back.”
“And if he does, he will die, but I doubt he will return. His sister probably named you because you are the only unwed McTiernay left still in the Highlands.”
“I meant what I said. I don’t care what anyone says or believes. I’ll never take a wife.”
“And I think of all the things that he heard, that is the one he believed. You are not a man who could be coerced into marriage. Hopefully, he can convince his father.” Conor clapped him on the back. “Gather your wits. BonBon told me to remind you that you have a drawing lesson with Mhàiri.”
“Your daughter—”
“Is delightful and, for some reason, adores you!” Conor laughed and paused just as he exited the room to growl, “Don’t cancel or I’ll tell Laurel.”
It was lucky Conor had been across the room when he had made the threat, or Conan might have decked him. But the warning had been enough to get him to leave the tower. Now that he was here, he began to care less and less what Laurel knew or thought.
The oak loomed ahead. Conan took a deep breath and then let it escape slowly.
But before he could decide whether or not he was too angry to be fit company, Mhàiri turned and saw him.
Her mouth broke out into a large smile as she waved him over.
How he wanted to kiss that mouth. He knew with one touch she could make all that had happened today disappear, if only for a while. If only she wanted a kiss too.
He approached cautiously. Mhàiri had not changed since lunch and was still wearing a forest green gown that highlighted and hugged every morsel of her perfect body.
The woman was exceptionally pretty. So much so that even if he weren’t in a bad mood, the outing was destined to be a waste of time.
He was going to be incapable of learning anything.
Each time he saw her, she only looked more desirable and his thoughts grew more lascivious.
Even now, a part of his mind was still wondering how Mhàiri would taste if he were to kiss her.
“You are here,” Conan said as he squatted down beside her, hoping to deflect any of his own misgivings onto her.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and savored her scent.
It both calmed him and excited him. Surprisingly, the dual effect was exactly what he needed to let go of the previous hour completely and just concentrate on her.
Conan looked over her shoulder. Mhàiri had obviously been there for a little while, for she had already sketched out the basics of the view all the way down to the loch and the mountains beyond.
Mhàiri tilted her head and gave him a questioning look.
“Of course I am here,” she said, somewhat offended.
“Just as I said I would be. Oh, this morning,” she whispered, suddenly realizing why he might have thought she would not have come.
Mhàiri closed her eyes for a brief moment and then looked at him, wincing.
“I did not want anyone to know or suspect we were meeting, so I thought it would be best to continue acting the way we have been.”
Conan gave her a crooked smile and shook his head. “Good idea, but it won’t work. Bonny and Brenna overheard our whole conversation yesterday afternoon. It was a chore just to keep them from tagging along today.”
Mhàiri’s jaw dropped open. The whole conversation, she mouthed.
He nodded. “Don’t worry. Brenna loves to know all that is going on, but for someone so young, she is surprisingly circumspect about revealing what she knows. Neither she nor Bonny lean toward gossip.”
Mhàiri pressed her lips together and prayed Conan was correct. Then she rolled her eyes and sighed. “I don’t know why I care. They learned I want to kiss you weeks ago and the one person I wouldn’t want to know that is you, and you, of course, are the one person she went directly to and told.”
Conan bit back the large smile that was invading his soul. Want to kiss you, she had said. Not wanted to kiss you. Mhàiri still desired him.
For that tidbit alone, he was definitely glad he had come. Her claim that she desired him no more had needled him and kept him awake most of the night. He wanted her, but even more, he wanted Mhàiri to want him back.