Chapter Five #4
Conan sat next to her and attempted to sketch the wall.
The result was a wall, but it looked nothing like the rock wall in front of them.
It no longer bothered him that it was wrong.
He actually liked Mhàiri’s style of instruction.
Instead of teaching as she, herself, drew things, Mhàiri preferred to use his efforts as a starting point.
“That’s good, but remember to draw what you see, not what you know.
Aye, the wall is the same height and width its whole length, but it doesn’t look that way from here.
It starts out very small and narrow and then gets wider and taller the closer it gets. ”
Conan stared at the scene she wanted him to capture and realized that the wall did look like it was “shrinking” as it stretched into the distance.
He tried again to draw it and with a frustrated grunt, handed the stylus to Mhàiri.
She scrunched her nose and he almost thought she was going to refuse his non-verbal request.
“Fine,” Mhàiri playfully grumbled. “One time, but I have my own drawing to focus on.”
Mhàiri quickly sketched it. Conan watched carefully how she started, using basic shapes to outline the primary features. “Next you add features in layers, beginning with the most distant thing and ending with the closest.”
When Mhàiri leaned over to grab her bag, Conan panicked. “You leaving me again?”
“Not today,” she answered with a brief shake of her head.
“I love Brenna and Bonny, even Maegan, but I’m not used to having noise around me all the time.
I like to have quiet when I read or draw.
Normally, I would come out here by myself, but during your first lesson, I realized we had something else in common.
When we get started on a project, our focus consumes us to the point an army could be marching by and we would never know. ”
Mhàiri was right, but the idea that she would come this far away from the castle by herself was disturbing.
There were wild animals in the area, some of them vicious.
In the colder months when prey was less easy to find, it was not unthinkable for a wildcat to attack a lone female.
“Promise me you will never come out here without someone, preferably skilled in weaponry, accompanying you.”
“Why?” Mhàiri asked, nudging his arm with her shoulder. “Worried about me?”
With a serious look, he answered, “Aye. Promise me, Mhàiri.”
“I’ll have you know that I can take care of myself and am not scared of wild animals. You need not worry about me. I did survive alone for nearly two weeks in my cottage before you arrived.”
“Promise me, Mhàiri, or I’ll order the guards at the gate not to let you pass.”
Mhàiri blinked. Conan was being deadly serious.
She had been earnest about being capable of taking care of herself, but she was not sure how to convince Conan of that without killing and skinning a wildcat to prove it.
“I already promised Laurel that I would not venture out alone, so you do not have to worry so.”
Conan swallowed and nodded, relief relaxing his tense features. “Good. Make sure you keep that promise.”
* * *
For the next couple of weeks, they kept to their routine.
They would meet for a few hours in the afternoon before Conan returned to help Conor with clan needs or work on things in preparation for his journey.
Mhàiri was certain that Conan had either forgotten or was delaying building her shelves, but she found herself to be caring less and less each day.
She was getting used to dealing with the cluttered mess in her room, and Mhàiri truly enjoyed spending time with Conan.
Though she would never admit it; she preferred his company more than anyone else’s.
That did not mean she did not enjoy being around others.
Mhàiri liked Maegan enormously and felt fortunate to have found in her an unexpected friend.
They could and did talk about almost anything.
Even discussing clothes with Maegan could be entertaining.
She had the most hilarious stories about Bonny and Brenna as well as Gideon and Braeden, but mostly they would chatter about the soldiers and the silly things men did for attention.
Maegan teased her about Conan, and Mhàiri teased her back about Seamus, for Mhàiri was positive Maegan liked the large soldier despite her constant assurances that she was in love with the absent Clyde.
And while they got along very well, there was still only so much time the two of them could spend together before they ran out of things to say.
Luckily, both had become fairly good at recognizing the precursors to such awkward moments and would go their separate ways before only silence was between them.
Mhàiri would have thought she would experience the same desire for space after several hours in Conan’s company, and yet she didn’t.
Sometimes they congenially talked almost the entire time they were together.
Other times, their conversation ended up in a heated debate with voices raised.
But just as often, they found themselves laughing together at a story one remembered, a funny thought, or something random one of them saw.
And then were the times that neither said anything at all.
Never before had she been able to sit with someone quietly without her silence being questioned.
Even her father had had trouble with that one.
Spending time with Conan had felt so natural that Mhàiri had not realized just how unusual their relationship had become.
At least not until Maegan had commented that some of the soldiers were betting on who was going to break first—her or Conan.
That was when Mhàiri had learned that she held the record for the most days a woman had spent in Conan’s company without some kind of public eruption.
Most did not even make it a week before they accosted him in the courtyard, calling him heartless, selfish, and other unflattering things at the top of their lungs.
When Mhàiri had mentioned it to Conan, he had asked her what she had thought, and her answer had been the same as what she had told Maegan. “It’s not your fault they lost their hearts to you. You probably even warned them against doing so.”
Conan had flashed her a grin. “You know, I actually did.”
“Then again, those dimples are an unfair advantage. I told you that they are lethal to a woman’s good sense.”
“Good thing they do not work on you,” he said with a chortle as he continued practicing the lesson of the day.
That was when Mhàiri had known that it was not going to happen. Conan was never going to kiss her. He may have thought about it at one time, but that desire had been replaced with simple friendship.
Deep down, Mhàiri knew it was a good thing.
She most likely was going to be staying at McTiernay Castle for another four months and that time would be far more pleasant if she and Conan continued as they were.
While she truly believed she could keep the emotional aspect of kissing away from her heart, it was a risk to test that belief.
“How’s it going?” Mhàiri asked, leaning over to see how Conan was progressing.
They had moved on to how to draw lochs, rivers, and they’d even figured out a way to make it small enough to be depicted on a map.
It was clear Conan understood the concepts she was teaching him, but skilled execution of them would take time and a lot of practice.
“I’m still trying to figure out how to capture the right amount of detail to show the features of an area but capture enough land mass to make the map of value.
I don’t expect King Robert to piece together hundreds of these things on his hall wall just to see all of Scotland.
It needs to be smaller. Something that could be bound in a book and transported. ”
Mhàiri sighed and put her own stylus down. She leaned back on her hands and closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth of the sun. “We should enjoy these warm afternoons. Did you feel how cold it got last night?”
“Aye,” he murmured, concentrating on his drawing.
The temperature was not truly warm like it was in the summer, but the sun was bright and the wind was slight, making the day enjoyable when dressed in warm clothes.
“I think I understand this enough for now. Let’s work on castles tomorrow.
I know that there is not a large call for it on maps, but it might be useful and I want to learn all I can while I have the chance. ”
Mhàiri took in a deep breath and exhaled, completely relaxed. “I can show you castles next if you want, but not tomorrow. I promised to go on an afternoon picnic with Loman while the warm weather still permitted.”
Conan froze, glad that Mhàiri’s eyes were still closed.
He knew several of the soldiers liked Mhàiri.
It was to be expected. She was beautiful and aggravatingly friendly.
Of course, she had admirers. But he had not thought Mhàiri returned their regard.
And Loman was the worst. Practically the day after Seamus had introduced them, he had taken every opportunity to say some overly sweet hello, trap her into talking with him, or compel her to laugh at some story that was, in essence, boring and trite. Conan had thought Mhàiri felt the same.
They were so alike in their attitudes and opinions . . . about so many things, he had just assumed that she viewed Loman’s machinations the same way he did. Contrived and unwanted. But if she was going on an afternoon picnic with Loman, he had been wrong. Very wrong. And about a lot.
A whole afternoon together. If Loman’s attraction to Mhàiri was anything similar to Conan’s, the honey-haired soldier was not going to return to the castle with only a full belly and some conversation to get him through the night.
“You know Loman is going to try and kiss you,” he gritted out.