Chapter Seven #2
Laurel snapped her fingers to get their attention. “I think that is enough gossip for a long while. You understand me, Brenna?” The blonde bobbed her head way too readily. “Bonny?” Her youngest was at least more honest and reluctantly gave her a nod. “Then out with you.”
Bonny turned to follow Brenna, who was almost at the hall doors, but then she stopped and asked, “Mama, are you going to help Conan find happiness?”
Laurel pointed her finger to the door. “Now, Bonny.” She waited until the door was completely closed again before turning to her friends. “It scares me how much Brenna learns and retains.”
Hagatha nodded and took a large gulp of ale. “I fear her little habit is going to get her into great trouble someday.”
“Undoubtedly,” Laurel agreed, clearly unhappy at the prospect. “I’ve warned her, tried to stop her, but it does no good. And today, though I hate to admit it, what she told us revealed a lot.”
Hagatha put down her mug. “Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea not to interfere with those two. Now they’re fighting and ye know what that leads to.”
“I have no idea,” Laurel said, with an impish grin.
“Aye, ye do or ye wouldn’t fight with yer man like ye do.”
“So what are you going to do?” Aileen asked. “You did not respond to Bonny’s question, but Hagatha and I know the answer. It’s obvious Conan and Mhàiri are perfect for each other, so how do you propose we help get those two together?”
Laurel drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair.
Aileen was right in that Conan and Mhàiri could be right for each other, but they could also be very wrong.
Based on what had happened in the courtyard, it was not help getting together the couple needed.
That was the path they were already on, for it was clear they both had emotions for the other that ran very deep.
But that same path could also end in a way that would only bring them both misery.
Laurel glanced at Hagatha and then at Aileen as a wide, mischievous smile took over her face. “I don’t think we do. Nay. I’m thinking sabotage is what is needed.” Both her friends looked surprised, but at the same time, eager. “And not just Conan’s plans. We need to sabotage Mhàiri’s as well.”
* * *
Mhàiri sat at the dinner table, thankful that tonight was a family dinner.
Eating in the lower hall with all the soldiers was usually entertaining, but it was also loud and nearly impossible to carry on a conversation.
Here, in the great hall, when it was only close friends and family, talking was possible.
Unfortunately, conversations could also be heard by all.
Their small group sat in the same order they always did, with Conor at the head, then Laurel, Hagatha, Conan, and Seamus on his right and Finn, Aileen, Mhàiri, and Maegan on his left.
After that, the seating fluctuated, depending on who from the elite guard was not on duty and near the castle and whether Aileen and Laurel’s children ate in their rooms or with the family.
Tonight, only the children were added to the ensemble, sitting next to Maegan, who put forth no more than half-hearted efforts to keep them quiet in order to talk to Seamus.
Maegan would never admit it, but she enjoyed talking with him at dinner as much as Seamus enjoyed talking with her.
Normally, Mhàiri was similarly engaged with Conan, matching wits, launching harmless barbs, or sharing stories about their childhood.
Tonight, however, was reminiscent of her first days at the castle when both had refused to look, let alone speak, to the other.
And as difficult as she was going to find it, she needed to engage with the man, which started with an apology.
It was the only way to convince him to pursue her once more.
It was Maegan who had pointed out her folly.
She had sympathized with Mhàiri, stating that pretending to like someone she was angry with would be difficult for anyone, but that Mhàiri and Conan’s fight was probably going to result in him ending his plans to trick Mhàiri out of her hemp paper.
And that meant Mhàiri would lose her chance to teach him a humiliating lesson.
Realizing her friend was probably right, Mhàiri decided to make amends.
She needed Conan to re-embrace his lunatic idea that he could beguile her into giving up her most precious possession.
“You said today that you would never lie to me.”
Conan’s head whipped around at the lilting sound of Mhàiri’s voice.
She had hardly spoken all night, and he had not really blamed her.
He had been serious about yelling being more of his brothers’ habits than his.
Then Finn had mentioned during their training that Conor had not been prone to hollering, nor had Cole or Colin or any of his brothers, until they had met their wives.
That all McTiernay men had that trait and it just took the right woman to bring it out of them.
The implication that Mhàiri was the right woman and that he would follow in the same path as his brothers had been unmistakable. But it would take a lot more than one public fight to make Conan accept Mhàiri could be anything other than an enjoyable diversion.
Conan’s blue eyes bored into Mhàiri’s for several seconds. “And I never will,” he finally answered.
How Mhàiri wanted to believe him. Her heart said he was telling the truth.
And if she had not heard for herself that he was intending to be duplicitous, she would not have thought it possible.
Conan argued any point when he thought she was wrong, but had consistently conceded when she had adequately debated her opinion.
He was a man who enjoyed being right and flaunted it when he won an argument, but he did not need to be right.
He had never twisted facts to suit his case, and when his logic failed—which was rare—he accepted it.
In all the weeks she had gotten to know Conan, he had not lied.
But that did not mean he would not play her for the fool. Mhàiri decided his promise of honesty would also be her weapon against him.
Mhàiri licked her lips and mentally braced herself. “About our earlier conversation,” she began.
“You mean our heated conversation,” Conan corrected, then sat back and crossed his arms. “You were angry long before that conversation started. I just don’t know why.”
Mhàiri swallowed. Conan had a point, but she was not about to explain why she had been angry.
However, she was also determined not to lie to him either.
When the truth was eventually revealed, he was not going to be able to say that she was no better.
“I was angry. I had not known you were even working on the shelves. I was surprised and, well, I don’t like the kind of surprises I got that day. ”
Conan narrowed his gaze. “Don’t worry. It will not happen again.”
Mhàiri took in a deep breath and rallied her courage. “I should have said thank you. They are beautiful.”
“You should thank him as well,” Conan replied snidely, gesturing with his thumb toward Seamus. “He helped.”
“Thank you, Seamus,” Mhàiri said, hoping she sounded sincere. But she had not forgotten his role in suggesting the farce. “I appreciate all that you did, but I am sure it was Conan who designed them. For everything about them is perfect.”
Conan twisted his lips. “So you really do like them.”
“Aye, and I was wondering if you could help me organize them. I liked the way you did yours, and I was hoping that you would help me do something similar.”
Mhàiri watched as Seamus nudged Conan with his elbow and gave him a wink of encouragement. She almost sighed aloud with relief. Her apology was working.
“I could probably help if you want,” Conan murmured, not yet totally convinced.
“I would like that.”
“But wouldn’t Loman mind?”
“Why would he?” she asked with mock innocence. “Books, manuscripts, and drawings don’t interest him. And in return there is something I want to show you. Something very special.”
Conan leaned forward, forming a steeple with his fingers. “Helping you would give me a chance to make up for this morning.”
Mhàiri blushed. This time, it was in earnest, but before she could say another word, Laurel muttered, “This is about to get embarrassing and it needs to be stopped.”
Mhàiri did not know what Laurel meant, but assumed it was about something at their end of the table. Mhàiri was about to ask Conan once more to clarify his feelings of guilt when Laurel coughed loudly into her hand. It was not the kind to clear one’s throat, but to gain everyone’s attention.
When Mhàiri looked in her direction, Laurel spoke, this time clearly and without any ambiguity.
“Stop feigning interest where you have none, Mhàiri. Conan may act like a fool, but that doesn’t make him one.
He would have seen through your act long before you had the chance to teach him your lesson. ”
Conan looked puzzled.
Mhàiri looked horrified.
Laurel knew then that she was not incorrect and all that Brenna had told them had been true.
“Mhàiri knows, Conan,” she stated with exasperation.
“ó dhìol, everyone is aware that Mhàiri knows of your ill-gotten plans to seduce her for her paper . . . well, except Seamus,” Laurel said, waving her hand at the suddenly stupefied soldier.
“You may be incredibly smart, brother, but you are also incredibly simple-minded when it comes to women.”
Mhàiri’s jaw went slack. Seduce? Conan had actually planned to go that far to get her books? And how had Laurel learned of everything? It had only happened yesterday. Mhàiri glanced back down the table to where Brenna was seated, staring at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.