Chapter Seven #3
Conan’s gaze followed Mhàiri’s, and he realized whom she was looking at.
McTiernay Castle’s infamous little eavesdropper.
Suddenly, everything made sense. Why Mhàiri had not shown up for dinner the previous night, her anger this morning, her lack of appreciation for the shelves that he had known, with her knowledge of libraries, she would absolutely love.
He should have put it all together this morning, but the mental image of Loman kissing her had sent him spiraling.
They had eaten in the lower hall the previous night and the entire elite guard had been chattering about Loman and his outing, making plans to be the next in line.
The idea of all those men pursuing Mhàiri had infuriated Conan.
He knew none of them deserved her or would understand her the way he did.
He had been so focused on keeping his own swirling emotions in check that he had not even thought to wonder why Mhàiri had been missing.
His two blue eyes bore holes into the green ones across from him. “You knew?” Conan said in a quiet voice, so full of fury that several sucked in their breaths. “You knew I had discovered the hemp?” he asked again.
Mhàiri glared back at Conan, feeling no remorse. “Aye. I also learned that its value meant more to you than your honor.”
Conan’s mind was racing, putting things together, including her sudden change in attitude from this morning to tonight. “So tonight’s gratitude for the shelves . . . that was a lie.”
“I did not lie. I do appreciate the shelves. I just did not enjoy learning that someone I trusted and respected was using me to attain what he wanted.”
Conan jumped out of his chair at the accusation. Seething anger poured out through every cell as he punched his fists on the table and leaned forward. “I was going to try and persuade you to be generous. There is nothing dishonorable in that.”
Mhàiri jumped up to her feet. She too leaned in and said, “Persuade? Is that what you call your scheme to try and swindle me out of my books?”
“And what about your scheme? What did you plan on doing? Pretending to like me, knowing my attraction to you was earnest, only to throw it back in my face in the most humiliating and public way? To lead me on, let me believe that you would share something that could make my travels infinitely better, only to dash my hopes at the last moment? To be able to carry out such a plan . . . that borders on malicious.”
“Nay. What is malicious is using a woman’s emotions for your own gain.
Something I understand you have been doing for years, just this time instead of my body, you wanted my goods.
How does it feel to realize that you were the one who was going to be used without a single care of the injury being inflicted? ”
“At least I was never dishonest. Every woman who was ever supposedly ‘hurt’ by my actions knew that I would never return their emotions and yet they still pursued me.”
“And that justifies your intentions?” Mhàiri gritted out. “You know what that paper means to me and yet you still planned to trick me out of it.”
“I can see that whatever I say is meaningless to you. Consider your lesson well taught and your precious paper safe from my shameful hands.” Then his cold gaze swung to Laurel.
“You may be Conor’s wife and you may be pregnant, but that does not give you the right to do what you did tonight.
” And without waiting to hear anyone’s response or asking for his leave, Conan spun on his heel and marched out the doors of the great hall.
Mhàiri swallowed. She was shaking. She was furious, for she knew she was in the right, and yet something about how Conan had looked at her, as if he was deeply wounded, was causing her to tremble. Mhàiri felt a soft hand clasp hers, urging her to sit down.
Aileen let go of a long breath that she had been holding, and Hagatha let go a sharp hrmph.
Conor’s commander simply sighed. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing,” Finn said to Laurel disapprovingly and then turned to his wife. “Let us leave now.” Aileen gave a wary look to Laurel, but quickly said her good-byes and followed her husband and son out of the hall.
Undaunted, Laurel stood up and, with a satisfying look, said, “I think I, too, will be saying good night now that all is right again.” Conor grimaced and made to stand up and follow her when she shooed him back down.
“No need. Stay and finish your meal. Come join me when you are done. I look forward to it,” she added with a wink and a quick peck on the cheek, knowing both the action and her words would perplex him enormously.
A half a minute later, Laurel, too, was gone from the dinner table.
Maegan looked wide-eyed at Seamus, who had a similar expression of shock on his face.
Both had expected quite a different ending to the cat-and-mouse game that Conan and Mhàiri had embarked on only yesterday.
Each had privately planned to be amused by their friends’ antics for at least a few weeks before it came down to a fiery explosion.
It was not as if either of them wanted Conan or Mhàiri to fight, but rather they thought the journey to that emotional conclusion would give the two time to bond, not just as friends, but as potential lovers.
For anyone could see Conan and Mhàiri were perfect for each other.
A thunk from the end of the table disrupted everyone’s thoughts. Brenna’s forehead was on the table, rocking back and forth. “Because of Mama, now no one is going to win,” she lamented. And then, sitting back up, she looked at Seamus and said, “And Bonny and I wanted Uncle Conan to win.”
Conor swirled the ale in his mouth around. He wished events like tonight at his dinner table were so rare that they were unheard of, but unfortunately, while not common, they were no longer shocking. What was even less surprising was that his wife was at the center of the commotion.
Laurel had been very wrong earlier. Not everyone knew what was going on. She had more or less told him that he would receive answers to what had just happened when he came to their bedchambers, but to leave now would mean that he would only learn what Laurel decided to reveal.
Conor generally preferred being ill-informed of the emotional comings and goings of those around him—for the less he knew, the less he was involved.
But Laurel was going to have to learn that there was a time and place to inform her husband and laird of certain happenings.
One of which was before, not after, she launched melodramatic events like she had tonight.
“Brenna,” Conor began, trying to keep calm. “What do you mean that you wanted Conan to win? Win what, leanbh?”
Brenna looked to her father and told him what she had told her mother earlier.
“Uncle Conan was pretending to court Mhàiri so that she would give him all of her paper, only Mhàiri knew because we overheard him and Seamus planning the whole thing. She was going to trick him into thinking it was working, but we told Mama so that she would help Uncle Conan. But now they will never kiss and they need to if Conan is ever going to win like you, and Uncle Cole, and Uncle Crevan.”
Bonny nodded in agreement, her gray eyes large as she stared at her plate. “Mama even helped Uncle Craig, and he seemed impossible.”
Brenna looked at her sister and shook her head as a tear began to roll down her cheek. “I don’t think Mama wants Uncle Conan to ever win somebody’s heart.”
Conor inhaled and then slowly exhaled. He was beginning to understand what his daughter was talking about. “You want your mother to help Conan fall in love?”
Brenna scrunched up her face and shook her head. “I wanted his plan to win. To get Mhàiri to like him enough to give him the books.”
Mhàiri, unable to listen any longer as people talked about her, said, “But Brenna, why would you want him to have my things? I thought you and I were friends and you would want me to . . . uh, win,” she finished, unable to think of a better word.
Brenna looked at Mhàiri with wide eyes. “We are friends!” she promised. “But if Uncle Conan wins, you’ll be happy too. Trust me. Bonny and I have seen a lot. For the girl to win, the boy always has to think they are the one winning.” She then looked at her father for confirmation.
Bonny sighed, her small shoulders slumped with disappointment. “I don’t think Uncle Conan is ever going to seduce Mhàiri now.”
Conor put his mug down on the table with more force than he had intended and caught the eye of his youngest daughter. “What do you mean . . . seduce?”
Mhàiri covered her face with her hands. That humiliating word again.
“What Mama said.” Bonny looked at Brenna, and then they both said simultaneously, “They kiss.”
A loud groan suddenly came from their brother Braeden. His arm was on the table, propping up his head as if it weighed a hundred pounds. “You are talking about kissing again? That’s all girls ever talk about.”
“It is not!” Brenna denied.
Braeden rolled his eyes. “Well, if Mama really didn’t want Uncle Conan to win, she should have just let them kiss. After that happens, no one likes him anymore.” Everyone stared at him for a moment. He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true.”
“You three!” Conor barked, getting his children’s attention.
“Go prepare for bed while I go find your mother.” Hearing the sharp tone, the trio immediately jumped out of their seats and dashed out of the room.
Conor then stood up, pushed his chair back with his knees, and mumbled, “I must have been insane to want to add to this brood.” As he walked by Seamus’s seat, he paused.
“You better find Conan and you,” he said, pointing to Mhàiri, “be careful.” Then, realizing he had been through this four times with his other brothers, he added, “Though I probably should be warning Conan and not you.”
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