Chapter Eight
Seamus slowly opened the door to Conan’s chambers and peeked in.
Conan was inside, pacing in the work area of his chambers.
Seamus hesitated and then thought better of it.
He had been outside for over a half hour getting reamed by Maegan, who seemed to think everything that was happening was his fault as it had been his idea for Conan to deceive Mhàiri.
At first, he had been so shocked by Maegan’s tirade that he had not responded well at all.
Seamus had felt his honor was being attacked and had immediately gone on both the defensive and offensive, making it clear that she was the one who should be ashamed of her actions, not him.
That it was one thing for a child to eavesdrop on a private conversation, but for an adult woman to take what she had overheard and use it to embarrass and belittle a man whose family had taken her in when she had no one was inexcusable.
Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, Seamus had wished he could take them back, but it was too late.
At least then he had done the smart thing and stuck with apologies and explanations, which Maegan had ignored while peppering him with more words on the delicacy of the human heart.
In the end, he wondered if Maegan was going to ever talk to him again and felt his heart break when she walked away with a good-bye that felt all too final.
Knowing sleep was not possible, Seamus had sought the one other man he knew was as miserable as he was. Conan. But by the looks of things, Conan was not miserable at all. He was furious. And it was going to take a lot longer than an hour to cool the anger visibly writhing through his friend.
There was minimal room for walking, so Conan could only take a handful of steps before being forced to turn, and then a couple of seconds later he was turning once more. It was making Seamus dizzy, but asking Conan to sit or slow his pacing was not an option at the moment.
“Damn woman,” Conan growled with significant bite upon seeing Seamus, continuing his fast back-and-forth walk.
“Which one?” Seamus asked, hoping that a little levity might at least get Conan to stop and sit down.
Seamus could only recall being as furious as Conan was right now a couple of times, and both of them had been over a woman.
The first time it had happened, his response had been to pace as well, which had only fueled his ire, not helped it.
With every step, he had repeated the words that had driven him to a fury, which eventually resulted in him punching a wooden door and nearly breaking his hand.
Seamus could still remember the pain and the weeks it had taken before he could properly grip a sword with any authority again. Conan was on that same path.
“Laurel,” Conan answered. “And Mhàiri. And Maegan.” He took a few steps and stopped to glare at Seamus. “Damn them all.” He began to pace again.
“Might want to damn me as well,” Seamus said, leaning against one of the bookcases. “I encouraged you to try that bad idea to charm Mhàiri.”
“Ha! According to Laurel, I was trying to seduce Mhàiri, as if I could. Men should be warned about her. How dare she accuse me of using someone emotionally when every day she is teasing another man, toying with him, kissing him, making him believe she feels more than she does. I wish Loman the best of luck getting anything real from that woman.”
Seamus shifted his stance and began to wonder how deep Conan’s feelings were for Mhàiri.
The man had refused to admit that he even liked her, but based on what Seamus was seeing and hearing, Conan did a lot more than like the woman.
For his normal reaction to an angry woman was complete indifference.
“I don’t think Loman is interested in Mhàiri, nor she him.”
Conan snorted. “Then I wonder who will be next. Sean seemed eager enough when I saw him the other day.”
“Do you know what your real problem is?” Seamus posed. “You like Mhàiri. In fact, I would say you’re fascinated by her. Just admit it. You’ve never met anyone like her, and that’s why what she did has you so upset.”
Conan turned his back on Seamus and stared into the dark courtyard below. He could see shadows moving, but the world had quieted.
“It’s understandable,” Seamus continued. “Mhàiri is beautiful and smart and sweet. It’s impossible not to like her.”
Conan continued to stare down into the inky darkness. “Mhàiri is not sweet in the least. She is calculating and, as I discovered tonight, quite devious.”
“Aye, that was surprising, to learn she had overheard us plotting.”
Conan stopped short. “You think Laurel was right? That I was trying to swindle Mhàiri out of her things?”
Seamus shook his head and kept his expression neutral. “I don’t think so, but I can see how Mhàiri might see it that way.”
Conan narrowed his gaze and took a couple of threatening steps toward Seamus.
“She got to you, didn’t she?” he asked rhetorically before waving a hand and resuming his pacing.
“Maegan. I should have known she would blame you and make you feel guilty for something you didn’t even do!
Murt! You like her so much you can’t even have an opinion that she won’t approve of anymore. ”
Seamus pushed himself off the bookcase and was about to remind Conan with his fists that, while he could ignore most of Conan’s barbs, his tolerance did not extend to insulting Maegan. But before he could take a step, the door opened again.
Bonny entered, waved at him as she moved by, and then plopped down in the chair she always sat on when she came to visit her uncle.
Bonny sat and looked at Seamus and Uncle Conan, who were both staring at her.
She wondered if she had made a mistake about joining Conan versus listening in on him like Brenna had wanted.
The problem with eavesdropping was that while it was an effective way to learn what was going on, it never allowed for asking questions.
And Bonny had several. She decided to start with what she thought was the easiest.
“Why are you so mad, Uncle Conan?”
“Because,” he sputtered, “your friend Mhàiri wanted to make me look like a fool.”
Bonny was still confused and pursed her lips together and nodded. “Girls don’t like it when you try to take their stuff. Maybe you should apologize,” she suggested.
“I apologize?” he repeated. “I should apologize?” he said once more, this time to Seamus, who gave a half-hearted shrug in agreement.
“What about Mhàiri?” Conan asked. “What about her listening in on my conversation? Even you,” he said, pointing to Bonny in the chair, “have more honesty about you coming in here and not hiding behind some door misinterpreting everything you hear.”
Bonny crossed her arms and thought for a second. “But it was her room she was listening to. I don’t think she would do that anywhere else.” Conan’s jaw dropped. “I mean, if she was in here with Maegan, wouldn’t you have wanted to know what was going on?”
“Were you with them, Bonny?”
She shook her head. “Only Brenna, Mhàiri, and Maegan were there. I thought you were building shelves, not trying to take all her books.”
Conan threw his hands up into the air. “I wasn’t trying to take all her books!
Murt! I was really hoping for some pages or maybe, by some miracle, one book if her father brought some new ones to sell when he arrived.
I know what those books mean to Mhàiri, and she should know that! ” he shouted angrily.
Bonny was surprised to hear her uncle shout.
It was very unlike him. Unlike the rest of the family, when he was annoyed, he did not yell.
He just grumbled—a lot. Which was good, Bonny thought, because he was annoyed a lot.
And yet, hearing her uncle shout right now did not bother her.
In fact, she thought Brenna would think it a good thing because whenever their parents fought, it always ended up with them together.
“I don’t think Mhàiri knows that,” Bonny said. “If you told me that you weren’t really trying to take my stuff, it would make me feel better.”
“I should not have to. Mhàiri knows I plan on using vellum. Paper may be lighter and so I could carry more of it and capture more information, but eventually it would not matter. The vellum I’m preparing is much larger and, more importantly, easier to stitch together into a single large map.”
Bonny rolled her eyes upward and thought for a minute.
“I think she might have forgotten that. I still think maybe,” she said, tapping her chin like her mama did when she was thinking, “you should tell her. Mhàiri cried when she thought you wanted all her stuff. Brenna says that girls only get mad at boys when they like them, and Mhàiri was really mad at you. She said that she thought you were different, but that she was wrong and you were like all the rest. I’m not sure what that means. Do you?”
Conan stared at Bonny for several long seconds before answering. “I do. It means that I need to talk to Mhàiri right now.” And then he was gone.
Bonny blinked. She was not sure that going to see Mhàiri while she was still so angry was such a good idea. Bonny had been thinking that Conan would seek Mhàiri out in the morning or tell her he was sorry over the morning meal. Regardless, Brenna was going to be very excited about this.
Thinking about her sister reminded Bonny that Brenna was actively eavesdropping on Mhàiri and would soon be listening to Conan as well.
It was one thing for Brenna to tell her about what Mhàiri was saying to Maegan, but Bonny did not want to learn what Conan said to Mhàiri secondhand.
It was she who had sent him there so it should be she who got to listen to how it went.