The Highlander's Bride (15 page)

This was the first time many of the soldiers had a chance to meet the Scottish lady from England. The rumors of her demeanor and countenance had now spread throughout most of the clan.

At first, the soldiers were undone by her beauty. Then they fell in love with her spirit. By the time she had left the lower hall so they could finish their meal, every soldier would have done anything short of selling his soul to make her happy. If that meant standing when she left, so be it.

Without raising her voice, she could command a room just like their laird. Her regal bearing ensured respect. She could deny it, but the soldiers all believed she was going to be the next Lady McTiernay. It was largely this belief that prevented any of the men from approaching Laurel or contemplating asking for her hand…at least for now. But if Conor continued to refuse the idea of matrimony, there would soon be several battles over her.

Later, after stories about Laurel and Fallon had died, the lower hall buzzed with talk of the white angel that visited the McTiernay castle at night. Some had heard her sing, but most had just seen a waiflike vision in white. Every clear evening, the castle night guard increased in numbers to see the McTiernay angel dancing in the moonlight.

Conor was driving his mount hard. He had left Craig and Crevan behind with several of his guard once they had crossed the McTiernay border. He knew that it didn’t make sense to ride at such a speed, but it had been two weeks and one day since he had seen Laurel. He wondered how she had fared with him gone. Had she been treated well? Had Finn been able to keep the men away? He urged his horse harder.

Finn would follow his orders, he reassured himself. Most likely, Laurel was going crazy cooped up in the keep with nothing to do. He knew she could act compliant and accepting, but it was not in her real nature to be so.

Highlanders were typically not a tolerant people. He had forgotten that fact when he had suddenly decided to leave with Cole for Schellden’s. At the time, all he could think of was removing himself from Laurel’s presence before he surrendered to the primal cravings he had been having since they first met.

Now, all he wanted was to return and see to her protection and her well-being for himself. Never again would he hand that responsibility to another. Only he could effectively protect her from his clan’s naturally suspicious and hostile nature. As an outsider, especially an English one, Laurel had probably experienced several unkind words since he had left.

He crested another peak and crossed the plateau-like valley at a full gallop. He normally would have stopped at several of his clansmen’s cottages to see how they were faring and receive any news. Members of his clan who lived this far out near the McTiernay borders rarely ventured close to the castle—especially during the winter months. But, today Conor did not even pause to say hello. The few who had seen his approach barely saw his wave of greeting before he disappeared.

When Conor rode into the castle courtyard, he jumped off his horse and looked around. He was trying hard to control his impulse to cry out for Laurel. Where was everyone? Usually his soldiers were training here at this hour, but it was unnaturally empty.

He then noticed Neal and some lad he recognized to be the son of Angus the farmer holding out his hand waiting for the reins of his horse. Neal issued instructions. “Take the laird’s horse now and walk him a bit before you be brushing him just like I told you. I’ll be along in a bit.”

Neal turned to address his laird. “Aye, it’s good to have you back, laird, although we were not expecting to see you for several more hours. News only just came of your homecoming. Lady Laurel will be most pleased of your return.”
As soon as she gets over the shock,
Neal thought.

Conor began to relax. Just hearing that Laurel had thought of him and was waiting for him was enough to ease the tension that had been steadily mounting the past couple of weeks. He had not been aware until now how much he needed to hear that Laurel had missed him.

He wasn’t alone, then.

Laurel had thought of him just as he had of her. Enough to pine to Neal about her missing him. Conor smiled to himself. What had he expected? Of course she would miss him. With the exception of his brothers and a couple of his guard, she knew no one. She was probably right now up in her chamber fervently wishing for his return.

“Bring Lady Laurel to me in the great hall,” he said, smiling whimsically.

Turning to leave, Conor heard the clattering of hooves on the earth and saw a pleased Finn dismount and advance towards him. “Hope your travel was well, laird. If you are looking for Lady Laurel, you may have a long wait for she is not inside the castle walls.”

Finn was not expecting his laird’s swift and violent reaction and found himself looking up at the sky and at a furious face from the ground. “Explain…now,” Conor growled so fiercely that everyone who had been coming to greet their laird and tell him of the keep’s improvements immediately disappeared.

“She’s fine, Conor. On this I swear.” This got Finn a slight reprieve and the ability to sit up. He grabbed his tunic and rubbed his neck and shoulder, which had been the primary targets of Conor’s attack. “You know that I would protect her with my life. And so would every other McTiernay man, woman and child.”

“Why is she outside the castle walls? You were in charge of her protection while I was away,” Conor charged, using anger to conceal the fear he was feeling.

“Good God, man, you told me to protect her, not to imprison her, which—even if you had—would have been highly difficult to achieve. You try detaining or instructing your lady. I do not think even your status of laird would be effective,” Finn said, standing up carefully so as not to incur any more of his laird’s anger.

“Finn, do not make me ask again,
where is Laurel
?”

“She’s out riding Borrail, probably hunting tonight’s food.” He knew that Conor was not going to respond well to the news and that it was only the first of many shocks yet for him to endure.

“Neal! My horse—now!” Conor bellowed.
Hunting
? Why in the devil was Laurel hunting? He had men for that, or were they refusing to hunt because she was English? If that was the case, several clansmen were going wish otherwise before the hour was through.

“Conor. She is fine. She loves to hunt and is good at it. Despite her arguments, there is always a detail of soldiers riding with her,” Finn tried to clarify while getting on his own horse.

“Why aren’t the men providing the meat? Are they so weak that they need a woman to hunt for them? Or are they refusing to feed an Englishwoman?”

Finn had never seen Conor so angry and unwilling to listen to explanations. This was most unlike his laird. Lady Laurel was more important to Conor than anyone—including himself—had realized, thought Finn.

Finn needed Conor to slow down and think before he damaged more than just a shoulder. If he continued acting this way, all the plans and preparations Laurel had been making would be ruined. And if Laurel became upset, Aileen would also be unhappy. Finn would do anything to keep his wife happy, including taking the risk he was about to make.

“You are acting most unlike yourself, laird, to get so heated over a woman’s welfare.”

Those words got an instant reaction. Conor did not believe anyone in his army would challenge him. But the words Finn had just uttered were an insult, and his commander knew it. He stood frozen, glaring at the soon-to-be-ex-leader of his elite guard.

Finn saw his opportunity and quickly took advantage. “Laurel heard of your impending return and has been working with Fiona on a menu for your homecoming feast. Some of the meats are difficult to trap. It may take several hours to stalk and capture the prey. When she first told me of her abilities to hunt for the evening’s meal, I also did not believe her. But Conor, she is highly skilled in highlander weaponry. Her accuracy—even when riding—is amazing. You saw what she could do with a dirk. I tell you all your men have fallen in love with her.”

As soon as the last few words escaped his lips, Finn realized his folly once again. There would be no escape from Conor’s anger now. He had tried, but Lady Laurel was on her own.

As they rode out towards the training field, Conor could see her sitting astride Borrail in between two guards, Loman and Hamish. They were facing away concentrating on some warriors in training, completely unaware of their approach.

Finn advanced to try one last time. “Before you take your anger out on either of your men, I specifically asked both Loman and Hamish to oversee her welfare while I went to meet you. It is the first and only time they have been alone with her without me in attendance.”

Conor nudged his mount closer and overheard part of Laurel’s conversation. He just sat for a moment, listening and staring at her unnoticed. Her long, pale hair was clean and shimmering in the afternoon sun. She had tied it back, but left it unbraided, giving opportunities for wisps of it to dance along her shoulders in the breeze. Her back was straight, and her bearing—even from this vantage point—showed elegance and quality. He was reminded once again how truly unique she was.

“Aye, lass, a soldier’s choice of weapons, clothing, and horses are determined much by the speed he will need in battle,” Loman was apparently answering her earlier question.

“But I have never seen any men wear armor while training. Does that not affect your ability to fight in it later?”

“Ah, milady, you’re thinking like an English. Armor slows a man down and ruins his speed and accuracy. It is a hindrance and a burden in battle. Now some highlanders like to wear scarves wrapped around their necks for protection. But our laird believes it to be a waste of cloth. No scarf will prevent my broadsword cutting through a man.”

Laurel shuddered at the image he drew.

“Besides, if you are trained right, you don’t need it,” Hamish chimed in. Over the past two weeks, his ardor for the lady had not faded. But the reality that she was not, nor ever would be his, had finally seeped through.

“Armor should be used to protect your horse. It’s the soldier’s responsibility to protect his own flesh,” Loman added.

“Armor for your horse? That makes no sense.”

“Depending on the type of battle, Laird McTiernay may order chains to be drawn four or five times around the thighs of the horses to help deflect spear thrusts,” explained a grinning Hamish.

“But when do you use swords versus bows?”

“You forgot pikes, spears and daggers.”

Loman moved his horse closer to her and directed her attention to a group of men in the distance practicing with long spears ranging from eight, twelve and sixteen feet in length.

“What is that metal staff for?” Laurel asked, pointing at a steel pole about four feet in length.

Conor stepped in and answered. “It is made of old sword blades. The slim edge provides a long cutting edge with a spike at the bottom for piercing. A deadly weapon. But its knowledge and intent should remain with soldiers, not proper ladies,” he directed his last comment toward her companions more so than her.

“Conor!” Laurel spun around to see him. “You are back!” The joy on her face was unquestionable. She was a vision to his thirsty soul. His eyes raked her from the top of her golden head to the hem of her burgundy dress.

He wanted her. Badly.

“What are you doing out here, love? Finn told me you were hunting.”

“I was. I sent someone ahead with our catches to Fiona. Oh, Conor. I am so glad you are back. We have done so much and I…” she paused, her eyes opening large, making her face appear small and fragile.

“What, Laurel? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Conor questioned as he saw her turn white. Obviously she remembered something dreadful.

“What are you doing here!” she shrieked and then turned to Finn. “You said it would be hours, mayhap days before he got here! I am not ready. I wanted to get everything arranged in the hall. There is so much to do!” she whirled her horse around, preparing to ride back to the keep. “Finn, you keep him away until it is time. I mean it, Finn!” she yelled as she prompted Borrail into a light run.

Conor easily caught up to her and pulled back on her reins to slow the pace. She tried to regain control and urge Borrail into a faster lope.

“If you do not halt your struggle for the reins, I will stop us both at once,” he warned. She immediately withdrew, and Conor was instantly appeased. It seemed she was finally learning how far she could push him.

“Now, tell me what needs to be ready for my return,” Conor began. “You are here, and Finn tells me my younger brothers are well. What could be prompting this foolish ride of yours?”

“Conor McTiernay, if you think to return home and call me foolish after all my hard work, you will have to think again.”

“Return home! It’s my castle!”

She pivoted slightly towards him while covertly trying to recapture the reins to Borrail. How could a man be so exasperating and so handsome at the same time, she asked herself. He wasn’t wearing his tunic, just his kilt, sword, belt, and a shirt dyed with saffron. It was the same type of voluminous shirt all of his men wore when conducting mock battles. Some wore it flowing, but Conor had his heavily pleated to provide himself better protection. Laurel thought the pleats emphasized his strength and size.

She then looked into his silver-flinted eyes. They were sparkling with amusement, a complete contradiction to the rest of him, which was tight and rigid. He wants me to
think
he is angry so I will give in, she thought. She remembered how the man seemed to appreciate her backbone—in moderation. Well, he was in for a surprise.

“Your castle was not fit to live in when you left,” she criticized, trying to sound forceful and in command. “You turned over your keep into my capable hands, and the results of your clansmen’s efforts should be applauded.” She then turned to look at him again so that he would know she was serious. “I wanted to celebrate their results with you, not have you casually walk through the keep acting unaware of their work.”

“What makes you think I would not appreciate the work of my clan?”

“Clyde.”

He waited for her to explain, but she refused to offer anything more. What had his brother said to convince her he would not appreciate whatever she had done?

They rode on in silence. Just before they crossed the barbican and entered the castle walls, Laurel stopped and beseeched him for several moments with her eyes. Whatever she was about to ask, he was going to say yes. When her eyes turned that smoky sea blue he could think of nothing else. He so very much wanted to make her happy.

“Conor,” she began. They approached the keep, her resolve dissipating quickly. “I…I just…” She tried again. “Please do not get upset. I realize that I may have overstepped my authority, but everyone was so supportive. Your castle is so grand, and it just didn’t reflect your status as a powerful laird.”

His heart began to stammer. She was wringing her hands, clearly worried about his upcoming reaction to something she did to his home. “Tell me exactly what to expect,” he demanded.

Her eyes were very wide as she searched his face. “Oh, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t spoil the surprise.”

He started to question her, but then he noticed her lips—soft, full, and slightly parted. He wanted so badly to kiss her; he couldn’t think straight.