The Highlander's Bride (17 page)

“But she’s English?” Conor questioned, giving voice to his confusion.

“Aye, she’s that. But Glynis, the day after you left, discovered that Laurel is half Scot and has spread the word. Your men and women do not view Laurel as an Englishwoman, but as one of their own. Her command of our tongue has doubly won them over.”

Conor had forgotten about her ability to speak Gaelic. He had meant to ask her where she had learned to speak the Celtic language, but had forgotten to inquire about it. Was she really a Scot?

“Did Laurel say she was a Scot?”

“I do not think so. I believe it was one of Glynis’s conclusions that she so likes to conjure up. At the time, it seemed like a good rumor that would serve to help Laurel blend in here so I did nothing to counter the observation. But in this case, I think Glynis may have been right.”

The pieces did fit, Conor inwardly concurred. She had admitted that she intended to marry a Scot. And he knew that, while she had spoken the truth about what had happened to her, she had not disclosed the whole story.

Conor continued to mull over the possibilities of her heritage that evening as the celebration began. He saw and mentally approved many of the changes Laurel had made in the halls alone. The changes in the lower hall were astounding. Previously, he refused to enter the foul room so misused by his men and brothers. Now it was clean and with new padding and curtains.

The great hall had also been cleaned, with the furniture rearranged so that people could enter and exit at ease. The room was filled with a nice fragrance from the new rushes lining the floor. The hearths radiated heat without smoking up the room.

An incredible banquet of food was spread out on the tables. There was the typical venison, goose, rabbit, and hare. Yet the kitchen must have been working busily all day, for also available were wild boar and a roasted peacock, served with all its feathers as decoration. Several other birds also adorned the table including doves, larks, thrushes, and blue-tits. Finn pointed out that several of the meats prepared were caught by Laurel earlier that day.

Many times he had met with allied leaders here, wishing that he had more to offer them. Now, he possessed a keep to make any laird proud. The men seemed happier and well-behaved. Even his brothers were having a great time, taking care not to appear slovenly or undisciplined.

Conor noticed that when he ordered the meal to be brought out, it was done so reluctantly. When he asked about it, it was Finn’s wife, Aileen, who spoke bluntly.

“What do you expect, laird?” she asked, her tawny-colored hair swaying lightly as she shook her head. She was not a petite woman, but her small feminine facial features made her appear so, despite being large with child. Her light brown eyes usually shined with merriment, but tonight they were full of admonishment. “It was your Lady Laurel who made all this come to pass. It was because of her vision and willingness to see it through that you are even having this wonderful feast. How many people do you know who can persuade Fiona to do anything? But Lady Laurel convinced her to cook for you permanently, she did.”

Fallon had not told him about that and Conor wondered what else the crafty steward had left out. Fiona’s cooking was legendary. And so was her temper, but Laurel had managed to find a way. His thoughts were interrupted by his youngest brother, Clyde. Sometimes it was the innocent who made things the most clear.

“Aye, everybody would do
anything
for Lady Laurel. She even tricked Fallon, and good. Now she and him are best friends. I even overheard Fallon and several soldiers say that they would protect her from even you.” Clyde bit down on a piece of meat and started tearing it off. “Why would they say that, Conor? Don’t they know you would never hurt her? That you took her from the bad people and brought her here to be protected?” he asked sincerely.

Conor was saved from responding when a loud toast across the room got his youngest brother’s attention. The comprehension of Clyde’s words hit him hard. Everyone spoke in awe of her. They defended her and worked hard to ensure that she felt welcome.

This revelation affected him deeply. He wanted his people to like her. He wanted her to feel comfortable and contented at his keep. Then why was he troubled with the amount of love and loyalty she had commanded in his people in such a short amount of time? The question smacked of possessiveness, and he didn’t like it, but he also didn’t like the idea of another man receiving Laurel’s kind words of adoration and gratitude. Those belonged to him.

Several gasps around the room caught his attention. Clyde was overtly staring at something with his jaw wide open. He looked around to see what had captured his younger brother’s interest. When he saw her, Conor forced himself to breathe evenly. Heaven had sent down an angel to be in their midst, and her name was Laurel Cordell.

Earlier, Laurel thought about withdrawing from tonight’s events. Her chambers were only one floor below Conor’s, and she heard much of his bellowing about her betrayal and revenge.

She had hoped that he would not see the changes that way. But then, somewhere deep inside her, she had recognized that with Conor, this would most likely be his first reaction. Hopefully, after some time passed, he would appreciate the improvements and change his mind, she prayed silently.

She thought about his reaction and statements throughout the entire afternoon as she bathed, dressed and did her hair for the evening. Brighid had come in while she tried unsuccessfully to tie the thick waves of hair back with combs.

“Lady Laurel? I think you should just leave your hair down. Leave it long so that it will shine and sparkle. Aye, that would be an excellent way of catching our laird’s eye this evening.” Brighid winked at her as she plucked the combs from Laurel’s fingertips.

Laurel admonished her again for implying that there was more to her relationship with Conor than there was.

“Aye, milady,” was all Brighid would reply. But Brighid had seen the interaction between the two earlier that day. She had seen the sparks fly, just like most of the others in the keep. If the laird and his lady wanted to still pretend otherwise, it was none of her business. But she was not fooled.

Laurel did decide to leave her hair down, telling herself that it only helped flatter her dress more. The gown that Brighid had made for this evening was quite stunning. The deep blue bliaut had a crushed dark velvet top that cut straight across her breasts and ended at her waist. It was trimmed in elegant beadwork that Brighid excelled in creating. Matching the trim was a beaded crystal choker that complemented the color of her gown. The necklace was four strands and at the bottom it gracefully draped, making it a very feminine feature.

The long flowing sleeves of the gown were made of a sheer blue-green gossamer that matched the top layer of the skirt. The skirt’s under layer was of a lightweight material that caught and reflected firelight. Brighid thought the only thing missing to make the dress perfect was the McTiernay plaid. She tried for some time to change Laurel’s mind, but when Brighid left to ready herself for the night’s festivities, Laurel was still refusing to put it on.

As Laurel entered into the great hall, she heard the gasps and whispers. Only pride forced her forward into the hall.

Once Conor noticed Laurel at the other end of the room, he could not take his eyes off of her. He felt as if he had just been struck by lightning. For a few seconds, he was too stunned to do anything but stare at her. Her pale gold hair was long and loose, framing her feminine features like a halo. The color of her dress accentuated the blue hue in the turquoise of her eyes, giving them warmth and power.

Her dress revealed her shapely body and hung loosely from her hips, the material swaying pleasingly as she walked. She wore slippers that matched her gown, unlike so many highlander women who opted to go barefoot, even in the cold winter months. The overall effect was incredible causing a rush of desire to grow within him.

He watched as one after another of his people gathered around her to acknowledge her and her accomplishments. He saw and heard how she gracefully refocused the ownership of the improvements back to his people.

After seeing this transfer of love between his clansmen and her, he realized that despite what Finn, Fallon, and even Laurel had said, his people didn’t make all these changes for him—they did it for her. They loved her. Just as he did.

He rose and walked over to meet her, joining the rest of her admirers. When she saw him, her heart fluttered for a moment. Gone was the anger she had heard echoing in the halls earlier. All that remained were admiration and affection in his eyes.

He clutched her hand and guided her forward to a chair next to his at the end of the hall. He kept her close to him in case she wavered, fearing that she would decline to eat with him. But she calmly followed him to the table and sat next to Clyde when Conor resumed his seat at the end.

Laurel had tried hard to suppress her feelings when Conor came to meet her. He was dressed magnificently in a long tunic with wide hanging sleeves and a short, elaborately decorated jacket. Unarmed, he was bare-legged and bare-footed. It was funny, she thought, that two months ago, seeing a man in his bare feet would have struck her as inappropriate and offensive. Now all she could think of was how all the more attractive that made him appear.

Laurel secretly observed Conor throughout the evening. She marveled at how the light played against his dark hair and tanned skin. His silver eyes sparkled with merriment as he listened to his brothers relate new and old stories. She could not imagine any man more attractive or sexually appealing.

She smiled and prompted light conversation about his trip to Laird Schellden’s. Unsurprisingly, it was Craig who did most of the talking, constantly adding humorous stories about Cole and his first few days as a guardsman. Her laughter was like a beacon of light to all who could hear, making them gravitate towards her like moths to a candle. After a while, she proclaimed it time for dancing and ordered some of the trestles to be dismantled to make room.

Dooly was the first to come and ask her for a reel, to which she heartily agreed. It seemed to Conor that every man in the room was watching Laurel dance and waves of jealousy began to flow through him. He felt extremely possessive, and he knew the feeling wouldn’t go away anytime soon. Probably never.

Once that reel ended another began, and someone stepped in to have the next dance. And so it went for the next few hours. Men—young and old, short and tall, thin and wide—kept asking her to dance. She said yes to them all, never turning down a single soul, smiling and laughing, innocently compelling every man to fall in love with her.

While watching the men succumb to her new friend’s natural charms, Finn’s wife decided to play matchmaker. Finn had tried to dissuade Aileen from coming tonight, thinking a woman due to deliver her first child at any moment had no business coming to a party. But Aileen had refused to listen to him. Finn shook his head at his pretty wife, but she just ignored him and sat down beside Conor, feigning innocence.

“What an absolute triumph of an evening. Is it not?” Aileen was not at all discouraged when Conor did not respond.

“I suspect that you will be quite busy in the next few weeks,” Aileen smiled at no one in particular. “I have overheard at least a dozen men wondering how to approach you to ask for her hand. Have you considered how you are going to decide? Among the suitors, I mean.” She played with the ribbon on the sleeves of her gown, still looking innocently into the crowd.

“She really is lovely. At first, everyone thought she was destined to be yours. But then when you both so strongly denied the idea—well, I guess that has given hope to several men who have had the chance to make her acquaintance. I know that I fell under her spell when we met. I felt like I had known her all my life. It’s no wonder we became fast friends. I hope that I like whomever you choose for her husband. I wonder if she will decide to wait until spring or get married immediately?”

Aileen smiled and clapped her hands. “Well, I must be off. I promised Finn that I would not stay up late tonight.” Conor cast her a sidelong glance as she rose and left the hall with Finn talking animatedly to her about something.

He knew what Aileen was doing. He had known Finn’s wife for years, and her intentions had become fairly obvious about two sentences into her rehearsed speech. He wondered if Laurel had put her up to it, but then thought that most unlikely. Much of what Aileen had said had actually already occurred to him as he watched men flock to Laurel’s side. So far, he had been able to keep his distance and he intended to continue to stay away.

He swallowed a large amount of ale. Behind him were several men by the hearth discussing the servant woman who was responsible for keeping their mugs full.

“She smiled at me!”

“Aye, she smiled, but it was at me,” said another.

“I could dance with her all the evening. She smelled like fresh flowers in the spring. Ahh, I could die a happy man if she were near.”

Conor continued to listen as they listed the lady’s attributes, still believing it was the pretty little serving wench who had their attention. He had seen all three of them dance with the servant several times. It wasn’t until he heard them argue about the color of the woman’s eyes that he realized the true object of their affection.

All of them were in love with Laurel.

They, too, could not decide whether her eyes were a deep blue with green accents like the colors of the sea, or more green than blue, like their highland lochs.

He moved towards one of the ravine-sided windows to view the night’s landscape and tried to restrain the seed of jealousy growing quickly within. Conor knew that he was being unreasonable. Laurel was not flirting or making sexual overtures. But when he overheard another group of soldiers discussing her future, something snapped.

They were arguing about who should ask for her hand in marriage since the laird was clearly not interested in making Laurel his lady. Aileen was right. Soon, a steady stream of men would be approaching him for her hand. How was he going to handle it?