The Highlander's Bride (9 page)

Finn and Conor were arguing in Gaelic, and their argument was about her. Laurel tried to control her reactions to their heated words. She had often conversed in Gaelic with her grandfather and was quite fluent in the tongue.

Finn wanted to attack Douglass land immediately. But it seemed that, although the McTiernays had no love for any Douglass, they were not currently at war. Conor was not ready to open his clan to such losses. Too many of their allies required their numbers in other matters after helping Robert the Bruce fight castle by castle in order to regain Scotland and drive the English out.

Soon though, he would take care of Douglass and his son, but in his own way and in his own time. With that, Conor ended the conversation. Laurel waited until they left and then found her way to the river to wash up before returning back to Conor and his brothers.

Laurel was sitting on the riverbank, mentally reviewing Conor’s words, when she heard someone approach. She knew it was Conor.

“How much did you hear?”

Laurel lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “Enough.”

So Laurel had understood what he and Finn were saying. An English lady fluent in Gaelic, Conor mused. She was a continuing and growing mystery. He had hoped that last night she would have spoken about her family and voluntarily explained her Scottish background. Her knowledge of highland customs and dress, her understanding of Gaelic, and her telling story about how her grandfather liked to outmaneuver English soldiers were all pieces to a puzzle that said Scottish blood ran through her veins.

“I won’t allow you to risk your life for me, Conor.”

Conor bent down and gently caught her face between his hands.

“I am my own man, Laurel, and the decisions you refer to have already been made and cannot be changed,” he said quietly.

Tears started forming in her eyes. Tears for him. “But I don’t want you to. Please.”

“Don’t worry, love.” Conor gathered Laurel close, holding her protectively, letting her tears fall until they had run dry. But he did not provide anything beyond comfort. “I will be riding ahead this afternoon to meet my clansmen and handle some things that have come about since my departure. My brothers and guard will ride with you. You will not be left alone. Do you understand?”

Conor was so confusing. He was being considerate by telling her of his plans, but he was leaving her. She knew he was waiting for her to respond. “I understand, Conor.” She stood up and brushed her dusty bliaut in search of something to do. “Will I be seeing you tonight, then?”

“Perhaps,” he said indifferently. “One more question and then I will go.” He paused as if he didn’t know how to continue. “Will your brother be searching for you?”

Laurel’s brows pinched together in confusion, and she shook her head. “No. He is getting married soon and his bride wanted me out of the manor. My brother is new to his title and wealth, and therefore reluctant to put forth a dowry for a marriage contract. He is glad to be rid of me.”

Conor nodded and left. Relief flooded through him. He knew how to handle Douglass, but he was unsure about how to address Laurel’s family. He meant what he said when he told her that she was not leaving. He was not sure why he felt so strongly, but Conor knew his future was wrapped up with hers.

After he left, Laurel returned to refresh herself by the nearby brook. There was a standing pool of water nearby and went to wash her face. As she looked down, she saw her reflection in the standing water. She was truly a mess. No wonder Conor had felt it so easy to walk away and leave her. He was just a kind and compassionate man. It was amazing that he had felt any attraction towards her at all these past few days. Now that he was returning to his home that would most likely change, she told herself. It was important that she distance herself, emotionally, and soon.

When she arrived back at the campsite, Conor was preparing to leave. She could see now in the morning light that his eyes were slightly bloodshot, as if he had not slept all night.

“Everyone mount up. I want to be home by nightfall.” With that, the men gathered their horses and quickly prepared to leave.

All morning she felt as if she had lost something very precious yesterday afternoon and had no way to get it back. Gone were the light banter, the fleeting looks, and exchange of gazes throughout the day. Conor had not looked back even one time to see how she was faring. But what did she expect after her “stay away from me” monologue? A profession of undying love and commitment?

She knew that she could not have it both ways. She had asked him to back away, and he had. Instead of being in mourning for their friendship, she should feel at ease. She didn’t want any more complications, and falling in love with Conor McTiernay was just that. A major complication.

Conor could feel Laurel probing him with her eyes. What did she want from him? She wanted him to leave her alone and that was exactly what he was doing.

Her words from yesterday had played over and over again in his mind. Her mother and father, like his, had been happy and in love. Once, he, too, had been like her, desiring a relationship like that of his parents. Instead, he found false promises and desires for only wealth and power.

Here, Laurel was seeking the same thing. Except it was he who was making her abandon hope. Her story and the idea that he made her doubt her faith in love kept him awake most of the night. She wanted him and accepted him. But she wasn’t willing to surrender her ideals and self-respect for the passion they shared. He was unsure whether this made him thankful or full of regret.

He signaled Finn that he was going on ahead and then pushed forward through the bushes.

Late that afternoon, just before sunset, Craig settled back to ride beside her for the first time. Laurel enjoyed the gregarious twin’s uplifting view of the world. And, since Conor had left as he’d promised, she could use some cheer and reassurance. It had been difficult to watch Conor leave the group and ride ahead when they crossed the McTiernay border.

As they journeyed, Laurel realized why all of them had continually mentioned the beauty of their highlands, especially McTiernay lands. They were magnificent. The McTiernay lands were nestled in the highland mountains surrounded by great cliffs, picturesque rivers, and huge invasions of sea that stretched like fingers creeping up the mountains desiring to touch their glory.

In the distance, Laurel could see the McTiernay castle on the summit of a large cliff. Situated against a large river draining into a great scenic loch, it was the most conspicuous object for miles around. Surrounding the castle were cottages of various sizes, each built of wood and stone. They looked strong, warm, and built to keep families safe during the cold winter months.

She pointed at the dwellings. “Craig, who owns these cottages?”

“Mostly farmers and their families. That one there,” he pointed to a cottage that was much closer to the castle walls, “used to belong to Old Gowan.”

“Used to?”

“Aye, he died just a few months back. I honestly thought the old codger would outlive me.” Craig was seventeen years of age, and the idea that anyone could outlive him from the previous generation was comical.

Laurel laughed at his ability to bring good humor even to sad events. “You must have really liked him.”

His grin broadened. “He was a great soldier of my father’s. While I don’t remember it, Gowan was commander of the McTiernay guard for many years and was well respected by our people.”

“Why did he choose to live outside of the castle walls?”

“You are right, he did choose to live in that cottage. For years, he lived with us when Mother and Father were still alive. But once they passed, he decided he would rather live in his own home than in the keep with his memories.”

They were much closer to the castle now. Laurel kept expecting to see Conor ride down and greet them, but she saw no riders heading their way. The only soldiers to be seen were those entering and leaving the castle walls. The hill had flattened out now, and the land rolled with waves of green.
Finn was right
, she thought to herself,
it does remind one of the Trossachs.
It was still quite green with a short type of grass that swayed in the light breeze, but soon the cold nights would cause it to turn brown until spring.

The castle walls formed a
D
with the rear, straight wall towering over a ravine. At the ravine’s base was a large river that originated high in the mountains and flowed into the great loch nestled in the valley they had passed by that morning. They truly were in the highlands now, with mountains below, above, and all around them.

The landscape on each side of the castle was similar to the rest of the countryside. Trees hugged either side of the river, but left fields of land available for farming, animals, or, as she could see in a distance, training for warriors.

Despite its size and the number of inhabitants, this area the McTiernays had forged from the mountains felt like a home. She could see it in the faces of the women and children she passed. Their lives required hard work, but they seemed happy, content, and safe. All elements she sensed were missing from her brother’s estate. She hoped that his new bride would bring him the joy they had yearned for as children.

The McTiernay brothers unexpectedly closed around her on their horses. She was unsure whether it was to protect her, or to indicate that she was there by McTiernay desire.

Because of its size, the castle had seemed close for some time. But it was late afternoon when the group finally approached its outer walls. They crossed a large wooden bridge that led into a long and broad entry guarded by a well-sized barbican tower fortifying the guard gate. The guard gate was the only entry point behind the curtain walls of the castle. The entry was fortified on either side by towers providing access points to the walls.

“Cole,” Laurel prompted.

He kept his eyes ahead and on those he was approaching. “Aye?”

“Why are there so many openings in the walls of entry to the castle? They don’t seem to have any purpose.”

“The combination of the passages from above and the sides with the open spaces between them provide an added measure of security. In times of battle, if an enemy breaks through the first gates of the bridge and breaches the entry, scalding water or stones might be cast down on them.”

“Oh,” she replied, looking up as they rode through. “Has there been any need to use them?”

“Not for many years. This land has been occupied by McTiernays for centuries. The original fort, which my mother named the Star Tower, was built several hundred years ago. Highly desirable, attacks were common until my great-grandfather began the building of the castle walls and erected one of the most secure, fortified structures in the highlands. This is just one of many such defenses. To my knowledge, the passages were only used once, before the barbican tower was completed.”

As she passed the castle walls and entered the interior courtyard, she was again reminded how large a structure the McTiernay castle was. It was very imposing. The curtain walls seemed even larger from within, enclosing a large courtyard approximately fifty horse lengths in width. There were six round towers—two at the ends of the straight ravine wall, two at the bends and two on either side of the guard gate.

The four main towers were built on plinths, slightly widened square bases, while the gatehouse towers were situated on round battered bases instead of a plinth of continuous stone.

Surrounding the outer courtyard were ancillary buildings. The stables and armory were against the western sides of the keep, while the bake house, brew house, and other similar structures were against the eastern side. The main living quarters—lower hall, great hall, and chapel—were built along the straight wall facing north. The height of the buildings was impressive, with the tower on the western north corner reaching high towards the sky.

“Good heavens, that tower must be at least six stories!” exclaimed Laurel, looking at the structure while getting off her horse. Most towers were three stories, perhaps even four. But she had never seen a tower so large, or tall.

“Seven stories, Lady Laurel,” answered Craig, giving her the title that had not been used since his mother had passed away. “My mother used to climb up to the battlement sections on clear nights to look at the night sky. She said she could reach out and touch the lights of heaven. She called it her Star Tower.”

Someone came behind her and took Borrail’s reins. She turned and saw a slight, older man about her height. He had very little hair and a small hump from years of bending and working with horses. Her first instinct was to caution the aged highlander about Borrail’s feisty nature, but she immediately changed her mind when she saw he handled the gray stallion with a strong but gentle grip. While the man initially looked to be feeble and weak, he was clearly not. “Excuse me, what is your name?”

“Neal, milady,” he said, quite startled. The woman was English by the sound of her voice and quite disheveled, but as she turned to look at him, he thought he was staring at a wounded angel. It was if she were unaware that her dress was torn and her hair was undone and tangled. “Can I help you, lass?”

The informal address caught everyone’s attention. “Neal, this is Conor’s woman,” Cole warned him.

“Cole, that is not true,” Laurel corrected and turned back to Neal. “In truth, I am but a temporary guest of your laird’s. But he did give me this horse, and I would appreciate it if you could take care of him for me. I have grown quite attached to Borrail.”

“Borrail?”

“Oh yes, he may not be the prettiest horse, but he is definitely proud. He has a strong heart, and never once let me fall during our journey. He carried me up these tall mountains of yours. Borrail means a lot to me.”

The lady must be a little daft, thought Neal. Was not that the purpose of a horse? Who cared if a horse was pretty or not? But if the lady liked her horse, he would treat it as if it were the laird’s own.

Cole handed his reins to the stable master and turned to his youngest brother. “Clyde, please take Laurel to the Star Tower and have Glynis provide her a room. Give her Mother’s old sitting room.”

Laurel gasped. “Your mother’s? Cole, I must not. Should we not wait for Conor? I am sure he would not approve.”

“He would,” he said brusquely.

Laurel squared her shoulders. “Well, it does not matter. In fact, I have decided that I do not want to stay in the keep at all. How about that cottage of Old Gowan’s?” She knew she was rambling, but all of a sudden she had been right to tell Conor she could not stay at the castle. A strong desire to flee seeped into her bones. How could she remain so close and yet keep distant?

“Yes, I think I will stay in the cottage. Besides, I know that Conor would not like me staying in your mother’s room.”

Cole bunched his eyebrows. “It was Conor who gave the order.”

Just then, an older lady with a genuinely kind expression came up to her. She was fairly short and rotund, and her voice was pleasant and reassuring.

“Good day, milady. My name is Glynis. The laird asked me to come see to your needs and take you to your room.”

Still somewhat in shock, Laurel did not argue when Glynis led her across the courtyard and into the keep’s lower hall. It was a large room that was surprisingly bright, with large arch-shaped windows along the northern wall. Fires burning in braziers made the air warm and inviting against the cool afternoon breeze. The noise was incredible. Many of the soldiers had already gathered to eat the evening meal.

“Sorry, milady, about the mess, the noise, and the stench.” Glynis waved her small, puffy hands disapprovingly at the sight. “The McTiernay clan is a fierce and strong bunch, but since Lady McTiernay passed away so many years ago, the keep has fallen into disarray. Only the laird’s quarters are maintained regularly.”

Laurel had already noticed the state of the keep, and its stench. The rushes were crushed and decayed. In many places, the wood floor was bare and letting in the cold.

The high table was at the far end of the room, but Conor was not present, nor were any other principal guests sitting in places of honor. But there were several soldiers sitting at tables placed along the side walls. All were so engrossed in their food and conversations, none had noticed them.

Laurel watched as servants entered and disappeared through a timber partition screening the hall from the service area. Above the screens was a minstrel’s gallery. Seeing the ale and wine they were carrying, she assumed the area behind the screens was linked to the storage cellars housed below.

She and Glynis had entered the hall through a separate door and were heading towards another door, which she assumed led to the Star Tower, where the main sleeping chambers were housed. The doorway was large and mirrored the shape of hall’s arched windows.

As they crossed the portico, Laurel could see a small, empty chamber to the right of the door. She guessed that, if necessary, the small sentry post would be manned to protect access to the spiral stairwell that led to the private family apartments.

She followed Glynis up the winding staircase to the upper levels. On the fourth level, Glynis stopped and went around a banister to open a door leading into a large and elegant room. It had to be Lady McTiernay’s sitting room. Laurel admired its beauty. The colors were muted golds and greens that seemed to capture the diminishing light entering the room via the three smaller arched windows in the alcove. Conor’s mother’s taste in decor mirrored her own.

Glynis must have prepared the room before her arrival. The fireplace was already lit, providing an efficient source of heat. Even the thick and heavy stones making up the castle walls had collected the heat from the flames and were warm to the touch.

“Here you go, milady.” Glynis indicated the clothes on the bed. “The laird mentioned you would be needing new things to wear.” Someone had obviously been instructed to share her garments. The idea made Laurel all the more uncomfortable and intrusive.

“Glynis, who provided the clothing?”

“Oh, they were my daughter’s, and she was glad to let you have them. I assure you, milady. We would do anything for our laird. I would have stripped bare for you if he had but asked.”

The kind words did not bring Laurel comfort.

“But, Glynis, I do not want to take your daughter’s dresses. They are beautiful and must be her best. I assure you that all I need is a bit of thread to fix my garment and a place to wash it. Until I have the means to make more, what I have will be enough.”

Glynis was about to argue with Laurel when she saw the look of stubbornness in the lady’s eyes. Glynis smiled inwardly. The lass was proud, stubborn, and her heart was generous to a fault. And since Laurel had spoken to her in the Gaelic tongue, Glynis began to wonder if the girl was part Scottish. She definitely had the looks of a bonnie Scot. Aye, if the rumors were true that Laird McTiernay had finally found a bride, this lass could bring this clan much joy. But was she strong enough? Would she be afraid of the laird? Would she be able to stand the cold winters?

Glynis shrugged her shoulders and relented. “I’ll fetch you a needle and thread. I will also be sending up a bath and some food to eat. Most of the men have already eaten.” She countered before Laurel could disagree. “Now, no arguing on this one, milady. You need a bath, and it would upset me not to help you with one.”

Laurel could not refuse the kind woman this one thing. She would agree to the bath and the thread. But once clean, she would return to the empty cottage outside. She would not stay here in the great manor. And she certainly would not stay in the rooms of Conor’s mother.