Seducing the Highlander (40 page)

Crevan’s brows came together sharply. “Raelynd needs her sister as well, though she keeps refusing to let me send for her.”

“Aye, Meriel refuses to come until asked.”

Crevan shifted in his chair, his expression clearly perplexed. “But you said she blames herself.”

Craig nodded. “Aye, and in a way I also feel at least partially responsible. I’m the one that compelled Meriel to organize a party, and I am the one that barged in angry that night and started arguing, creating so much stress that—”

Crevan held up his hand. “Raelynd was beyond excited and happy when we left, knowing she and Meriel were both pregnant. I can promise you there was no stress. And if anyone is to blame, it is me. She had been cramping all week, and I wanted her to stay in bed, but she refused. I should have made her, and if I had not yielded to her pleas to go . . . So tell Meriel that whatever danger Raelynd was in,
I
knew about it, and it was
I
who did not protect her as I should have.”

“Let me guess—Raelynd feels that she should have listened to you.”

“Aye, but she does
not
condemn Meriel for what happened. She is only angry and hurt that her sister has not once come to comfort her.”

“And for that, you should blame me,” came a booming voice from behind.

Both men turned around and saw a large, imposing man walking toward them. Rae Schellden had returned and he had overheard at least the last part of their conversation.

“Go get your wives and bring them back here. If they are asleep, wake them. If they refuse, carry them. But from what I just heard, tomorrow is not soon enough for you four to hear what I have to say.”

Crevan and Craig glanced at each other before they both downed the rest of their ale. There was nothing to be said. The father figure in their lives had given them an order, and while both men were not typically inclined to follow such dictates, this time was different. They were desperate for solutions . . . answers . . . anything, and Rae Schellden had given them hope that there might actually be some.

 

 

Rae watched as Crevan deposited his furious wife in the hearth chair next to her sister and then grabbed the remaining seat beside her. Like Meriel, all she had on were her night clothes and a robe, and her hair was pulled back in a long, unkempt braid. Both women looked haggard and their husbands fatigued. Some of it was caused by the exertion of getting the women here, and some by their resistance. But Rae knew that he was also a major reason behind their current states.

He began to stroke his snow-white beard thoughtfully. “I . . . I’m sorry.” The simple expression gained him the attention of all four people, for it was something they hardly ever heard—Laird Rae Schellden apologize. “I made several recent errors when it came to my family, starting with leaving when and how I did. I should have been here to help, and instead I reacted on instinct.”

He paused, but no questions came. It did not matter. He knew what those questions should be, and it was past time his daughters knew the full truth. Rae cleared his throat, looked directly at Meriel, then Raelynd, and continued. “Unlike what you may have believed, and I will admit to encouraging that belief, your mother and I had no problem conceiving children. However, with one exception,” he said, pointing at his daughters, “she would always lose our child before it could be safely born.”

Rae paused and straightened his back, locking his fingers behind him. It was an unconscious maneuver to distance himself emotionally from the past, but the pain of each loss was etched into his face. “After awhile, I heard people say that your mother and I would get used to it, or that it was not the same as losing a child that had been born and lived,” he began, his gruff voice singed with resentment. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I do know that the loss of a child is not something one ever learns to endure. And each loss was painful, and remembered—regardless if your mother and I ever actually held the baby in our arms.”

Craig pulled Meriel close to him. “You are a miracle,” he whispered.

“All children are,” Rae said, the anger gone, “but aye. Meriel and Raelynd were our miracles, and we would never have been blessed with them if it had not been for your mother’s willingness to keep trying when so many kept telling us that we should give up. That God obviously did not want us to have children.” Turning, he knelt down in front of Raelynd, gathered her small hands into his, and looked her in the eye. “Listen to
your
heart, Raelynd, not to others, even if they are trying to be kind. As long as you are healthy, and you and Crevan desire to try again, then do so. But just as important, if you both decide that you do not want to pursue having a family—for whatever reason—that is your right as well. People, friends, even we loved ones, want to help, but we are not the ones who have to live with your decisions.”

He stood up and went to stand in front of the fire, his back straight and hands once again locked behind him. “During those bad times, your mother and I needed time to grieve. At first, we each preferred to be alone to mourn. Only then would we come together and lean on each other for comfort. That was how we handled sorrow. So that night, when I learned of the loss of my first grandchild, I left. I did not think. I knew the clan was in good hands, and I went to mourn as I have always done.”

Rae swallowed and again stroked his beard. Both his daughters were staring, wide-eyed, digesting what he was telling them. He licked his lips and then pointed first to Crevan and then to Raelynd. “
You are not to blame
,” he said slowly, clearly, and without any doubt. “No one knows why one mother loses a child and another does not. You could have remained in bed every day and still lost your baby. But then you would be blaming yourself for lack of exercise. Believe me, I know this to be true. Your mother and I had to fight the inclination to blame ourselves, each other, the cooks, or something else.”

He turned and pointed to Meriel. “Just as you are not to blame. Aye, you and Craig were having a rather heated discussion that night, but when we left, Raelynd was chattering happily about how your children would play together.” Rae saw how the image he spoke of hit Raelynd hard, and knew such comments would hurt her from time to time. But he also knew that she could not insulate herself from them, nor could he avoid all such topics in an attempt to protect the feelings of his daughter. For they were unavoidable. But it was Meriel he worried about. Even now, she kept her body facing away from her sister, as if being in her presence was somehow wrong.

“I should never have told you to stay away from Raelynd, Meriel. I thought I was doing right, but
I was wrong
.”

Those three words were even more powerful than his first two. Meriel had never heard him say them before, and for the first time she glanced over her shoulder at her sister.

Raelynd stared across the small space, her cheeks wet with tears. “That’s why you did not come? Why you stayed away? Because Papa told you to?”

Meriel blinked and several more tears joined the ones that had been flowing only seconds before. “At first, but I also knew I would be the last person you wanted to see because . . .”

Raelynd’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly, but finally she finished her sister’s sentence. “Because you still carry your child.”

Meriel nodded. “You never asked for me and I knew that was why.”

Raelynd could feel Crevan’s strong hands on her shoulders, giving her the support she needed. She wanted to deny what her sister said, but knew it was, in part, true. “I . . . I still do not want to see a pregnant woman, but . . . I have desperately needed my sister. I so wanted you to bang down the doors and force your way in, telling me that I had to love you. That you wouldn’t let me stop. That you would always be there for me. That I was not alone.”

Meriel gave a soft cry and both women went into each other’s arms.

Rae watched in silence for several minutes as the two most precious people in the world to him reconciled. The relief on their husbands’ faces was immense. Only when his daughters sat back down, this time holding each other’s hands in a tight grip that promised never to be broken, did he continue.

“Raelynd, some days will be harder than others. Tragedy cannot be locked in a cage, and in the most unexpected ways and times something is going to trigger a memory, a hope, a thought that will result in sadness. When that happens, do not become silent and hide it from others—and that includes your husband. If you need time alone, take it, but let one or all of us know so we can help, if only by staying away and not trying to pressure you.

“And during those times, Meriel, do not feel at fault. You and Craig have been given a precious gift, and neither of you should ever feel guilty for wanting and loving your child. With each and every loss your mother and I mourned, there was always at least one pregnant woman around. But I can say with an honest heart, we never once begrudged her her happiness.

“It’s hard to put into words, but I remember your mother once saying that it was hardest for her when an expectant mother rubbed her own stomach. She would cry on my shoulder and say over and over again that it should be us. That she did nothing wrong. That it should be her patting her stomach, whispering to her babe while her other children played around her. And I thank God every day that she was able to do that at least once, with you two.”

Raelynd nodded, understanding in a way that only a person who had experienced a similar tragedy could. Turning to look at Meriel, she said, “I am truly happy that you are going to have a baby. I need you in my life, and I
want
to be an aunt.” She sniffled and leaned her head back onto Crevan, who had quietly picked her up and placed her on his lap after seeing Craig do the same with her sister. “Of course, it may mean that Crevan will have to let me cry on his shoulder some.”

She lifted her face to look into her husband’s adoring eyes, which said without words that he would always be there.

No longer plagued with guilt, Meriel’s face finally expressed all the terror she felt at becoming a mother. “Oh, Raelynd, I am so scared. I cannot even take care of Craig and me. How can I possibly raise a child?”

Rae coughed loudly into his hand, regaining both couples’ attention. “I have an idea about that very subject. And this time, you and Craig are going to listen.”

Craig quickly made a dash across the room to intercept his infant son’s rapid venture into his mother’s things. “I ask you, brother, do you see how fast he is now? Did I exaggerate?” Craig asked with unbridled delight.

Crevan leaned against the stone wall and tilted his head in partial agreement. Shaun McTiernay had crawled across the room with undeniable speed, but what was truly amazing was the baby’s skill in maneuvering through the maze of items cluttering the large space. Craig picked up the wiggling, active boy, and took him back across the room so that he could watch him once again scurry over to his toys. Hearing no accolades from Crevan, Craig’s pride prompted a challenge. “There is no way your son will crawl faster than mine by the time he is ten months of age.”

Crevan’s jaw twitched and he shifted his gaze over to his wife, rocking their baby, who had turned two months the day before. Aye, his son was small. All babies were, but Crevan prided himself on having an accurate memory, and he could have sworn that little Shaun at the same age had been practically as tiny. “Aye, I w-w-will agree, because at ten months, Abhain w-will be w-walking.”

Craig stretched his neck to gander at his latest nephew. “Would you like to stake a wager on that claim? How about the father of the faster son gets to name the next child of the loser?” he suggested, knowing Abhain had been far from Crevan’s first choice when he and Raelynd had been discussing names.

Abhain had not even been on the list for consideration. But the week before his son’s birth, news came that Raelynd’s cousin had named their son Crevan. If anyone had told him three years ago that Cyric—a man he once considered weak and immature—would become one of his closest friends and allies outside of his brothers, Crevan might have considered ending their lives just to spare them from their own idiocy. So when Raelynd suggested that they return the gesture, Crevan had almost capitulated. But in the end, he finally agreed to name their son after Cyric’s father and Rae’s brother, Abhain, a gesture he knew had touched his father-in-law profoundly.

Crevan broke out into a gambling grin. “I do believe you and I have a w-w-wager—”

“Over my dead body!” cried Meriel before he could finish.

“Not over yours, Meriel, over
theirs
,” Raelynd chimed in. “And I get to choose the method of their death. As of this moment, only I retain the right to name any of my children.”

“I have no say at all?” Crevan quipped.

Raelynd shot him a scathing look. “I shall let you contribute, but based on the lunacy you were about to agree to, you, my love, have relinquished all decision-making rights when it comes to naming our future children!”

Meriel looked at Craig, who was on the floor helping his son stack wooden blocks, which he had made and sanded down before Shaun could even hold his head up on his own. When Craig finally shot her one of his most charming grins, she said, “Don’t look so smug, for I fully intend to follow my sister’s lead. I cannot believe you would think that I would let
your brother
name our next child!”

Craig tried unsuccessfully to look mortified at the idea. “But, love, Crevan would never have had the opportunity!” Seeing he was not convincing his wife, he shifted his attention to his son. Lying on his back on the floor, Craig lifted Shaun up in his arms, his face one of complete joy at hearing his son laugh. “Your uncle Crevan had no chance at naming your brother or sisters, did he, little man? You and I both know that you are the fastest Highlander ever. Who needs to walk when you can zoom around like you do on your knees?”

Crevan grunted and rolled his eyes, resuming his relaxed position. “If he is f-faster, it’s only because he grew up in an obstacle course. I just pray Shaun does not inherit your or Meriel’s propensity for collecting things.”

Craig and Meriel looked at each other and then surveyed the large tower room. Upon her father’s insistence, they had moved back into the castle and into her old bedchamber. The move had been swift and surprisingly easy—the exact opposite of her transition to the cottage.

In this familiar setting, she could “organize” things and put them exactly where they belonged, which, after years of sharing the space with her sister, took no more than half the room. This left Craig plenty of space for his things, especially as they did not have to contend with unnecessary items such as pots and pans for a kitchen. Even more room was available when they realized only one bed was needed, enabling them to create a four-chair sitting area for visitors.

Craig had initially agreed to stay at Caireoch only temporarily. After the fright Meriel had given him, he had welcomed having others around to help monitor his wife during her pregnancy. But he soon admitted living at the castle was not the negative experience he had assumed it would be. After the second time an incident occurred in which his immediate availability had been an asset, any sense he was mooching off his father-in-law and brother vanished. Over the course of the next year and a half, countless issues came up—large and small—and the ability for Rae, Crevan, and Craig to quickly meet in private had been a considerable advantage.

Craig knew he was never going to return to the cottage, and gave it to Callum, his second-in-command. For a while, it had caused some consternation among some of the more senior soldiers because the cottage was one of the largest homes and Callum was without a wife and family. But that home was also a symbol of leadership, and with the heavy burden of helping to train and lead one of the Highlands’ largest armies, the young man earned the privilege every day.

They heard two soft knocks on the door before it was slowly nudged open. “Can we join you?” Laurel asked as she and her youngest daughter came into the room.

Meriel immediately rose and waved her over to where she and Raelynd were sitting. “We have been expecting you for some time! You arrived ages ago.”

Laurel began to make her way to the group of chairs when Shaun darted in her direction, only to stop and block her way. He raised his plump arms, and she stooped down and picked up the cherub-cheeked infant, rolling her eyes at the petulant look of his father, who was still lying on the floor.

Laurel stepped over Craig and carried the boy to where the women were sitting and sat down. “Is it acceptable for Bonny to be in here?”

“Oh, of course. Brenna and Braeden came up right after you arrived. I would have come for you myself if I had known it would take so long.”

Laurel bounced little Shaun on her knee and cooed, “That was all your uncle Conor’s fault. He has to have the last word on everything. If it wasn’t for me reminding him that he is not the ruler of the Highlands, Scotland, or, more specifically, his wife, he would be a terror. Aye, he would,” she said in a playful, singsong manner to the sunny child. “Braeden told me he was banned from coming back.”

Meriel bit her bottom lip. “Not banned. I just said that he could not return unless he was willing to leave his wooden sword in the hall.”

“Ahh,” Laurel replied, still focused on Shaun. “That explains it. Now that he is ten, he truly believes he is old enough to begin training! Worse, his father encourages him.” Shaun began to wiggle. “He is truly going to be a heart-breaker, Meriel. I do believe he will have the McTiernay dark hair color and build, but I think Shaun will end up with your hazel eyes.”

Meriel sighed and nodded in agreement as she picked up her son, who had decided that if he was going to be in someone’s arms, they had better be his mother’s. “I think so. They’ve been blue, but his eyes do seem to be changing into a deeper shade.”

Laurel waved her seven-year-old daughter over to her side. “What do you think of little Shaun, Bonny?” she asked, seriously interested in the answer. Her youngest daughter had always been around older children and it was not very often she had to spend time with those younger than herself, let alone infants.

Bonny tilted her head to study the squirming boy, causing her amber-colored hair to cascade all around her. Even at the age of seven, it was clear that Bonny was going to surpass even her mother in beauty with her unusual coloring and deceptively fragile features. Succumbing to Shaun’s growing insistence, Meriel put him back down. Bonny continued with her observations.

Laurel waited patiently, knowing the answer to her question would come. Most would have believed from Bonny’s silence that she was ignoring her mother’s request, but Laurel knew that her daughter gave every direct question true consideration. She also knew that if Bonny was this analytical at age seven, she would be near frightening at twenty. But that was some time away.

“I think Shaun is most likely the same as most babies. They make a lot of noise and they smell strange. I agree they are cute, but mostly I think they take way too much work. You were very smart, Mama, not to have any more.”

Raelynd threw her head back and laughed. “You, little Bonny, have not changed at all!”

Laurel hugged her daughter close. “Not a bit. And I love my little girl just the way she is. Don’t ever change, sweetheart.”

Several shouts outside got the attention of everyone in the room. A second later, Crevan and Craig could hear their names being shouted. They quickly said their good-byes, kissed their wives and then their sons, and left. Bonny immediately went across the room, crawled onto the padded shelf serving as a seat, and opened the window a little wider so that she could hear.

“Get away from that window, Bonny,” Laurel admonished. “You are becoming as bad as Brenna about listening to other people’s conversations.”

“I am not,” Bonny hotly denied while ignoring her mother’s instruction. “I only wanted to hear what Uncle Crevan was asking Papa about Hamish.”

Meriel asked softly, “Have you heard from him?”

Laurel shook her head no. “He left right after he got word from his brother, but that was not all that long ago, especially if one factors in the winter weather. He will send word when he is ready.”

Meriel nodded. “I think it was good he went home. He had things to resolve,” she said without going into further detail.

Suddenly, the door swung wide open and two silver-glinted eyes surveyed the room. Spying her younger sister in the activity of eavesdropping, Brenna dashed to Bonny’s side so that for a second, only a mass of pale gold curls could be seen. “What is going on?” she asked.

Laurel opened her mouth and closed it, shaking her head. “Aren’t you going to say hello to your aunts?”

Brenna partially turned around. “But I did! I came to see them first before I did anything!” she protested, and then again asked Bonny to fill her in on what was taking place in the courtyard below.

Bonny shrugged. “Nothing of interest. First they talked about Wyenda, then Hamish, and now it’s boring stuff about training soldiers and something about food.”

Meriel arched her brow. “Wyenda?” she asked, clearly curious why the woman would be a topic of conversation between her father and the McTiernay brothers. Unless . . . “She and Hamish did not marry before he left, did they?” It would be something that Craig might have kept from her, knowing how she felt about Wyenda’s and Hamish’s relationship.

Brenna, overhearing the question, answered for her mother. “Wyenda married sweet Gil. Mama is not happy about it, but Papa got really mad one night and made her promise not to talk anymore on the subject.”

Raelynd’s brow puckered. She had never met Wyenda, but got a detailed description of the shallow woman from her sister. She did, however, know Gilroy. “Wasn’t he the tall, sweet guard who always called you his McTiernay angel?”

Brenna once again nodded and came to stand by Raelynd. “Aye. He saw Mama on top of the Star Tower one night in the snow. She thinks it sweet how he remembers, but Papa does not. Something about her almost dying that night.”

“That’s enough, Brenna. I can speak for myself,” Laurel lightly chided, knowing that reining in her daughter was like trying to harness the wind. “Poor Gil. I guess he thought Wyenda was an angel as well. Though after seeing them after several months of marriage, things might not turn out as I feared they would. Gilroy certainly adores her. He even built her a huge cottage on the far side of the village. And though I find it hard to believe I am saying this . . . they seem happy.”

Meriel narrowed her gaze. “I would love to hear Aileen’s version of this supposed love story.”

Laurel wrinkled her nose in a frustrated grimace. Aileen was her best friend and the wife of Finn, Conor’s commander of the elite guard. “It is too bad she had to remain behind and help Conan while Conor and I are visiting you and our newest nephews. Because I’m sure Finn has not shackled Aileen with annoying restraints on her ability to offer opinions.”

“Oh, I am sorry she could not come. It was grand fun when she came last time. But where is our favorite forthright personality? Isn’t Maegan with you?”

“Hardly,” Brenna scoffed, once again participating in the adult conversation as if she belonged. Sometimes it could be annoying, but Meriel and Raelynd had both learned long ago that they learned far more when she did. “
Nothing
can convince Maegan to leave when there is a chance Clyde is coming home.”

Raelynd stood up and began to walk with Abhain, who was no longer satisfied with the limited rocking movement from a chair. “Crevan’s youngest brother? He is coming home? Meriel and I have never met him, as he did his training in the Lowlands with his brother instead of here. When?”

Laurel raised her hand, palm out. “We do not know he is coming. Do we, Brenna?”

Brenna exhaled and shook her head, understanding she was to say no more. Bonny, however, had missed the cue and added, “I think Maegan is right. Uncle Clyde will come home to see Uncle Conan get married.”

Brenna lit up, believing she had just regained permission to offer her opinion, since Bonny had. “
Everyone
is going to want to see Uncle Conan get married.” Brenna then jumped over a pile of materials and threads. “Bonny, watch this!” she hollered and then made a running leap onto a stretched-out piece of material, sliding across the floor.