Tempting the Highlander (33 page)

Cole and Colin, had followed Conor’s lead and taken the second and third chairs, but it was their mother who had taken the fourth.

After that nothing was said and he and Craig refused to be left out and stole one chair for each of their rooms. Within the first week after being padded, only seven chairs remained in the Hall and his father made it clear that none of them had better come up missing. In the end, each brother had at least one chair in their rooms, with Cole and Conor having two. His mother had somehow managed to get another into her dayroom without anyone noticing and it wasn’t until their father’s death did they discover where the other two had been hiding—his solar.

“Something wrong?” Cyric asked, seeing Crevan’s hesitation.

“No,” Crevan answered, and sat down on the stretched leather. “I just f-f-forgot that these chairs w-were stored here.”

Cyric produced a half smile, half grimace. “I asked my uncle about his padded chairs and he blamed your father for the idea. Said it was too expensive but his vanity required it.”

“Sounds like Rae,” Crevan said, leaning his elbows on his knees. “W-w-we have a problem.”

Cyric drew in a deep breath. “Well, at least you said ‘we.’ That gives me the impression that you don’t have a desire to meet in the courtyard.”

Crevan found himself smiling at the man’s humor. “W-w-we could. But know that I’ve seen you f-fight. I’m better, but I’m tired of letting things and people decide my f-fate.”

The simple honesty behind the comment caused Cyric to laugh and the infectious sound made Crevan join him. The tension that had filled the room moments before had been lifted. But the situation remained unchanged.

“I cannot let you marry Raelynd. She’s mine and I w-w-won’t let you have her.”

The statement could have been construed as a challenge or even as a threat, but Cyric’s instincts said that either interpretation would have been wrong. Crevan had simply intended to communicate where he stood on the subject and was giving Cyric the opportunity to counter. “Do you not believe that a Schellden should be the next laird of the clan?”

“I think Rae Schellden is going to live many years and has no intention of releasing his authority any time soon. W-whoever marries Raelynd w-w-will not have a pulpit to prove themselves on f-for many years.”

The point was valid and one that Cyric had not considered before. It added to the reasons he did not want to be the Schellden chieftain, but unfortunately, it did not negate any of the reasons he still sought the role. “Do you understand why I cannot just walk away?”

“And w-w-what about Row-wena?”

“Rowena?” Cyric scoffed and stood up, grimacing. The abrupt reaction to the question prevented him from disavowing his feelings, but neither did he feel the need to open up and discuss them either. “What about her?”

Crevan assessed the man in front of him. He had assumed Cyric craved the role of chieftain for other reasons than that of preserving his honor. But he could find nothing—not passion, eagerness, not even desire for power or prestige—to substantiate that assumption. “You don’t actually w-w-want to become a laird, do you?”

Cyric’s brows rose a fraction in surprise. His first instinct was to lie and swear that he did, but at the last second he refrained. The blunt question was not intended to insult, but was meant to uncover the truth. A tactic Cyric often applied during negotiations.

Like him, Crevan was also patient, disturbingly insightful, and incredibly candid, all of which made him stand apart from his clansmen. And yet something about Crevan made him unquestionably a Highlander. It was that indefinable quality that Cyric feared he would always be missing. “You are not anything I assumed you to be.”

“And that w-was?”

Cyric sat down and decided to be just as open and honest. “I was told that you avoid conversations, but that’s not true, is it?”

The accurate assessment caught Crevan by surprise, rendering him momentarily speechless. Even his brothers could not see Crevan as he was, only as they believed him to be. “People assume many things about me that are w-w-wrong. In truth, I just prefer to listen bef-fore I speak.”

Understanding flashed in Cyric’s eyes. “I sympathize. People decided long ago what I was and have never expended the effort to see who I really am. And before you ask, I will tell you because strangely, I think you might understand.

“I am a man without a home. I always have been. I’m a Highlander. I look like one and in the Lowlands I am told that I act like one, but as you are aware, in just the few minutes we have spoken, I am not a Highlander. At least not in the traditional sense. The only place I have ever felt comfortable was at court. There clansmen come from all over Scotland and because I belong in no one particular world I can relate to them all, without letting emotional ties sway my opinion.”

“So w-w-why don’t you go to court? Be an advisor? Too f-few have that ability and King Robert needs such men, especially w-w-with his plans for England.”

The question was legitimate and Cyric was keenly aware of Crevan’s scrutiny. “I want to prove to my father that I am a Schellden worthy of his respect,” he spoke truthfully.

Crevan got up and went to the small window. It was dirty. The chambermaids had obviously not cleaned the room in a while. Then again, company had not been expected.

When he had walked into the room, he had no idea how to resolve the situation of Cyric marrying Raelynd without entering into physical combat. Crevan certainly had not expected to end up liking Cyric. Who would have thought he had more in common with this Lowlander, this supposed enemy, than he did with most of his own brothers?

Crevan had never bonded and developed lifelong friendships like his brothers had. His unique relationship with Craig was due to their being twins more than personality driven. Essentially, Crevan had always felt alone, mostly because people never saw him for who he was. It had not occurred to him that Cyric could be facing a similar problem. And if he was, then Crevan already knew the solution. The problem lay in that it was not a solution one could just tell someone. It had to be identified by the person themself.

“Do you know w-why I didn’t say something last night and w-w-waited until today?”

Cyric shook his head and waited for the answer.

“Because it w-w-wasn’t until today that I realized I have been a f-fool. For w-weeks, hell, f-for years, I let my brothers and other people dictate the direction of my life. To f-f-fight their misconceptions about me w-would have taken enormous effort and honestly, I didn’t think it mattered. But I realized this morning that letting others decide my f-fate w-w-was about to cost me everything.”

“And you tell me this because you think there are similarities in our situations?” Cyric asked, his voice defensive as he rose to his feet once again. “My father did not ask me to become a laird.”

Crevan turned and looked the man directly in the eye. They were nearly the same height and of similar build. Physically, neither could intimidate the other. “And yet, he is still the reason you seek the title. Or did I misunderstand? Explain to me again w-w-why you are not marrying the w-w-woman you love. Isn’t it so you can assume a lifelong responsibility you don’t want in hopes of pleasing someone w-w-who isn’t even here?”

White knuckles appeared on Cyric’s tightening right hand and Crevan didn’t even duck as the fist smashed into his jaw. Insults like the one he had just issued were not ones men walked away from unhurt. But Crevan did not have time for Cyric to come to the same realization he had come to only that morning. Brutal honesty was painful, but it was fast.

Crevan propped himself up on his elbow and stared up for what he was about to say would only cause him to be knocked back down again. “That might make you f-feel better and I don’t deny that it was justified, but you and I both know it doesn’t change the truth.”

“Which is?”

“I w-want to be a laird. The next Schellden laird. I w-w-want to marry Raelynd and spend the rest of my life ensuring the Schellden clan continues f-for many generations. But not a single person thinks I can because of how I speak.”

Cyric reached down and clasped Crevan’s arm, helping him up. Anger still lurked in the golden depths, but Crevan could see that the man was at least considering what he had to say.

“And how are you going to prove to everyone they are wrong?” Cyric asked.

“By simply doing the job. It w-w-won’t happen the day Raelynd and I marry, but in time, people w-will realize the truth. That I can be a good chieftain and a respected ally, even if I do not speak as w-w-well or as smoothly as everyo-o-one else.”

“I’m supposed to believe it is that easy, am I?” Cyric scoffed. “Becoming an advisor to the king is far more complicated, not to mention highly unlikely.”

“Convincing Rae that I—the last person he considered—should be the next Schellden laird is not going to be easy. May not even be possible. But only if I don’t try, w-w-will I have f-f-failed.”

Cyric’s mouth formed a firm, unyielding line. “We have another problem.”

“Row-wena,” Crevan exhaled.

A muscle on Cyric’s jaw flicked. “Aye. I guess I’m pretty pathetic and easy to read.”

Crevan rubbed his aching jaw, recalling her constant chatter about Cyric and how he didn’t deserve someone to love him. “No, she is. W-w-what I don’t understand is w-why you don’t want to marry her.”

“I did. I do. She made it clear, however, I was not to ask her.”

Crevan chuckled, clearly incredulous. “W-well, after spending a day riding w-w-with her, I’m pretty sure she has changed her mind.”

“So what are you suggesting?

“I’m thinking you are about to be right by my side getting married, my f-f-friend.”

Cyric grinned. He couldn’t believe it. An hour ago he was in a state of deep misery over his fate. Now he was practically eager to live his life. “I believe your priest was expecting to marry two couples today, was he not? It would be a shame to disappoint him.”

Before Crevan could respond a loud thump came from the other side of the door. Grabbing the handle, he yanked the door open and two boys fell into a room for the second time that day.

“W-what . . . Braeden . . . Gideon?”

Braeden jumped to his feet and, true to his personality, he pretended he did nothing wrong. “Mama told us to come see you.”

Crevan looked at the two boys with skepticism. Neither of them flinched. Gideon wrinkled his nose as he examined a bloody scrape on his elbow. With a shrug, he dropped his arm and said, “I don’t think those girls are going to agree to marry either of you.”

Crevan pursed his lips to stifle a grin. “You don’t?”

Gideon had known all the McTiernays since he was born. His father was the commander of the elite guard, his mother often spent time with Lady McTiernay, and Braeden was his best friend. That he shouldn’t speak so bluntly to a member of a very powerful family did not even occur to him.

Braeden bobbed his head, backing his friend’s assessment. “That’s what we were supposed to tell you. They are really mad at you right now. I think they might stay in that tower forever.”

Crevan leaned down as if he was going to divulge a secret. “Do you w-w-want to know o-one of the best things about being a man?” Seeing both heads nod vigorously, he answered, “W-we get to be strong enough to carry the w-w-women w-we love to w-where they need to be.”

Cyric laughed in agreement and clapped Crevan on the back. “That’s right. Maybe we should show them what we mean.”

Braeden grimaced as he watched his uncle and the other man walk out of the room and head for the tower stairwell. “Being strong
never
works for Papa,” he whispered to his friend, recalling the one time he had seen his father carry his mother into the Great Hall.

Gideon sighed. “Uh-huh. I don’t think your uncle understands how mean girls can get when you try that kind of stuff. Remember when I dropped Brenna in the laundry barrel?” Braeden faked a huge shudder. His sister could not pick them up, but she could put dirt in their food, hide thistle thorns in their clothes, and dump fire ash on them when they weren’t expecting. “I guess they never had sisters.”

Epilogue

Cyric whirled Rowena around, entranced by her laughter. The Great Hall was filled with McTiernay soldiers and clansmen congratulating Crevan on his marriage. Hardly a soul knew Cyric and only a few more recognized Rowena—a fact that could not make Cyric happier. Crevan and Raelynd were at the center of attention and from what Cyric could see, they had little opportunity to enjoy their new status of husband and wife.

“Thank you, my love,” he whispered in Rowena’s ear.

“For what?”

“For agreeing to marry me. I’m not sure I could have handled knowing you might decide to disavow me in a year.”

Rowena playfully punched his arm. “If you had asked me to handfast with you, you would not have had to wait a year. I would have disavowed you this afternoon!”

“You tried. It didn’t work,” Cyric reminded her.

“Well, you burst into the room and threw me over your shoulder. How was I supposed to react? Grateful?”

“Aye, my love. Otherwise I couldn’t do this right now.” Cyric captured her mouth in a deep kiss that left them both breathless.

“You know who should really be grateful—Raelynd and Crevan. If it wasn’t for us, I doubt they would be married right now.”

Cyric rested his forehead against hers and smiled. “Aye. You are right. Raelynd was most stubborn until we helped Father Lanaghly convince her otherwise.”

Rowena pulled back and with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, said, “Well, maybe later tonight I can show you just how grateful I am that you did burst into that room.”

Cyric swallowed and decided he could stand no more. He grabbed her hand and no one saw them again until late the next morning.

“I told you it would work,” Rae said, his voice full of self-satisfaction.

“I must admit, you were correct . . . this time,” Conor agreed grudgingly.

“I was right about your wife too. A month under her guidance and both my daughters have turned into women their mother would be proud of. I don’t know how to thank her and you for letting them stay here. I know at times it had to be trying.”

“You don’t need to,” Conor countered, offering a mug of ale to his friend. “What you did for Crevan is more than enough repayment. Not many would recognize the leadership qualities in Crevan with his brother around. You did.”

Rae took the mug and watched the young man across the room. He was beaming and each time his eyes connected with Raelynd’s his smile only grew. The days would not always be as blissful as they were now, but what the two of them had would form a foundation that would get them through anything.

“Craig is a natural commander of soldiers. In that arena he is self-assured and an incredible asset to any clan. But I knew from the first time I met Crevan that he could be a great leader and that his greatest challenge in becoming one was himself. Until he realized what he wanted and believed in himself enough to fight for it, he would continue to capitulate to how others saw him.”

“Lucky for you, Raelynd was what he wanted.”

Rae swirled the ale in the mug and smiled. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Braeden arched his back and puffed out his chest the way he saw his father do when he wanted to look more powerful. “You both should thank me,” he said seriously.

Gideon and Brenna looked at each other and then at him. “And why should we thank you?” Brenna asked.

“Because if it wasn’t for me, Crevan wouldn’t have gotten married and there wouldn’t be a party. It was my idea to listen at the doors. If it wasn’t for that, we wouldn’t know about them being mad and giving Crevan the idea to carry Raelynd to the chapel. I’m trying to think of the ways you could show your appreciation.”

Brenna’s jaw dropped open, but Gideon was the first to protest. “If
anyone
should show appreciation, it is you and your sister to
me,
” he stated emphatically.

“And how is that?” Braeden challenged.

“You only listened at the door.
I
was the one who got Father Lanaghly to come to the room and convince Raelynd to marry your uncle. I told him that she was mad and that carrying a girl was a bad idea. And I was right. If I hadn’t gotten the priest,
no one
would have gotten married today. And I know exactly how you can show me your appreciation. You can do my chores.”

Brenna stomped her foot. She absolutely refused to do anyone’s chores. Besides, Braeden and Gideon should be thanking
her
. “Neither one of you did
anything
. If it wasn’t for me, Raelynd and Rowena would still not know who they loved! I was the one who told them. Until then, they were going to marry the wrong person. Everyone knows that love is more important than anything else.”

Gideon started to make gagging noises. “You just proved, Brenna, that you know
nothing
about boys. We don’t care about love.”

“Then what
do
you care about?”

Braeden shrugged his shoulders and looked at her as if the answer were obvious. “Fighting. And now that Crevan is going to be laird of the Schellden clan, he can fight whoever he wants.”

Brenna narrowed her gray eyes and pressed her lips together in anger. “You are
impossible
!”

Gideon watched her stomp off. “I guess it is something girls just don’t understand about us until they get older.”

Aileen licked her lips, unable to hide her grin. “If only Hagatha were here and not playing midwife,” she said.

“Aye,” Laurel agreed. “She should be enjoying this victory as well. It was her idea.”

Aileen tilted her head in a nod and watched the couple across the room. “If it wasn’t for us, I doubt they would have ever gotten together. It was under our guidance that Meriel and Raelynd truly blossomed into beautiful women.”

Laurel popped an almond in her mouth. “In truth, my friend, Hagatha may have had the idea, I might have laid out the plan, but it was you who executed it brilliantly.”

“Don’t forget Fallon. He was the one who guided Meriel,” Aileen pointed out.

Laurel waved her hand dismissively. “Fallon simply did the job he always did. He did not have to sit and watch as Raelynd slowly learned from her mistakes. I would have gone mad.”

“My contribution was less than a week. You had to guide her the rest of the month.”

“You are right.
We
truly pulled off a miracle,” Laurel conceded. “If only Hagatha were here to enjoy our success,” she sighed again.

“Do you think anyone appreciates us, Fallon?” Fiona posed.

The steward frowned. “Most days I would say no. I doubt anyone truly understands the effort you and I put in daily to see this castle runs as well as it does. But that happy couple over there? They are the exception. I have no doubt that Crevan and Raelynd recognize that it was our activities and support that enabled their union.”

“I hope so,” Fiona muttered. “I hope they know all the times I made that food just suddenly appear when they needed it, sent it to their rooms and helped Meriel not poison everyone with her meal selections. People forget how important food is to a situation, and not just any food. The right food. That takes time and preparation.”

Fallon nodded in agreement. The old cook was by far the most cranky soul who worked at the castle, but he understood why. It was the same reason he was often classified as having a sour attitude. Taking care of everyone and anticipating their needs was extremely taxing.

Added to that, the responsibility of guiding and helping not just Meriel, but Raelynd was very difficult. One had to choose the lessons very carefully, knowing that Meriel would discuss them with her sister. It was through those chats that Raelynd and Meriel had grown as women, and now Raelynd possessed the skills to be a great lady.

The facts were inarguable. Without him and Fiona, Raelynd would not have turned into the woman with whom Crevan fell in love. This family once again was in his debt.

“Look at your father,” Crevan instructed Raelynd when they got a moment alone.

Raelynd smiled. “He looks happy. I think he is glad I finally agreed to marry.”

“Aye,” Crevan said under his breath, “but he doesn’t look surprised.”

Raelynd took another look at her father. “What do you mean?”

“Simply, that he is strangely at ease with all that has happened. I have seen your father surprised before and trust me, that is
not
the expression he wears.”

Raelynd grimaced, finally understanding what her husband was hinting at but finding it hard to believe. “Maybe he just has had enough time to get used to the idea or maybe he is just pretending so as not to alarm anyone into thinking he is unhappy with our union.”

Crevan gave his wife a squeeze and said no more, letting her believe that her arguments explained her father’s behavior. But he was far from convinced.

The man learned that Raelynd was not to join with Cyric, his nephew, but a fourth son of a neighboring clan. He agreed too quickly to Crevan being named as the Schellden heir, and the fact that they had not handfasted but married had not fazed Rae in the slightest.

Crevan had never met a better strategist when it came to human interactions than Rae Schellden. A month ago, when Rae first persuaded them into the ruse, Crevan had been suspicious of his motives.

“You really think my father orchestrated this whole thing?” Raelynd teased.

Crevan frowned and nodded with a taut jerk of his head. “I do.”

“But my father coupled you with Meriel and me with Craig,” she reminded him. “Do you really believe he planned for us to switch partners and then for you and I to fall in love knowing how much we didn’t care for each other? And what about Cyric and Rowena? Were they part of his grand scheme too?”

“Maybe you’re right,” he conceded. “That much planning would be too much even for a McTiernay. Besides, your father had no control over what happened while you were here. And that is when everything changed.”

Raelynd rested her cheek on Crevan’s chest so that he couldn’t see her face. But while she didn’t think it possible for anyone, including her father, to arrange all that happened that led to today’s vows, she was not at all sure that none of it was planned.

From the very beginning Laurel had seemed to be aware of the true nature of their relationship. And she was behind much of what had happened to her and her sister. Crevan was wrong.

Raelynd lifted her head up and smiled. Plans to orchestrate events to lead up to their wedding might have been impossible for the male side of the McTiernay clan, but thank the good Lord, McTiernay women were more than capable of achieving such a mission.

“Look at them,” Craig said, with mock disgust.

Meriel laughed and elbowed his side. “You are just jealous. You wish you could be that happy.”

“I
am
that happy,” Craig argued. “And it is precisely because I am
not
married.”

“I thought all you men were eager to find wives who adored you and were willing to do anything you asked.”

A deep chuckle bubbled in his chest. “Ahh, how mistaken you are. Besides, I am not sure that description fits your sister.”

“She adores Crevan.”

“And can you see her doing anything he asked?”

Meriel bit her bottom lip and flashes of her experiences with Raelynd ran through her mind. She loved her sister, and while Raelynd was much more appreciative and understanding, she was still the stubborn, opinionated person she always had been. And Crevan, he was never going to be the life of the party. He was steady and solid, but she could not see him matching Raelynd’s excitement for life. “No,” she finally answered. “I almost feel sorry for them now that I think of it.”

Craig nodded and gave her a quick, platonic hug. “I’m glad we are just friends. We have everything they do without all the complications.”

“I agree,” Meriel said, leaning against his hard frame. Marriage meant change and compromise. Neither of which she could see herself desiring.

“Promise me we will never fall in love.”

Meriel sighed and her mouth curved into an unconscious smile. “Don’t worry. I am quite certain we are both smart enough to avoid that fate.”