The Highlanders Bride, page 17
“Aye, but you are, Laurel. Or at least you will be once Father Lanaghly arrives.” He smiled, trying to make her feel more at ease. However, Laurel’s thoughts were now focused on what he knew of her grandfather and whether she had placed the MacInnes clan in greater jeopardy.
“Father Lanaghly cannot change the facts,” she said, walking over to the window to gaze out into the night’s sky. It was clear and cold. Soon winter’s snows would be upon them.
Conor watched Laurel as she struggled with some internal battle. “Oh, but he can and will, love. And not a moment too soon.”
She whirled around. “But how? I mean, what does a priest have to do with anything?”
His gaze was warm and possessive. “Much, if we are to be married.”
“Married!” she exclaimed. “But I cannot marry you! I must leave. I cannot stay. I cannot,” she cried out in desperation.
Reacting to the plea in her voice, he advanced and demanded, “Why, Laurel? Why not? Why can’t you marry me?” He sensed her reason was related to the missing piece of her story. She was afraid of something, someone. He deeply wanted to be the one she ran to for protection. It was painful watching her mentally retreat—to know that she would turn elsewhere for assistance.
“Is there someone else? Is that it?” She could hear the fear in his voice and had to end his pain. She reached out to grab his arms.
“No, no! Conor, how could you think that? There will never be anyone but you—like that.” She was panicking now. She framed his face in her hands. “But please, don’t ask me to marry you. I thought you didn’t want marriage, commitment, or anyone who tied you down.” Her blue-green eyes held his silver ones, urging him to understand and accept.
He pulled her hands down and began to unconsciously massage her fingers. “Laurel, love, I do not know what has you so upset, but I do know this. I will never let anyone hurt you.” His words brought momentary relief, and then just as quickly, the hope in her eyes died a quick death.
“If it were just me, Conor, I would trust you completely. But it is not just me, and I cannot let you unintentionally hurt someone I love.”
His brow furrowed. His hands clenched hers tightly. “Who would be hurt, Laurel? Another man?”
“I told you. There is no one else nor will there ever be.”
Her words were like a salve to his long-beaten soul. Knowing she was his made all the problems of the world seem surmountable. “Is it your brother?”
“No, not him.” Laurel turned again and stood near the hearth, trying to soak up the heat. She began to rub her arms for warmth. Conor was going to get to the truth, she realized. One way or another he would find out. Maybe if she would just explain it all to him, he would understand that she had no choice but to leave in the spring and disappear forever. She would change her name, her hair, and anything else that would enable any Douglass to find her.
Conor came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle, embracing her so that her back and arms were completely enfolded. He kissed the top of her hair. “Tell me, Laurel. Let me help you. I cannot protect you and whoever you are keeping secret if I do not know. You can trust me.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled, realizing that the time had come to trust another, and if she could not trust Conor to help her, then who? Slowly, she began telling him the missing piece from that night of horror. “When Keith Douglass abducted me, I was not on English soil. I was going to visit my grandfather, who lives in Scotland’s border country.”
So his bride was a Scot. His heart soared. “Tell me about him.”
“He was my mother’s father. When she was young, she ran away to marry my father who was an English baron. He had been previously married and had a son—my half brother, Ainsley. It is sad to say, but I don’t think my father loved Ainsley’s mother, at least not like he loved mine.”
Laurel took another deep breath, swallowed, and then continued. “Anyway, although my father and mother were very much in love, my grandfather would not accept her choice of husband. After several years, my mother finally had me and with the birth of his first grandchild, the rift between her and my grandfather was mended. But my father could never forget those first years. He refused to enter Scotland because of Grandfather’s early rejection of him. However, he did allow Mother and me to visit Grandfather several times during the year.”
“This is how you learned Gaelic so well,” Conor said, still holding her, wanting to physically protect her from her memories.
“Yes, my grandfather was a large man, or at least he seemed like one to a child. But I loved him very much. He was so different from my father. He was warm and affectionate. He would swing me around and tell me all kinds of stories. He and I had a special bond. My mother often told me that I took after him. Supposedly, I have his eyes and his color of hair.” She paused and turned in Conor’s arms to look at him, hoping that he would understand.
“It has been many years since I have seen my grandfather. When my mother died, my father refused to let me travel into Scotland or let Scottish soldiers escort me.” She saw the quick flash of resentment in Conor’s eyes. “Now, don’t look that way. My father did love me, but he had always been a hard man, and he only became harder when my mother died. I think I was a disappointment to him. Between my temper and my looks, he never could forget where I came from.
“So it wasn’t until my brother became the baron that I finally saw my chance to return to my home, my Scottish home. My brother, Ainsley, hated the idea of paying a dowry to have someone marry me. His betrothed wanted me gone and out of his keep. So I finally persuaded Ainsley to let me leave for Scotland by promising that I would never return, no matter what the circumstances.”
Laurel shuddered slightly at the memory and stepped out of Conor’s embrace. He tried to urge her to sit down or let her hold him, but she shook her head, determined to tell this part of her story without support. She gazed into the fire and continued. “We were only a few days into Scotland when Keith Douglass captured me and brought me to his father’s keep. Keith was mean and physically cruel, but he was nothing compared to his father. When Laird Douglass offered me to his son, he also spoke of having me himself.”
Laurel suddenly felt as if she was transported back in time and place. She could see his dark eyes, small, dull, deep-set, glinting like beetles. The vision of his long tangled black hair framing his pointed face distorted by hate was burned into her mind. She began shivering and rubbed her arms instinctively. Conor was glad her back was to him so that she could not see the fury growing in his eyes.
“I guess Laird Douglass could see my contempt, or perhaps it was rebellion, so he thought to threaten me. Somehow he knew me and knew my grandfather. He swore that if I fought back, didn’t obey him, he would attack my mother’s people…he would kill them. Kill them all.”
Silence fell between them for several minutes. Laurel stood like a ghost trying to recover from her fear and the memories. Conor walked over to the window, using the physical motion to regain control over his rage.
“Tell me who they are, and I will protect them.”
She turned and looked at him now. His knuckles were white with the pressure he was exerting onto the window ledge.
“I cannot. I cannot tell you. Please do not ask me. I’m so sorry. But do you understand now? Do you understand why I cannot marry you? Why I have to leave? By spring Douglass will have gathered his men and be ready to make good on his word.”
He spun around, staring at her incredulously.
“What are you planning to do? What are you planning in spring?”
“I was going to leave and never come back. Change my name, my look, cut my hair. Something so Douglass wouldn’t recognize me. And then, I was going to find a way to warn my grandfather about Douglass and his treachery.”
Her tears began to spill over and he resisted no longer. Very carefully, fully aware of his tightly leashed anger and his fierce desire to avenge her, he pulled her into his arms.
“I will never let you cut your hair, love,” he said gently as he tucked a loose gold strand behind her ear. “Go on. Where would you live? What would you do for coin?”
“I don’t know. France, perhaps? I thought maybe I could be a lady’s maid or something…I really don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far. This winter, I should be fine. No one travels much, how could they? So as long as I disappear by spring before word travels that I am in the highlands, things should be fine. Douglass would never attack you if I were not here. I cannot stay. No matter how much I love you, I cannot marry you.” Her tone was low and mournful.
She just told him that she loved him. There was absolutely no possibility of her leaving and not marrying him now. She was his, both in mind and in spirit. Now he just needed her to lean on that love a little and trust him to deal with all of her concerns.
He lifted her chin and framed her face. “I understand what you have told me. But now you understand something. We are getting married and soon. You trusted me to bring you to safety. Trust me to come up with a way to keep your family safe. Who is your grandfather?”
“Please, Conor, don’t ask me that. Please. I don’t want to put you or anyone else in danger.”
Did she really think so little of him and his ability to keep her safe? He sighed, and decided he would not press the issue.
He was fairly sure he knew who her grandfather was now anyway. He should have realized it as soon as he had seen her in the woods. The hair was a clue, but the eyes—only one clan in Scotland had those eyes. He would send word of her safety and her whereabouts after they were married. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t know how the news would be received until spring. Laurel was right; it was difficult to travel great distances during the winter months.
And if he was right about her grandfather’s identity, Laird Douglass’s threat was as empty as his honor. It was only a means to terrify and control someone he wanted to possess. It was a great mistake on Douglass’s part, and one that either he or Laird MacInnes would soon rectify.
“Love?” he held her close. “Marry me. Trust me to solve your problems by spring. If spring comes and the only way to keep your family safe is for you to leave, then you may go. But give us until then. Will you trust me, trust us, enough to do this?” She would never leave him, regardless of what happened in the spring, but he was willing to do anything to buy him the time to convince her.
Laurel wanted so much to believe he could save her grandfather. She also knew that, after tonight, staying away from Conor would be impossible.
“Yes, Conor McTiernay. I will marry you. Even if it only lasts until spring. You are the only man I will ever want, and my heart will always be yours regardless of what happens.”
“That is the way it should be. And you, my love, will always be mine. You always have been, and you always will be.” And our marriage will last a hell of a lot longer than spring, he thought, as he finally succumbed and kissed her.
It was a long kiss full of endless need and love. They explored each other’s mouths lingering over each and every taste. She mimicked his movements and tried to deepen the kiss. He forced himself to pull away. He drew her into his arms and kissed her forehead, brushing his lips softly against her skin.
“We should wait until we are married, Laurel. You don’t want to stand in front of the priest not a maiden.”
She began nuzzling his neck while running her fingers through his hair. He trembled under her tender, compelling kisses.
“I don’t think that matters anymore, do you? Or did you forget the great hall…” she said, urging his head towards hers so she could nibble his ear. “You taste so good,” she said, drawing out the last word.
Conor was on the verge of laying her down and making the intense passionate love to her that he had been fantasizing about since they had first met. And now here she was, making playful, romantic, and undeniably sexual overtures. Even the most tutored of sirens could not have been more intoxicating. With incredible determination he gathered from every fiber of his being, he forced Laurel to halt her advances.
“No, sweet. You are still virtuous, but will not remain that way long if you continue.” He had to leave soon. Her passion-filled eyes would quickly cause him to disregard all of his good intentions.
“But I thought we…I mean what we did…you did…Didn’t that…?” She could not utter a complete coherent thought.
“No, love. What we shared in the hall was just an appetizer for future delights we will find together. The night we marry, you will become mine—body, mind and soul.”
She shivered at his words. She could not imagine anything more wondrous than what he had done earlier. He leaned over and lightly brushed his mouth against hers and went to her chamber door.
“Laurel. Starting tomorrow you are to wear the McTiernay plaid.” And then he left, leaving her with her thoughts.
“I’m to be Lady McTiernay,” she murmured aloud. She began twirling around the room. “I’m going to be Conor’s wife. He wants to marry me!”
And then she threw herself on the bed. For the next several hours, she stared at the ceiling wondering what being married to Laird McTiernay would be like. When Brighid found her the next morning, she was still sleeping in her gown, lying twisted in the coverlet with a smile on her face.
Chapter Nine
Laurel woke up as Brighid tiptoed into the room carrying a dark bundle. “Brighid? Is that you?” she asked in a sleepy voice.
“Aye, milady,” Brighid whispered, feeling awkward that she had disturbed the next Lady McTiernay. But rumors had been flying around the castle all morning, and Brighid was eager to know if they were true. “The laird gave this to me for you to wear today.”
Laurel quickly jumped out of bed and ran to look at the beautiful plaid cloth Brighid had brought in. “Could you wait and help me with it?” Laurel requested excitedly.
Not being able to refrain from doing so, Laurel hummed as she washed and dressed herself in the McTiernay plaid. She was glad that only the men wore the thick version of the woolen cloth. Highland women wore an arisaid made of a much finer and longer material that reached down to the ground.
“I believe this particular plaid was his mother’s,” Brighid confided, helping Laurel to fasten it to her bliaut so that the cloth hung properly. The dark plaid of greens and blues was a stark contrast to Laurel’s fair features.
“Ah, Brighid, I am sure that I will never learn how to do this. You have somehow turned this bulky ensemble into something feminine and very comfortable.” Brighid had pleated the plaid and then fixed it to Laurel’s waist, wrapping the spare material around her shoulders before attaching it in the front with a pin. Laurel noticed that an extra swag of material was left to form a hood, which could be pulled up in bad weather.
“Brighid, where did you get the pin?” It was a beautiful brooch made of gold and silver that reminded her of the buttons on Conor’s saffron shirts.
“That was also Lady McTiernay’s. Normally, fancy plaid brooches as the one you’re wearing are passed down from mother to daughter.”
“But there were no McTiernay daughters,” Laurel said softly as she lightly fingered the heirloom.
“Aye. That is why Lady McTiernay bestowed it to Conor, making him vow to give it to the next Lady McTiernay. Since the laird specifically told me it was for you, and you’re wearing the family heirloom, is it true, then? Are you to be the next Lady McTiernay?”
Laurel’s sigh was laced with happiness. Never had she imagined that she would be so delighted at the prospect of marriage, especially to such a large, rugged highlander.
“Yes. Yes, I am. As soon as Father Lanaghly arrives to perform the ceremony.”
“I expect you’ll be wanting to finish the chapel now.” Fallon had made great strides improving the keep, but there was much more to be done. The chapel benches were rotten and needed to be replaced. The seats and the altar coverings had to be remade, and, with so many stained glass parts, the windows would require many hours of labor before they were clean again.
“Umm, yes. Do you know where Fallon and Glynis are now?”
“In the chapel, milady. Word has spread of your upcoming nuptials, and the two of them immediately went there to discuss its restoration.”
Laurel frowned. She agreed that the chapel required work, but there were more essential things that needed to be done before the first strong storms of winter struck. “Please come with me. I need to stop and see them for a moment before we visit the cottages.”
“The cottages?” Brighid was baffled. Her lady’s first thoughts were not of her upcoming wedding but of the clan’s cottages.
“Yes, there are several not ready for the winter. I noticed when I was walking the castle walls the other day that many roofs are in desperate need of repair.” Laurel turned and went down the tower stairs.
She found Fallon and Glynis in the chapel exactly as Brighid had said. What Brighid had failed to mention was the tenor of their discussion.
“The windows must be cleaned first,” maintained Fallon. “Not nearly enough light is coming in—especially for a sunset wedding. If we are going to have an afternoon ceremony, we must begin with the windows.”
“Of course it will be a sunset wedding,” affirmed the housekeeper. Everyone knew that all McTiernay weddings were done at sunset. The morning was dedicated to the bride and to the groom, and their individual preparations. After the wedding, there was a great feast and celebration that would continue for hours into the night, long after the happy couple had departed for their chambers. “And I agree the windows must be clean,” she conceded. “But you cannot put everyone on that single effort! Lady Laurel specifically wanted the chairs and the coverings to be replaced and repaired. I will need most of the women to complete that task in time.”
“Most of the women!” hollered Fallon. It was at that exclamation Laurel interceded. Smiling, she approached them.
