Seducing the Highlander (6 page)

Meriel grimaced and rolled her eyes with intentional exaggeration. “You always like someone.”

“Ah, but I don’t always
love
someone,” he quickly rejoined. He inhaled deeply and kicked a rock, watching it splash and then sink into the loch. “And I think I may actually be falling in love with her.”

Meriel could see Hamish was serious and wondered who he could mean. When she realized he had not named his
someone
, her hazel eyes widened in alarm. She had not intended to flirt with Hamish or lead him to the wrong conclusion.

Seeing her reaction, Hamish leaned down and whispered, “Not you,” with a chuckle. “Her name is Wyenda.”

Meriel let go the breath she had been holding. She did not care if she had almost made a fool out of herself. “Good,” was all that she could say.

Hamish crossed his arms and continued looking down. His foot played with another large pebble before kicking it into the water. His expression had stilled and grown serious, as if he were contemplating revealing a secret. “It is true that I like women. I enjoy their company,” he said, allowing himself a brief sideways glance to see if Meriel was paying attention. Seeing that she was listening earnestly, he continued. “I have found lately that chasing women, or my ‘overtures’ as I have heard some people call them, is not as much fun as it used to be.”

Meriel’s eyebrows rose a fraction. She understood his meaning exactly, but not the reason behind such a change of heart. “I’m not sure I understand. Do you no longer seek women’s company because you have fallen in love? Or was it the monotony of the chase that compelled you to fall in love?” she asked, hoping his answer gave her some insight into her own feelings.

Hamish furrowed his brow and scratched his chin, clearly puzzled by the question. Humor, spirit, and now intellect. Meriel Schellden was not at all what he had believed her to be. And her question was a good one. “Is love inspired by one’s own life or by the other person?” He paused and answered her seriously. “Why not both? Does it matter how I fell in love?”

Meriel studied Hamish for several seconds, smiled, and gave him the answer he wanted. “Not really.” It really did not matter how or why Hamish loved Wyenda, but she suspected how and why someone fell in love did matter a great deal to the longevity of the relationship. But since she was far from an authority on the subject, she stayed quiet. “Does this Wyenda . . . does she also love you?”

Hamish’s jaw suddenly tensed, betraying deep frustration. “I cannot tell. She seems to, most of the time, but then without warning, she will push me away, telling me that my feelings are not real. I fear my reputation is somewhat getting in the way.”

Not liking to hear the sad sound in his normally jovial voice, Meriel reached up and gave his forearm an encouraging squeeze. “You can catch her, Hamish. Who could resist ‘this face’ and ‘this body’?” she said, teasing him with his own words.

Hamish flashed her a grin, but his eyes were still solemn. “It’s not so easy. Have you ever tried to catch Craig?”

She flinched and retreated a step. “Craig? No. Never. And I am very sure he never tried to catch me,” she answered rapidly. “We really are just friends.”

Hamish cocked his head and said with a shrug, “More than likely it is why you are
only
friends. He is certainly protective of you. I doubt he would have tolerated me coming along and helping you with Merry if I had not told him about Wyenda.”

“If Craig is protective of me, it’s because he sees me as a friend . . . a true friend. You see, when his brother married my sister, we both lost the one person to whom we confided everything. We kind of united out of necessity.”

“And now you love him,” Hamish challenged.

Meriel licked her lips and narrowed her gaze, keeping it firmly on the loch’s lapping waters. “Craig and I both agree that we do not want anything to jeopardize our friendship.”

“Fine, so you both love each other.”

Her lips thinned with growing irritation. Meriel clasped her hands together and clarified, “That is not what I said.”

Hamish produced a casual shrug. “You didn’t have to. Neither did he.”

Meriel ignored Hamish’s implication. “The problem is that I became so used to Craig being around, giving me his opinion, just being there . . . that I forgot how to define myself without him,” she said in an attempt to explain her position.

“And when you love someone, how is that a bad thing?” Seeing that Meriel was about to argue without giving his question due thought, Hamish put his hand up. “My question was a serious one. If two people love each other and are committed to one another, then why do they need to see themselves as individuals? Shouldn’t you
want
to define yourself as someone’s partner?”

Meriel closed her mouth and glanced back at the water. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. “Aye, that is the way it should be, but only if both people share the same sentiments. Craig does not.”

Hamish chuckled. “You are completely wrong there. Craig most definitely shares the same sentiment. He just doesn’t call it love.”

Meriel straightened her shoulders and transferred any sorrow she was feeling to aggravation. “Aye. He calls it
friendship
.” Turning to look Hamish directly in the eye, Meriel asked with deceptive calm, “If a person can fall in love so easily, shouldn’t they be able to fall out of love just as easily?”

“I cannot say,” he murmured in a concerned tone.

Fear for his friend enveloped him. Was
that
the reason why Meriel had come to visit the McTiernays? To get over Craig? Then again, if falling out of love was anything like falling in love, Meriel was going to be around for a long time.

“Well, I hope so,” she said, sighing. “It would be nice to know that one day I could fall in love again with someone else.”

“I have no doubt that you will have many chances in the future,” Hamish returned with reluctant honesty, wondering if Craig realized just what he was about to lose.

 

 

Three days later, Meriel welcomed her first visitor. When she opened the door to her bedchamber, a pale blond head covered with ringlets immediately dashed inside. Laurel’s eldest daughter looked like a young version of her mother, with one exception. Instead of blue-green eyes, hers were gray like her father’s and their intensity changed with her mood. And today they held an impish sparkle in their silver depths.

Brenna flopped stomach-first on the bed. At eight years old, she considered herself no longer a little girl and believed she was on the cusp of adulthood. She lacked only the height and the figure, but intellectually she thought herself a match for most adults, and certainly all boys. But since she could not enjoy the benefits of being fully grown, she could not fathom why her mother insisted that she follow rules of decorum made for adults. Letting her dress fall to her knees as her ankles swung back and forth in the air, she was glad Meriel did not care about such silly rules.

Looking behind her, Brenna smiled and waved for the wafer-thin figure to come into the room. With a small bosom and thick, umber-colored hair plaited in a long single braid, the young woman who hesitated in the doorway initially appeared somewhat plain and younger than her years until one caught her eyes. Pale blue and deep set, they reflected a power of conscious thought. When her gaze was direct and unhidden, it could unnerve one.

Maegan had been north visiting friends during the drama of Meriel’s first visit, but it took less than a few minutes with the young woman for Meriel to realize that the rumors of Maegan’s outspoken personality and fierce loyalty were, if anything, understated.

At seventeen, Maegan had many opinions, but lacked the experience that would allow her to see life in something other than absolutes. In many ways, Maegan reminded Meriel of herself and Raelynd not very long ago, and therefore she understood the young woman’s candid comments and intentions better than many who had known her for years. But Maegan differed in one significant way.

Unlike Meriel, who in her youth had forsworn marriage and decided only to dally in innocent flirtations, Maegan believed herself to have found her one and only true love—Clyde, the youngest of the McTiernays—when she was twelve. Never having desired to learn how to flirt, charm, or be a coquette, Maegan was herself at all times, completely honest and often giving voice to things most would leave unsaid.

“Oh!” Maegan recoiled as her eyes scanned the room. She had met Meriel when she and Hamish had come through the gate; Maegan had been determined to see who would be coming to stay at the castle. As a child, Maegan had often escaped while her grandmother napped to follow the youngest of Craig’s brothers Clyde everywhere. When Clyde left to the Lowlands for training, she had been thankful when Lady McTiernay offered her something positive on which to refocus her energy. After spending so much of her time helping Lady McTiernay with her children, she considered the McTiernays to be extended family and was quite protective of them. But after meeting Meriel and finding her to be both clever and unusually nice, she suspected Brenna’s memory of the striking woman to be somewhat exaggerated. But, if anything, Brenna had played down Meriel’s lack of orderliness.

Things were scattered everywhere, just as foretold. In less than three days, Meriel’s sleeping quarters looked as if a female version of Craig had lived there for over a month. Anywhere else, Maegan might have found it less annoying, but Meriel was using
Clyde’s
room . . . and worse,
she
had suggested it!

Upon hearing the idea, Meriel had been thrilled. The idea of staying in Craig’s room again had not been a palatable one. Clyde’s bedchamber, however, was located directly above Craig’s and therefore had the same window layout that let in large amounts of sunlight.

Although Maegan was glad Meriel was enthusiastic over her proposal, the recommendation was based on a personal need. Maegan had planned to help clean the room with the goal of perusing Clyde’s personal things and, if possible, taking a keepsake. Unfortunately, the area was full of odds and ends and very dusty from years of disuse. It required so many people to get it ready that if anything of interest
had
been in the room, Maegan would have had no chance of even seeing it, let alone sneaking it out.

Taking another step inside Clyde’s/Meriel’s room, Maegan’s foot hit a large, heavy traveling bag and nearly stumbled. “Brenna, I apologize. You were not exaggerating. I just could not imagine . . .”

“That anyone could be so messy?” Meriel finished for her with a smile, indicating that she was not at all offended. Having heard it all before, she was very comfortable with her chaotic style of organization.

Maegan nodded her head as she stepped over the bag and then another. Wrinkling her nose, she said in disbelief, “You still haven’t unpacked all your stuff?”

Brenna’s eyes popped open with excitement, remembering the last time she had been able to help Meriel unpack. “You haven’t? Can I help?”

Meriel nodded, grabbing a pillow off the bed. She placed it on the window bench and sat down, leaning back against the stone wall as she looked down at the busy courtyard below. All concerns about her being bored or missing home, which would have compelled her to expedite her return, were gone. She had not realized how many McTiernay clansmen and -women she had met and had come to know during her previous stay. What was even more surprising was that they remembered her with no ill feelings.

Fallon was still fearsome and intimidating despite his not being nearly as tall as those around him. His red hair was lighter and there was a little more gray in his beard, but he was still the same gruff and churlish steward who had chided her continuously about her lack of domestic skills. And true to form, as soon as he saw her, he gave her his standard lecture about the courtyard and its dangers. Meriel kept quiet, nodded at appropriate times, and was just promising herself to stay out of his sight when he pulled her brusquely into his arms and gave her a quick, firm squeeze. A second later she was swaying on her feet trying to maintain her balance as the burly steward turned and marched away, howling at someone for not doing something they should have, or vice versa.

Her encounter with the even crustier Fiona had been even more bewildering. The cook was known to be one of the finest in the Highlands. She was also infamous for being the most difficult. Meriel had made sure the old woman was nowhere in sight when she sneaked through the kitchens to access the scullery and the gardens. There she found the scullery maid, Myrna, one of the few who had been truly friendly and helpful during her miserable attempts to learn what it entailed to be lady of the castle.

After helping Myrna in the garden for a couple of hours and catching up on the castle gossip, Meriel forgot to be as careful on her return and bumped into the surly cook, who had been standing inside the doorway. But instead of yelling, Fiona had merely huffed and told her that she had better grab some meat, lest she become even more clumsy due to lack of food. Meriel was so shocked she nearly fell down. Fiona
never
gave her food to
anyone
. The memory of her snapping at Laird McTiernay for daring to disrupt her kitchens was something Meriel would never forget.

Then there was Laurel’s best friend, Aileen, and Father Lanaghly and the other castle staff. All of whom were welcoming, cheerful, and genuinely glad to see her again. Meriel went to sleep her first night feeling quite ashamed of herself. When she thought back to her time spent at McTiernay Castle, what had come to mind was the hardship and the frustrations. She had learned several lessons in that short time, but what she had failed to realize was that she had also met many wonderful people who truly liked her, despite the mistakes she had made.

Thump, thump. Thump. Thump, thump, thump.
Meriel glanced back at the bed where Brenna sat pulling shoes from one of the bags. She was tossing them against the wall so they fell next to the others. Meriel had brought too many, but she did not care. It was better than going barefoot.