Taming the Highlander Read online

  “Tell me, what you were like at, say, six or seven,” he said. “Were you as prim and proper and hard on yourself then?”

  “I lost my mother when I was seven,” she told him. “You might say that was a year of rather large changes for me.”

  “Losing a mother is difficult.”

  “It is.” She stared at the gloved hands in her lap. “I needed to grow up. I needed to take on some rather large responsibilities.”

  “If you mean a father, a younger sister, and a household that needed to function, that’s a great deal of responsibility for any woman. But for young lass who’s mourning her mother . . .” He shook his head.

  “Perhaps I’m too loose with the word responsibility. Maybe it was knowledge. I was told some things, and there were other things I needed to learn in order to carry out a bequest my mother passed on to me.”

  He waited for her to say more, but she stopped. Her gaze never lifted. She tugged at the fingertips of the gloves, pulling them off very slowly, and putting them back on again. Conall sensed that she was withdrawing into her shell. He had to change the topic, distract her.

  “I was a hellion at seven,” he said. “I caused trouble, got in even more of it, and made life miserable for Bryce. He was forever following me around, happy to be part of whatever mischief I arranged.”

  She looked up from under her lashes, a smile starting at the corner of her lip.

  “Only two years older but I was definitely the gang leader.” He picked up another pastry and took a bite. “And I know what you’re about to say—I look old enough to be his father now.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything of the kind. When anyone meets me and Ailein, they never even guess we’re sisters.” She stretched out her legs, leaning back on her hands. “I’m six years older, and I do behave more like a parent than a sister to her. I have for years.”

  Conall remembered the day on the rocks when she warned him never to question her loyalty to Ailein.

  “I am fascinated.” She smiled. “Thinking of you as a child running wild through Castle Girnigoe, with Bryce in your wake. Did you carry a sword?”

  “Aye. When we were lads, they’d only trust us with wooden swords. We were great ones for stabbing each other and anyone who wandered into our path. We were brave and bloody Sinclairs, saving king and country.”

  “No damsels in distress?”

  “Nay! We had dragons and Tudors to kill. We had no time for damsels.”

  “I’m glad.”

  He thought back on those years and how simple their lives were. “Our mother died when we were just lads. That was when Wynda came back to Girnigoe. She was our father’s sister. We raised more hell than ever, then. She looks like a stern one, but we could do no wrong in her eyes. After that, we only needed to mind our father, but he was mostly away at the wars and at court. Whenever he was home and we got into trouble, we knew to keep our distance.”

  “So you two ran wild for your entire youth.”

  “Well, not entirely,” he admitted. “Everything changed, of course, when Shona arrived.”

  She looked up at him in surprise. “Shona came to Girnigoe as a child?”

  He met her gaze. He thought she knew this. “Aye. She was a Sinclair, but from another sept. The daughter of the laird. She was about nine, I think, when she arrived at Girnigoe. She’d just lost her whole family to the sweating sickness. Her father fought in the Borders that summer and came home sick with it. So many died of that foul pestilence that year.”

  “I was only eleven then, but I remember hearing about the deaths,” Innes said. “What happened to the rest of her people?”

  “Their losses so weakened them that they made the decision that my father would combine their lands with his own. The two septs would become one through marriage, and Castle Girnigoe would be the clan seat.”

  “So your family arranged the marriage between Bryce and Shona when they were very young.”

  “Not Bryce and Shona,” he told her. Conall was glad Innes was hearing this information from him. He didn’t want any misunderstandings to drive her away. “Shona was to be my wife. The countess of Caithness. We never had a legal contract, her people all being dead. But it was understood. Then, after the news reached Girnigoe that I’d been killed at Solway Moss, she married Bryce.”

  Chapter 14

  “Ian is dead, dear old fellow. I now have the stone relic that he passed on to me, along with this chronicle of the Wheel of Lugh. Even with the final pains wracking his body, he told me all he knew and told me what I must do. In truth, I did not believe him until now, but I truly have the power that he carried to his deathbed. And I know that I must prepare and one day pass this gift along to another woman, for Ian told me that a man surely would be tempted with such power. Only a woman can carry such a secret in her breast, and I must find the right one . . .”

  From the Chronicle of Lugh

  As soon as she and Conall returned to the castle, Innes went looking for her sister.

  Hearing that Ailein and Wynda were in the chapel oratory, tending to an injured farmer, she hurried across the Inner Ward. At Folais Castle, they used the oratory as an infirmary as well, for anyone needing immediate doctoring. Having the priest nearby was also convenient in case Last Rites had to be administered.

  She came upon the priest Fingal sitting on a stone outside the chapel. The golden rays of the late afternoon sun slanted across the kirkyard, and the long shadows cast by the chapel nearly reached the man. The cleric, a small slightly built man with a pale complexion, sat lost in his thoughts.

  Innes hadn’t spoken to the priest since the formal introductions on the day of the wedding. Anytime she’d seen the man after that, she got the sense that he was watching her, studying her.

  Roused from his reverie by her appearance in the kirkyard, Fingal stood quickly, half turning as he reached for the cross hanging from a chain around his waist. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if he was going to run away or ward her off like some demon.

  She nodded in greeting. “Good day to you, Father.”

  Fingal recovered himself quickly, bowing to her.

  “Lady Innes,” he replied in a deep, gruff voice that did not match his diminutive stature. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  His movements were quick. He reminded her of a ferret as his eyes darted from her face to the bodice of her black dress to her gloves. She thought that his gaze fixed for a moment longer on the pouch at her waist.

  “How did you find our village of Wick?” he asked, his gaze returning to her face.

  It surprised her that he knew they’d gone. “I found it a very pleasant, busy place. If you please, I am looking for—”

  “And Loch Watten?” he continued solicitously. “Did you find that pleasant, as well?”

  Innes’s gaze narrowed. Something in his tone put her on guard. He was being affable and chatty to her, but she sensed that more lurked behind the man’s sudden sociability.

  He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I take the lads I teach out to the loch a few times every summer. The angling is quite good there, if one has the patience and waits for the fish to rise. A very pleasant place indeed.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know I went to Loch Watten?”

  “Lachlan told Cook to prepare some food for the earl, telling her that Conall planned to take you out there. Cook told Wynda. Wynda told me. I confirmed the information with your sister. I made certain to say a prayer this morning for continued good weather, and here we are.”

  “Aye, and here we are.” And she thought the Sinclairs were tight-mouthed folk.

  Just then, Ailein came out of the chapel door, saving Innes from any further discussion with the priest regarding her day with Conall.

  Following her gaze, the priest quickly bowed and went to Ailein, stopping her and whispering loud enough for Innes to hear every word. “Be sure to let me knew the next time those two go out. I’ll pray for more than good weather.”
r />   Innes’s jaw dropped in astonishment. Fingal nodded to them both and then darted toward the chapel. He stopped abruptly by the door, pretending to look at a bird’s nest above the stone cornice.

  “You’re back,” Ailein said, hugging her. “And so soon.”

  “What do you mean, so soon?”

  She wasn’t going to say anything more while Fingal lingered, listening to every word. She led her sister out of the kirkyard.

  “Tell me,” Innes asked as they crossed the courtyard. “Was anyone in this castle unaware that I went out riding with Conall today?”

  “I don’t think the farmer with the broken arm that I just left in the oratory knew. Wait . . . actually, I think he knew, as well.”

  “This behavior is ridiculous. Fingal, the steward, Cook . . . Wynda, for heaven’s sake!”

  “Aye, and as I’m now a Sinclair, I’m expected to join in.”

  “This is not funny.” She frowned at her sister. “This is matchmaking, pure and simple. And these people know me, know my reputation. I’m the beautiful bride’s shrewish old spinster of a sister. Who in your clan would be so foolish as to want that for their beloved earl?”

  “Foolish? The Sinclairs are elated! You’re the first person who’s been able to draw Conall out of his lair in months, except when he disappears with his wolf for weeks at a time.” She looped her arm through Innes’s. “So when is the wedding?”

  “Stop.”

  “And you’ll not wear black to your wedding. I’ll not allow it.”

  “I’m not getting married.”

  “I think you will.”

  “If I ever do, you’re not invited.”

  “That will be very unlikely since the wedding will take place right here at Castle Girnigoe.” She patted Innes’s arm. “Father will be thrilled. And Wynda and I will take care of all the arrangements. You and Conall have to be agreeable, though, and do as you’re told.”

  A month ago, such talk would have set her temper roaring. Now, after all she’d gone through these past weeks and after the kiss she and Conall shared at the loch, her heart ached with the mere possibility of it.

  Innes whispered, “He’s made no mention of marriage.”

  “He will.” Ailein squeezed her arm. “But Bryce says he’ll take his time. He doesn’t want to chance a rejection. And he’s smart enough to know you might do just that.”

  “Just when is it that you and your husband have time to talk about us? Is it when you are in the Great Hall pretending to argue over your bairn’s name or when he’s hiding under your bed?”

  Ailein laughed, a beautiful blush darkening her cheeks. After walking a few steps in silence, she leaned over and kissed Innes on the cheek. “We did start out with our marriage in an uproar. But we mended our fences soon enough.”

  “Then you decided to keep up the ruse to keep me at Girnigoe . . . and match-make.”

  “I had no doubt you knew the truth all along the way.” Ailein smiled. “Thank you for not giving me away. I am so enjoying this. And I think he is, too.”

  “Your happiness is my greatest joy.” This time Innes patted her sister’s arm. “But I am worried about the way everyone here is trying to push us together. You know what stops me, what has always stopped me.”

  Ailein slipped her arm around Innes. “Aye. The relic.”

  Her sister was the only one who understood. She was the one person that Innes could confide in about her fears and about the responsibility she carried.

  “From all I hear from my husband, Conall is a brave man,” said Ailein. “And a proud one. Bryce says he’s become extremely unpredictable since returning from the wars, but that he’s not the beast he wants everyone to see. Perhaps it’s time to take a chance.”

  “It’s not about trust. I know him now. I have no doubt about his honor. And I know he wants me. And he’s no beast.” Innes paused as emotions welled up in her. “But what happens when he knows? He’s not the only one to fear rejection.”

  “You care for him.”

  Innes nodded, fighting sudden tears that threatened to spill over. What she felt was much more than caring.

  She’d loved their day at the loch, him sitting across the blanket telling her about his childhood, his life, his years of service fighting for King James. And of leading his warriors against the English at Solway Moss. There he stopped, a dark cloud closing in around him.

  She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him. She wished she were brave enough to admit that she knew what blackened his spirits. She wanted to let him know that she felt his pain, all of it, and wept for his despair, for his loss. But she’d held back.

  “I love you, sister.” Ailein touched Innes’s chin, forcing her to look up. “Tell him the truth, sooner and not later. If he is going to react unfavorably to the responsibility you bring with you, it should happen before you are in love with him.”

  A single tear escaped and rolled down Innes’s cheek. Her heart ached. She already loved him. And she could do nothing to shed herself of her mother’s gift.

  Ailein wiped the tear away. “We’ll talk more of it tomorrow, when we go for a ride.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Innes. They started walking again.

  “I’ve sent word to Teva, Shona’s old serving woman. We’re going to see her tomorrow.”

  Innes wiped away the rest of her tears. “That reminds me of why I came to find you. I learned something today from Conall about Shona. Shona came here as a child. She was intended to be his wife, not Bryce’s. The clan made the arrangements when they were both children. When Conall was presumed to be dead, Bryce married her to fulfill the obligation.”

  Ailein took her hand, and Innes saw the glimmer of hope in her sister’s mind. She also saw how much she already loved him.

  “We still need to go,” Ailein told her. “I want answers to all of my questions. I want to bury the past for good.”

  Innes wanted to go, too. She was curious to know more about the woman who for years was Conall’s intended bride.

  How everything had changed, she thought, since she’d arrived at Castle Girnigoe. Innes had found fault in her sister for her insecurity over a dead wife. Now Innes herself fought the same feelings.

  Unwanted conjectures edged into her mind. Shona, pregnant with Bryce’s child, died when the younger brother had gone to bring back Conall, the man she should have had. Was she perhaps so torn by her love for him that she would end her life?

  Innes shivered. Like her sister, she needed to know the past so that she could face the future.

  “How do you woo a woman like Innes?”

  Conall shook his head when his brother choked on a mouthful of ale. Bryce had arrived at the West Tower as soon as he was back. Conall figured the younger man expected a hint of an announcement, not a chess game and this question.

  “Woo her? You’re Conall Sinclair. You’re the earl of bloody Caithness. Tell her.”

  “Tell her? By the devil, you are useless. You couldn’t play a decent game of chess if your life depended on it. And you clearly have no understanding of women . . . and Munro women, in particular.”

  “Wait, give me a chance.” Bryce took another sip of his ale, cleared his throat, and put down his cup. “I happen to understand Munro women quite well. I am married to her sister, don’t forget. I can tell you anything you want to know about Innes.”

  “That wasn’t my question. But as to that, Thunder can tell me more about her than you.”

  “That wolf doesn’t talk.” Thunder raised his head from his master’s foot and stared at Bryce. “If you say one word, I’ll have you stuffed.”

  The wolf bared his teeth.

  “Enough, the two of you,” Conall snapped. “Wooing Innes. How? I need ideas.”

  “Are you telling me you’ve never tried to impress a woman?” Bryce asked.

  Conall was far from celibate in his youth. But that was different. “When did I ever need to? My wife was decided for me.”

  Bryce w
as no stranger to the truth. From the time she arrived, Shona was to be mistress of Castle Girnigoe. There was no courting or wooing. He also understood that, from Shona’s perspective, whoever filled the position of husband was of little consequence.

  “Well, how about the suggestions I gave you before. Remember? Singing her praises regardless of what she says.”

  “That seems so insincere now.”

  “You might sneak into her room and lie in wait for her under the bed.”

  “I hear that’s what you do these days.”

  Bryce smiled. “We are married. You are not. If you do it, her reputation will be so compromised, she’ll have to marry you.”

  “That is the worst idea yet.” Conall pointed to the chessboard, reminding his brother that it was his move.

  “I don’t know. I’m starting to think you’re not cut out for courting.”

  “I’m shocked that you could think such a thing.”

  “Forget about wooing,” Bryce rolled on. “Tame her like a hawk.”

  “Like a hawk?” Conall shook his head. “The woman knows birds better than we ever will. She’d pluck out my eyes and skin me like a rabbit.”

  “Then fight with her. Contradict her. Argue with her. She’ll probably take it as a challenge and enjoy your wit.”

  “That would just come across as ill-mannered and possibly abusive. The very thought of it is disturbing.” Conall pointed a threatening finger at him before putting the king in check with his bishop. “My goal is not to have her pack up and leave for Folais Castle.”

  Bryce studied him for a moment before moving his king away from the attack.

  Conall knew what must be running through his brother’s mind. The younger man never imagined he’d see the day. The thin, wounded man that he brought back home last winter was now a man with dreams.

  Bryce rested an elbow on his knee and smiled.

  “No more idiotic suggestions,” Conall ordered.

  “Gifts. Women love gifts,” he suggested.

  “I’ve done that. I gave her a book. She was impressed. But Innes was raised needing nothing. Her affection cannot be bought. Of that, I’m certain.”