Tempting the Highlander (30 page)

Conor and Laurel had only left the previous day to return and it was only fortune shining favorably down on Rae that made him send Callum out just in case the two brothers decided to make an impromptu visit. The young soldier did well in diverting attentions and reported that the two groups of McTiernays were unaware of the other as they passed each other in the night.

Rae waited until Craig and Crevan were within just a few steps before he said, “I assume you are here because of gossip about my nephew, Cyric.”

“W-w-we are,” Crevan answered impassively.

“I was going to send word today that circumstances have changed.”

Craig crossed his arms. “How so?”

Schellden leaned back and sipped the golden liquid in his mug contentedly. “I assume you first went to the training fields.”

“Aye.”

“Then you saw my nephew helping with some of the training,” Rae stated, gesturing to the bench and table in front of him.

Crevan narrowed his eyes and took the seat Rae pointed toward. “Quite impressive.”

“Aye,” Rae agreed, and waved his hand, getting the attention of Rowena, who he suspected was there less to help with preparing the Hall for the next meal and more to eavesdrop. He smothered a grin and signaled her to get two mugs and some ale, before continuing. “He is. Surprised me enormously. I don’t think my brother is aware of even half of his son’s talents. But then we fathers often find it difficult to see our children as they are.”

Craig swung his leg over the bench and sat down. “We could not hear him, but from the little we saw your nephew did not appear to be incompetent.”

“W-with w-weapons or as a leader,” Crevan added, deciding to not avoid the topic, but plainly put it out there to be discussed.

Rae exhaled and then put his drink on the table so that he could lean on his elbows. “You are right. He is competent or will be with a little more guidance. So as soon as you both release your claim, I will support Cyric when he chooses one of my daughters for a bride. The king is right. One of them must get married to secure this clan’s future.”

“Is that f-for the best?” Crevan posed. “F-for your daughters or your people?”

“You know that I desired my daughters to marry someone who understands the responsibilities of running a large Highland clan and someone whom my neighbors would trust and could maintain established alliances with. But you also are aware of their refusal to do so. No more. They will marry and from what I have seen, my nephew is good enough to be a husband to one of them,” Rae answered. “Besides, you both made it clear that if Cyric was found capable, he and my daughters would be my problem.”

Crevan issued him a measured, cool and apprising look. “Who leads this clan af-f-fects all those around.”

Rae studied the younger man appreciatively, but said nothing.

Craig reached up and grasped the liquid fortification Rowena was offering. He took several swallows. “What if someone else married or even handfasted with Raelynd or Meriel? Would you still name your nephew as the next Schellden laird?”

Rae leaned back and studied the table as if he were in deep thought. “Depending on whom, of course—no, probably not. My nephew is not familiar with our ways. He is often uncomfortable with Highland weather and mountainous lands, though I think he would grow comfortable with time. He is slowly gathering respect, but without being in a position of absolute authority through marriage to one of my daughters, I fear he may still be viewed as a Lowlander and not be accepted by all of the clan.”

Hearing that answer, Crevan immediately rose to his feet. “I suggest you prepare to leave f-for McTiernay Castle f-for your daughters w-will be married in two days. I’m sure Raelynd w-w-will w-want you there.”

Rowena snuck out the back of the Great Hall and into the corridor that led to the buttery and kitchens. Moving quickly, she ignored the looks of servants and dashed into the courtyard. Stopping, she looked around, trying to decide where she could find Cyric at this time of day.

Since their last encounter, she had not seen him, not even in passing. At first, she had been relieved for she was not sure her heart could withstand another encounter. Her mind, though, was constantly drifting back to him, wondering what he was doing or wishing she could tell him about something that happened, knowing he would find it just as amusing. She missed his smile, his easy manners, and his laughter. But mostly she yearned to have him near. Cyric was the only man who ever engaged her in conversation of value and solicited her viewpoint. He teased her and appreciated her own sense of humor.

But then he had teased her on the one topic with which she could not cope. He had not actually said the word “love,” but in that instant, Rowena realized she feared him doing so.

Cyric had not been hers to love.

She had vowed to keep Raelynd and Meriel’s secret about their fictitious engagement. In doing so, she had doomed her own future.

At first, Cyric had been new, different, and even humorous. Then he had begun to fill up places in her heart that she had not even known were empty. Raelynd and Meriel had not wanted love and marriage, but deep down, she had. It had not occurred to her that she was, in fact, lonely until Cyric had arrived and they had grown to be friends. And then he had kissed her. He was everything a woman might want in a man and more than she dared hope to ever find.

As days went by Cyric’s abilities to be a leader became more evident to everyone—not just her. But she knew the truth. Raelynd and Meriel would be returning unmarried and Cyric would be asked to select one of them to be his wife. And he would. More than that, Rowena knew that he should. For his sake and for the clan’s.

So she had reminded herself that he was a tremendously attractive man who had been fawned over by women all his life. He was accustomed to flirtation and no doubt had kissed many, many women. She was just one more and to assume she meant anything else was foolish.

It had almost worked.

Somehow she had found the strength to lock away her desires and carry on with their friendship platonically. Talking, teasing, even flirting she could handle. But declarations of love? Even almost ones?

He had kissed her with a low, inviting passion that took her breath away. She had seen the steady glow of happiness in his eyes when he looked at her. And her heart had crumbled knowing that in a few months, maybe even weeks, he would be gazing at Raelynd that way on their wedding night.

But all that had changed. Raelynd and Meriel
were
getting married to the McTiernays! Cyric was free! He was free to marry her and she him. It mattered not if he wanted to stay, or return to the Lowlands or even work for the king. She loved him and he needed to know that.

Seeing one of the chambermaids leave the tower that held Cyric’s bedchamber, Rowena raced across the bailey and confronted the young woman. “Is Cyric, the laird’s nephew, in his chambers?”

The girl’s delicate pale features accentuated her thin lips and high cheekbones, giving her a grim countenance. “He came and he left.”

Rowena stepped back into the girl’s path as she tried to step around her. “When?”

Medium blue eyes flashed with impatience and she shifted the linens she was carrying to her other hip. “I cannot remember, and no, I don’t know where he was going.” The chambermaid started once again to proceed toward her destination when she suddenly stopped and turned back around. “I did hear him mumble something about needing to get clean.”

Rowena inhaled deeply and bit her bottom lip as she exhaled. There were not many places to bathe around the castle, especially this time of day. The kitchen servants would be busy getting food prepared and the chambermaid would have known if he had called for a bath. That left the river. Its mouth was at the Beauty Firth so its waters were cold. A few weeks ago she doubted if Cyric could have tolerated anything less than room temperature, but the man had found his Highland roots.

After convincing the stable master to let her borrow a horse for a short while, she rode out without telling anyone where she was going. The river twisted and turned and thick trees lined both sides of its banks. It was not unheard of to bathe in the river—in fact it was quite common—but there was no single place along the river to which people gravitated. Rowena slowly made her way along the shoreline, hoping that she had not chosen the wrong direction. She was about to give up when she finally saw him. He was standing with his back to her, fastening his belt to secure his plaid. His hair was wet and his leine clung to his damp shoulders.

Distracted by the evidence of his muscular frame, Rowena was not prepared for him to grab his sword and whip around. “I give you one warning. Disarm yourself and dismount.”

Rowena’s brown eyes widened. Cyric had moved so fast and there was nothing welcoming about his stance. “I . . . I . . . am unarmed,” she finally managed to get out.

“Rowena?” he asked, his golden eyes narrowed with disbelief.

“Aye, it is me,” she exhaled, able to breathe again.

Cyric moved to her side and helped her down. “What are you doing here?”

“I came looking for you.”

“I know that, but why?”

Rowena opened her mouth and closed it several times and rubbed her hands together nervously. “Craig and Crevan McTiernay were here.”

“The McTiernays? The ones who are marrying my cousins? Why?”

“They heard about you and came to find out for themselves if the rumors to your skills were true.”

“How do you know this?” Cyric asked as he crossed his arms.

Rowena felt herself shrink a little in shame. “I was in the room helping serve drinks.”

Cyric closed his eyes and chuckled, knowing Rowena only performed the role of a servant if there was a personal reason. “So my uncle allowed you to eavesdrop,” he surmised. “And just what did he tell them?”

“That you were skilled but he would support you as laird of this clan if you were married to Raelynd or Meriel, which cannot happen because they are to be handfasted in two days,” she said, unable to hide the sheer joy of those words.

Cyric was taken aback by her jubilant demeanor. “I had surmised so much already. I was going to talk to my uncle about returning home before the week was out.”

“So soon?” Rowena gasped. “But I thought, well, I thought you would want to stay in the Highlands for a little while longer before you went to see King Robert.”

Cyric was mystified. Since their kiss, he had kept his distance and she had done nothing to seek him out, confirming that she desired his absence. “The possibility of getting such a position with the king is remote even if I had my father’s support, which is something I doubt I will ever have. I plan on returning to Ayrshire. As for staying at Caireoch, I have only one reason to stay longer.”

Rowena felt her heart begin to race. This time when he told her of his feelings she would not run away. This time, she would throw herself into his arms and kiss him so that he would never doubt the depth of her love for him. “And that reason is?”

Cyric leaned over and picked up his dirk and knife, sliding one into his belt and the other between his calf and the coiled leather straps of his shoe. “Well, it is as you just said. My uncle believes in me and more importantly, I now believe in myself. I think I would be a good laird and unlike these McTiernays, I am a Schellden.”

Rowena could feel the blood drain out of her face. “What are you saying?”

“Simply that the laird is my uncle, he has no sons and I should be the next Schellden chieftain.” Cyric shook his head and water droplets went everywhere. As soon as he stopped, he realized her face was splattered with tiny dots of moisture. Instinctively he reached out to brush her cheeks with his thumb. “Sorry.”

Both reacted to his touch and sprang apart. “I’m not hurt,” she murmured, and then realizing the insanity of the remark, quickly added, “It’s fine. I mean I’m fine.”

Cyric ran his hand through his wet hair, wishing he could make her disappear. She had been plaguing his thoughts and he refused to let her know how much her rejection had hurt him. “What do you think, Rowena?” he asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone of voice. “Should I confront the brothers who usurped both of my potential brides? Would they fight or do you think they might relinquish their claim? I mean you said handfasting, not marriage. Doesn’t sound like they are fully committed and all I need is one brother to change his mind. Then I will be free to marry as the king originally wished and rightfully claim to be the Schellden heir.”

He glanced at her prepared for her to laugh and return his banter, but her usually warm brown eyes held only an emptiness, and it was leveled at him. “I thought you did not want to be a clan chieftain.”

“Aren’t you always saying that I should not let others so easily dictate my life and my future? I would have thought you’d be the first to support the idea,” he teased, hoping to revive the sparkle in her eyes she had had upon her arrival.

A flash of wild grief ripped through Rowena and it transformed into anger. Her fury at Cyric was genuine, but she was equally furious with herself. Humiliated at knowing how transparent she had made her feelings, riding up to see him, exultant over seeing him. Whatever she thought she had seen and felt from him—desire, longing, passion—she had been wrong. He felt none of those things.

Her spine went rigid as injured pride took over. “Your future is not of my making. I have no opinion.”

She went to grab the reins to her horse, but missed. He stepped in and gathered them for her, placing them in her hands. He could not tell if Rowena was truly upset or not. Her conduct said yes, but he could not fathom why. She knew that he had no real interest in marrying his cousins or running a clan.

“I know I control my own destiny,” he gritted out as he helped her onto her horse.

Rowena savored the feeling of his hands upon her waist as he placed her effortlessly on top of the large animal. Then they were gone and the pain of knowing she would never again feel his touch was overwhelming. He sent her a silly lopsided grin. She knew the smile was his way of trying to cheer her up and it was too much. Hurt and anger lashed out, looking for his company.