To Wed A Highlander Read online

  Conor moved to stretch out on the feather mattress as he felt himself harden. Just looking at her gave him intense pleasure.

  Laurel moved slowly to the edge of the bed. Conor watched her chemise fall to her waist and then to the floor. She threw her hair back over her shoulder, revealing the soft, vulnerable curve of her neck. God help him, she was driving him to distraction.

  Laurel slipped underneath the covers and moved to his side. “Conor, it will be very hard leaving the twins. I don’t think we should be gone for more than a few weeks. Four at the most.”

  Conor pulled back from the soul-searing kiss he was about to plant on her lips. “You are not going, Laurel.”

  Reaching up, she stroked her fingers lightly through his dark hair. Then turned to fluff the pillow and snuggle closer to him. “I’m too tired to pack this evening. Glynis can help me get ready in the morning. Oh, and I will need some time to discuss the twins with Brighid. I think I can probably be ready after the noon meal,” she finished, reaching up to place small kisses along his chin and lips.

  “Laurel…” Conor began, pulling her shoulder so that she faced him once again.

  Undaunted, Laurel asked, “Is it possible for Finn to stay behind? Since you will be with me, I would like him as well as your brothers to remain here with the twins until we return.”

  “I told you—”

  Laurel put a finger against his lips. “And I was thinking, if there is time, I would like to stop by your favorite spot—remember the one you showed me near Stirling Castle?”

  Conor did remember. He remembered everything about the trip where he rescued and fell in love with her on his journey home. Part of which included a quick stop at one of his favorite respites. They had not made love there, but he had mentally vowed never to miss the opportunity ever again.

  All he could do was nod as the mental vision of her naked on the private cliff danced in his mind.

  Laurel beamed him a mischievous smile. “And I thought this time, we can do more than just look at the view….”

  Conor swore to convince her to stay home in the morning as he rolled her beneath him and began to press hot kisses down the column of her neck. Reaching her ear, he described in erotic detail what he intended to do to her. Laurel moaned and moved closer, and Conor knew that at last the conversation was over and his original plans for the evening had begun.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Conor waited patiently for Laurel to join him. Riding on the gray stallion he had acquired for her two years ago, she approached him still smiling the same grin he had put on her face the day before.

  They had stopped at the vista he had found as a guardsman many years ago. One could sit forever and stare at the sky caressing the earth and sea. Two days ago, they had enjoyed it in sensual and fulfilling ways that made Conor contemplate turning their unexpected trip into an annual occurrence.

  “Is that Lochlen?” Laurel asked, arriving at Conor’s side.

  They were on a small crest, but it provided a good view of the castle, its walls, and the gently sloping land stretching around it.

  “Aye,” Conor replied. “We’ve been on Colin’s land for over two hours.”

  Laurel nodded, glad they were close. The small group had moved slowly, and Conor was showing no signs of being in a hurry to see his brother. Laurel, however, was more than ready to arrive at their destination. She didn’t mind sleeping outside for a day or two, but after a week, she was ready to enjoy a bath and a real bed.

  Seamus, one of Conor’s elite guards, guided his horse next to Conor’s and pointed. “Someone approaches. And they ride hard.”

  Conor recognized Colin along with two dozen men. Dunlop must also have seen his laird and ridden out to greet him. Signaling for Laurel to follow, Conor moved to meet his brother at an unhurried pace. He could see both the joy and relief in Colin’s expression when he saw Laurel.

  “Conor! Laurel! You came! I am both surprised and comforted. I gave Dunlop orders to be persistent, but I must admit I was prepared for your refusal.”

  Conor pinched his brows together and beamed an icy look at his brother. “I did not agree. In fact, I am completely against the idea. And as soon as you and I are alone, you will learn exactly how displeased I am that you would even ask Laurel to put herself in danger.”

  Laurel nudged her mount forward, interrupting Conor’s glare. “Lord, Conor, the way you are talking right now your brother would never believe me if I told him that only yesterday you were thinking we should come and visit every year.”

  Conor opened and then closed his mouth, shifting his heated gaze from Colin to Laurel. She shrugged, completely unconcerned.

  Colin watched the interchange, appreciating the chemistry and friendship Conor and Laurel shared. Last summer, he had traveled to see the first of the next generation of McTiernays. He had not been around such affectionate banter since their parents had been alive and he found his brother’s lighthearted and often passionate exchanges with his wife very uncomfortable. He had not admitted it at the time, but he had been desirous of what they shared. Deep inside he knew that only relationships built with honesty, passion, and trust could endure. Friendship and admiration were not enough.

  Laurel ignored Conor’s open rudeness and addressed Colin. “I am so pleased you invited me. It has been some time since I have been in the Borders. Magnificent country.”

  Colin gave one of his rare smiles to his sister-in-law. “I, too, am grateful and glad that you have come. I forgot for a moment that Laird MacInnes is your grandfather.”

  “Indeed. He’s a Highlander destined to live in the Lowlands. Though I know many men, including present company,” she said waving her thumb toward Conor, “who cannot imagine living out their days so far south, I know my grandfather is happiest here. And I can see the same applies to you.”

  Colin quickly assessed Laurel. She possessed many of the same outward features as his dead wife, and though no one could deny her beauty, he was no longer lured to women with pale features. A wild redhead with bewitching green eyes held much more appeal. “Will you be visiting your grandfather before your return?” Colin inquired.

  Before Laurel could answer, Conor found his voice. “No. MacInnes lands lie too far to the west to visit. Laurel does not want to be away from Brenna and Braeden for that long a period.”

  Laurel narrowed her eyes. Conor was right, her grandfather lived near the River Nith by the Lowther Hills, a significant journey from here, but he didn’t need to be so abrupt. She was about to say so when Conor asked, “Is that not what you told me yesterday, love?”

  Conor did nothing to hide his glee at seeing her flounder in a manner similar to what she had just minutes ago caused him.

  Knowing exactly what Conor was doing, Laurel replied in her most prim and proper voice, “If you do not think we should visit my grandfather while so close to his home, that is, of course, your decision, Conor.” She paused and cleared her throat. “Just as it will be your responsibility to explain it to him when he learns of our whereabouts,” she added, changing to a singsong manner in both voice and behavior.

  Dunlop, who had been watching the interchange beside his laird’s side, elbowed Colin and cackled, “Can you see what I have been through, Laird? They are worse than you and Makenna ever dreamed of being!”

  Laurel tried to look offended, but failed.

  Colin just produced a sideways grin.

  Conor faked a grimace and pointed at Dunlop. “You might want to counsel your commander, brother, lest you find yourself suddenly shorthanded.”

  Colin ignored the warning. “And just where is your faithful and ever-perfect commander?”

  “Exactly where I told Finn to be. Overseeing the safety of the twins.”

  Laurel knew the polite conversation would continue until she left. “Before you ask, Colin, they are fine. Both spirited, growing, and mischievous. If you want to know more, I will gab on about them profusely during the evening meal. Meanwhile, I would love to ride ahead and meet Makenna before you and Conor begin to discuss things I have little interest in.”

  Colin nodded and moved his horse out of her way. “Dunlop, remain with us. Tavis, escort Lady McTiernay to the castle.”

  Laurel waited patiently as Conor selected four additional men to ride with her toward the stone structure.

  Conor watched Laurel leave until he was positive she was out of earshot before speaking.

  “Aireamh na h-Aoine ort, Colin!” Conor growled, suppressing the true rage coursing through him.

  Colin moved his head back as if he were avoiding a physical strike. “Pòg mo thòin, you didn’t have to bring her. Dunlop is stubborn, but you could have said no.”

  “Don’t even think about telling me you didn’t know what would happen. You knew Laurel and how she would react, and you wagered she would figure it out and conceive of a way to come.”

  “You still could have said no,” Colin countered, understanding exactly why Conor was so angry. If it had been Makenna, his reaction would have been the same.

  Conor stared at his brother, gripping his reins firmly. “Then you were lucky, Colin, that much of your plan depended upon Laurel. You have no idea how persistent she is.”

  “There will be activity, Conor, but Makenna and Laurel will be well protected and away from Lochlen when it arrives. On this, I give you my word. I would not risk either of our wives.”

  Conor looked his brother directly in the eye. Colin met his gaze, and Conor knew that his brother spoke the truth. Conor gestured toward the group of men riding with Colin, wearing McTiernay colors. “And the twenty men?”

  Colin shrugged. “I could not just assume it was you. On the chance you were someone else, I thought I would bring a small reminder of who I am and ju
st who my family is.”

  Conor grinned and raised his sword high into the air. “Aye. It is good to be a McTiernay.” Conor lowered his sword and looked back. “I thought that might be your intention. So I brought just a few more of us so that there would be no confusion.”

  Colin watched as a hundred or more men came into view over the ridge. Conor might say it was for his brother’s benefit, but Colin knew otherwise. He slapped Conor on the back. “Aye, trust that I understand, and I do not condemn you, brother. If positions were reversed, I, too, would have brought an army.”

  Conor sighed. He could deny his real reason for bringing so many men, but it would be pointless. “Laurel remains unaware that I brought any other men than the few she saw.”

  Colin grunted. “That must have been difficult.”

  “Aye, more than you know. At home, she reluctantly agrees to a single escort. If she knew how many men I actually have ensuring her safety, I would never hear the end.”

  Colin nodded in understanding. “I, too, have the joy of a willful and infuriatingly independent wife. Only recently did Makenna agree to stop evading her escorts when she leaves the town walls.”

  “Creative, is she?” Conor asked, grinning out the side of his mouth.

  Colin snorted. “You have no idea. I waver between wanting to throttle the woman and applauding her ingenuity.”

  “Prepare yourself. It is a never-ending battle in which you are engaged.”

  Colin’s mouth tightened and then he shook his head realizing Conor was telling him of his future. A future he wanted very badly. “Who else knows of the force you bring?”

  “If you mean the spies we spotted about an hour north of your boundary, they are aware only of the handful I wanted them to see.”

  “Excellent. Your main guards can stay at Lochlen or join my men in the training fields. The rest can stay behind the Lammermuir Hills. Come, the path is well hidden. Passersby avoid the area believing it to be impassable. This will do until MacCuaig makes his move.”

  Conor lifted his brows appreciatively and followed Colin as he headed toward the moderately tall and deceptive hills. It was a rare asset to have a natural place in which to hide and train men. “So you have a plan?”

  “Of course I have a plan,” Colin said with a confident grin. “I may have moved south, but I am still a McTiernay. Dunlop, send your best men to our allies and then ride to Donovan’s and tell Drake to come home.”

  Laurel passed through the last of the stone gate barriers remembering the first time she entered the McTiernay Castle. This experience was significantly different. Instead of friendly and welcoming, the Dunstans were cautious and removed. It was obvious they did not like or want outsiders, especially those that came from the north.

  As the last of her escorts crossed the final portcullis, Tavis swung off his horse and ordered someone to inform Lady Makenna her husband’s family had arrived.

  Laurel remained seated on Borrail absently stroking his gray mane as she looked about. The inner ward of the castle was odd-shaped, made of four long walls, each unique in length. There was no standard tower keep; instead three great towers appeared to serve as living quarters for the laird, his family, and guests. Thick walls connected the gatehouse to the massive corner towers. From the tower on the left, the curtain wall traveled only a short distance before ending in what looked to be a sizeable chapel. The long wall on the right angled toward a tower somewhat higher than the rest. Between it and the chapel tower were two battle towers that served as hubs, bowing the extended wall to match the small river behind it.

  Between the battle towers was a sizeable building Laurel guessed to be the great hall. Farther down was a smaller but similarly shaped structure that could only be the lower hall. Sandwiched between the two buildings were the kitchens and the bailey.

  But none of these were as fascinating as the round mammoth to her right. Although only three stories tall, the large black tower rivaled the others.

  “Tavis,” Laurel prompted, getting the attention of Colin’s guard. “That tower. It is most unusual.”

  “We call it tòrr-dubh.”

  “The Black Tower,” Laurel whispered. “Most fitting, and most curiously different. I have never seen or even heard of a tower made of such a dark stone.”

  “Aye, I doubt you ever will again. For the past three hundred years, different lairds have expanded Lochlen for various purposes. The laird who commissioned that structure ordered its rocks to be retrieved from the mountains of Skye.”

  “The Cuillin Mountains!” Laurel exclaimed. The Black Cuillin Mountains were nestled in the Highlands off the Isle of Skye. She had never seen the hard dark hills that straddled the isle, but she had heard of them and how the hill’s black jagged and twisting rocks touched the heavens.

  “Aye, you heard correctly. Laird Ranald was one of the first to build onto Lochlen. His intentions were to create a keep using the hard rock of Skye, believing it would make his castle impenetrable to enemies.”

  “How did he ever get the stones all the way down here?” Laurel asked, taking in the black structure with new appreciation.

  “By ship. For several years, as soon as winter passed, he would send ships north to bring the rock through the Sea of Hebrides and up the River Clyde where his men would then carry or oftentimes drag it here by land. Only after they began constructing the tower did the laird discover that while the rock was indeed hard, it was near impossible to cut and shape. Stories are that the laird’s wisdom caused him to order the inner walls and other towers be built out of local limestone, but pride made him finish the tower’s exterior out of the wicked rock.”

  “It is unique and quite powerful on the eye. Is that the laird’s tower?”

  “Alas, no. Laird Ranald lived just barely long enough to see it finished. Until that time he kept his solar in the Canmore Tower,” Tavis answered, pointing at the immense tower on her right, “which still holds the laird’s sleeping chambers.”

  Laurel was just about to ask another question, when she spied a woman with deep red hair escaping its braid walking rapidly toward them from the far tower situated higher than the rest. Laurel dismounted and moved to meet Makenna halfway.

  Makenna watched the beautiful woman coming toward her. Graceful, tall, and slender, Laurel was everything Makenna feared. The woman exuded a regal elegance that only complemented her beauty. A beauty startlingly similar to her dead sister’s.

  Makenna had no doubt Colin would be reminded of Deirdre each time he looked at Laurel. Blond and blue-eyed, her sister-in-law reeked of femininity just as Deirdre had.

  “Remain calm and for God’s sake smile,” Makenna ordered herself as Laurel approached opening her arms wide. Makenna stepped into them and felt a genuine embrace. Instinct caused her to give one in return.

  “My apologies for not greeting you properly. I had not been told that you had arrived or that Colin had left to meet you,” Makenna said apprehensively, wondering what Laurel must think of her and her abilities to be lady of a castle.

  “Nonsense. I just arrived and the few minutes I was waiting let me view your home. I must say I am awed. I can never just walk across my courtyard without fear of running into someone or getting stabbed.”

  “Stabbed?” Makenna asked, horrified.

  “Exactly my sentiments,” Laurel answered, hoping to ease the fear and unease she saw in Makenna’s vivid green eyes. It was obvious Dunlop had spoken correctly. The young woman had a lot of pride in her keep, but also a lot of self-doubt. Laurel hooked her arm in Makenna’s and prompted them toward the great hall, continuing with her explanation. “Conor refuses to conduct all of his training with his men outside the castle walls. We finally agreed that most of his men would train elsewhere, but he still insists on ‘not wasting the space’ and allows contests to take place where ‘everyone can enjoy them.’ Now, I enjoy a good spar as well as the next woman—”

  “You do?” Makenna interrupted.

  “Of course, but not every day, and certainly not in a place that makes it difficult for people to do their work.” Laurel waited as Makenna ascended the steps to the great hall and opened the doors.