The Highlander's Bride (29 page)

“Laurel is mine! Mine by law and by God. She has sworn and given herself to me.”

“Not by choice she didn’t! She was abducted on her way to MacInnes lands.”

“And it was I, not you, who saw her to safety.”

“Safety! You dare to mention her protection! I have heard from many a man that she swore to renounce you and come to my clan by spring.”

“Over my dead body will she be leaving McTiernay land. Not in the spring, not ever. And if war is what you want, so be it. My men have sworn to protect her. They consider her their own and will lay down their lives before she is forced to leave against her will.”

“But is it her will to stay? Why is it that I cannot address her myself?”

Finally, Finn brought Laurel close enough, and he put her down. However, both chieftains were so engrossed in their clash of wills, neither noticed her appearance.

Laurel squared her shoulders.

“He’s right, grandfather. I have no intention of leaving McTiernay lands,” she said without compromise, craning her head to look at the two men she loved the most. “But, Conor, I would love to hear the answer to what my grandfather asked. Why did you hide me away rather than give me the chance to meet with my family?” she demanded, looking directly at her husband, her eyes blazing.

Both men were shocked into absolute silence at her appearance. Conor couldn’t believe that his very pregnant wife had done the unthinkable. She had plainly disobeyed him and his orders. Then, she proceeded to walk into the most dangerous ten feet of Scotland.

The only thing that did penetrate his stunned mind was her furious glare. That was fine by him. He was mad as hell, too.

“Well?” she demanded, refraining from crossing her arms and tapping her foot so as not to appear too shrewish.

Conor’s eyes narrowed. “If your grandfather was just interested in talking with you, you would have been speaking with him already,” he replied directly and without inflection, redirecting some of his anger towards her.

“But he just said…”

“He would have abducted you and brought you to his keep before he took the time to talk. He would not have taken the chance that you might want to stay. He believes you feel obligated or guilty.”

“But that is ridiculous. I’m pregnant! I could not have made that journey…” She turned to her grandfather. “You would not have made me…” But, the look on her grandfather’s face convinced her that Conor spoke the truth.

At first, Laird MacInnes drank in the sight of his only grandchild. She had grown from a freckled, skinny towhead to a beautiful, stunning woman. A very pregnant woman who was standing out on a battlefield. That was all the evidence he needed that his godson, who had sworn off marriage for all time, was not the one to oversee her protection.

“This is all the proof I need, Conor,” he said, pointing to Laurel without looking in her direction, maintaining eye contact with her husband. “What is my granddaughter doing in her condition
out here on this battlefield!
” he roared, finally showing all of his raw emotion. His worry and concern for his granddaughter had nearly been unbearable. Ever since he received the message from Seamus he had been vacillating between fury and relief. The message had been infuriatingly short. “I have Laurel. She is well. Laird McTiernay.” No explanations, nothing.

When MacInnes first learned that his granddaughter was in Scotland on her way to live with him, he was euphoric. He sent out two dozen of his top warriors to escort her onto his lands. But they had been too late. His men had brought the two soldiers who had lived after the ambush back to their laird, but the Englishmen were of little help. They didn’t know who had his granddaughter, only that another Scottish laird had taken her unwillingly and had beaten her into submission. His fury knew no bounds.

He went to clan after clan, inspecting and questioning, trying to discover Laurel’s whereabouts, but it was not until Seamus arrived with Conor’s message that relief and then anger flooded through him. He knew that his godson was an honorable man and could not be responsible for the cold murder of her escort. But he was also sure that Laurel had not chosen to be taken into highland country and wed so soon to an unknown man. In his mind, Laurel had been abducted twice. Once by an unknown evil fiend, and second by his godson, who—instead of returning his granddaughter to MacInnes—had stolen her for himself.

Winter immediately followed, and it was not until now that the conditions had improved enough to make the dangerous trip north and retrieve his granddaughter. Now that he was here, nothing was going to stop him, even if he had to war with his own godson.

Conor, goaded by the older man’s bellows about Laurel being on the battlefield, shouted with equal force. “You obviously do not know how mulish she is. She is by far the most frustrating, infuriating, disobedient woman I have ever met! I put her away in the safest spot in the castle. But where is she? Here! So why don’t you ask her why she is here! It’s the stubborn MacInnes in her that causes her to be so difficult.”

Laurel’s temper flew. “I may be infuriating, Conor McTiernay, but only you can surpass me!” Then she turned on her grandfather. “And you can just forget all that nonsense about me going back. As you can see, I am quite well, and when not angered by some illogical dictate or
hidden secret
I have just discovered,” she said, emphasizing to Conor that there would more on this subject later, “I am quite a happy wife. I love this pigheaded man, and I am about to have his son. Now, I am tired and am going to return to my chambers for a rest. You may continue to argue and fuss out here for the next week if you so desire. But, hear me now, I will not have one man get hurt or one drop of blood spilled.”

“Feisty,” was all that Laird MacInnes could think to say as he watched the proud straight back of his granddaughter waddle away from the crowd.

“You have no idea,” said Conor, urging his horse forward. “Come up to the keep. Finn, see that Laird MacInnes’s men have a place to be settled and food to eat. There will be training tomorrow with their clan so tell the men to get ready.” With those departing words, a resounding cry erupted from both sides of the field.

Conor rode up to his wife and, just as easily and swiftly as he did when she was not burdened with child, lifted her onto his lap. He rode slowly to reduce any jarring movements. Both of them meant to continue arguing their positions—he about obedience and she about secrets—but Laurel fell asleep almost as soon as she leaned back against his hard, strong frame.

He rode in and dismounted careful not to wake her. Carrying her upstairs to the solar, he placed her on the bed. He took off her slippers and then undressed her down to her shift without her stirring. He then settled down beside her and just drank in the sight of her.

Despite being heavy with his child, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her outward beauty was striking, but it was her inner beauty that had truly captured his heart. Today, she had renounced her grandfather and declared to all that she was staying.

“I love you, Laurel McTiernay,” he vowed to his sleeping bride, “and I will never let you go.” She unconsciously responded to his voice by turning over and wiggling closer to his body so that her back was against his chest. He was completely content.

His hand rested on her belly and he felt the non-stop movement and kicking. He wondered how she was able to get any sleep at all with the activity that was constantly going on within her. The slight pressure he was exerting must have been evident within the womb because he received several sharp kicks that persuaded him to move his hand so that she wouldn’t awake due to the internal thumping.

Conor remained by her side for some time, enjoying the feel of his wife, before rising and seeing to their guests’ needs. He had never before been at odds with his godfather. He realized that it had been a difficult day for both of them as he entered the great hall and saw the older man in one of the padded chairs by the hearth.

“MacInnes.”

The old man turned briefly and then resumed his stare into the fire. “McTiernay.”

Conor took a seat and grabbed the quaich of ale that was on the table.

“How is she?” MacInnes asked.

“Tired. It was hard on her to make the trip.”

“She shouldn’t have made it. Why did you not take steps to prevent it?”

“You try telling a MacInnes not to do something she intends to do.” Conor took a swig. “Damn near impossible, I’ve learned. Never compromised a day in my life until I met that woman, and now I find it commonplace in our discussions. She may have called me pigheaded, but I can promise you that it is she,” he pointed in the direction of their chambers, “who is the most stubborn one of all.”

Conor swallowed a large amount of ale. “She’s right, you know. You should stay. It is the only way for you to truly appreciate the joy and frustration I live with. At first, she will play the dutiful hostess—gracious, social, and affable in all ways. But, then something will happen that will bring the feisty, she-cat into the open. God only knows why, but I love all aspects of her.” And then he finished his drink.

MacInnes just sat and listened to his godson talk about Laurel. He had seen the sparks flying between the two. Not sparks of brutal anger, but the kind that can only be caused by two kindred spirits. Listening to Conor talk about his love for his wife’s strong will and passionate nature convinced MacInnes that his godson’s union was a happy one.

When MacInnes first learned of Conor’s marriage to his sweet Laurel, he had been stunned. Conor had sworn never to marry. He had said many times women were only necessary for breeding and alliances, and he required neither. MacInnes never thought that Conor would physically harm Laurel, but he was afraid that her spirit would die with someone who kept himself emotionally distant.

When Conor’s father died and he became laird of a large and powerful clan, he had changed. He became more reserved, less willing to engage in filial activities, and less inclined to show any type of emotion. Today on the battlefield, Conor had been stone cold in their discussions. It was only when Laurel appeared that his resolve and control broke.

“When is the bairn due to arrive?” MacInnes asked.

“Hagatha, the midwife, says that it will still be a few more weeks.”

“Son, the woman looks like she is about to pop. Is your midwife knowledgeable about such things?”

“Laurel trusts her completely, so please do not doubt her in front of Laurel. Despite what you saw today, I don’t want her getting agitated at all. She tires easily and I think the weight of the babe is quite a strain, but she’ll never voice a complaint. As to your question, yes, Hagatha is more than knowledgeable, and we both have been worried about her size. She is so small to be that large.”

“I have never seen a woman so round in my life.”

Conor swallowed and verbalized his greatest fear to the only person who would understand. “Laurel is afraid she is going to die.”

Immediately, MacInnes was alert. “What haven’t you told me?”

“Told you? You’ve been here, what? Half a day? And less than an hour of that has been on speaking terms. Besides, there is nothing to tell. Her mother died in childbirth, and she is afraid that she will, also. In truth, I am scared. So is Hagatha. So is everyone. But not one word must reach her about our fears. It’s important for her to believe that all will be well.”

The old man saw the strain on his godson’s face. It was obvious Conor was deeply in love with his granddaughter, and the thought of losing her was a constant torment.

“You won’t lose her, son. In a few weeks, she will be fine, and you will have a brand new heir to liven this household. You won’t lose her.”

Conor nodded, needing to hear the pledge from someone else’s voice besides his own. His grip on the quaich increased, and a tear fell.

“I cannot. If I do, I will surely perish as well. I know that I cannot think of living in these walls without her loving me, encouraging me, pestering me, and trying to order me about. Aye, she does that,” he responded when the old man lifted his eyebrows at the mention of a woman ordering a laird. “Most of the time I ignore it, but then, alas, those eyes of hers can sometimes bend even the strongest of metals and my heart has no chance.”

Laurel woke up somewhat disoriented at first. She remembered stopping the war, at least she thought she had stopped it. She remembered Conor’s strong arms lifting her effortlessly onto his horse. She had wanted to talk to him regarding his silence about knowing who she was, but she could not remember that discussion or anything afterwards. Conor must have brought her to the room and undressed her. It was the only explanation.

She got up and went to the window that overlooked the northern country. She loved this view. The highlands had never been lovelier than now, as the mountains reluctantly let go of their winter snows to let the spring through in its brilliance of green and color. The sun was beginning to set, showering the fields with its rays of promising warmth.

Turning from the window, Laurel found one of her two bliauts that she was still able to wear. It was made of a dark teal material trimmed in gold. Contrasting with her fair hair and skin, the ensemble made her look feminine and glowing. Her eyes picked up the color of the velvet tunic and the gold ribbon braid accented her pale wavy locks. She could no longer wear the McTiernay plaid, since she could not cinch a belt to anchor the pleats.

Conor had argued that he had more than enough material for her to have a variety of tunics, but she refused to allow more to be made, thinking it a complete waste of material and effort. On this, Laurel never wavered and would not be persuaded. “I promise to use your wonderful goods once my figure returns,” she had pledged, moving over to his side of the bed to give him a deep kiss that promised that nights of passion would also return.

As Laurel went down the tower stairs, she decided to avoid the two men who had caused her so much worry that morning. Instead, she headed towards Aileen’s cottage. She needed some perspective on what Conor had done, or had not done. As she was walking across the courtyard, she saw a soldier and waved him over to escort her.