Seducing the Highlander (19 page)

Meriel cocked her head so that her mouth was not more than two inches from his. He waited, curious to see if she could fight the urge to kiss him. He was about to lose his own battle when she reached over and broke off a piece of bread to put on her plate. “Nonsense?”

Craig leaned back in his chair, annoyed with himself for feeling disappointed. “Aye. That story you told to Wyenda.”

Meriel twitched her lips and produced a look of ingenuousness. “It was not a story. It was the truth.”

“Oh, I’m sure you uttered every word, but you and I both know that Laurel needed no help with her
out-of-town guest
.”

When Meriel said nothing, Craig selected a large piece of pheasant off the meat platter and pulled it apart, giving her the leg bone while keeping the breast. “I have no problem with you deceiving Wyenda,” he continued in a hushed tone. “I’m merely puzzled as to
why
you would excuse her rude behavior. For the first time, Hamish had a chance to see that woman’s true shrewish nature, not to mention the fact that she was on the verge of leaving, when you ran over there and brought her back. Makes me wonder. I mean, if your supposed goal is to
win
Hamish’s affections, why would you jeopardize an opportunity to free him of Wyenda? Maybe your feelings for him are not quite what you said they were.”

Craig sat back, crossed his arms, and gave Meriel a smug look, believing he was about to finally force her to admit the truth.

Meriel popped a small chunk of meat into her mouth and slowly licked the savory juices from each of her fingers. “Ah, well, now I know why
your
efforts to hinder Hamish’s pursuit of Wyenda have failed so miserably,” she said, keeping her voice low and private. “Wyenda is angry with
me
because she believes I deceived her—which, in truth, I did. And while Hamish might be rankled by her attitude, he would ultimately blame me as the cause. I did not save Wyenda. I saved myself. And as for future opportunities with Hamish, I believe I just rescued them.”

Unable to find fault with her logic, Craig hid none of his frustration as he yanked off another piece of bread and chewed it angrily. The woman was supposedly interested in a man sitting only a few seats away, so why wasn’t she toying with Hamish’s mind and leaving his alone? “Looks like you are wanted,” he quipped, pointing to Wyenda.

Midway down the table, the gorgeous woman sat fuming. Wyenda had tried several times to get Meriel’s attention and knew she was being intentionally snubbed by the lesser woman. If she thought a simple laird’s daughter could outwit her, the foolish
ciùrradair
was quite mistaken. When Meriel finally looked her way, Wyenda hissed, “Should I be eternally grateful to have finally received the courtesy of your notice?”

“I apologize for not seeing your need of me,” Meriel replied, completely unfazed by the attack. “What did you want to know that was of such great importance?”

Wyenda blinked and could feel her chest rise and fall rapidly to match her breathing. In truth, she did not have a question but had only intended to make the aggravating Highland woman squirm under her stare. She could feel the silent weight of everyone listening and quickly manufactured a question that she hoped would put Meriel on her guard. “Do you still need to keep Hamish away from his duties with your petty needs?”

With wide eyes filled with artificial pain, Meriel slowly shook her head and sighed softly. “The kilt is complete, but unfortunately, I realized this afternoon that I misjudged the size of Hamish’s chest and arms and therefore will need him one more time.” The truth was that she had already completed the first leine and had decided to make him a second shirt to support the pretense of needing another fitting.

A cold look of skepticism invaded Wyenda’s expression. “And to think that so many believe you to be a superb seamstress,” she cooed.

Seeing hard resentment saturate every facet of Wyenda’s expression, Craig realized, even if Meriel did not, that Wyenda’s furor was growing. If someone did not redirect the conversation, an explosion was going to occur and it would not stop with a simple exchange of fists. His gaze swung over to Laurel, expecting to see his sister-in-law preparing to step in and halt the discussion. Instead, she sat focused on slurping her soup, completely oblivious to the growing tension. The thought that something else was taking place flashed through his mind, but his simultaneous need to protect Meriel was so strong, it caused him to speak when he had had no intention of doing so. “It is amazing how often mishaps happen to even the most skilled artisans.”

“It
is
amazing,” Meriel concurred calmly, giving him a solid kick in the shins underneath the table. The man was
not
supposed to interrupt, and if he continued, he was going to ruin everything. “Almost as amazing as
you
knowing about the frustrations a woman endures with a needle and thread.”

Craig’s face turned an even deeper shade of red and Meriel realized she had taken the wrong route. Quickly shifting direction, she leaned in close and in a soft voice so that only he could hear, whispered, “This is your fault. I could have made those clothes days ago, but I have been waiting for you to give me another way for Hamish and me to spend time together. I need another idea and soon.”

Craig blinked as he realized just what was happening. Laurel’s silence, Meriel’s confidence in the shadow of Wyenda’s hatred . . . this whole night was part of the elaborate game Meriel was playing. But what was her goal? Regardless of her aim, she was unwittingly on the path to getting herself hurt. She might think herself equal to Wyenda, but she was not. Meriel was incredibly clever, but she lacked the mean spirit needed to tangle with the likes of that hellcat. “Our bargain was for me to give you
a
reason, not a litany of them.”

Meriel’s green-and-gold eyes glittered with an unidentifiable emotion, which could have been either anger or anticipation. “Then you misunderstood,” she said evenly. “Our agreement was that you would help me until Conor arrives.”

A frisson of anger rippled up Craig’s spine. If anyone misunderstood their agreement, it was Meriel. But before he could clarify exactly what his role would and would not be, Hamish intruded with a question. “Are you available Friday to make the corrections?”

Meriel forced her face to relax before turning to look at him. She nodded. “That should be perfect, Hamish. Thank you.”

Wyenda sent Meriel a wintry smile and curled her fingers possessively around Hamish’s bicep. “I do hope the items you are making him will be at least well made. I mean they
should
be flawless. One would think even an incompetent seamstress could create superb garments given all this time.”

The angle of attack shocked Meriel. The quality of her work had always been praised, treasured, and in many cases, coveted.
Never
had anyone dared to insult her skill with a needle. Consequently, the idiotic barb was painless rather than wounding. Hamish was wrong. Wyenda was not misunderstood—she was shallow and heartless, and Meriel refused to let such a creature rile her.

Wyenda truly thought she would leave the Great Hall victorious. The woman had no idea that she was a pawn in a much larger scheme, executing her role perfectly. Meriel needed only to give Wyenda a final push to make the night a complete success.

A firm hand gripped Meriel’s knee underneath the table, causing her to turn around and look at Craig. Meriel was momentarily stunned. He was not afraid of what she might say; he was afraid for
her
. A wave of indignation went through Meriel. Did he really believe her incapable of dealing with the antipathy of a
gleòidseach
like Wyenda? Did Craig think her so weak as to actually be affected by the insults the woman hurled at her about her sewing?

Refocusing on tonight’s true goals, Meriel returned her attention to Wyenda and said with a wicked smile, “Then I am relieved, for I doubt your skills with a needle will enable you to appreciate, let alone critique, my expertise.”

The whole table went quiet. Every single person dropped all pretense of being engaged in other conversations and turned to listen to how Wyenda was going to respond.

No one cared that Wyenda’s mother was supposed to be from an important clan and that she had once visited with Elizabeth de Burgh, the queen consort of King Robert. Her father was a McTiernay farmer, which made her no better than anyone present. Most of those around the table had glimpsed Wyenda walking around the village and were aware of her beauty, and those who had just met Wyenda that night would freely admit that the tales concerning her comely appearance were not exaggerated. But it was the other stories about her that were of most interest, for while everyone knew of Wyenda, few had actually met her. They knew her only through rumors of how she believed herself to be above laborious chores, uncaring that her grandmother shouldered all the work in their home.

As a result, most of the dinner party had been stealthily eavesdropping on anything she had to say. And while each was interested in knowing how Wyenda was going to respond to Meriel’s retort, they also knew that Lady McTiernay was more than capable of controlling Wyenda and her tongue. So they anticipated Laurel would intervene and address the offensive woman before anything more could be said. But instead, Laurel sat in silence, openly listening with wide eyes filled with intrigue.

Wyenda looked around the table at all the people studying her. Her expression grew even harder. She refused to be intimidated by them or by Meriel. “I thankfully have
no
experience as a seamstress,” she said, swinging her focus back to the head of the table. “People of quality, like myself, are removed from doing such menial work. But I do have one area of expertise I would think you would covet—the ability to know how to look and be desirable.”

Meriel swallowed. Her intuition suddenly flared to life, screaming that she was in serious danger. “I covet nothing of yours.”

“Really? I doubt it. For I, without any effort, gained the attention of two men who only seem to desire you as a friend. I could not imagine going through life unable to inspire a man’s passion, even when you try—like you obviously did with your little dress tonight.”

An audible gasp came from Laurel’s best friend, Aileen, who had remained silent after Laurel gave her a clear gesture to say nothing.

Meriel was vaguely aware of what was going on around her. She knew that Wyenda’s venom would be painful only if her verbal strikes penetrated, and Meriel had thought herself invulnerable to anything the woman could fling at her. But she had not anticipated that Wyenda would detect and then expose her deepest, most secret fear.

Since her youth, Meriel had lured many a man to her side to dally with and share a kiss or two, but no one had ever really tried seriously to pursue her. She had assumed it was because she had made it known that any such effort would be pointless, but deep down Meriel had always wondered if that was the real reason.
Could
she inspire passion? Would any man ever find her truly desirable? Based on Craig’s reaction to their kiss, the answer could possibly be no.

Wyenda’s vile words hung in the air, causing Hamish to be immobile and mute for several seconds. He understood that Wyenda had felt attacked and lashed out instinctively to defend herself. She had come to dinner under false pretenses and was angry at being lied to. She did not understand that Meriel had thought only to help him, but it did not matter. Wyenda had gone too far.

Normally, Hamish found it challenging to discern what Meriel was feeling about any subject, but the pain etched into her face after Wyenda launched her last attack was one he would never forget. Meriel actually believed the nonsense Wyenda had spurted. He wanted to go over and assure Meriel otherwise, that she only had to give a man one of her warm smiles to inspire passion—but one glance at Craig held him back.

His usually bright blue eyes smoldered with murderous anger, creating an aura of danger that radiated from him. With clenched fists and his neck turning crimson, Craig looked as if he was ready to do battle. He glared at Wyenda, but it was to Hamish he spoke. “Get her out of here.”

Craig said the words slowly and deliberately, but his voice was laced with dark warning. Hamish did not want to give the appearance that he supported anything Wyenda had just said; the woman needed to leave and Craig fully expected him to make it happen.

Hamish rose to his feet and touched Wyenda’s shoulder. “My dear, it is time you and I leave.”

Wyenda broke her cruel look of victory directed at Meriel and glanced up at Hamish. She was about to speak when Hamish coldly cut her off. “You have said enough.”

Wyenda’s baby-blue eyes widened as she saw the censure in Hamish’s expression. She was mystified. What had she said that was untrue? He had told her himself that he was not interested in the Schellden woman. That she was too quiet and understated to be inspiring. That he preferred someone with more vitality. And yet it was obvious Hamish did like Meriel enough to be upset that she might be hurt.

Wyenda’s gaze shifted from Hamish to the head of the table. Only then did she realize that she had also seriously misinterpreted the relationship between Craig McTiernay and Meriel Schellden. Wyenda suspected that if she had not been sitting so far away from Craig, she might be leaving with a red mark across her face. Craig looked as if she had insulted his beloved wife, not some woman with whom he was occasionally forced to spend time. It made no sense. He himself continually announced that he and Meriel were just friends, a term that meant little because a man and a woman could never actually be
close.

Wyenda rose slowly to her feet, refusing to look repentant. The facts that were crystallizing into understanding only hardened her original belief. She was better than all of these crude Highlanders. She had been living in these insufferable mountains for nearly two years, with men as her one distraction from life’s monotony. But she was tired of waiting for an opportunity to leave and return to Perth. It was time to take action.