The Highlander's Bride (24 page)

For the next half hour, they played and kissed and nibbled. He often had to dissuade Laurel from escalating their passion, claiming that he was already allowing her too much excitement.

When the water started to cool, he lifted her out of the tub and onto a plaid placed in front of the warmth of the fire. He briskly dried her and helped her don her shift. Next, he started combing her long hair to help it dry. She fell asleep to the soft soothing rhythm of his strokes. Her last thoughts before she drifted off were about Conor needing to give her another bath before she fully recovered.

Three days later, Laurel was finished with placating Conor and staying in bed. He had gone too far when he put a guard at the door and hid all of her dressing gowns. By the time he returned with food, she was fully prepared for all-out war.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he asked, swinging his leg to close the door.

“Attempting to leave.”

“Empty threat,” he said, indicating her state of undress. He was right, of course. Dueling issues of pride, Laurel had decided that she would rather cave in to his demands—for the moment—than humiliate herself by walking about semi-dressed in front of his people.

“You are being completely unreasonable.”

“Probably some, but not completely.” Conor shrugged his shoulders.

“Hagatha said…” she started, but he interrupted, finishing the sentence for her.

“Hagatha said that you were to remain in bed until your strength returned. I am unconvinced that it has,” he said, calmly removing the food items from the tray and placing them on the make-shift table they had been using for the past few days.

“Conor, you are pushing me to become inventive in finding a way to defy you. I warn you—I will.”

He didn’t seem impressed as he reached out for a buttered roll and began to eat.

“You come and go at your leisure. You spend most of your time out of the keep while I am kept like a prisoner in here going crazy from boredom.” She was pacing now.

“You could make your wedding dress,” he suggested, watching her go back and forth. “I understand from Glynis that you have yet to sew one.”

“One only needs a wedding dress if one is to be married,” she said sweetly, but through tight lips.

“Aye. And you fall into that category.”

“I do not.”

“You do, and you will.”

“Hmm. That may be very difficult as the next time you come to see me, I will be gone. Not just from my room, but from you, you insufferable tyrant.”

Conor was starting to become a little concerned with the promise held in her voice. Time for a different tactic. When calm redirection didn’t work, what would? And then he remembered the wise words of Hagatha: “…you will need all your strength to convince her you won’t be changing her ways.”

He put down the bread and rested his elbows on his knees, looking directly at her. “I’m not going to change, Laurel. Not now, not ever. I’m chieftain of a clan, and it is my responsibility to see to all who belong to it. You belong to me, so my responsibility and determination are even stronger where you are concerned.”

“But you don’t want me! You said so yourself. I’m conniving and self-centered.”

“Aye, I said those words, and I was wrong. I just couldn’t understand why you would deliberately set out to make me go mad with worry.”

He pointed to the chair across from him and motioned for her to sit and eat. Laurel hesitated, but then sat like some regal queen who had decided, not been told, to do so.

“But it wasn’t deliberate. I had no idea that I would be gone so long. Besides, I could have made the trip in a fraction of the time if you had not made me promise to take an escort.” Laurel reached out for the remaining roll and tore off a piece.

“Aye. Another cause for my anger.” Conor leaned back in the chair. “When I realized it was Brighid who was with you, I became doubly concerned, knowing that it was more likely you were escorting her than the other way around. If you wanted to see Hagatha so badly, why didn’t you say so? I would have sent one of the guards to see to your safety. You would have also been able to ride at the speed you desired.”

Laurel shook her head, causing gold strands of hair to become free from its ties. “Don’t rewrite history with me, laird.”

His eyebrows rose visibly. “Conor.”

“
Laird.
You know as well as I that you would not have let me go to Hagatha’s, and certainly not with an escort other than yourself.” She munched on some new dish of Fiona’s that, while looking revolting, was surprisingly good.

Seeing her doubtful look change to one of enjoyment, he offered, “It’s called haggis.”

“It looks awful, but it tastes wonderful. What’s in it?”

“It’s tricky to make well. Fiona is an excellent cook. You were right to hire her on full time and get rid of the rotating schedule. Haggis is a mixture of minced heart, lungs, and liver of a sheep or calf, depending upon what’s available. You then mix it with suet, onions, oatmeal, and seasonings and boil it in an animal’s stomach.”

Laurel thought she was going to become ill all over again. That information just ended the meal for her. From now on, she was only going to eat items she knew. She sat back in her chair and clasped her hands in her lap. From a distance, anyone would think she was a demure, proper lady, but Conor knew otherwise. Her blue-green eyes were as dark as a storm on the North Sea.

Getting her stomach under control again, Laurel tried to correct his visions of their future. “I don’t want to fight any more, Conor. I just don’t think we can be happy together. It seems all we do is battle and argue about everything. I understand your need to protect what is yours, but it seems that you want me to be someone I’m not. I’m a lady, but I also break the rules of society. I have to be free to ride and make decisions about helping those who need it. If I cannot do so, the essence that makes up me will be gone.”

“Then we will just have to figure out how to achieve both our needs without changing each other,” he said with complete confidence. He leaned over and grabbed her hand, gently massaging the soft skin.

“It’s possible, Laurel. My parents were both stubborn, but they figured out a way to be both strong-willed and married.”

“And what exactly do you want to achieve? Me?”

“No, you are already mine. I just have to find a way to let you experience the freedom you desire without risking your safety.”

“That’s unreasonable. I could slip on the stairs and fall,” she said, getting up from her chair and moving towards the window. It was snowing again, and world was covered in white. “You cannot protect me from everything. Has it not occurred to you that I worry about you? You are a chieftain of a powerful clan. I’m sure you have enemies who are actively seeking opportunities to hurt you. Do I beg and plead for you not to go out? Not to see other lairds when you need to?” She turned and caught his eye. He was still seated. “It is not protection you give, Conor, but confinement. I don’t want to be your captive—I want to be your wife.”

He shook his head. “You want more than that, Laurel. You want to lead this clan in areas that are ultimately my responsibility. You make arbitrary decisions that impact my ability to lead my people without asking me.”

She had not thought of it like that before. “That is not my intention. But there are some things with which I can help, especially those concerning the care and maintenance of the clan. I do not claim to know how to train warriors, but I do know when a roof needs to be repaired—and I know how to repair it!”

“You cannot be ordering my men around outside of the keep. That is my responsibility. To allow you to do so only creates confusion and division of loyalties.”

“What’s the difference between me asking men to clean the hall versus repair a thatched roof?”

Conor sighed, rising to join her by the window. “The lady of the keep has always undertaken the maintenance and cleaning of the castle. You know this, Laurel.”

“I know that traditional philosophy, yes. But if you are the laird, why can you not say that I can also fix things outside of the castle walls?”

He reached out with his thumb, raising her chin so that their eyes locked. “I will not share my responsibilities with you or anyone. There is only one laird.”

“I don’t want you to share your responsibilities. I just want to help. I want the ability to make changes and improve things where and when I see them. I don’t believe I am doing anything that you wouldn’t do and say if you were there.”

“But that is just the point. You cannot make decisions that should be mine.”

Decisions
that should be mine, he said. Laurel finally saw the true issue behind the problem. She threw her arms around him with a huge smile on her face like she had discovered a precious stone of great value. “So it isn’t the decisions
themselves
that is the problem. It is my attempt to make changes that you have not approved.”

“Something like that,” he murmured. The soft feel of her breasts through her chemise was distracting, but the sudden change in her disposition from antagonistic to energetic made him guard his response.

“What if I promise to go through you from now on?” Laurel asked, barely able to contain the excitement beginning to bubble within her. What she cared most about was being useful. If Conor could empower her with the authority of such work on a case-by-case basis, that would be enough.

“Meaning?” he tried to ask evenly. He realized that she was quite unaware of what she was doing by hugging him so closely, but it did not change the fact it was excruciatingly painful. He had promised himself that the next time they lay together, it would be as man and wife. But there was no way he was going to pull away now, not when she seemed so positive about them and their future.

Laurel’s hope soared again. He didn’t immediately cut short the opportunity to compromise, she thought to herself. “For example, the issue of the cottage roofs. What if I inspected them and then came to you to let you know my assessment and suggestions about improvements? If you approved,
then
could I assign work?”

He thought about the suggestion. It had merit. His decision-making authority would be preserved, yet she would be able fulfill this need of hers to help.

“I would prefer to be notified in advance of the inspection.”

She let go of him and twirled around the room before falling onto the bed. There
was
a solution, she mentally shouted with joy. He was going to let her assist with more than just the weaving and cleaning of the keep!

“And I will want to assign the work,” he added roughly, noting that the physical need built up by their closeness was not dying even though she had pulled away. He moved to sit down and hide the evidence of his desire. “But I am sure something could be managed just as long as my men know it is my decision.”

She couldn’t help herself, but jumped up and ran over to him throwing herself into his lap. She stunned him further by kissing him long and hard. She searched his eyes. When they had first met, the silvery depths were cold and distant. Now, his eyes were like liquid pools of moonlight. “I will tell you in advance of anything that I am planning.”

“You will
ask
me, not tell me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Fine, I will ask you, but if you say no, I reserve the right to argue you into a yes.”

He ignored this somewhat uncompromising deal and decided to clarify the rules. “And you are still to be escorted when outside of the castle walls.”

I can establish new compromises too,
she thought. “But I can ride Borrail.”

“Aye, you can ride your horse.”

“Fast.”

“Aye, you can ride fast—but your escort has to have similar riding capabilities.”

“I want one more promise, Conor.”

“I, as well.”

“I won’t go through another argument like we had last time. You said some horrible things. Things that were not true and if you had taken the time to hear me out, you would have felt differently.”

“Fine. Then I will give you my word that when angered by something you did or did not do, I will give you the opportunity to explain.”

Her smile could have lit up northern Scotland.

“Now, I want a promise from you,” he said. She looked at him cautiously. “I don’t ever want you to call me laird as if you were just another member of my clan. You are more than that, even when you are annoyed, and I want you to remember it.”

She stroked the hair around his temple. It was such a little promise, but it obviously meant a great deal to him. “I promise, Conor.” Last week, Laurel had not thought it possible that she and Conor could find a way to agree on so much. He was right, there was a way for two stubborn people to come together and live happily. They just had to learn how to give.

She looked at him, her adoring eyes sparkling like the crystal waters of the highland lochs. “Thank you, Conor.”

At that moment, he realized that she would almost always win any future arguments just so that he could see the look of joy and appreciation on her face again.

Neither of them thought all future arguments had been averted by agreements made that evening. But neither did they realize how quickly their next differences of opinion would come.

First was the argument of when she would be allowed to resume her duties. They finally came to a compromise after a heated discussion. She could leave her room starting on the morrow, but limitedly. The resumption of any other activity could be done with the start of the new week, depending on how she was faring.

The second argument happened in the great hall after dinner and dealt with their sleeping arrangements. Conor refused to sleep anywhere else besides the solar, and he rejected any suggestion about Laurel being moved to other chambers now that she was well.

“Father Lanaghly is here!” she stressed.

“What has that have to do with anything?” he asked, taking a long drink of ale.

“But we are unmarried, it isn’t proper.”