Page 15 of Marry the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #1)
CHAPTER 15
Conall stalked toward the main doors to the castle, still seething with rage at Eric Holdenson’s audacity in coming here, expecting admittance. He was halfway to the door when a movement in the corner of his eye made him spin around on his heel, his hand moving reflexively to the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at any moment. A second later, however, he relaxed, the back of his neck heating with a rare feeling of chagrin.
The movement that had startled him was just Oliver and Emily approaching, with Brigid a few steps behind them. The healer offered him a smile and a nod as she dragged her scowling husband up the steps and into the castle, not giving him a chance to stop and speak to his brother.
Despite his lingering ire, Conall’s lips curled into a reluctant smile. Emily was a good wife to his brother, and good at soothing his wounded temper, even though Oliver would have died rather than admit it.
“Ye look pleased by something.”
The soft observation drew his attention back to Brigid, who had stopped beside him, a look of uncertainty on her pretty face.
“Is everything well? I wasnae sure, goin’ by the way ye looked when ye left the Great Hall.”
“’Tis well enough.” Conall shrugged, attempting to banish the tension in his shoulders. “’Twas some unpleasantness with the visitor at the gates, but that’s over now. And it’s nothing for ye to worry about.”
“I see.”
Brigid’s gaze slid to the gates, and he could tell she was unconvinced by his assurance.
“That man… Was that Laird Auchter? The man who claims to be my grandfather?”
Conall grimaced. “Aye. That was Eric Holdenson, whom most ken as Laird Auchter. He wanted to attend the wedding, but I refused to let him inside. ’Tis my right.”
“I ken. And I’d nae argue with ye.” Brigid nodded.
Conall noted that she was biting her lip in that customary way of hers that indicated distress or uncertainty. He reached up and touched her mouth gently.
“None of that now,” he said softly. “I dinnae want ye havin’ a bloody lip for our wedding day.” He caressed her cheek lightly, marveling at how she leaned slightly into his touch. “What is it that troubles ye?”
“’Tis nothing…”
“’Tis something, or ye’d nae look so distressed.” Conall hesitated, knowing that what he was considering offering was a foolish risk, especially when he knew Auchter had a band of men within a day’s ride of his home. “If ’tis yer sisters, I could send a runner, or mayhap some scouts to see if there’s any sign of them.”
Brigid shook her head. “’Tis nae that. I worry for them, of course, and I’m anxious to see them, but ’tis more…” She paused, then looked up at him, her gaze filled with sadness and resignation. “I forget sometimes that I’m only here because Laird Auchter wanted to use me to secure a truce with ye.”
Conall frowned, confused by the change of topic. “I never told ye otherwise.”
“Nay, I ken that well enough. ’Tis only that… so many of yer folk see me as nothing more than Laird Auchter’s pawn, or else they hate me for bein’ related to the man, even though I have nay more loyalty to him than ye. And some, like yer brother, think I’m just the same as him—that I’m cut from the same cloth, as the sayin’ goes.” She blinked her emerald-green eyes at him, and he swallowed hard at the unhappiness in them. “I wonder if ye’ll ever see me as anything more than that?”
“Ye’ll always be more than that, Brigid Blackwood.” Conall’s words came out more harsh than he had intended, and he made an effort to control them. “Ye’re nae a pawn, and nae one person in the world can control who his kin are. Only a fool would hold it against ye. And as for bein’ just like the snake who sired yer mother…”
He put his hand on her shoulder and cupped her chin in his other hand to tip her gaze up to his. “Oliver is angry over losin’ our brother, and it blinds him at times. But I’m nae blind or a fool.”
Brigid furrowed her brow. “I never said ye were.”
“Then understand, and believe, that I ken full well that ye’ve never kenned yer grandfather. That ye’ve scarcely kenned aught about him and never met him. Mayhap never even seen him afore today.”
Conall caressed her soft cheek with his thumb, marveling as he did at how at ease she was with his touch.
“Ye cannae be like a man ye dinnae ken or a pawn of someone who’s never been in yer life. I ken that, so I ken that yer grandfather’s nae part of who ye are. His legacy isnae yers—nae unless ye choose it to be.”
Brigid shook her head. “I would never.”
“I ken.” Conall smiled as she relaxed, then bent to kiss her.
Brigid leaned up into his kiss, stepping closer until her body pressed against his, making it almost impossible for him to keep the kiss as light and gentle as he had intended.
After a moment, he stepped back. He was just about to ask if she had managed to finish her meal before the unwelcome interruption, and to ask about her plans for the day, since the wedding would be delayed, when a commotion at the now-closed gates stopped him.
Conall froze, pulling Brigid closer as he heard the muffled voice of one of the guards calling out for someone to halt.
Surely Auchter wouldnae be so cold as to return so soon?
The sound of someone hammering on the gates—not hard, but with definite intention and force—reached their ears, and then a female voice rang out a moment later.
“Laird MacKane! Open up, will ye?”
Another voice, lower and calmer this time, but still loud, clear, and identifiably female, spoke up next. “I dinnae think that’s the proper way to request entry, particularly of a laird. Perhaps…”
Brigid’s eyes lit up, and she pushed away from Conall, her expression luminous with such delight that there was no need for him to even ask if she knew who was at the gates.
“’Tis my sisters!” she cried, confirming his suspicions.
Brigid raced for the gates, her heart pounding so hard that she was scarcely conscious of Conall chasing behind her, gesturing for the guards to open the gates. Indeed, it was hard to breathe through the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.
She’d been dismayed by the appearance of her grandfather. Dismayed and hurt, for it had not escaped her notice that, for all he’d spoken of being there for her as ‘kin’, he’d never once asked to see her, nor even mentioned her name. She doubted the old man even knew her name.
Then, there was Conall. With her, he was gentle, often kind in his own gruff way. Being around him filled her with warmth and a sense of safety she’d never enjoyed outside the presence of her sisters. Kissing him, being close to him…
Conall Barr was a man she could easily lose her heart to. She sometimes feared she might have begun to do so already. But then she would recall the way he had killed three men—two of them his own clansmen—and the way even his brother stepped back and avoided his temper when it was at its worst. And, at those times, she would recall her mother’s rule.
Brigid very much feared she was on the verge of breaking that rule, determined though she was to keep the promise she’d made. A part of her longed to break it, for what sort of marriage would she have if she couldn’t trust and love her husband? Another part of her, however, clung to the memory of her mother’s final advice to her and whispered that her mother would not have given it without good reason.
She couldn’t just ignore her mother’s wisdom, no matter how much she might wish to.
But now her sisters were here, and she could set aside the twisting feelings of uncertainty in order to greet them and welcome them to MacKane Castle—the place she was beginning to consider a potential home.
More than that, though, she wanted to introduce them to Conall, who was following at a much slower pace, and with an unreadable look on his face. He looked at Brigid as if he wasn’t sure whether to act like a laird and greet his guests properly or simply behave like an ordinary man meeting his betrothed’s kinfolk for the first time. Maybe he just wanted to turn around and disappear into his study until it was time for supper and he had no choice but to face them all. Brigid wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.
The heavy wooden gates opened far too slowly for Brigid’s liking, and, as soon as she was able to, she squeezed past the heavy oak panels and ran straight into the arms of the slim, red-haired woman who waited on the other side, dressed in modified riding skirts, with her hair pulled back into a tight braid.
Megan pushed past the guards, her eyes fixed on her sister and a smile of relief on her face.
“Brigid!” she cried, laughing with delight as her sister almost knocked her off her feet.
“Megan! Oh, Megan, ‘tis so good to see ye here!” Brigid gasped a little at the strength of her sister’s embrace. “Och, I’ve missed ye all so much! I thought ye would never get here!”
“And we’ve missed ye more than ye can imagine.” Lily appeared behind Megan to sweep them both into her arms, followed a few seconds later by a third set of arms that Brigid knew was Valerie’s.
Brigid breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of herbs and woodsmoke from Lily, the fainter scent of leather and tanning tools from Megan, and the camphor Valerie used to keep insects away from her clothes. Familiar scents, warm and comforting, and carrying the sweet reminder of home.
She tightened her grip for a moment, then released her sisters, stepping back to get a better look at them.
“I was beginnin’ to fear ye’d met with mischief on the road,” she said, hardly daring to allow herself to believe they were all safely here, at last.
Valerie snorted—a familiar sound that made Brigid smile. “As if any of us would let a wee misadventure stop us from reachin’ ye, little sister,” she said with a grin. “The worst ye ever had to fear is that we’d be late and miss the wedding.”
Brigid flushed. “I was worried about that,” she admitted. “But Conall agreed to delay until ye arrive. Seein’ as ye’re here now, we’ll be able to hold the wedding tomorrow—everything’s ready.”
“Is that so?” Lily murmured, her eyes searching her sister’s face. “’Tis very kind of him to wait for us, especially when he didnae ken how long it might take us to get here.”
“Aye. He is kind,” Brigid replied, her cheeks reddening further under the knowing gazes of her three elder sisters. “He isnae what ye might think. He’s… Well, mayhap ’tis best I introduce ye to him and let ye judge for yerselves.”
She turned to face Conall, who was standing a few steps away, waiting patiently for the sisters to finish their greeting, and looking as if he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.
“Come and meet my sisters,” Brigid said, hurrying over to him and taking his arm.
“Are ye sure?” Connor murmured, in a voice low enough for only her to hear. “They dinnae exactly look pleased to see me.”
“They dinnae ken ye,” Brigid replied, tugging gently at his sleeve. “All they ken of ye is what ye wrote in yer letter, and that it’s yer intention to marry me. And I’m the youngest of all of us—ye can understand if they seem a wee bit overprotective, I’m sure.”
Conall’s arm twitched slightly under her fingers, as though he was considering making his escape, after all.
“Ye’re the youngest?” he said, sounding for all the world as if this was completely new information to him, even though Brigid was sure she’d told him this before.
Her mouth turned up into a smile.
For a man who didnae even blink while he was facin’ down his enemy earlier, he’s certainly nervous to meet three women!
“Aye, that’s right,” she said patiently, almost dragging him the final distance to where her sisters were standing, waiting for them, before stepping between them to introduce him.
“Lily, Valerie, Megan,” she began, smiling widely now. “I want ye to meet my betrothed and soon-to-be husband, Conall Barr, Laird of Clan MacKane.”
Conall bowed into the silence that descended, his strong, deep voice carrying easily across the courtyard, and showing no trace of the nerves he’d displayed just a few seconds earlier.
“A pleasure to meet ye all, ladies.”