Page 8 of Marry the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #1)

CHAPTER 8

Conall was on his way down to supper when Emily found him and planted herself square in the middle of his path.

“I need to speak to ye,” she said without preamble, her arms crossed forbiddingly over her chest.

Conall frowned. “Is someone hurt?” he said in a tone that suggested they better be, to justify this ambush.

“Nae physically,” Emily replied, unperturbed by the disgruntled look on her brother-in-law’s face. “But yer betrothed… Och, now there’s a situation where ye’ve done a piss-poor job of takin’ care of matters.” She glared at him, her usually gentle expression suddenly fierce. “The lass is borrowin’ my clothes—which arenae made for her—and it shows. And what have ye done, exactly, to make sure she’s comfortable?”

“I gave her a suite…”

“A suite ye’d give a visitin’ laird ye barely tolerated—och, Conall, those rooms arenae suitable for a young woman, let alone one ye intend to marry! A man in mourning ye may be, but I’d think ye had better sense than to think a lass would be happy surrounded by dark oak furniture, bare stone walls, and drab colors!”

Conall felt the back of his neck and ears prickle. In truth, he’d barely thought of it at all.

“The chamber is one of the best in the castle. ’Tis certainly one of the largest. The decor may nae be exactly to her liking, but?—”

“An’ dinnae get me started on the fact that ye didnae provide her with clothing, nor soaps, nor candles, nor towels,” Emily went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “For goodness’ sake, Conall, she was dragged here with nothing but the clothes on her back. If ye’re determined to marry the lass, then ye’d better tak’ proper care of her, or I’ll put enough bearberry in yer mead to make ye overflow the privy!”

Conall winced. He knew enough about Emily to know that if she was sufficiently vexed, she was well capable of proving the old adage, ‘Never invite a healer’s wrath.’

Still, he’d heard whispers from the servants, and he knew what she and Brigid had been doing.

“It’s my understandin’ that ye’ve tended to much of the matter yerself,” he said, unwilling to admit that his sister-in-law might have a point.

Emily huffed. “We’ve found enough in the storerooms to make things better if that’s what ye mean, but ‘better’ isnae good enough, Conall. Nae for the Laird’s wife—the lady of the castle. Ye shouldnae need me to tell ye this. An’ what good is it for me to make all the effort? Ye’re the one who plans to be her husband. ’Tis yer responsibility to show ye have some care for the lass.”

Conall resisted the urge to snarl at the healer.

What the devil do I ken about such things? I scarcely considered bein’ wed until two days ago! I’ve never courted a lass, let alone been betrothed to one. And I ken she was brought here with nothing, but I also ken I’ve nay idea what a lass wants or needs. That’s why I wanted ye to make friends with her!

Emily stared at him, almost as if she knew exactly what he was thinking and was daring him to say it out loud. But Conall was not that stupid.

He took a deep breath to quell his irritation, or frustration, or whatever it was—Emily was more than capable of inspiring both—then said the only sensible thing he could think of under the circumstances.

“What would ye have me do, then, Emily, seein’ as ye seem to have all the answers?”

“’Tis market day tomorrow in the village,” Emily replied, refusing to rise to the barb in his tone. “Let me tak’ Brigid with me. We can get the supplies I need, and a little bit of everything she needs as well. Provide the coin, and I’ll do the rest.”

Irritation turned into anger and a fierce defensiveness he wouldn’t have thought, just three days ago, anyone besides his kinfolk was capable of inspiring in him. And yet here he was, feeling the need to protect Brigid.

“Nay,” he replied shortly. “She’s nae supposed to leave the castle. Ye ken that, Emily.”

Emily scoffed. “Och, Conall, have ye looked at the lass at all? She’s used to sun and freedom, or I’m a banshee.”

I’d rather deal with one of those, thank ye.

Conall quashed the thought before Emily could see it on his face. “She can have sun in the castle gardens or the courtyard.”

“’Tis nae enough, an’ ye ken it. Brigid told me ye’ve already refused to let her go to her kinfolk—do ye intend to trammel her like a wild thing, or bind her with jesses like a hawk? Ye’ll lose her heart and soul if ye do.”

The thought of seeing Brigid’s eyes turn flat and lifeless, without spirit or warmth, hit him like a mace blow to the gut. That didn’t mean, however, that he had to yield so easily.

“’Tis too dangerous for her to wander about,” he repeated. “It’s for her own good, Emily.”

Emily waved a dismissive hand. “She’ll be out at the market with me, nae wanderin’ the roads alone. Ye ken well enough that the villagers would punish anyone who tried to harm me or anyone I was with. An’ like as nae, the off-duty warriors will be in the tavern, enjoyin’ the mead and the willing wenches. Defenses enough, if anyone tries to steal her away or harm her. Ye can also send extra guards to patrol the market if ye’re so worried.”

“She might…”

The look Emily gave him froze the words in his mouth before he could utter them.

“She might run away? Conall, she’s far more likely to attempt it if ye try to keep her caged than she is if ye give her some freedom.” Her expression softened. “The truth of it is either ye trust her to keep her word or ye dinnae. If ye dinnae, then there’s nay sense in ye marryin’ her, and it doesnae matter. If ye do trust her, then ye’ve nay reason to keep her caged. So, which way is yer heart takin’ ye?”

Conall scowled. The truth was, he wasn’t sure. He distrusted Laird Auchter’s motives and intentions, but Brigid was a different story.

After a moment, he sighed. “I’ll speak to Brigid after supper.”

Emily smirked at him. “See that ye do. An’ be warned that unless ye have a solid reason, I’ll be takin’ Brigid with me to the market tomorrow.”

Conall sighed and stepped past her to resume his journey to the Great Hall.

Och, the things I put up with from my brother’s wife…

Supper that night was a tense affair. Despite the pleasant hours she’d spent with Emily, Brigid still felt a spike of hurt and anger when she looked at Conall.

Conall, in turn, had a face like a thundercloud. He looked as if one wrong word would make him strike out at someone. Even knowing that, Brigid had no intention of being cowed by him or turned from her purpose.

As the servants began to clear away the last of the platters, she gathered her strength and said, “I need to speak to ye.”

“Aye. I’d intended to speak to ye as well.” Conall finished the last of the mead in his tankard, then rose. “We’ll speak in my study.”

Brigid finished the last of her wine and got up to follow him, only stopping long enough to ask Emily to have some honey cake sent up to her rooms for a treat later.

Well, her betrothed had told her to eat her fill; it would be a shame to let such bounty go to waste.

The short walk to the study was quiet. Brigid wanted to ask questions, to know why Conall had wished to speak to her, but she had no desire to have the discussion where anyone might hear them, so she waited until they were safely inside his study, with the door closed behind them.

“What did ye want to speak to me about?” Conall asked warily, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer.

“I need to send a servant for some things, but I dinnae ken how far they’ll have to travel.”

Conall scowled. “What sort of things do ye need?”

“Och, a number of things. Sewing supplies. Books. Inkpots, paper, and colors for sketchin’ and the like. Nae to mention clothes that fit me properly and other things. Different garments, mayhap some spices for cookin’… There are many things. Sachets for soothin’ dreams and the like as well.”

“Emily can make ye a sachet if ye need it. She is a fine healer.” Conall frowned, trying not to think about what kind of dreams she might be having that required soothing.

“But there are other things.” Brigid frowned right back at him. “Like the books and the drawin’ supplies that arenae so easy to come by. An’ clothes that fit, for it will tak’ time to have them made.”

“But why would ye need them? And why send a servant for them? I dinnae have so many servants I can send to chase fairies or… soothin’ sachets, or whatever else ye said ye needed.”

“’Tis nae chasin’ fairies!” Brigid’s shoulders tensed with indignation. “Just because ye dinnae care for readin’ or writin’ or things of that nature doesnae mean I dinnae!”

“But I have enough inkpots and paper in my study. There are shelves filled wit’ books of all kinds. That should suit ye, surely?”

He gestured around the room, which, sure enough, contained enough books and papers to make it quite the fire hazard.

Brigid scoffed.

Conall stiffened in indignation, but she ignored the gesture, too frustrated and indignant to care if she’d offended him. “The ink an’ paper ye use for business arenae the same as the ones I use for sketchin’. And what about journals? Do ye have those as well?”

She saw the answer in Conall’s sullen expression even before he spoke.

“Surely ‘tis easy enough to bind one?”

“It isnae.” Brigid shook her head.

“I still dinnae see why ye would need to send a servant to collect those things. Emily said ye could manage to find clothing, and everything else…”

“Everything else is what I need to be happy. If ye insist on confinin’ me here, then I have a right to have the things that make me happy.” Brigid matched him glare for glare.

“And if I refuse?” Conall stalked closer.

Brigid tilted her head back and continued to look him in the eye.

“Then I’ll have to go out and find what I need for myself.” She forced herself to stand as tall as she could, arms crossed and chin tilted upward, daring him to argue with her.

“And if I forbid ye?”

“Then I’ll do it anyway.” Brigid raised an eyebrow. “Do ye truly think ye’re the first person to ever forbid me from doin’ something? Or the first I’d defy?”

“Defiance wouldnae be wise—ye can trust me on that.” Conall’s jaw tightened, his stormy gaze darkening in warning.

“I heard the same from my father and my sisters. I didnae listen to them either.”

Conall’s hand came up to her cheek. “I’m nae yer father, or yer sister, Brigid, an’ ye’d be wise to remember it. I’m the man who’ll be yer husband.”

“Doesnae change the truth. If I’m to live the rest of my life here, then I want to be as happy as I can. And I’ll nae settle for ‘whatever I can make do with.’ The rest of my life is a long time.”

“Ye’re a stubborn wench.” The corners of Conall’s mouth twitched in amusement.

“That I am. I’ve always been so, and I have nay intention of changin’ to suit ye, Conall.” She smiled up at him, a challenge in her eyes.

“I can think of many ways to make ye heed me.” His voice was low, but it was hard for Brigid to pay attention, with the heat of him so close to her.

“I dinnae care.”

Conall’s touch was firm, his eyes sharp with an emotion she couldn’t quite place—anger or… something else that made his eyes burn hot.

“Do ye nae?” He leaned closer, and she went still.

His lips claimed hers, mouth firm and lips tasting of mead and meat. His tongue caressed the seam of her lips, and she opened her mouth, leaning into him as the kiss deepened.

She felt his hand slide into her hair, holding her as his other hand went around her waist and pulled her flush against him.

Brigid moaned softly, enjoying the warmth and strength of his tall, powerful frame.

Then, she remembered what they’d originally come to discuss and forced herself to pull back.

“Conall…”

“I’ll nae let ye send my servants all over the Highlands lookin’ for whatever it is ye deem ye need.” Conall’s low growl made her heart sink, her soul aching with hurt.

His next words wiped the hurt away as swiftly as it had appeared.

“I will, however, let ye go with Emily to the village tomorrow.”

Brigid started and stared at him. “Ye’ll… let me go to the village?”

“Aye. Just be sure the two of ye return afore sundown an’ supper.” Conall brushed a thumb across her cheek, then bent to kiss her again.

The second kiss was soft, sweet, and gentle. Then, he stepped back. “Ye should get some rest. An’ I have work to do.”

“Aye.” Her head was swimming, happiness at his concession and a pleasant heat from his kisses making the world feel hazy. “Aye… thank ye.”

With one final kiss, Brigid turned and left Conall to his work, her heart singing.