Tempting the Highlander

Book 4: McTiernays

by Michele Sinclair

Genres: Historical Romance; General Fiction; Romance

Synopsis

When Raelynd Schellden and her sister are caught in the stables with the notorious McTiernay twins, her father sees not scandal, but opportunity. The future of his clan is uncertain, and a double engagement-even under false pretenses-will lend security to his people and protect his beloved daughters from power-mad fools.



But Raelynd's designated intended interests her far less than his quietly powerful brother, Crevan, a man born to lead. Though bound by honor and committed to his sworn duty, Crevan cannot resist a taste of Raelynd's crimson lips when offered-and then another and another-until the unlikely couple is entangled in both a public deception and each other's hearts.

Release date: May 26, 2011

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

1315, early fall

Raelynd studied her target one last time and bolstered her resolve, remembering her sister’s fateful questions nearly two months ago. Really? Only one time? Meriel’s shock had been genuine. It, however, paled compared to Raelynd’s own upon discovering the level of knowledge her supposedly shy and timid sister had of men. You really should try it, Lyndee. It passes the time and if he knows what he’s doing, it can be pleasurable and . . . Raelynd had stopped listening. Pleasurable? Kissing! The one time she had endured the diversion, it had not been by choice and it had been far from pleasant, let alone enjoyable. She could imagine only one man who might prove to be the exception.

Five years ago, she had encountered him by chance and only for a few minutes, not realizing it would be four more years before she would have another opportunity. But earlier this year he and his brother had agreed to spend several months helping her father train new recruits in an effort to recuperate from some severe losses in battle. Unfortunately, the opportunities she had been hoping for arose with the wrong brother.

Crevan had spent much of the summer months in the training fields, but altogether too often, he found reasons to be closer to Caireoch Castle, regularly retreating in the Great Hall where she preferred to direct servants and give out instructions. The man had found an endless number of things to fault her with, and never failed to lecture her in the most irritating, overbearing, and condescending way. His brother Craig was the opposite. Though she had tried time and again to stumble across his company in a seemingly accidental way, the man had somehow kept his distance, preferring to eat and sleep outside with the men or accepting shelter and hospitality from one of the married soldiers.

Today, Raelynd was determined for that to change. Not only was she tired of waiting and impatient to learn the secrets her sister possessed, Craig was planning to leave next morning.

Harvest had arrived and with it the McTiernays’ assistance to her father ended. Tomorrow both brothers would be gone. That made the timing perfect to test Meriel’s proclamation. Based on his notorious stance against committed relationships, she was sure Craig would have no sudden intentions of proposing even if Meriel was correct and the kiss was found to be enjoyable by both of them. Besides, everyone knew the McTiernay brothers were good at everything—good fighters, excellent strategists, and undeniably good looking, so they had to be experienced with women. So, if she was going to do the unthinkable and kiss a man, it was going to be with one of the most desirable men available.

Swallowing, Raelynd moved until she was noticeably in front of the crowd and prayed her idea would work. Infatuated young soldiers had chased after her since she could remember and she was an expert at getting them to keep their distance. Trying to get their attention, however, was something altogether foreign.

Craig could feel the strain in his shoulders as he pushed even farther to lean back. He gave a final twist and then threw, letting the spear slide through his fingertips just a moment too late, shortening its arc and intended distance. “Mo Chreach,” he muttered under his breath as he saw it fall just short of Hamish’s pike.

He held up a hand to the cheering crowd who had come to witness the impromptu games Laird Schellden was holding to celebrate this year’s bountiful harvest. Walking up to the long pike, Craig yanked it out of the ground with frustration. Just as he had been releasing his grip, a distinct head of semidark blond hair knelt down to pick something up, practically begging his eyes to stare at her cleavage.

Winding up for a second throw, Craig paused, twisted, and again the same figure dressed in bright blue moved into his line of sight. Her pale hand was dabbing a small white cloth along perfect breasts, as if to cool them from the nonexistent heat. If he didn’t know better, he would guess Raelynd Schellden intended for him to miss. Hesitating for just another moment, Craig threw the heavy weapon into the air, this time uncaring of its distance.

As expected, the spear fell significantly short of its target. The crowd snickered and Craig knew it paled to the torment he would undoubtedly receive from his brothers for blundering an event he should have easily won. But he didn’t care. Brotherly harassment was a small sacrifice to discover if Lady Schellden’s lips were as soft and welcoming as they had looked from a distance. Even better, there would be no expectations afterward.

Everyone knew how the Schellden twins felt about marriage—completely disinterested. They were independent spirits who refused to be pinned down. At twenty-six years of age, Craig not only understood the feeling, but admired it. Freedom was one of life’s gifts he was not ready to give up. Not even for a blond beauty.

Ignoring the cackles, Craig headed away from the fields and the boisterous crowd toward the nearly vacated castle grounds. As he suspected, a wisp of blue turned and followed him as he walked by. He smiled. He had not misunderstood.

Not more than ten steps inside Caireoch’s nearly abandoned bailey, Craig deftly swiveled behind a wagon and grabbed Raelynd’s wrist as he ducked into the shadows. He peered into her hazel eyes, verifying his assumptions were still accurate. Curiosity, anticipation, and willingness shined back at him.

“Kiss me, Craig McTiernay,” Raelynd whispered.

“Aye, Raelynd. I intend to.”

Raelynd pulled back slightly at the mention of her given name. “Call me Lyndee.”

Craig chuckled. He remembered hearing her father grumble something about her trying to change her name. Fact was her parents had believed they would never have children. To be blessed with twins had been a miracle. Knowing a son would never follow, Raelynd had been named for her father, Rae Schellden. Thankfully, she looked nothing like him. Pretty, with long dark gold hair and a willowy frame like her mother, she possessed only her father’s sparkling green and gold flecked eyes that dared anyone to stop her from seeking what she wanted in life. And Raelynd had decided she wanted him. Luckily, his time in service to her father had ended that morning, freeing him to enjoy the invitation.

“I think I’ll just kiss you instead,” he softly murmured into her ear.

As his heated breath caressed her ear, Raelynd felt a shiver run down her spine. This, she thought, this is what I have been waiting for.

His fingers closed around the back of her head and he leisurely brought his mouth down to hers. Raelynd’s breath caught in her throat. His lips were warm, soft and surprisingly agreeable. Perhaps Meriel was right.

Raelynd felt his lips move against her own and she mirrored the action, waiting for the burst of emotion that was supposed to accompany the experience.

Nothing.

Inwardly she sighed with disappointment. At least it wasn’t completely unpleasant.

Craig’s arms were strong and large and rather than making her feel confined and pinned in, they were somewhat comforting. Perhaps Meriel was right. It wasn’t such a bad way to pass the time.

Then his mouth released hers so he could move down and nibble at her bottom lip. It occurred to her that Craig might actually want her to open her mouth. Just before a wave of panic hit her, someone nearby shouted across the bailey. Cool air immediately replaced the spot where Craig’s lips had been.

He peered around the back of the wagon and said, “Come on. I know somewhere that should provide us several hours of privacy.”

Before Raelynd could either agree or disagree, her hand was clasped in his and she was scurrying behind him, keeping out of sight until they reached the stables. Before anyone saw them together, he had opened and closed the doors, closeting them inside.

Just as Craig had predicted, the stables were empty. “How did you know no one would be here?”

Craig grinned. “The race,” he replied.

Like all the McTiernays, he had thick dark brown hair, which he wore too short to tie back but long enough to reveal the natural wave it possessed. His eyes were a rich blue that twinkled when he was happy. Large and strong, he was incredibly good looking.

Raelynd scuffed one foot on the ground, trying not to act nervous. Everyone was at the race. Even the stable masters and their young helpers had left to assist with the horses and their owners. Her black mare was practically the only horse left in the stables. “I wanted to ride in it.”

“The race? You?”

She nodded.

“Um, I’ve seen your sister ride. Not a good idea.”

Raelynd suppressed a huff. At least Craig had not said that she was a girl and therefore unable to possess the necessary skills to ride. “I am not my sister. Meriel doesn’t like to ride. She thinks it’s dirty and uncomfortable.”

Unexpectedly Craig grabbed her waist and twirled her around in the air. “She’s right.”

Just as Raelynd was about to argue, he let go, plopping her onto a bed of clean hay. He fell down beside her and pulled her body close to his and resumed kissing her lips. He began to deepen the kiss and this time she resisted.

“It’s all right. I promise I won’t let it go too far, Lyndee. I am not about to do anything that will force us into something we both don’t want.”

Raelynd ordered her body to relax. She had wanted to kiss Craig and she was finally able to more than achieve that goal. Unfortunately, it was not until now that she realized she really did not know how. “I’m glad about that. I just—” But before she could finish, several pieces of hay fell down onto her face and into her mouth, causing her to sputter. Looking up, she saw her nemesis staring down at her.

“Either get busy or be quiet,” came the velvety command.

Crevan McTiernay! Of all the people, it would have to be him, here, in the stables, spying on them. For the past couple of months, whenever she had sought out Craig, she would find Crevan instead. It seemed that he practically lived in the Great Hall for he was always there whenever she came in, ready to scold, correct, and patronize whenever and however possible. Even at night, he would come to dinner and spend hours debating her skills in running the castle until all others had left the room. The themes to his speeches were all the same—that she had great potential, but it was a shame that she chose not to use it.

Well, right now, here in the stables, kissing Craig, was the one time she absolutely did not want his opinion. She already knew she was lousy at the pastime, but it was also the one thing she had done Crevan had yet to insult. And that was only because it was the single area of her life of which he had no knowledge . . . and never would.

Raelynd removed a piece of straw from her hair and glared up at him. “Why? Are we interrupting your endeavors to practice wrestling?” she taunted, referencing Crevan’s poor performance in the sport earlier that day during the games.

“Be careful, Raelynd.”

That was the last insult. Only this morning, he had been telling her that her attempt to get everyone to call her Lyndee was juvenile and he refused to participate in it. She had argued that her given name was too masculine. Ignoring her logic altogether, he had told her to resign her scheming for his brother and go pretend to be Lady of Caireoch by scolding some undeserving servant.

“Why should I be careful?” she goaded.

“Because it was me for whom he failed that particular wrestling match,” came an altogether too familiar feminine voice.

“Meriel!” Raelynd shouted, jumping to her feet to peer over the stable wall. She ignored Craig, who was now leaning back on the hay listening and enjoying himself as the argument unfolded. It was rare to hear Crevan talk, let alone raise his voice and quarrel. And practically unheard of for his brother to do so with a woman.

“What?” Meriel asked ingenuously as she stared up innocently, blinking her eyes. Her face was identical to Raelynd’s, so much so that if they wanted to they could change roles and deceive almost everyone. But at any normal given moment, their personalities were so unique and equally strong, they were unmistakably distinct individuals. “We were doing nothing you weren’t planning on doing.”

A chuckle from behind Raelynd filled the air as Craig’s voice floated upward. “Well, you must not have been having as much fun as we were just starting to have; otherwise, you would have been too busy to interrupt us. You a little out of practice there, brother?”

Arching a triumphant eyebrow, Raelynd crossed her arms and grinned at Crevan. He returned the mischievous smile and bestowed a low bow. During which, he seized a large amount of straw in his hand, stood up, and with one adroit move, threw it in her direction.

Raelynd squealed and Craig, also getting a face full of hay, joined her as she dashed around the stall to return the favor. Seconds later, the four of them were racing around the stables as wads of straw went flying through the air. Anger was replaced by laughter as all four tossed and shoved hay onto and into any opening presented. Crevan was a mess. Raelynd was a disaster, and neither could remember having a better time in recent memory.

Rae Schellden stared down at the nearly empty courtyard, his hazel eyes focused on the closed stable doors. He stroked his short white beard, which matched the rest of his—at one time black—hair. The last of the games were taking place now out in the fields and the horse race would begin at any moment if it had not already started. He should be out there, encouraging the participants and celebrating with the victors, but he had a serious problem. One that he had been struggling to resolve until just a few minutes ago when the solution fell into his lap.

“I got another message from the king.”

Conor, the only other person in the Great Hall, said nothing. The eldest of the McTiernays and laird to their formidable clan, he was Schellden’s greatest ally and in many ways, a close friend despite their age difference. Conor was intelligent, decisive, and rarely offered advice without thought and some basis of reasoning. As a result, Rae trusted the young laird’s counsel.

“My nephew, Cyric, is on his way north and will be here either tomorrow or the day after.”

“You have little time then,” Conor finally said, impassively stating facts they both knew.

“Then you agree with my plan.”

Conor pulled out a chair and sat down with a noncommittal shrug. “I find it hard to comment. You are meddling in people’s lives.”

Schellden shook his head, but continued his gaze at the stable doors. “Not meddling.”

“Influencing then.”

“But for a good purpose.”

Conor shifted in his chair and stretched out his legs. “Only if it all turns out as you hope.”

Schellden finally turned around to lock eyes with the one man who knew the details of the plan and the reasons behind them. “But do you think it is possible?”

“Possible?” Conor repeated, crossing his arms behind his head. “Aye, your plan is possible. But is it probable? You are one of the best strategists I know, Schellden, but this is no battlefield. We are talking about people and two of them are my brothers. Both happen to be quite perceptive to being manipulated.”

“And your wife?”

Conor threw his head back and laughed. “Aye, Laurel could be a challenge. I have no idea how she will respond to this plan of yours but I know that she will react in some unpredictable way.”

“But will she cooperate?”

Conor stopped laughing as his face took on a look of total incredulity. “Cooperate. No. But I doubt she will be able to keep herself from participating. Best not to tell her anything. If I explain your plan and she thinks you are right, she will most likely support your cause. If she thinks you are wrong, then . . . well . . . But your biggest problem isn’t Laurel. It’s my brothers.”

Schellden looked back at the stables. All four were still in there and if the couples were engaged in what they had been doing when he spied them sneaking inside, he had hope. Never did he believe he would wish his daughters to be caught in such a shameful way, but in truth, it made things easier. Especially, as Schellden knew deep down neither Craig nor Crevan would ever do anything to compromise the two people he loved most in the world. “Do you think your brothers will do as I ask?”

Conor pulled back his legs and leaned forward so that his elbows were on his knees. He clasped his hands. “I cannot say,” he answered, his tone turning serious. “I will not interfere with your plans, old friend, for I know you only seek the best welfare for all involved as well as the future for your clan and these Highlands, but do not ask me to be a part of your schemes. I cannot. My brothers have been men for some time. They can make up their own minds and both you and they will have to live with the consequences of today’s decisions.”

Schellden grimaced and after one last look, he walked over to the table, picked up his mug and downed the last of his ale. “That I know all too well. But it has to be done. In the end, the choice to act will remain theirs,” he said with assurance.

Conor raised a single brow. “Does that claim include your daughters?”

Schellden’s jaw tightened. “I have protected them too much, as evidenced last month when both turned down the last marriage proposal so publicly and in such a way not a man in two hundred miles would ask for their hand in the next ten years.”

“I think that was their goal.”

Schellden banged his empty mug on the table. “Mac-Dougal’s boy was nice!”

Conor shook his head. “A good soldier perhaps, but admit it, even you found him boring.” Then, realizing that he was transgressing from a listening friend to an advising one, he threw up his hands in the air and resettled himself against the back of the chair. “But what do I know? When it comes to a sword, I’ll have an opinion, but not regarding relationships or people. I’ll leave that to you and my wife.”

“Well, then I best confront them immediately. Your brothers could have given me no better opportunity than the one I have now.” Schellden waited for a second and seeing that Conor had no intentions of rising and coming with him, Schellden marched to the exit and grabbed the handle. Just before he opened the door, he paused and said, “I know your position on the matter, but can I expect you to be here when I return?”

An enormous grin took over Conor’s face. “Aye. Wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Schellden examined the four bodies sprawled in the hay of one of the larger stalls. None of them had heard his entry, enabling him to watch the singular commotion without notice. A giggling Raelynd was dancing all around Craig as both were attempting to tackle the other, while his other daughter, Meriel, rolled around in the hay with Crevan engaged in a similar leisure interest. He had expected them to be actively engaged—had even hoped to find them with lips locked—but a hay fight? That was something he had not anticipated. Worse, the lack of impropriety was going to make his plan all the more difficult to execute.

Raelynd swung around Craig, who unceremoniously tossed her onto a mound of hay before flopping down beside her. She was about to stand up and attack again, when she froze. “Papa,” she spurted, spitting out a piece of straw. “What are you doing here?”

Schellden crossed his arms and stared down at Raelynd and then Meriel, hoping his expression conveyed severe unhappiness. His daughters’ eyes darted everywhere but his gaze. Both McTiernays, now aware of his presence, did not feel similar shame and rose to their feet, looking at him with a bemused mixture of feigned innocence.

Craig and Crevan McTiernay had trained under Schellden as young men several years ago. They had fought with him and his late commander last year at Bannockburn, the hard-won battle that resulted in deep losses. Earlier in the year, the brothers had agreed to assist him in guiding and training new recruits until a new commander could be decided upon.

Fraternal twins, Craig and Crevan McTiernay possessed similar features, but in personality they were unmistakable individuals. An exceptional soldier, Craig’s booming and decisive voice grabbed the men’s attention and held it. Soldiers listened to him, respected him, and followed his lead without question. But off the field, his wit, quick mind, and merry disposition typically made him the entertainment for any gathering.

Though just as commanding on the battlefield, Crevan interacted with those around him quite differently. Possessing an introspective personality, most believed his quiet demeanor due to his halted speech. But after years of knowing him, Schellden knew such assumptions were shortsighted and unwise. Crevan had accepted who he was long ago and his style of command did not reflect insecurity, but thought, consideration, and firm resolve. With one exception—Raelynd.

With her, Crevan was discomposed . . . though he never let anyone see it. Raelynd was his opposite. She was vivacious and strong minded, but she too often walked without aim. That is unless angered by Crevan. Then she possessed unusual focus and determination.

Schellden finally captured the mortified gazes of his daughters. “Both of you return to your rooms until I call for you.”

Then, without pause, he turned to face Crevan and Craig. Two pairs of bright blue eyes returned his stare without qualm. Both men knew they had been caught in a potentially compromising situation, and yet neither spoke a word of apology. The McTiernay brothers were known throughout the Highlands for their ability to outthink their opponents and for their incredible obstinacy.

I can be stubborn too, Schellden reasoned to himself. I have to be.

After looking both men in their eyes, Schellden inhaled deeply and said, “Follow me. We have things to discuss.”

Crevan glanced at his brother, who mirrored his grimace, and then pivoted to follow Schellden out of the stables and across the bailey. With each step, Crevan replayed the actions of the last half hour against what he knew of his neighbor.

Rae Schellden loved his daughters. Too much in many ways, and Crevan had told him so on several occasions when Schellden refused to address Raelynd’s officious conduct with the servants. She and her sister were the man’s most precious gifts and since his wife passed away nine years ago, he had become even more protective and indulgent. The close bond between their two clans would have mattered little to Schellden if either Crevan or Craig had done anything wrong, but both women were still innocent and that was clear. Whatever Schellden had in mind, Crevan had no compulsion to capitulate based on what happened in the stables.

Schellden shoved his hands against the large doors of the Great Hall and they swung open. The place was empty with one exception. Crevan nodded at his eldest brother, who was sitting relaxed in a chair across the room. Schellden moved to the chair next to Conor, but stopped before sitting. Crevan and Craig followed him inside, but did not join him at the table.

Schellden’s jaw tightened with resolve. “When you leave this room, I intend to announce a double engagement. Raelynd will join with Craig and Crevan is to be with Meriel.”

Crevan said nothing. Schellden was laird of one of the most powerful clans in the Highlands and he was accustomed to getting what he wanted. Countless times Crevan had seen him masterfully wield people, bending them to his decisions. Today, however, would not be one of those times. Not on the topic of marriage. The last thing he or his brother would be when they left Schellden lands in the morning was engaged—to anyone.

Crevan glanced at Conor, who just shrugged his shoulders and said, “You are both grown men. You can make your own decisions and need no input or approval from me.”

Shifting his gaze from his brother to Schellden, Crevan asked, “W-w-what is the true motivation behind this impromptu marriage decree? W-w-why do both your daughters need to suddenly be engaged and to us?”

Schellden’s hazel eyes soberly returned the royal blue stare and with a serious tone that reeked of foreboding, replied, “Cyric is due to arrive tomorrow and he is not coming for a visit.”

Crevan held the stare and after several seconds, exhaled the deep breath he had been holding. “So King Robert w-w-was being sincere last summer.”

Craig swung around to glare at his brother. “Just what happened last summer and who is Cyric?”

“Cyric is my nephew,” Schellden explained calmly, and yet the weight of his words conveyed that Cyric was much more than a nephew—he was a burden. “My only nephew and King Robert intends for him to be the next Schellden laird upon my death.”

“But why?” Craig asked, mystified. “Why would the king desire an outsider to oversee one of his largest and wealthiest clans?”

“Because the Schellden army is just that—large and critical to the king’s future needs. And he doesn’t consider Cyric an outsider. Though he was raised by his mother in the Lowlands, he is my brother’s son and therefore a Schellden and a Highlander by birth. The king thought it time to ensure the unity of this clan, and he is achieving that end with the only male heir. And in that, he is right.”

Crevan moved over to the table and leaned back against its edge. “Remember Ian Lainge?” He directed the reminder to Craig, whose face suddenly transformed with understanding.

Just before the Battle of Bannockburn, Ian, laird of one of the larger Lainge clans and armies, died unexpectedly with no presumptive male heir. His three daughters had quickly married into other clans for reasons of security and the Lainge lands ended up being divided amongst their new husbands. The split killed the strength, numbers, and leadership of the once strong and deadly Lainge army.

With Schellden’s twin daughters unmarried and no definitive heir, the Schellden clan was similarly vulnerable. All knew Robert I’s desire to free Ireland from English rule, which meant more battles lay ahead. And while the king had not yet called upon the McTiernay or Schellden clans for support, it would eventually happen and the new ruler expected all of his clans and their armies to remain strong. That included securing their futures. And since neither Raelynd nor Meriel had found a man worthy for marriage, the king had selected one for them. Their cousin.

“Cyric is not the solution,” Crevan replied quietly. He had met the man briefly while visiting. . .