Just as he released her, Laurel whispered into his ear, “Do you think Dunlop hopes you might share me, or should you kiss me again? I vote for the latter, a ghrà mo chroì.”

Her light tease and reminder that he had her love and her heart brought him somewhat out of his dark mood. He swatted her lightly as she broke away, taking the twins out of the room.

Conor motioned for a servant to bring some drink and then leave. He waited for Dunlop to reveal his purpose and explain why he was traveling alone.

Dunlop took the quaich offered and drained its contents. “I am sorry for interrupting your family time, but I assure you it is not without cause. Your brother sends you a message.”


Laurel plopped down in front of her best friend’s hearth and crossed her arms watching Brenna and Braeden play with Aileen’s two-year-old son on the bed across the room. Dark-haired, Gideon looked nothing like his mother, who though not a petite woman, had small feminine features and light coloring. The cottage was comfortable, warm, and inviting…and Laurel’s typical destination whenever she needed advice or just someone to hear her frustrations.

Brenna, a daredevil and performer, stood up on the soft, wobbly surface. Aileen congratulated the small girl on her feat, and Brenna’s two misty gray eyes beamed with pride.

Braeden, seeing all the attention being lavished upon his sister, then tried to stand. Pleased with his success, he clapped his hands together in one swooping movement and immediately fell over. Seeing Brenna still standing, he reached over and pulled her down beside him. Just as she was about to get mad and retaliate, Gideon, seven months older, began to jump up and down on the spongy mattress, completely mesmerizing the twins.

Aileen handed Laurel a cup of mead and moved to join her friend in the adjacent chair. “I would tell Gideon to stop, but I am afraid without his entertainment, Brenna will remember her brother’s behavior. It is amazing at the young age men begin to protect their pride.”

Laurel drank the sweet beverage, enjoying the strong honey flavor. “It is not just boys. Brenna will have to learn to manage her own pride as she grows, lest it get her into trouble.”

“It has been a while now since you have visited with that look upon your face. Has our good laird been foolish enough to quarrel with you again?”

Laurel let a long sigh escape. “Not yet, but a row is brewing in the air, Aileen. It has been some time since I have crossed words with Conor, but I fear we will battle tonight.”

Aileen almost choked on her drink. “Some time? Wasn’t it just last week that you two argued about having too many visitors? Or was it you giving Fiona a week off without asking him?”

Laurel waved her hand. “Those disagreements occurred two weeks ago. Last week, Conor tried to postpone my monthly trip north to Hagatha’s again, and you made your point. Conor and I butt heads…often. We always have and in truth, I think we like it.”

“You like making up,” Aileen chided her playfully.

“’Tis part of the fighting,” Laurel replied, joining in Aileen’s laughter.

Laurel took another drink and then sighed. “Tonight, I fear, will not end like the others. You should have been there at dinner. Never have I been so embarrassed in front of a guest. Conor behaved atrociously, and Dunlop was not blameless. All throughout the meal, the commander found ways to poke and incite Conor’s anger. Both of them were unbelievable.”

“Was it really that bad?” Aileen asked, trying not to be too skeptical.

Laurel curled her feet underneath her and faced her friend. “From the very beginning, it was clear the two men had crossed words since I left them earlier that afternoon. At first, I tried to learn what was wrong and see if I could defuse the hostilities. What I tell you now is an accurate accounting, Aileen. I do not exaggerate.”

Laurel began to disclose the night’s events, reliving them as she spoke.

“You’re not eating, Dunlop. Does the food not please you?” Laurel asked, hoping he would divulge the reason behind his cold mood rather than insult her.

“Your cook is excellent, milady,” Dunlop responded without inflection. He took a bite and then openly glowered at Conor.

Laurel gulped. Very few men ever had the nerve to look annoyed at her husband, let alone palpably angry. “Then perhaps it is the company that causes you to frown so?” Laurel asked, undaunted.

Dunlop’s normally cheerful face tightened further. “Perhaps you are correct, milady.”

Laurel ate a bite of potato and watched her husband out of the corner of her eye as she chewed. He was tense, quiet, and dangerously reserved. The air was almost tangible with male aggression. Whatever had transpired between them had taken several hours and had not ended well.

“Then let us talk of your new mistress,” Laurel offered, attempting to move the conversation to a more receptive topic. “I understand Lochlen Castle to be something of a fortress and the lands quite beautiful.”

“Aye, it is. I am confident Lady Makenna would enjoy showing it to you,” Dunlop remarked.

Before Laurel could reply, Conor slammed his quaich on the table. Its contents sloshed over the sides of the lip and onto the plate of food. He leveled a stare at Dunlop, who returned it unflinching.

Laurel bit her lip to keep from asking why Conor was acting so rude. She agreed long ago to refrain from disrespecting him in public, but that did not mean she would remain passively quiet once they were alone.

Laurel finished her mead and put the empty cup on the small table nearby. “I quickly tried to change the conversation to any number of subjects. Edward I’s death, Robert the Bruce’s recent success at Urquhart and Balvenie. Nothing. No one would engage. I finally could stand no more of my lone voice bouncing off the walls and left. I could actually feel them hurrying me out of the room so they could resume their argument. It was then I decided to visit you. The only thing going my way this evening is Finn’s absence.”

Aileen widened her eyes and then exhaled. “You may not think so later. I believe my husband is right now with Conor, no doubt supporting our laird in whatever discussion was taking place when you left.”

“It was no discussion, Aileen. It was a silent battle of wills. There is only one reason Dunlop would visit Conor without Colin by his side. Colin wants his brother’s help and could not personally leave to request it.”

“And you are guessing that Conor said no.”

“What else explains Dunlop’s disrespectful and belligerent behavior?”

“If what you think is true, then I must admit that I, too, am stunned, Laurel. The laird must have a strong reason not to come to his brother’s aid when asked. It makes no sense.”

“It does if you factor me into the reason that Conor said no.”

Aileen let go a low whistle. “It’s possible.”

“Possible and true,” Laurel said definitively. “Conor would never deny help to any of his brothers.”

“Unless it involved you or the children,” Aileen said, finishing Laurel’s thought. It was common knowledge how the laird felt about his wife. When he almost lost her the previous year to a jealous and deceitful man, he became a man possessed. Even with the threat gone, Laird McTiernay was very conscious of keeping his wife safe.

“I have no doubt that Conor’s reasons have something to do with me. My husband has not left my side for more than two weeks at a time since last year. He’s afraid I will disappear while he is gone or do something worse such as visit a friend and leave the protection of this place,” Laurel grumbled, twirling her hand around before laying it back down on the armchair.

Aileen watched Laurel unconsciously drum her fingers on the wood. A clear sign Laurel was strategizing and preparing for a confrontation. “And just what is your devious mind planning now?”

Laurel smiled as an idea came to her. “Goodness, Aileen, I, devious? I would never use underhanded tricks to get my way. Not my style.”

Aileen shrugged her right shoulder as she leaned over to place her empty cup beside Laurel’s. “I stand corrected. You are more like a…aye, that’s it, like an immovable boulder when you are in the frame of mind.”

Laurel arched her eyebrows briefly in protestation. “Not flattering, but quite an apt description. But with Conor as a husband, I must be or I would find myself doing only his bidding. First, I’ll confirm my suspicions.”

“And if they are right?”

“Then I may be over here more often during the next few weeks in need of your company. Conor will have to trust that I will be fine without him here to oversee my every move, for tomorrow he will head south toward Lochlen.”


Conor made his way up the multiple stories of the Star Tower to his solar. He had seen Laurel return from Aileen’s earlier and knew she was there waiting for him. With each step, the memory of their afternoon kiss filled his mind, and he felt himself harden in anticipation. Despite the afternoon’s events, he hadn’t forgotten the promise he made earlier that day.

His insatiable need for his wife used to scare him. Now he took peace knowing she loved him as much as he loved her.

Conor walked along the stone corridor that shielded the cold winter wind from the inner chamber. The door was ajar. Laurel was sitting cross-legged in front of the firelight brushing her hair. No one in the world was lovelier. She was his heart and soul. He would never allow the possibility of anyone or anything to hurt her.

“I’m sorry, Colin, I just cannot do what you ask. Not even for you,” he whispered to himself.

Laurel gave one last vigorous stroke and then stood to put the brush on the carved bench. She saw Conor just before she turned back toward the hearth. He was leaning casually at the room’s opening, his stance calm, his arms relaxed and crossed. But he didn’t fool her.