Michele Sinclair - [McTiernays 05] Read online

  Craig stepped inside the tower and began to make his way up the spiraling staircase. He had not even reached the second turn when he could hear Meriel’s laughter. The infectious sound was like no other and it warmed his heart. He sent a silent thank-you to Brenna for keeping Meriel entertained.

  Taking two steps at a time, he bounded up to the second floor while simultaneously coming up with two or three ideas that would induce his little niece to leave and give him some time alone with Meriel. He approached the wide-open door expecting to see a young girl with a mass of pale blond curls, but instead his eyes landed on Hamish, who stood in the middle of the room, half dressed, wearing only his kilt and pieces of an unfinished leine. Next to him was Meriel, who was looking particularly beautiful. The dark green gown she was wearing was one of his favorites, accentuating her small waist and feminine curves. She had pulled the sides of her hair into a braid, leaving the wealth of her tawny locks tumbling down her back.

  Spying Craig at the door, Meriel’s eyes grew large. “Dia dhuit! We were expecting you awhile ago.”

  Hamish twisted his head and grinned. “Come on in, Craig! I need someone to run for help if I begin to bleed to death from being poked with a needle.”

  Meriel glared up at Hamish, but anger was not what sparkled in the green and gold depths. “I barely pricked you once. But I suspect it will happen again if you don’t stop moving,” she said as she slowly slipped one sleeve up his arm until it met the seam of the shirt.

  “Ouch!” Hamish barked. “And before you dare think to tease me,” he called out to Craig, “you should know that everything I am wearing from the waist up is riddled with lethal pins.”

  Meriel rolled her eyes and began to slide on the second sleeve, this time not so carefully. “And I thought you soldiers were supposed to be tough. It must be awfully loud on the training field with all you men squealing every time you get nicked with a weapon.”

  “Highlanders do not squeal,” Hamish denied. “Tell her, Craig!”

  Craig stood dumbfounded. He was not sure what he thought transpired during Hamish’s and Meriel’s time together, but this was not what he had envisioned. Before Craig could affirm the fact that McTiernay soldiers most certainly did not squeal, Meriel tugged a piece of the partial shirt. Hamish let go a yelp and instinctively pulled back, only to be poked once more. Meriel looked up at the recoiling man before her and arched a brow. “I know one Highlander who squeals.”

  “Well, men don’t pull chest hairs! Your pins do!” Hamish argued. “Go wrench one out of Craig’s chest and let’s see how he reacts.”

  Meriel’s eyes flew to Craig. There was a mischievous look in her hazel gaze, as if she was contemplating Hamish’s dare, but Craig’s thoughts were consumed with the realization that the type of relationship Hamish and Meriel had was eerily familiar. They enjoyed each other’s company and they were obviously quite comfortable with one another. Almost too comfortable. And if Craig had not been certain that Meriel’s and Hamish’s friendship was about to come to an abrupt end, he might not have been able to remain calm. But any day now Conor would return home, and once Craig had divested himself of his brotherly duties, he fully intended to depart with Meriel for Caireoch Castle.

  Forcing his mouth into a smile, Craig sauntered into the room. He was heading for a chair when he realized that his chest actually was in real danger of being plucked. Just in time, he outstretched his arm to keep Meriel at a safe distance and pointed his finger at her. “Don’t you dare,” he warned, and immediately sought out the nearby chair and sat down, crossing one leg so that his right ankle rested on his left knee.

  He sat back to relax, and was thinking the room was much more comfortable than he remembered, when he grasped the reason why. Furrowing his brow, Craig looked down, confirming what he already knew to be true. The Great Hall’s padded chairs had been commissioned by his father and were prized possessions of the McTiernay household. So valued that each of the brothers had managed to procure one or two for his room before the thievery had been put to a sudden and near violent end. “Just where did this chair come from?” Craig snapped at no one in particular.

  Unaffected, Meriel focused her attention on Hamish’s leine and said, “I had someone bring one up from the Great Hall. The cross-frame chairs in here were far too uncomfortable.”

  Craig snorted. “You’re lucky I learned of this before Conor did. You thought he was mad last year when you ordered all those rushes? He would explode upon learning this.”

  “Your brother gets angry at anything. I don’t know why a missing chair would be any different.” Meriel sighed, completely unfazed at the idea of Conor getting angry. Seeing Craig’s growing distress at her lack of concern, Meriel shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “Fine. When we are finished today, you and Hamish can haul it back down to where it belongs.”

  Unable to do anything but agree with the suggestion, Craig leaned back in the chair, but his brow remained furrowed. He considered explaining how these chairs were luxuries most Highland clans knew nothing of, but he knew Meriel would not understand. Before she was even born, her father had sat in them and decided that his pride required that he own such grand furniture. As a result, Meriel had never known life without their comfort.

  Meriel accidentally tugged on another one of Hamish’s hairs, this time under his arm. Unable to stop himself, he let go another squeak, capturing Craig’s attention. With both sleeves on, Meriel had shifted to work on the front of the shirt.

  Another man’s physique was not something Craig typically contemplated, but seeing Meriel so close to Hamish’s chest, he could think of nothing else. It was bad enough that Hamish had massive shoulders and a broad, muscular torso, but it was sprinkled with just the amount of hair women preferred. In Craig’s experience, his friend fit the ideal image women sought in a man. Meriel was not exactly fondling Hamish, but her fingers, pinning the material, were coming close to it.

  Tension was gathering throughout Craig’s body. To keep from making a fool of himself, he was about to order Meriel to stop all physical contact when she returned her attentions to the sleeve on Hamish’s arm. Folding the end until it was at the correct length, she pinned it in place. Anticipating another poke, Hamish jerked. Meriel rolled her eyes and glanced behind her. “You should try plucking your enemy’s hairs the next time you lead men into battle, Craig. After one encounter, your adversaries would run in fear every time they saw you.”

  The absurdity of the idea made Hamish chuckle, causing his body to twitch. This triggered cackles in Craig, which spawned unrestrained laughter in Meriel. Unable to stop himself, Hamish joined her, causing Craig and Meriel to laugh even harder. Fighting for air, Meriel punched Craig on the arm as if it was all his fault that she was doubled over in pain.

  “Would not work,” Craig finally managed to get out. “Most Highlanders are not as delicate as Hamish here.”

  “I may be delicate, but I am also brave,” Hamish grunted, “unless, of course, you too are going to request a new kilt and leine.”

  Craig threw up his hands in the air and then intertwined them behind his head as he stretched out. “I would, but I doubt there will be enough time before Conor returns.”

  Taking a deep breath and wiping away a tear, Meriel shifted to work on Hamish’s other sleeve, bringing her backside within arm’s reach of Craig. She carefully folded the second sleeve as she had the other. Then she reached down toward the pin cushion on the floor, but instead of getting a pin, her hand flew to Craig’s exposed calf and gave a quick yank to a couple of his hairs.

  Instantly, Craig jumped out of his chair. “That hurt!” he bellowed before he could stop himself.

  The smile that erupted on Meriel’s face almost made the mistake worth it. “I prove my point. All Highlander men are delicate.”

  Craig’s leg burned, but the pain was a balm to his soul. Suddenly all was right with his world. Meriel was teasing him as she used to and he had yet to witness any sexual tension between her and
Hamish. A sense of peace enveloped him, something he had not felt in days.

  “And you,” Meriel said, nudging Hamish with her knuckle, “had not yet answered my question when Craig walked in.”

  Hamish inhaled deeply and gave Craig a look that implored him to help. Unfortunately, Craig had no idea what her question was. With a shrug of his shoulders, he sat back down.

  “That is because you have not answered mine,” Hamish countered.

  Taking the last pin out of her mouth, she said, “I would, but I do not think Wyenda would approve.” Meriel pinned the sleeve. “I’m done! All I have to do is get this thing off of you and you will be free from further torment.”

  Hamish gave her a wink. “Except for a few missing hairs, I shall miss these afternoons. And I am not inviting Wyenda to dinner. I am inviting you. She did not make me these clothes, you did. And you need to let me say thank you.”

  Craig blinked and forced his body to remain still as his mind whirred. Had he heard Hamish correctly?

  “I already told you, Hamish,” Meriel began as she slipped her hand between his skin and the material to keep it from poking him as she removed the sleeve, “it is not necessary.”

  “But it is. You made me not one but two kilts, and today you have cut and pieced together a second leine. That requires more than just spoken appreciation. Do you not agree, Craig?”

  Craig was vaguely aware of Hamish’s question. He was watching how once again Meriel was protecting his friend from any potential pricks by sliding her hand up the shirtsleeve as she removed the item. He knew that in her mind it was not a caress, but Craig was altogether aware of what any man would be thinking under the circumstances. And by Hamish’s broken, raspy tone, his friend was absolutely aware of her touch.

  Meriel stepped back and bent over to put the folded sleeve with the other on her sewing basket. Craig finally found his voice. “Two does seem a little excessive.”

  Meriel stood up and her green eyes momentarily glinted at Craig before shifting to Hamish. “Perhaps, then, since I have done an excessive amount of work, I should let you thank me. I accept your offer of dinner.”

  Hamish’s eyes shined with genuine excitement. “Great! Tomorrow night?” he half asked, half proclaimed.

  Meriel moved to stand in front of Hamish, leveled her gaze on Craig, and then gave a slight tug to the body of the half-finished leine, gesturing for Hamish to bend over so she could slip it off. He did so and Craig felt his insides twist in anger. Not at Hamish, but at Meriel. She was not completely unaware of what she was doing, as he had believed. Oh, she was ignorant of how her touches were affecting his friend, but Hamish was not her focus—he was.

  Damn woman. She was once again trying to make him jealous and it was working. Such deviousness required him to fight with similar tactics. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Why don’t you make dinner, Meriel?”

  “Did you say make dinner?” Meriel repeated as she folded the last piece of the leine to place it on her basket. As she stood up, her hazel eyes narrowed to slits as they fell onto Craig.

  “Hey! That is a great idea!” Hamish exclaimed, unaware of the cold look she was issuing Craig.

  Meanwhile, Craig had to fight to keep his facial expression from giving away the triumph he felt. Meriel had a choice: refuse to go, or cook and deal with the consequences. Either way, she and Hamish would not be enjoying a pleasant meal together. “Aye,” Craig encouraged. “You had all that practice last year. Some of the most memorable meals I ever had were from the time you worked with Fiona in the kitchens.”

  Cold calculation filled Meriel’s eyes. “I have never made dinner by myself before, but it would be interesting to try. Hamish, I will agree to a picnic with you on one condition.”

  “Anything,” Hamish replied with a shrug of his shoulders. The tension between Meriel and Craig was unmistakable, but Hamish no longer felt the need to end it or avoid it. He was not sure why; he only knew that he enjoyed Meriel’s company and wished she had another reason to slip her hand once again along his arm.

  “Let’s have it by the loch—and you can show me your favorite place, the one you were telling me about.”

  Instead of grabbing his shirt and putting it on, Hamish crossed his arms, causing the muscles in his chest to ripple and bulge. Desire darkened his eyes, and seeing it, Craig knew that whatever game Meriel had been playing, Hamish was no longer an uninterested bystander. His friend might not yet recognize his growing feelings, but Craig had seen that look on Hamish’s face multiple times. The man enjoyed the company of women and he was starting to see Meriel not just as a friend, but something potentially more.

  Craig snatched Hamish’s leine and threw it at him. “Now that you two have made your plans, it is time you dressed and left.”

  Meriel’s head snapped around. Craig’s voice had been soft, almost casual, but it held a menacing sound that sent a shiver through her. Hamish took the tossed leine and tucked it under his arm. If he had heard the warning, he was not acting like it. “I think I’ll carry it since it irritates you so much.”

  Taking a deep breath, Meriel placed her hand on Hamish’s chest and pushed him so that he began to walk backwards. Emotions were building, which was a good thing, but the accompanying tension was growing. Any more might create a situation that could potentially ruin all her plans. “I think you better go, Hamish.”

  When they reached the door, he extended his hand to grab the door frame, stopping his backward movement. “Sure, but I promised you that I would help Craig with the chair.”

  Strong fingers gripped Meriel’s wrist, removing her hand from Hamish’s chest. “I think I can handle the chair by myself,” growled Craig. “Meriel still needs to get her things.”

  Hamish gave his friend an infuriating grin. “No problem. Meriel and I have all of tomorrow night.” Then he produced an exaggerated bow and turned to leave, pulling on his leine as he disappeared down the stairwell.

  With Meriel’s wrist still in Craig’s grasp, he pulled her roughly to him. His arms tightened, threatening to crush her body against his hard strength. His blue eyes were intensely bright, and danger radiated from him like an aura. Meriel was far from afraid. She wanted this. She needed this. Everything depended on Craig’s response.

  “Let go of me,” she whispered.

  “Why? Isn’t this what you have been wanting? So much that you are willing to torment another man just to provoke me into action?”

  Meriel moistened her lips and dragged in air. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “Stop, Meriel. It’s time for the truth.” But before she could answer, with his free hand Craig buried his fingers in her hair, pulled her mouth to his, and kissed her. He had to kiss her; he had no other choice. Meriel was relentless, and until he yielded to what they both desired, he would have no peace.

  The moment she had slipped the half-finished leine off Hamish, Craig had made up his mind. She had intentionally besieged his sanity, and now it was her turn to suffer. He could think of no better way than to give her what she wanted—a long, soft, lingering kiss that would leave her both longing and unfulfilled.

  Meriel felt his lips against hers and shivers of delight ran down her spine. His closed mouth was warm and sweet and highly enjoyable, but far from satisfying. Meriel smiled inwardly. Craig thought himself to be in control, but she was far from a novice at the art of kissing, and she could feel the evidence of his desire.

  Standing on tiptoe, Meriel weaved her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his thick dark hair. Pressing her mouth against his, she gently traced his lips with her tongue and then began to nibble on his lower lip. The heat in her veins rose and she could not restrain the tiny sound of desire coming from the back of her throat. If Craig did not respond soon, she would erupt into a blazing fire.

  Need slammed into him, hard and painful, and the hair on the back of his neck stirred in primal reaction to her seduction. She was forbidden to him, not just b
y her father but by his own decree, and yet God knew how he wanted her. He felt on fire and overcome with need. Giving way to his baser desires, he took over and thrust his tongue inside her mouth. Then he kissed her, hard and deliberately, letting her feel the savage intensity of his desire. He half hoped it would scare her, but when she responded, eagerly tasting him in return, it only inflamed him more.

  Meriel was drowning in sensation. Her blood was pounding in her head and she fought to remain alert enough to do what she must. And yet, part of her knew she was fighting a losing battle, for the more his lips moved against hers, the less will she had. Meriel felt alive and wild and thoroughly without discipline. Her mouth slanted over his, her tongue meeting each stroke.

  His body was pressed against hers, and instead of pulling away, her instinct was to sink even more into his warmth. She had never known such pleasure, felt such shameless desire. With Craig, there was no fear, no inhibitions, and Meriel knew she was close to losing the one thing she could not afford—control.

  Craig was a bit surprised at how quickly his own restraint had left him, but from the moment her tongue had touched his lips, the need to taste her in his mouth had been almost crippling. And his desire was only growing.

  Craig’s hands glided from Meriel’s neck down her spine, molding her body against his so that she could not help but feel the throbbing mass of his erection. And still she did not resist. His fingers followed the smooth curve of her back and up her sides to caress her breasts as his kiss took her deeper and deeper into a place neither of them had ever gone. Her mouth—sensuous, perfect, so hot and moist—and her body, nestled into his, became his world and he wanted it all. He had started something he had promised himself he would not finish, but Craig was now unsure if he could summon the will to move away from her.

  Under his touch, Meriel’s breasts swelled and her nipples contracted, sending waves of desire between her legs. The sensation was new and unexpected and it momentarily jolted Meriel back to semi-awareness. Craig was stirring feelings inside her she had not thought possible. It was incredibly enticing. Only the knowledge that every dream, every hope she had for her future would be lost if she succumbed, kept her from shutting her eyes and giving in to what her body wanted.