The Highlander's Stolen Touch (11 page)

Elizabeth retrieved Ciara’s brush and began to ease it through her hair. There was silence between them for several minutes.

‘You have spoken of everyone involved in this except yourself, Ciara. What of you and your feelings?’

‘I know not,’ she admitted with a shrug. ‘Within just a few weeks, my entire world has turned. My parents are not who I believed them to be. A man I thought did not love me may indeed have feelings for me, but he says he cannot claim me. And now I am betrothed to a man I know I will not love. At this moment, I do not think I feel anything at all.’

But try as she might to deny feeling anything, the flames of anger did burn within her. Anger at—

The knock at the door startled them. Cora opened the door and looked from one to the other the way her mother or Elizabeth’s mother did when she caught them doing something wrong or unseemly. They laughed this time with an ease built on their long friendship. With a warning not to be late for the evening meal and a telling glance at the already-worn gown, Cora closed the door and left them to themselves.

‘The next few weeks are set,’ Elizabeth explained as she helped Ciara off with the now slept-in gown and searched for a clean one. ‘You will know nothing more until we return to Lairig Dubh and speak to your parents. So, take this time to become accustomed to James. If the marriage is a certainty...’ She paused and looked at her, waiting. At Ciara’s nod, she continued, ‘Then it hurts nothing to learn more about him and prepare yourself.’

‘He does seem willing to accept me in spite of believing the worst about my mother and father,’ she offered.

Elizabeth slipped the clean gown, one in a paler shade of green, over her head and tied the laces of it. ‘That is to his credit, then. And if he already thinks this sordid tale is the truth, then you have nothing to worry over.’

Ciara nodded, allowing her friend to think that.

But there was something worse—if given but a sign by Tavis last night, she would have given away her honour for the chance to lie in his arms just once before she belonged to another man.

* * *

He had not dreamt of her in years, at least four, even though the very thought of her and his failure to save her as he’d promised plagued him daily. Saraid filled his dreams that night, not the pleading one, not the one who laid her death at his feet, but the one with whom he fell in love so many years ago.

They walked the hills and paths around Lairig Dubh, laughing and learning each other. Already betrothed and only weeks until they were wed, they spent the time doing what couples in love did—testing the limits of their resolve. He would never dishonour her, no matter the hunger he had for her in his body and his heart. They would have the rest of their lives to love each other and if they spent every moment in their bed, he would not complain.

Saraid was a few yards in front of him and she began to run. It would take him no effort to catch her, but this was a game they played, drawing it out and the winner demanding a forfeit from the other. Many, many kisses had been won or lost during their afternoon together and he hoped for many more. Now, she scampered away from him and he ran a couple of paces and caught her, pulling her close and demanding his prize.

She kissed him with such ferocity it surprised him. Not that she did not enjoy this game, he knew she did, but she rarely controlled their kissing. He liked it when she did, for he glimpsed the passion that waited deep inside her. For him and only him. This time as he tasted her mouth, slipping his tongue inside hers and holding her close, she guided his hand up over the fullness
of her breast and arched against his touch.

In only weeks, he could claim her as his.

Then, she lifted her mouth from his and touched his cheek. Saraid smiled and whispered to him,
‘If anything happens to me, you must go on.’

Tavis shook his head.
‘Nothing will happen. We will be happy together for our lives.’
He kissed her again to convince her.

‘Promise me. Promise me, Tavis,’
she urged.

‘I promise.’

Tavis woke in the middle of saying the words. He sat up on the rough pallet where he slept and pushed the hair out of his face. Looking around, he was glad none of the others had heard him speak in his sleep. He stood, threw the length of plaid around him and walked outside. The shades of dawn were just creeping into the sky and soon the birds would awaken and begin their call to start the day.

He stood in the quiet and tried to slow his racing heart and breathing down. It felt so real to him, as though
Saraid had been there, as though he had been kissing her and touching her as they had in the past. And the words, the promise, were ones he’d forgotten, but now remembered giving her that day.

She would jest about the bad things that happened to her family and how she had a feeling that they followed her as well, awaiting a time and place to happen. A chill traced up and down his spine as he realised she had known her future that day. Her death would always be on his conscience. If only he had not pressed her to attend the gathering with him. If only he’d not left in anger. If only... Tavis shook off the past and thought about the promise he’d long forgotten.

If anything happens to me, you must go on.

He searched his memory, wondering if she’d spoken them or if his guilty conscience was now serving his own needs. Now that he thought about it, he realised she’d said those same words to him a number of times after that as well.

As the sun finally rose, which it had been threatening to for as long as he’d been standing there, he decided that he would ask Connor to be assigned to another of his properties in the north. He could no longer walk those same paths and live each day in the places where his worst failures as a man yet lived. He would see Ciara safely back to her parents, explain his failures to Connor and then live elsewhere until he figured out what his future should be.

Realising that he stood there with only a plaid tossed over his shoulders, he turned to go back inside to dress for the day. And he would have if the young Murray was not walking straight towards him with a purpose clear in his intense expression.

Chapter Eleven

‘I
would have words with you, MacLerie,’ the young lord said as he approached.

He tipped his head to the young man and then motioned to his condition. ‘Shall I dress before this talk, my lord?’

James finally noticed his state of undress and waved him off in that imperious way that he had. ‘I will wait.’

Tavis did not rush, but he did not dawdle, either, and returned to find James examining their horses inside the fenced yard.

‘She is quite skilled at riding,’ James said. ‘That black is a beast.’

‘Aye, she is. Has been since early on,’ Tavis added, standing at the young man’s side as the horses moved around the enclosure.

‘How long have you known her?’

‘She had but five years,’ Tavis said. ‘A wee thing with big brown eyes. She reminded me of my youngest sister at the time.’

‘And now you protect her?’ he asked.

Uncertain of his goal, Tavis nodded. ‘At her parents’ and the laird’s request.’

‘What is your position with the earl?’

‘I command his personal guards and work with Rurik Erengislsson, the commander of all his soldiers.’ Tavis turned and faced the man. ‘Why not just ask the questions you wish to ask, my lord?’

‘Why?’ The words tumbled out then. ‘Why does she seek you out?’

‘I eased her way in her journey from Dunalastair to Lairig Dubh. I befriended her when there was no one else. She knows I will protect her even now.’

‘That is my job now, MacLerie.’

‘Aye, it will be when the words are spoken. Until then, I carry out my duty to my laird and the lass.’

James nodded at him and began to walk away, then he stopped and came back. ‘I had no intention of revealing something so painful to her. I meant no insult to her or your laird.’

Tavis meant to let him leave without another word, but he could not stop himself, it seemed. The young man was not a bad one, just young, and Tavis could see much of himself in him when he was that age.

‘I do not stand in your way in this betrothal or your marriage to her,’ he offered. No matter his own wants or needs, he would do his duty.

The young Murray accepted his words with a nod and then seemed to have another question he did not know how to ask. ‘Is there something else, my lord?’

‘Have you fought in battles, MacLerie?’

‘Aye, my lord, I have. And nearly been killed in a couple of them.’ He had come close a few times. Luckily one of his cousins or another had his back as he had theirs and they had walked out with some wounds and a few scars.

‘I have watched you fighting, training, with your men. I would join you...’

‘We will be here after we break our fast, my lord. ’Tis your house and your yard. None would object to working with you,’ he said.

The young lord ran off then and Tavis was struck by the strangeness of the situation. In the moments when he allowed bitterness to fill his heart, he hated the man for being the one who would claim Ciara. He despised that James Murray would take her to his bed, make her his own, and be the one who commanded her life and her future. He hated...

Shaking his head, Tavis turned back to watch the horses run. But as the young lord’s actions had just now proven, he was not a bad man. He had offered an apology for speaking of better-left-unsaid matters and had tried to settle things between them, understanding that Tavis was in some way important to Ciara.

Older, better men than he would not have attempted such things or admit that their behaviour had offered insult in some way, so Tavis allowed a begrudging measure of respect for those actions, though he did not like feeling even that towards him. James Murray was as much a pawn in this as was Ciara and even himself, so the fact that he faced a man he suspected of inappropriate attentions to his betrothed and believed his explanation, and hers, spoke well of him, too.

His men began to rouse now, as did the rest of the household. His plan was to train until mid-day and then prepare for the journey back to Lairig Dubh that would begin on the morrow. After their meal, he called them into the yard and they paired off with sword or axe and targe. James did join them and, though clearly inexperienced at true battles, held his own in the mock battles.

When Tavis glanced up and noticed Ciara watching them, he wondered if she thought one of them would kill the other and he wondered for which one she would cheer. Understanding that it was ill advised to defeat the Murray heir in front of his family and those who served him, Tavis held in the frustrations he ached to unleash on the man who would claim Ciara and allowed James to win their match.

But only just.

* * *

‘Are they daft?’ Ciara said aloud. She’d thought it for some time as she watched them training in the yard.

‘They are being men,’ Cora advised from behind.

They were walking, enjoying the clear, sunny morning when she’d spotted them near the enclosure where their horses were. Ciara thought to ride a bit on her last morning here, to exercise her horse and stretch her own muscles in preparation for the journey home, only to find James and Tavis and most of the Murrays and all of the MacLeries fighting there. Even Lord Murray stood watching, calling out suggestions and cheering on his son and his men as the battle went in one direction or another.

There seemed to be rules—once a man was knocked off his feet, he left the field. No killing or maiming blows, though she could not be certain that none were injured. Blood flowed, she could see it even at this distance, for most of them fought bare-chested. Before she knew it, she was just a few paces away from the edge of it, holding her breath as only Tavis and James remained in the centre. Though there were far fewer MacLeries, those men were no less boisterous in cheering on their man than the outnumbering Murrays were.

Then, in a move she’d not seen before, Tavis seemed to grab James’s sword with his and fling it into the air and away. James, who had lost his dagger as well and was now weaponless, charged at Tavis and, at the last moment, kicked out his leg and tripped him to the ground. The Murrays cheered loudly, running to congratulate James and to pull Tavis up.

How did men do it? How could they be bitter rivals one moment and friends the next? She shook her head and watched as Tavis counselled James on the move he’d used to disarm him and then let him practise it several times on him. Soon they were practising it and sharing battle moves with each other’s men.

Ciara, Elizabeth and Cora left them behind to finish their practice and went back to begin packing. Lady Murray’s maids were already preparing her trunks, they’d been told, and Ciara expected that the trip back would take much longer than it had taken to get here. But there would be company for the journey and Lady Murray had even made arrangements for them to stay with relatives along the way so that they would be more comfortable.

Or she would be more comfortable!

Their party would now be four wagons, along with a score of Murray guards and more with the MacLeries
mixed in to round out the count to almost two score in total.

* * *

A small army, Ciara thought as she mounted the next morning and watched as the whole entourage began to clamour out of the yard, through the village towards the main road. Lady Murray preferred to ride in the wagon, so hers had been fitted with comfortable, cushioned seats and Cora had taken refuge within it. Elizabeth rode just behind her, while James was at her side.

The mood of the group was pleasant, for there were servants to see to her needs, guards to keep watch and enough people to converse with as they crossed the miles. Their route back to Lairig Dubh would take a more southerly route: to the tip of ancient lands of Atholl following the Tay to the loch, then west along Glen Lyon and north to Lairig Dubh. Once more following the drovers’ roads, they would make good time and be off them before the great cattle drives from the north and west began.

They would not visit Dunalastair on the way back, avoiding any awkwardness about James’s or his father’s words on the matter of her mother. She did not know if James had revealed that she’d heard their discussion, but Lord Murray was friendlier now that their wedding was approaching and now that he would gain the support of the MacLeries as well as her dowry.

She’d spoken to James about finding a match for Elizabeth so that she would be happy staying with her and James set about the task by bringing Elizabeth into their company and even into the games of chess. Ciara had been taught by a master of the game—her mother—and could beat just about any challenger. Many nights had she spent playing, for her father believed it taught logic and strategy and felt those were good skills even for his daughter. Though her mother was the most formidable opponent, winning matches over all the
MacLerie men who dared play against her, her stepfather could hold his own.

Three nights after leaving Murray lands, once their evening meal was eaten, the board was set up and Ciara challenged Elizabeth. Having watched her win over her friend several times already, James offered his assistance to Elizabeth. Though quiet while moves were being considered, the game gained attention and soon most everyone was watching and bets were placed. Tavis was there and he even smiled at several of her moves.

Though James and Elizabeth were a formidable team, she still triumphed over their combined efforts, leading to more challenges for the next several nights on the journey with the board and pieces being set up on every fair evening as soon as they finished eating.

* * *

Storms overtook them for several days. The rains slowed their travels to a crawl as the paths and roads deteriorated into muck and mired the wagons down until they surrendered to the futility of fighting it. When the sun finally mastered the clouds, she and the others were ready for some freedom from their tents and wagons or other shelters sought during the storms.

She and Elizabeth walked for a bit as their supper was prepared, with several guards following close by, until they’d stretched their legs and eased the cramps in their muscles. The food on the journey was plain but filling and eaten quickly and quietly. Then some torches were placed around one of their makeshift tables and the board brought out. Ciara laughed when she noticed some of the men beginning to place wagers even though no players had claimed the board.

‘So, I wonder who will claim the board first?’ she asked as they walked to it. Though many milled around it, no one sat on the stools yet.

‘I tire of it,’ Elizabeth said with a sigh. ‘Though I like to play, it does not please me as much as it seems to you.’

‘Not even when you partner with James?’ she asked, watching her friend’s cheeks blush in reaction.

Elizabeth began to reply, but stuttered over her words. However, they had reached the others and their attention was grabbed as they approached the table, for James delivered a challenge.

‘Murray challenges MacLerie!’ he called out loudly, his words echoing across the small clearing. ‘Who will defend the MacLerie name?’

Ciara watched as the MacLeries huddled together, whispering and nudging, deciding on who would defend their honour in this game of skill. She remained quiet. This challenge was clearly meant to be among the men only. The MacLeries parted, declaring their champion as Tavis was pushed forwards. His willingness might be questionable, but his play revealed a determined plan to win.

Stools were brought for Ciara and Elizabeth and the game went on for some time, each move a thoughtful, strategic one. The possibility of success passed back and forth between James defending the white queen and Tavis with the red and for some time even she could not tell who would be the victor. Then, as she watched Tavis concentrate on his possible moves, she noticed the slightest tightening of his lips.

Chastising herself for staring at him did not help her take her gaze off him and she continued to watch him closely, matching that small facial expression with his moves until she understood what he was about—he was deliberately allowing James to win! If James moved the wrong piece or made himself vulnerable, Tavis countered with a move that undid it. When Tavis could have claimed several valuable pieces from James, he went for the pawns. Sitting back and taking a cup offered by a servant, she thought about why he would do such a thing.

Visions of the first training fight flashed through her mind. James, inexperienced and clearly lesser in skills and ability, fighting the quintessential Highland warrior—a man trained since his youth to fight with weapons and with his bare hands. Yet, after disarming James, Tavis was taken down by a sloppy move by the younger man.

Now watching the play before her, she noticed several mistakes and bad moves on Tavis’s part, ones that would seem to be aimed at allowing James to swoop in and claim victory. Tavis was subtle, though; Ciara doubted that none but those who’d mastered the game could tell.

Tavis was throwing the game.