The Highlander's Stolen Touch (8 page)

Trying to push away the maudlin feelings that threatened to overwhelm her, she looked around and noticed that most of all the other inhabitants at the inn had gone off to their rest, so Ciara and Elizabeth sought theirs. The steaming bath, scented with oil Cora had packed away, eased the aches and pains in her body, but not the one in her heart. Tears tracked down her cheeks to blend into the water around her. Silent tears for the loss. Tears for what could never be.

Worse, she now realised that Tavis had been correct—she had played at loving him all those years. Childish worship, all of it. Now, now when she’d thought she’d moved on and was ready to accept that he did not share her feelings, he did.

‘Damn him!’ she whispered, hitting the water with clenched fists and sending some in a cascade over the edge. ‘Damn him.’

And damn her foolish, now grown-up heart.

Chapter Seven

T
he road leading into Perth from Crieff grew crowded and Tavis kept their small party together as they moved along the way. A royal burgh, Perth was the centre for trade with many other countries across the sea on the Continent. Due to the establishment of so many religious orders in towns nearby, Perth drew pilgrims as well.

The English King Edward had captured it. Robert the Bruce took it back. This left Perth with the strongest stone defences in Scotland now, which were visible as they moved ever closer. A high wall with many towers surrounded it now and they would pass through one of the gates soon. Tavis planned to stop for a meal there before continuing through and to the south-east to reach the Murrays’ lands.

Although connected by past generations of marriages and purchase and kinship to the ancient Highland
mormaers of Moireabh and of Atholl,
the lowland branch of the family that Ciara was marrying into was distant in location, wealth and power. Connor believed this match would be good for the clan MacLerie in order to gain access to the important ports of Perth and Dundee, so that was all that truly mattered.

With the weather co-operating, they should reach their destination by mid-day. Ciara and Elizabeth’s excitement as they travelled through the city forced a smile from him more times than he would like to admit. They would be able to visit here often once Ciara married the Murray heir.

At least it would be easier than seeing her day in and out in Lairig Dubh. Calling on his honour and hers, seeing the dark abyss of possibilities opening before them and then stepping back from that edge had a sobering effect for him. It made it easier to let her go.

He would have to remind himself of that every day and night from now on. For now, he would see her safely on. He’d sent young Dougal ahead to the Murrays to tell of their arrival. Once they stopped for food on the other side of Perth, it would be a direct ride from there.

‘You seem caught in your thoughts, Tavis,’ she said now, riding next to him. ‘Is all well?’

Startled by her nearness, he shook his head. ‘All is well.’

‘Have you been here before?’ she asked, never taking her eyes from the street or the people making their way along it.

‘Once, many years ago with your father.’ They skirted a group of people examining the wares in the stalls here in the wool district. ‘We were heading to Edinburgh and to meet with the king’s ministers about a trade agreement. We passed through here and on to Dundee and then by ship down to Edinburgh. You will like being closer to the sea, Ciara.’

Where the hell had that come from? Good Christ! Would these bits of things remembered about her never cease? She’d always liked the water. Boats.

‘James said his home is north of the Tay, before it widens to the sea.’

‘Your father travels to Edinburgh several times a year. It would not be difficult or far for him to visit you here,’ he offered.

‘He is not my father, Tavis.’

The words made him tense his body and his horse shifted in reaction, pushing them closer to Ciara. She was able to keep hers under control and guided them a pace aside to avoid bumping.

‘He raised you as his own, Duncan did.’ Safe words since it was commonly known that she was his wife’s child.

‘If I lasted five years with the Robertsons and just more than ten years with the MacLeries, do you think the Murrays will keep me longer?’

His breath caught at her disclosure and at the sense of hurt and abandonment behind them. Lord Iain’s words about her knowledge of her father came back to him and he now saw her curiosity and her accomplishments in a different way.

She was not the confident young woman who had come to him in the night to propose a marriage to him. She was instead an insecure girl who did her best in the hopes of making herself indispensable to her stepfather so that he would keep her.

What could he say? What words could he use to explain her true worth without then claiming her for himself? Lucky for him, they reached the bridge they needed to cross to leave Perth and he was called away to pay the toll and see to their wagon. By the time they had crossed the bridge and left Perth, Ciara was riding alongside the wagon, chatting with Elizabeth.

* * *

Soon, his men returned and they’d brought several others with them.

James Murray was with them.

Tavis hailed them as they approached and stopped his horse to greet the young lord. Instead, James rode past him and stopped before Ciara. Jumping from his horse, he took Ciara’s hand and kissed it. And he did not let go while he spoke in hushed tones to only her.

Oh, aye, the Murrays would keep her longer than the MacLeries had, damn them both!

* * *

Ciara smiled at James, enjoying the very gallant way he kissed her hand and greeted Elizabeth and Cora, welcoming them to his home. After sharing her weakness with Tavis, she felt vulnerable and exposed. She’d never spoken of such things to anyone, not her mother, not her closest friend. She’d barely admitted them to herself in the darkest hours when self-doubt ruled her thoughts. But this journey was an emotional one as much as it was a business one and her heart ached from all of the truths and changes she faced so far along the way.

‘Are you tired from riding, Ciara?’ James asked as he mounted once more. His horse was magnificent and her hands itched to take the reins of one like that.

‘Nay, my lord,’ she replied honestly. ‘The roads have been smooth and the skies clear this day.’

He laughed aloud and nodded. Motioning forwards with his head, he asked, ‘Would you like to ride ahead with me? It is just a few miles now and my parents await your arrival.’

Ciara turned to look at Tavis, but Cora clucked her tongue before she could.

‘That would be a wonderful idea, lass. Go on with the young lord, then, and we will be behind ye.’

‘Come then, Ciara,’ James said, turning his horse towards the road and nodding. ‘You,’ he said to Tavis, ‘you are in charge?’

‘Aye, Lord Murray,’ Tavis replied, his tone even though she heard something there.

‘See the women and the wagon safely to the keep. At the fork in the road ahead, take the left and go through the village.’

Ciara startled then. She’d never heard Tavis spoken to as though a servant. He sat high in the MacLerie laird’s esteem and trust, but to James and others he was simply a servant to order here and there. These lowlanders did not keep to the same practices and sense of family that the clans in the Highlands did.

James smiled at her and she followed him along the road. Though she could have given his horse a good challenge with hers, she paced herself to remain just a bit behind him.

They took the left path at the split and found the village James mentioned to Tavis. James slowed his horse down as they made their way through the narrow street and then spurred it faster once past the cottages, going uphill to the stone keep ahead. Ciara kept her attention on James as the path became steeper, though not truly difficult. It would take some time for the wagon to climb this hill and reach the keep.

The Murrays lived in a stone manor house, built atop the hill and surrounded by a wall. Not knowing what she expected, the unrelenting dark grey was not it. No hint of welcome. It looked like countless other houses they’d passed, not grand enough to be called castles or true keeps, but walled against intrusion. She wanted to dislike it immediately.

James guided her through the gate and into the small yard in the front. Lord and Lady Murray stood before an open door and waved to her. Ciara waved back and brought her horse to a halt a few yards away. A servant came running to take hold of her horse and James was there at her side to help her down.

Best behaviour. Best behaviour. Best behaviour.

She chanted the words inside her head to remind her of what was expected by her parents and by the laird. It was clear on meeting the Murrays the first time that they disapproved the amount of choice her parents had allowed her and that they should be making the important decisions for her. Ciara caught their glances and narrowing expressions when they were in Lairig Dubh and knew they were looking her over as much as she was them, examining her for defects in character and behaviour. The fact that she hailed from the wild Highlands did not help her cause with them. Shaking the dust from her gown and smoothing it down, she looked up to see James watching her.

‘Take a moment to catch your breath, Ciara. That hill tasks even the best of riders,’ he whispered as they stood with the horses blocking his parents’ view of them. ‘Here now, you look lovely.’

Without warning, he leaned down and kissed her. It was nothing but a quick touch on her lips, but it was quite daring for him to do. He stepped back before she could react and held out his arm to her, to escort her to his parents. Ciara met his gaze and smiled, taking his arm and allowing him to lead her.

‘Mother. Father. You remember Ciara,’ he said, bringing her to the doorway. ‘Her companions are behind us and will arrive anon.’

‘My lord. My lady,’ she said, dropping into a curtsy before them, remaining there a few moments and then rising. ‘My thanks to you both for your invitation to visit. My parents and the earl and countess send their greetings and their thanks for your hospitality.’

She might not be Duncan MacLerie’s natural daughter, but she was the one who had learned all about being diplomatic from him from the time he brought her home with him from Dunalastair. She listened and watched and learned and could make it through any situation calmly. She would make certain he could be proud of her actions during this trip.

‘Come inside, Ciara. The servants will see to your trunks when they arrive,’ Lady Murray said, gesturing to her to follow.

Once more the difference between her status as a guest and Tavis’s as a MacLerie underling was pointed out to her. His words about that very thing echoed in her mind then and she knew he understood it well.

Lady Murray graciously led her into the house and up to a large chamber on the third floor. It would be for her and Elizabeth while Cora slept in an outer chamber. Her own chamber at her parent’s house was half the size and not as luxurious as this. Wherever else they might suffer for lack of gold, they lived in a measure of comfort second to few.

It was the custom to put out the best when entertaining guests, especially when that guest was influential or important. Ciara had no illusions that she was either, but her stepfather and his laird were. The tapestries, though, showed evidence of disrepair when she looked more closely at the edges of them. The bedcoverings showed signs of threadbare areas. The bed and the furniture were worn and in need of repair.

The façade all put in place to impress her enough to follow through with this betrothal and marriage. Her dowry would go far, but exactly for what purposes she did not know. Ciara understood that most believed it mattered not, but it did to her. If she was going to marry someone and make them wealthy, she would like to understand. If she was chattel to be bartered away, she would know the real cost and benefits.

There would be time for all that. For now, she needed to acquaint herself with James and to try to suitably impress his parents and ease the way for this betrothal. Over the last few days, it became clear that she would not fall in love with him. Now, her only goal was to discover if she could tolerate the rest of her life with him.

* * *

Tavis guided the rest of the group through the village and up to the manor house at the top of the hill. The wagon moved slowly along and he waited by the side of the pathway for it to pass him. Ciara and James were more than an hour ahead. The urge to grab the boy and grind him into the ground had lessened to a controllable one, for now. If his men had thought anything of his sullen silence they’d not spoken of it or to him.

He knew his duty and he knew how to carry it out and he did not need young James Murray giving him orders.

As they entered the yard, a few men waited for them. They began to unload the wagon, carrying the trunks inside and up to the chamber where Ciara and Elizabeth would stay. They had not brought much with them so it did not take long. Once this task was done, they were directed to a building in the yard at the back of the house where they could eat and sleep.

They had no other duties until Ciara made her decision, so Tavis would make the best of this time by training with his men. And it would give him a chance to work out the anger that bubbled inside him before he had to watch Ciara marry another man—anger at her parents for ever letting her consider a man such as this, but mostly anger at himself for not having the courage to claim her.

Chapter Eight

T
avis did not press Ciara about when they would return to Lairig Dubh. He might have if he’d seen her alone, but he never did. Since the Murrays considered him a servant rather than a guest, he did not have access to the main house without a specific reason. Any information from or about Ciara was passed through Cora and that did not happen often during the next days.

He watched her as she left each morning on a ride with the young Murray. He watched as she and Elizabeth walked through the village. He watched because it was his duty to do so. But Tavis did keep watch carefully so that the Murrays were not insulted by it. That he found it no chore was the part he didn’t like to think about much.

Then one day as he and young Iain fought in the yard behind the manor house, he saw her watching him. She wore a deep wine-coloured gown this morning, with no veil covering her long, blonde braid. Without a piece of tartan over her shoulders, she looked like a lowland lass and very much part of this lowland manor. And he guessed that was exactly her aim—to match and to blend in with this family that would be hers soon.

When she laughed and gifted him with a smile as she used to do, the distraction caused him to trip, which then allowed the younger warrior to win their battle and led to much cheering on his part. Laughing at his error, Tavis climbed to his feet and walked to the fence where she stood. Handing his sword off to young Dougal, he accepted a cup of water from her and greeted her.

‘You look well, Ciara,’ he said, swallowing the water down.

‘I am well, Tavis,’ she said as she took the cup and tossed it into the water bucket. ‘Has there been any news from my father?’

She knew that Duncan would keep in touch with him during this journey without pressuring her. He nodded.

‘And I expect another messenger from him soon. I know that he and Marian arrived home safely.’ They’d not gone too far, travelling out to visit one of Connor’s other holdings and then back to Lairig Dubh. For appearances, it worked. ‘Do you have a letter to send back to him?’

She did not speak at first; instead, she glanced at the manor, then stared off beyond it, as she did when she was calculating the cost of something. Her skills with letters and numbers far surpassed his, but they were helpful to him many times. When she turned back to him, her gaze was filled with that expression of determination he’d seen many times before.

‘Send word that we will depart here in three days.’

She was accepting the Murrays’ offer.

He knew it in his gut, but when she met his eyes and said nothing more, she confirmed it.

‘So, you are accepting this betrothal then?’ Tavis leaned down closer so they could not be overheard, all the while knowing this would seal their separate lives. ‘Have you told him?’

Ciara blinked several times quickly and he thought she fought off tears. Looking away to give her time to control herself, he waited, understanding all of the reasons for this match. All of them. And hating each and every one of them.

‘Aye. I told James this morn and he is telling his parents even as we speak.’

He inhaled a deep breath and released it. Nodding at her, he said the things he knew she needed to hear. ‘His parents approve?’

‘’Twould seem so. They are overlooking their bloodlines back to the rulers of the ancient kingdom of Moray in accepting me, but their suffering purses are helping them to overlook certain shortcomings.’

‘Ciara!’ he said, laughing now. She said the most shocking things in a droll voice and it always made him laugh.

For a moment he could hear Lady Murray’s nasal tones in the words and he imagined she’d said those words, or some of them, to Ciara already. The same lady Murray who came striding towards them from the house. He stepped away from the fence. ‘I will make the arrangements.’

Her hand on his arm stopped him. It felt right and so wrong in the same moment, but he remained within her grasp, giving her a chance to speak.

‘Tell me, Tavis. Tell me if you think this a good match.’

The desperate undertones in both the question and in her quivering voice undid him. He was struck by the need to take her in his arms even as his Highland blood urged him to steal her away into the hills to keep her as his own. Instead, for the first of what he knew would be countless times, he carried out his duties to his laird and clan.

‘It seems a good match for you, Ciara. You seem of a mind and have many common interests.’

‘Horses.’

‘And?’

‘It matters not, Tavis. We both know it, so do not placate me. I need to know if I can do this.’

‘The MacLeries will benefit from the access to this prosperous port and the ability to trade outside of Scotland. The Murrays will get your dowry, which will help them invigorate their farms, villages and lands. James will get a wife who is skilled and educated in all manner of things. And you will get a husband who seems quite pleased to have you as a wife.’

He paused and saw the glimmer of hope in her eyes now. He took the last moment before Lady Murray arrived to finish the hardest task he’d carried out for his clan.

‘You can do this. You should do this.’

‘There you are, Ciara. James has told us the news and we wish to celebrate with a small feast this night,’ Lady Murray gave him a look that spoke of spoiled eels as she glared openly at him. Sliding her arm around
Ciara’s, she drew her away from the fence and from him. ‘Come, we will speak of the meal and of arrangements to accompany you both to your home at Larg...Larg...your home.’

‘Lairig Dubh, Lady Murray.’ Tavis turned and smiled, for even at her worst moment, Ciara managed somehow to apply humour. ‘If you curl your tongue just a bit at the beginning, it is easy enough to pronounce.’ She’d begun walking back with her soon-to-be mother-by-marriage, but stopped and glanced back at him.

‘My thanks for your wise counsel, Tavis.’

He accepted her thanks with a simple tilt of his head and then watched as the two women made their way back to the manor house to prepare for this celebration.

As the importance of their words sunk in, frustrated rage began to surge in his blood. He sought out several of the Murray warriors who had been watching him and threw down a challenge to them. Several punishing hours later, when a number of opponents had been laid out in the mud of the yard, he finally gave in to the exhaustion of his body. By then, the celebration in the manor house had begun.

Fortunately for everyone, he had not been invited.

* * *

The celebration was not the joyous, large feast she might have expected and, in a way, it fit her mood. Ciara sat at the high table between James and his parents. Cups were raised with cheers for their future happiness. Cups were raised with calls for a fruitful marriage. Cups were raised, but she heard little of the words spoken. The only words that she could think about were those Tavis had spoken to convince her of her path.

Words that said the correct thing, but lacked the sentiment that would have made them the things she needed to hear in that moment. But the same words proved he would carry out his duties and whatever they might wish to be between them was not as important as the greater good. She’d walked back inside to be greeted by a priest and Lord Murray, who’d just signed the betrothal documents from Duncan.

Once it was all done and the betrothal official, she’d begun imbibing. Now, seated next to the man who would claim her as wife in a few short weeks, Ciara emptied the last of the sweet wine in her goblet into her mouth and held it out to a passing servant for more.

‘Have a care,’ James whispered. ‘That wine is more potent than the ale you were drinking.’

Ciara smiled at him and took two mouthfuls in a row, leaving only a sip or two behind. It was, she suspected, the only way to get through this evening. ‘My thanks for your concern, James.’ She put the cup down and moved it away. ‘I am finished.’

He placed his hand on hers where it rested on the edge of the table and his warmth enveloped hers. James met her gaze and the truth of their life together struck her—it would be comfortable. The intensity she always found in Tavis’s eyes, the thrill whenever he touched her, even by accident or when he helped her to mount, were lacking in this contact with her betrothed. He would show her affection, he would be caring, he would be considerate, but he would not love her.

She would be what she feared the most—a bride accepted for all that she brought and not find a love match as her parents had.

Ciara remembered Duncan MacLerie’s arrival in Dunalastair and how he and her mother met there. She remembered that it was not long before they married and returned to Lairig Dubh and how their love surrounded them always. And, damn her stupid heart, she wanted that for herself.
Could she find it with this man?

‘May I escort you to your chamber?’ James asked.

Ciara looked around and realised that both Elizabeth and Cora had asked for leave to retire some time ago and she’d given it. Now that they were formally betrothed, such an act was permitted, so she nodded and stood.

‘I will return,’ James said to his parents as he walked at her side from the great hall, up the stairs to her room. They continued along the hallway in silence and he stopped before her door. Ciara reached out to lift the latch, but James took her hand in his and drew her close to him.

He slid his hand up to capture her face and then touched his lips to hers. More than the fleeting kiss a few days ago, this one seemed to be about staking some kind of claim on her. He tilted his head and pressed his mouth against hers, touching her lips with his tongue until she opened to him.

She closed her eyes then, allowing him to lead in this and awaiting the sense of transcendence other women spoke of when this was discussed. His tongue moved into her mouth, seeking hers and touching and tasting it as she did his. James entwined their other hands together, pulling her closer until their bodies touched. He was taller than she and their bodies fitted together nicely.

When he released her hand and wrapped both arms around her, moulding his body to his, Ciara knew there would be no moment of wonder for her. His kissing was pleasant, but did not make her want more or want...anything. The centre of her body that had exploded in heat while watching Tavis naked remained cool and calm. Now, mayhap the wine had dulled her senses and this was much more exciting than she knew?

James loosened his embrace and lifted his head. Pressing a few quick kisses on her cheeks and forehead, he took in a deep breath and released her. Mayhap he had felt it all during this embrace? Had he felt overwhelming desire and longing for her? His eyes, clear and blue, seemed unaffected. Before moving away, he gathered both of her hands in his and kissed them.

‘Sleep well, Ciara,’ he whispered.

‘And you, James,’ she replied as she lifted the latch and opened the door to her chamber.

Ciara moved quietly so as to not disturb Cora who, by the sound of the snoring emanating from the pallet in the corner, was asleep already. She began to cross the small antechamber when she realised she’d forgotten her shawl at the table. Since it was one given to her by the laird’s wife on the occasion of this journey, she did not want to chance losing it, so crept across the room and quietly made her way out and back along the stairs to the main floor of the house. She reached the great hall and was about to enter when James’s voice stopped her before she left the shadows of the corridor.

‘She certainly doesn’t kiss as I expected the daughter of the Robertson Harlot to kiss.’