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.
Chapter Twelve
Once she realised it, it was difficult not to laugh. Ciara fought against it or James’s victory would be for naught. The purpose of it, she did not ken, but Tavis must have a good one to manoeuvre in such a way. Winning for him was easy, losing unlikely. Throwing a match while hiding it from those who observed was more difficult.
The control of the board switched back and forth several times before she could see the upcoming move that could defeat James. If Tavis took it, she was completely wrong about him losing on purpose. If he ignored it …
His lips twitched again, ever so slightly, and if she had not been watching so closely, she would have missed it as most others looking on did. Then he made a defensive move, allowing the one that would win the game to pass by unused. James smiled then, assured of victory, and slid his piece across to claim the red queen.
The Murrays watching shouted in glee at the outcome as James reached out his hand to Tavis. As Tavis took it, his gaze flickered over to hers and she saw the truth there. The frown that followed warned her off, but it would be more difficult than that to keep her from asking about his actions.
And she would ask.
Damn! Tavis thought as he walked from the game and towards the place in the camp where he would rest for the night. He’d bid everyone a good night’s rest and turned away, but her gaze burned his back. Coward that he seemed to be when it came to Ciara, he ignored it and refused to turn around. She would ask him too many questions and he did not wish to answer them.
Or examine his reasoning too closely, either.
For, as much as he wanted to—and oh, aye, he wanted to—pound James into the ground during their training or to destroy his puny attempts at the more complex strategies of chess, he could not. Any repercussions would be felt by one person.
Ciara.
Making an enemy or opponent out of her betrothed would leave her undefended once she was no longer under MacLerie protection. Which would be very soon. James seemed to have a level head, but he would not risk Ciara’s safety or future by antagonising the heir of the Murrays just because he could.
Even more, Duncan’s words during their talks repeated in his head. Connor’s words warned him over and over again not to be the cause of problems between the MacLeries and the Murrays, and especially not between Ciara and James. Memories of Duncan’s methods of calm, dispassionate behaviour during negotiations were to be his model on this journey. And that was all well and good until it involved the lass.
Had they known the truth when they issued such words to him, each at a different time before he left Lairig Dubh, that the feelings that lay buried deep in him that would be stirred
