guide her as he had so very often. A call from the camp stopped any other words or promises.
‘Tavis? Is the lass with you there?’ young Dougal yelled to him. They were just beginning to discover she was gone.
‘Aye,’ he replied. ‘She is on her way back there now.’
Tavis watched as she nodded and turned back away from him. He stopped her before she took a step.
‘This is still yours,’ he said, handing her the first carving. Ciara opened the pouch and placed it inside, positioning the sack on her belt where she’d worn it throughout their journey.
She left without another word, but the damage was already done. He’d been trapped by a wooden animal, skewered by his own memories and desires to protect her and finished off with his own promises. Tavis walked a few paces behind her, making certain she reached the camp, then turned back towards the stream.
He ran his hands through his hair as he walked to the edge of the rushing water. Did he even remember how to carve? Did he still have the small knife he used to work on wood? How had he got himself in deeper when it was the worst thing he could do now? Tavis did not realise he was searching for a good piece to work on until he’d picked up several and tossed them aside.
Giving up on finding any measure of rest this night, he strode back to the camp, then searched his leather satchel until he found the knife. It took him some time to find the right branch of the right age, dryness and size, but he found it. Carving always eased his tension and he hoped it would again … now. But as dawn’s first light crept into the skies above him, he understood it no longer worked that way.
And when he saw the rough shape of the wooden carving, Tavis grasped that he was in more trouble now than he had been when he had let Ciara see him throw the chess game to James. A horse, it was not. Held up against the brightening morn, all he could see was a heart—ragged, uneven and much like his felt this day.
Chapter Thirteen
Their journey continued and though she thought she saw Tavis working on a small piece of wood, he never showed her his work or mentioned it. With no idea of what had made her reveal the worn-down toy, she was glad she had so he understood that he did matter to her—and would continue to matter even when the toy was the only reminder of him she would have. Chess remained their evening entertainment, but she never witnessed Tavis allowing James to win again, though it was possible he’d become more skilled at hiding it.
All four of them, for Elizabeth joined in once more, partnering with James or Ciara, but never another, traded victories after that night. Ciara noticed that her friend was coming to like James, no matter her concerns over his comments about her past. They argued during their travels and during their shared meals like friends did, so Ciara was pleased. Pleased that her friend would be happy staying with her and pleased that James was taking the time to learn more about her and taking the quest for a match for Elizabeth so seriously. From the amount of time and attention he gave, Ciara was certain that he would be able to suggest possible matches when the time came.
When they reached the furthest west they would travel, it was decided they would take a day of rest before heading north into the more mountainous roads. Though they were anxious to proceed, the next part of their journey would require them to be well rested and ready to cover an arduous path. So, they set up a camp and raised tents for the women. Some of the men hunted for fresh meat for dinner while the servants prepared for it. Once a safe perimeter had been established, James invited her to walk with him. Tavis’s gaze followed them; she could feel it on her, as they circled the tents and wagons.
She waited and waited for him to lure her aside, but he did not. He spoke of her skills at chess and riding and asked about her parents, all the while holding her hand. Ciara wondered at his lack of interest now in plying her with kisses when he had seemed to enjoy it when he had. Why she worried, she knew not, but it bothered her in some way. When she had tried to lean in close and give him the opportunity, he’d neatly stepped away.
Always polite, always attentive he was, but always maintaining a distance between them, whether alone or with others. If she was as candid with herself as she tried to be with others, she would have considered what she thought the real reasons were. But she had held her doubts and hopeless yearnings at bay each day and waited for him to show some sign of passion for her.
The meal that night reminded her of the ones in Broch Dubh with the laird and his wife. Lord and Lady Murray seemed to accept her more and more with each passing day as though she had overcome some objections they might have had. Ciara began to believe that she might be able to marry and be content after all. She spent some time each day riding with James’s mother and learning about his family, their history and plans for the improvement of their lands. Regardless of their strained conversations at first meeting, Lady Murray had begun to share titbits of interesting gossip and information about their various relatives and relations.
But this evening, after the meal was finished, James asked Tavis to partner with Ciara in another game of chess while he played with Elizabeth on his side. The two men seemed to tolerate each other now that they were on the road, with Tavis instructing James in fighting techniques whenever they stopped to rest. And James took his occasional defeats at Tavis’s hand in training or in play in his stride.
So, by the light of the fire and a few torches, the game began. She’d watched Tavis play many times now, both as her father’s favourite opponent and several times during this journey, so she understood how he approached this game. Their styles complemented each other’s—his more conservative and hers bolder—and they could read the moves to come, too. The rules set out before the game allowed each team to alternate their moves, so that Elizabeth followed Tavis while Ciara followed James. A small crowd gathered to cheer on the players, and wagers, as the men seemed wont to do, were called out also.
James and Elizabeth played well, but they were no match for Ciara and Tavis once they decided they would win. And it was a near thing, that, for at one point she would swear he was giving the game away. As their final few moves became apparent, he held back no longer and worked with Ciara to claim their opponents’ queen.
Once the game was finished, Tavis returned to his men and James escorted her and Elizabeth back to their tent. Elizabeth left them alone, making her way inside while they stood outside. James stepped closer and Ciara waited for his kiss, anxious to notice any changes now that she was becoming accustomed to him and surprised yet again when he did not. With a glance at the closed flap of the tent, he bid her a good night’s rest and turned to leave. Unwilling to allow the chance to pass, Ciara took his hand and pulled him closer, leaning up and touching her mouth to his. He did not step away, but this kiss was the same as the rest had been.
Nice.
Giving up on her quest to change how she reacted to him, she whispered her farewells and entered the tent she shared with Elizabeth.
She tossed and turned that night, wondering if James had had a change of heart about accepting her as his wife. Or mayhap he was just trying to respect her before their wedding?
Confused, Ciara had lost most of last night’s sleep and found that day’s travel more difficult. She dozed off in the saddle and nearly fell, saved only when Tavis noticed.
‘Here now, Ciara,’ he said, startling her awake, ‘let me adjust the strap on your saddle. It looks loose.’
Tavis guided Ciara and her mount out
