a bath for me and will seek me out if I do not return.’
He did not take her arm. ‘I will see you at the ceilidh.’
That was his compromise and the only one he was willing to make. There would be countless other people there to distract him from her. He could do it for her.
Ciara left without another word and Tavis followed her far enough to make certain she returned safely to her parents’ cottage.
Then he spent the day completing tasks left undone when he had decided to accompany her to Perthshire those weeks ago. He kept so busy that he almost did not dwell on the coming wedding.
Almost.
Instead he took out his anger and frustration in a time-proven manner that was guaranteed to wring it free from him—he challenged Rurik to a fight. Hours later, he was too weakened and battered to worry about most anything.
He barely made it to the ceilidh after all.
James sat at the high table and watched Ciara dancing with her family below. Her lithe figure moved gracefully through the steps of the dance being played on pipes, drum and harp. He smiled, knowing she would be his in a few short days. He made himself smile whenever anyone mentioned the coming wedding. It was what was expected of him now.
They would accommodate each other in their marriage, that much he had learned about her during their trip back. She’d sworn that she would come to his bed a virgin and he believed her, but that did not mean she would not be thinking of another man in her heart. James glanced across the huge hall, four or five times the size of theirs, and found that man.
Tavis MacLerie.
The laird’s man. Honourable. Trustworthy. Dependable.
Yet none of those qualities had stopped him from falling in love with Ciara. Truth be told, James could understand it, for she was a fetching lass. Intelligent. Skilled in numbers and languages. Trained by the best, her stepfather, to understand financial matters. A gift to the man who would marry her.
Though he masked it well when he knew others were watching and he would never admit it to a stranger like him, James knew Tavis loved her as James himself should.
But, he did not. Not yet and mayhap not ever.
Elizabeth returned to her chair then and he watched her long, curly dark hair sway across her back and hips as she leaned over to speak to the MacLerie before sitting down.
While Ciara intimidated him, Elizabeth did not. She smiled and took a sip from her goblet of watered wine. Turning back to watch the dancing so he did not stare at the way her lips touched the edge of that cup, he nodded towards Ciara.
‘She seems well now,’ he observed.
‘Oh, James. She does not blame you for revealing the terrible rumours to her.’ She caressed his arm in a soothing way, rubbing along his sleeve until their bare skin touched. They both moved back quickly as though it had not happened.
He knew they needed to change their topic, so he moved to one brought up by Ciara herself. An unpleasant one, but one he could draw her out with.
‘Ciara has asked my help in finding a husband for you. Why do you not tell me what you favour in a man and I will think on who in my family might do well by you?’
As she leaned in and mentioned characteristics and skills she found pleasing in a man, he reminded himself it was all simply flirting. That he would marry Ciara and any feelings for her best friend would go no further. But by the time she had described her perfect man and it sounded too much like him, James knew he had a problem. Then, as she pointed out men at this celebration whose physical traits were identical to his, he reminded himself of all the reasons he must marry Ciara.
In the end, he imagined he must be as miserable approaching this wedding as Ciara was, but wondered how she never let it show.
She returned to him and spoke with both him and Elizabeth of the wedding plans. She went and brought him food and filled his cup when it emptied. Ciara was the perfect hostess as she would be the perfect wife; he had no doubt of that. And if her gaze slid over the crowd from time to time and watched Tavis through that evening, did it bother him? Strangely, it did not.
He liked the man, for even when he questioned his actions and behaviour with Ciara, the man had been frank and direct and did not deny their friendship. And once they left to return to his home and Ciara took over her duties as his wife, Tavis would be only a memory to her.
James would be the only man in her bed, he knew that, but not in her heart.
He wished it was not true. He wished he did not need to force her into this marriage and take her from the life she so clearly loved here. He wished that the dowry did not matter.
But it did and it mattered so much it pushed those other regrets out of the realm of possibilities.
And what would happen when James found a woman he wanted to love? He glanced over at Elizabeth and met her gaze as she smiled at him. Then all three of them would be trapped in the same hell until one of them died and could claim their real love.
James pulled himself from his melancholy thoughts and asked her, Ciara, to dance. She did not hesitate and he enjoyed touching her and guiding her through the pattern of the dance across the floor. For a moment, the music faded into the background and he stared deeply into her eyes, seeking some indication of her feelings for him.
And, though he saw many things there, he did not find love.
Ciara accepted his invitation, she accepted his touch and encouraged it even as they swirled around through the other couples. She wanted to enjoy James. She wanted him to enjoy her. But something was missing between them.
They drew to a stop and she introduced him to more of the MacLerie clan who joined in the feast to celebrate their coming wedding. In a week, she would join with him and become his. She would live with him, sleep with him and, if God was willing, make bairns with him. Her life would be his to control, to command and to guide. One day he would lead his clan and she would be at his side, as Jocelyn stood by Connor and even her mother stood by her father in his duties.
And she would try every day with every breath to never let him know that she loved another.
She stumbled then, but he caught her, setting her to rights and keeping his hand on her waist until they walked back to the high table and sat. The night was nearly over when he leaned in close and whispered to her.
‘I would speak to you in private, Ciara.’
She smiled. Was he finally going to kiss her again? She’d nearly given up hope of finding out if his kiss appealed to her before the wedding. ‘Of course, James.’
‘On the morrow?’ he asked.
‘Elizabeth? When did my mother say the dressmaker was coming to fit our dresses?’ she asked. Elizabeth was more organised when it came to things like this.
‘Mid-day. After the noon meal, but before the heat of the day reaches its peak.’
‘Would you like to walk after Mass in the morning? Father Micheil will say it on the morrow and we could walk back together?’
‘I
