to bother her. Ciara usually ignored it tugging at her heart, but as this betrothal and wedding came nearer to reality for her, she could no longer keep it in.
‘My father …’ she said before her confidence faltered. A quick glance at her mother’s face stopped her from saying more.
‘Duncan is your father, dearling. Always,’ her mother whispered. An expression of such desolation entered her mother’s eyes that it hurt Ciara to see it there. Gone as quickly as it came, her mother smiled and touched Ciara’s cheek. ‘We can speak more on this when there is time. But, now, we must hurry and not keep everyone waiting.’
Her mother turned to leave once more, but Ciara was uncertain if she wanted to let this matter remain silent between them. For too many years, the question about who she was and where she fit in plagued her. Though there were mostly moments where she felt treasured and valued for herself, other moments when she thought the efforts to see her so accomplished and so educated just to make it easier to be rid of her also taunted her. Her self-confidence waned in those moments as it did now. Her expression must have revealed it to her mother.
‘I beg you, Ciara. Not now,’ her mother whispered without facing her, frightening her more than anything else ever had.
She reached over and took her mother’s hand, allowing the matter to drop back to its silent place. There would be time for her to press the issue and get the answers she craved so much.
The two of them reached the path and her father joined them, wordlessly following as they walked through the gate and into the yard of the keep. A small crowd gathered there in the quiet, mist-filled dawn, with a wagon and several mounted soldiers who would be her escort. But it was the tall warrior standing near the wagon, issuing orders in low tones, who drew her attention and made her stop so quickly that her father bumped into her. She would have tumbled to the ground had he not grabbed her shoulders and held her until she regained her balance.
‘Tavis,’ she whispered, not believing her eyes after his prior refusals. ‘Tavis.’
‘Let me see if aught is wrong,’ her father said, stepping around both her and her mother … her mother, who looked as pleased at Tavis’s presence as she was.
‘Mayhap he has seen to his other responsibilities and is now free to travel to Perthshire?’ she mused aloud.
The dark glance shared between her parents intrigued her, but Tavis’s reasons for being here interested her more. Following right behind without pause, she stepped out from his shadow and watched Tavis. Men tended not to explain themselves much and this was one of those times—a few words, a few looks and frowns and they were done. Ciara was just as confused as before, but if it meant Tavis would escort her, so much the better.
‘I appreciate this, Tavis,’ her father said. Holding out his hand, he continued, ‘More than I can say.’
More than I can say.
Ciara sighed then, understanding how many problems her previous behaviour had caused for the laird and for her parents.
No clan wanted their heir embarrassed before others and she had done exactly that twice before in turning down offers of marriage. Even if those offers were handled privately, everyone in the Highlands knew that if the MacLerie negotiator visited, business was being discussed. If his unmarried daughter accompanied him, the subject was pretty obvious to all, as it had been twice before.
The Murrays of Perthshire might be destitute, but they were proud with their own powerful connections and they’d refused to consider this betrothal without first gaining assurances that humiliation at the hands of a ‘wilful, senseless girl’ would not happen. If her parents accompanied her on this visit, a contract would be expected by all their allies and friends … and their enemies. To forestall all that, it was decided that Ciara would travel to visit her distant cousin, James’s mother Eleanor. Outside the MacLeries, no one thought this journey was more than that.
Hence the small travelling group and her parents’ ‘other commitments’ elsewhere on the earl’s business to anyone who would ask.
And one more reason she treasured her parents, for they could have simply forced her to marry a man of their choosing with little consideration of her own opinions on the matter. But she suspected that something in their past kept them from doing so … and their obvious love for her.
‘As do I,’ she added. For many reasons as well.
‘We should be on the road, then,’ Tavis said, glancing up at the ever-brightening sky. ‘The weather will not hold and there are miles to cross.’ Tavis nodded to the other men, who began to mount up. Then he glanced at her. ‘Say your farewells, Ciara.’ He walked away to check the wagon, giving her a moment of privacy with her parents.
Tears filled her eyes and she found the words she’d practised all night while tossing restlessly in her bed were stuck in her throat. But words were not necessary now, she knew that, so she just hugged her parents—the mother who supported her every step and every challenge and the stepfather who was the only father she’d ever known.
‘This is not truly farewell,’ she whispered as she held them close. ‘I will return.’
‘You will return for a happy wedding day before you leave us for …’ Her mother’s voice filled with emotion and all she could do was squeeze Ciara’s hand.
‘Whatever your decision, love, I …’ her father began to say.
‘I understand, Papa. I have your backing.’ A nod and a grunt followed and Ciara knew, too, that, though she was not the flesh of his flesh, she was the daughter of his heart.
Ciara released them and stepped back as she realised that everyone was already on their horses, including Elizabeth. Cora, an older woman who served Lady Jocelyn for a number of years and would serve both her and Elizabeth as a maid, rode in the wagon. Everyone waited without a word, save Tavis, who held the reins of her horse in one hand and held out his other to her. She handed him her satchel and he secured it on the horse before offering her help to mount.
Once that was done, she accepted his help and in a scant moment sat atop the strong horse she’d ridden for nearly a year now. Gathering the reins in her gloved hands, she nodded to her parents and then to Tavis. At his call, the group began to ride out through the gates, with the wagon at their backs. Ciara released a deep breath and touched her boots to the horse’s side, riding off to face her future.
Ciara rode as she did everything else in life—with focus and drive. As she sat atop the huge, black horse Tavis would never have chosen for her or ever permitted her to ride, her intense expression bespoke her attention to the road they took out of Lairig Dubh, east through Dunalastair first, then south to Crieff. The last part of the journey would be easier for it would follow the main road into Perth and into the heart of the Murrays’ lands. Tavis set an even pace and offered a prayer of thanks when the sun shone and the clouds scattered across a clear sky for the whole of the first day. It would take them several days to reach Dunalastair, going by way of the MacCallum lands where they would visit Jocelyn’s family. Then they would follow the old drovers’ roads and paths through the glens and valleys south.
Ciara spoke little as they rode, but chatted with everyone when they stopped on their journey. Whether she was seeing to Cora’s comfort in the wagon or walking to stretch her legs or speaking in hushed tones to her friend Elizabeth, he passed her often and spoke to her as well. Never did she hesitate or seem ill at ease during their encounters, so Tavis began to accept that she had relegated him to her past
