as they approached MacCallum lands, Ciara grew excited. He’d not been back here with her since their first trip through on her way to her new home with Duncan and the MacLeries, but he knew she’d travelled many times with her parents and he was certain she’d stopped here on the laird’s business. Duncan had sent word ahead so that the MacCallum laird expected them. Ciara and the women would be pleased, he knew, to sleep on real beds this night after several nights in tents on the trail.
They’d not been in MacCallum lands for too long when a group of warriors met them. Leading it was Jocelyn’s brother Athdar.
‘Tavis!’ he called out as he rode closer. ‘Is all well?’
Considering all that could go wrong during the journey and that none of it had, he nodded. ‘All is well.’ Ciara rode up next to him and smiled at Athdar.
‘You grow more lovely with each passing day, Ciara,’ he said. Tavis watched as a becoming blush crept into Ciara’s cheeks. Athdar had a way with women and Tavis had watched as some in Lairig Dubh had fallen for his words and compliments. ‘Who would have thought that such a wee lass would grow into such a beautiful woman?’
Tavis fought back the snort that threatened at Athdar’s flowery words. Was Ciara taken in by such blathering? He glanced over to see if she did believe it and found Elizabeth more under Athdar’s spell than Ciara. Ciara’s gaze was filled with scepticism and mirth. Tavis smiled. He should have known her too smart and too confident in her own worth to fall for such.
‘Have you nothing better to do than to come and gawk at visitors, Athdar? Surely the laird can find better things for you to do.’ Tavis slid down from his horse, laughing at Athdar’s now-disgruntled expression. He doubted his friend was insulted or worried over his words, so he held out his hand in greeting.
‘Someone has to offer the women soft words, Tavis,’ Athdar said as he clasped hands and then shoved him back. They’d been friends for some years now, being of a similar age. ‘You never speak unless it’s about fighting or your horse! ‘
Then, things proceeded the way they usually did when the two of them met—with them ending up rolling on the ground, each one fighting to gain control over the other. Testing his strength against an equal felt good after the days of slow riding from Lairig Dubh. It took only minutes for Tavis to overcome Athdar, evening their matches. Standing and reaching down a hand to pull him up, Tavis laughed as they both dusted off the dirt from his cloak.
‘Are you ready yet?’ he asked.
A dark look filled his friend’s eyes and then a shake of his head gave his answer. Years before, Athdar had been beaten, badly, in a fight with the laird’s friend and commander Rurik Erengislsson and longed to pay him back. Though now, after having observed the heated glances exchanged between his friend and Rurik’s daughter Isobel, Tavis wondered if beating the man wasn’t the intention after all. A rising wind, ripe with moisture and the promise of a breaking storm, reminded him of his duties and Tavis motioned the group on, allowing them to precede him to the MacCallum’s keep.
In a short time the animals had been seen to, the women escorted into the hall to greet the laird and his men released to seek out their own comfort. The MacLeries and MacCallums had been allies for years now and there had been many marriages between the clans already. None were strangers to him, so once his duties were done and he entered the keep, he offered greetings to the laird and found his way to a table near the middle of the large chamber and sat down.
Soon he heard reports about the conditions of the roads ahead and offers from some of the men there to provide additional protection for their group. Tavis talked with many, ate heartily, but drank sparingly. He wanted to get an early start in the morn and did not want to deal with a thick head from too much ale. Still, it was a pleasant evening and he was passing it among friends.
Ciara watched from the high table as several men, and women, joined Tavis where he sat eating. He had, she realised, made the journey a pleasant one so far. Once the surprise of his presence wore off, a very companionable atmosphere fell into place. Since he’d most likely made the arrangements, he needed no one to tell him their path or their supplies. Both tired and not, she finished the savoury meal prepared by the laird’s cook and relaxed in her chair. Watching as he spoke and laughed with others, Ciara savoured the moment and realised something important.
He seemed more at ease here than at Lairig Dubh.
‘You are staring once more,’ Elizabeth warned in a whispered voice. ‘Someone will notice.’
Ciara sighed. She could not help herself. Though things between them seemed settled and comfortable once more, they were not truly. Better than they had been for a year, but not back to how it had been between them. Which was probably for the best since she was travelling to meet her future husband and would soon belong to someone else.
‘He seems happy,’ she replied. ‘He even danced with Morag and others at the ceilidh the night before we left.’
‘Are you happy about that?’ Elizabeth asked, leaning over closer. ‘Have you released him from your life now?’
‘Of course,’ she began. Elizabeth placed her hand on Ciara’s arm and squeezed her as though warning her that her friend would know the truth. ‘I do not remember seeing him dance in a long, long time,’ she admitted the truth in another way. ‘It felt good to see that.’
Mayhap she had released him from her heart after all? As though he knew they were speaking about him, he turned his head and met her glance. As he rose and said something to those sitting at the table with him before walking in her direction, Ciara smoothed her hair back and wiped her sweaty palms across her lap. So much for releasing him.
‘Ciara. Elizabeth,’ he said with a slight bow to them. ‘Are you recovered from the travels of the day?’
‘Aye, Tavis,’ Elizabeth said in a cheerful voice. ‘The meal has been quite pleasant.’
‘Would you like to walk a bit before retiring?’ he asked them both. ‘The storms have moved on and the skies have cleared.’ They were on their feet before they even spoke and Ciara heard him laugh. Since all three were familiar with the keep and the lands around it, no one needed to lead and they walked in silence until they reached the yard.
As he’d said, the storms were gone and the evening was clear and cool. Though the end of summer grew nigh and autumn would soon arrive, these days were some of the best for travelling with long daylight. She knew where they would walk even before they reached it—it was one of the places she most remembered from their first journey here.
Laird MacCallum’s pigs!
She began laughing as they approached, both from the memories and from the expression on Elizabeth’s face when the usual smell grew too strong to ignore. Her friend began waving her hand before her face, trying to weaken the odour, but pigs were pigs and nothing would help it.
‘I am returning to our chamber, Ciara,’ she said, as she stopped and turned away. ‘Enjoy your walk.’ A gagging sound echoed behind her as she strode away.
‘I did not think Elizabeth such a delicate wee thing,’ Tavis said to her. ‘A few pigs and she runs?’
Ciara laughed. Though not raised around them, pigs did not bother her at all. A leftover sentiment from her childhood when all animals held a place in her fascination. Especially those Tavis carved for her. ‘A frail lass to be sure.’
They
