Elizabeth retrieved Ciara’s brush and began to ease it through her hair. There was silence between them for several minutes.
‘You have spoken of everyone involved in this except yourself, Ciara. What of you and your feelings?’
‘I know not,’ she admitted with a shrug. ‘Within just a few weeks, my entire world has turned. My parents are not who I believed them to be. A man I thought did not love me may indeed have feelings for me, but he says he cannot claim me. And now I am betrothed to a man I know I will not love. At this moment, I do not think I feel anything at all.’
But try as she might to deny feeling anything, the flames of anger did burn within her. Anger at—
The knock at the door startled them. Cora opened the door and looked from one to the other the way her mother or Elizabeth’s mother did when she caught them doing something wrong or unseemly. They laughed this time with an ease built on their long friendship. With a warning not to be late for the evening meal and a telling glance at the already-worn gown, Cora closed the door and left them to themselves.
‘The next few weeks are set,’ Elizabeth explained as she helped Ciara off with the now slept-in gown and searched for a clean one. ‘You will know nothing more until we return to Lairig Dubh and speak to your parents. So, take this time to become accustomed to James. If the marriage is a certainty …’ She paused and looked at her, waiting. At Ciara’s nod, she continued, ‘Then it hurts nothing to learn more about him and prepare yourself.’
‘He does seem willing to accept me in spite of believing the worst about my mother and father,’ she offered.
Elizabeth slipped the clean gown, one in a paler shade of green, over her head and tied the laces of it. ‘That is to his credit, then. And if he already thinks this sordid tale is the truth, then you have nothing to worry over.’
Ciara nodded, allowing her friend to think that.
But there was something worse—if given but a sign by Tavis last night, she would have given away her honour for the chance to lie in his arms just once before she belonged to another man.
He had not dreamt of her in years, at least four, even though the very thought of her and his failure to save her as he’d promised plagued him daily. Saraid filled his dreams that night, not the pleading one, not the one who laid her death at his feet, but the one with whom he fell in love so many years ago.
They walked the hills and paths around Lairig Dubh, laughing and learning each other. Already betrothed and only weeks until they were wed, they spent the time doing what couples in love did—testing the limits of their resolve. He would never dishonour her, no matter the hunger he had for her in his body and his heart. They would have the rest of their lives to love each other and if they spent every moment in their bed, he would not complain.
Saraid was a few yards in front of him and she began to run. It would take him no effort to catch her, but this was a game they played, drawing it out and the winner demanding a forfeit from the other. Many, many kisses had been won or lost during their afternoon together and he hoped for many more. Now, she scampered away from him and he ran a couple of paces and caught her, pulling her close and demanding his prize.
She kissed him with such ferocity it surprised him. Not that she did not enjoy this game, he knew she did, but she rarely controlled their kissing. He liked it when she did, for he glimpsed the passion that waited deep inside her. For him and only him. This time as he tasted her mouth, slipping his tongue inside hers and holding her close, she guided his hand up over the fullness of her breast and arched against his touch.
In only weeks, he could claim her as his.
Then, she lifted her mouth from his and touched his cheek. Saraid smiled and whispered to him, ‘If anything happens to me, you must go on.’
Tavis shook his head. ‘Nothing will happen. We will be happy together for our lives.’ He kissed her again to convince her.
‘Promise me. Promise me, Tavis,’ she urged.
‘I promise.’
Tavis woke in the middle of saying the words. He sat up on the rough pallet where he slept and pushed the hair out of his face. Looking around, he was glad none of the others had heard him speak in his sleep. He stood, threw the length of plaid around him and walked outside. The shades of dawn were just creeping into the sky and soon the birds would awaken and begin their call to start the day.
He stood in the quiet and tried to slow his racing heart and breathing down. It felt so real to him, as though Saraid had been there, as though he had been kissing her and touching her as they had in the past. And the words, the promise, were ones he’d forgotten, but now remembered giving her that day.
She would jest about the bad things that happened to her family and how she had a feeling that they followed her as well, awaiting a time and place to happen. A chill traced up and down his spine as he realised she had known her future that day. Her death would always be on his conscience. If only he had not pressed her to attend the gathering with him. If only he’d not left in anger. If only … Tavis shook off the past and thought about the promise he’d long forgotten.
If anything happens to me, you must go on.
He searched his memory, wondering if she’d spoken them or if his guilty conscience was now serving his own needs. Now that he thought about it, he realised she’d said those same words to him a number of times after that as well.
As the sun finally rose, which it had been threatening to for as long as he’d been standing there, he decided that he would ask Connor to be assigned to another of his properties in the north. He could no longer walk those same paths and live each day in the places where his worst failures as a man yet lived. He would see Ciara safely back to her parents, explain his failures to Connor and then live elsewhere until he figured out what his future should be.
Realising that he stood there with only a plaid tossed over his shoulders, he turned to go back inside to dress for the day. And he would have if the young Murray was not walking straight towards him with a purpose clear in his intense expression.
Chapter Eleven
‘I would have words with you, MacLerie,’ the young lord said as he approached.
He tipped his head to the young man and then motioned to his condition. ‘Shall I dress before this talk, my lord?’
James finally noticed his state of undress and waved him off in that imperious way that he had. ‘I will wait.’
Tavis did not rush, but he did not dawdle, either, and returned to find James examining their horses inside the fenced yard.
‘She is quite skilled at riding,’ James said. ‘That black is a beast.’
‘Aye, she is. Has been since early on,’ Tavis added, standing at the young man’s side as the horses moved around the enclosure.
‘How long have you known her?’
‘She had but five years,’ Tavis said. ‘A wee thing with big brown eyes. She reminded me of my youngest
