Highlanders Collection. Ann Lethbridge

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 of the line and off into a clearing. Calling out orders for everyone to continue, he jumped down and walked to her side.

      ‘Are you well, lass?’ he asked as he checked the strap, though he could see nothing was wrong with it. ‘You looked to be falling asleep and off the horse.’

      She rubbed her eyes and face and shook her head. ‘I did not sleep well and I am tired of travelling.’

      Tavis walked around to check the other strap and to get a better look at her. She’d seemed happy on the journey, anxious even to get back to Lairig Dubh as they got closer, though he suspected it was more about speaking to her parents than anything else. The urge to comfort her was as strong as it had ever been so he stepped back.

      ‘We should reach home by nightfall tomorrow, if we push through on the morrow,’ he said. ‘I plan to send a man ahead once we are on the road in the morning.’ Her eyes did brighten for a moment, then they lost their shine.

      He climbed back on his horse and turned to her. ‘Do you worry over what they will tell you?’

      ‘Aye,’ she said quietly. ‘I have never felt so unsettled in my life. I wake on the morrow as one person, but once we reach home, I may be someone else.’

      He leaned over and placed his hand on hers. It was as much as he would allow himself and did it only because she wore an expression of complete devastation in her eyes as they spoke on this. ‘You will never be anyone but Ciara. No one, no one’s words or story, can change the person you are inside.’

      ‘Oh, Tavis, if only I could believe it,’ she whispered to him. ‘Or if I could convince myself it matters not.’

      ‘Do you believe that your parents did this out of malice?’ he asked, trying to help her focus on the important things.

      ‘Nay, I know they did not.’

      ‘Do you believe that any MacLerie hopes for your humiliation?’

      She met his gaze then and shook her head. ‘Other than my parents, I do not think anyone in Lairig Dubh really cares about what happens to me. Once I am gone, no one will even notice.’

      ‘I care, Ciara. God forgive me, but I will know you are gone,’ he admitted.

      The silence spun out between them, but he would not look away from her.

      ‘Why? Just tell me why?’

      She had no idea that her words mirrored those of James when he had asked about Tavis’s role in Ciara’s life.

      ‘Because I am your friend,’ he said.

      He purposely misunderstood and could not give her the answer she wanted, no matter how much the words pushed to be released from within him. Anger, mostly at himself, bubbled up inside him, daring him, shoving him, driving him to do the one thing he could not.

      Fighting the urges roiling barely under his control, Tavis wondered if he could make the larger admission and damn himself and maybe even damn both of them. Then he realised that to speak the words he wanted to say to her would give hope where none could be. He bit his tongue rather than speak the oath that formed in his heart—I do love you, lass. A single tear trickled down her cheek as she waited for words that would not come.

      Could not come.

      ‘Say it, Tavis,’ she begged, ‘before it is too late.’

      She was tearing his heart out in pieces. She had no idea what she asked of him. Not just for the words—she wanted him to act on those words and claim her. He could not tell her how he’d been responsible for Saraid’s death and could not face causing hers, too. He could not share with her that he would rather watch her walk away than watch her die through his selfishness and negligence as Saraid had.

      ‘I killed one wife,