Highlanders Collection. Ann LethbridgeЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Tavis did not press Ciara about when they would return to Lairig Dubh. He might have if he’d seen her alone, but he never did. Since the Murrays considered him a servant rather than a guest, he did not have access to the main house without a specific reason. Any information from or about Ciara was passed through Cora and that did not happen often during the next days.

      He watched her as she left each morning on a ride with the young Murray. He watched as she and Elizabeth walked through the village. He watched because it was his duty to do so. But Tavis did keep watch carefully so that the Murrays were not insulted by it. That he found it no chore was the part he didn’t like to think about much.

      Then one day as he and young Iain fought in the yard behind the manor house, he saw her watching him. She wore a deep wine-coloured gown this morning, with no veil covering her long, blonde braid. Without a piece of tartan over her shoulders, she looked like a lowland lass and very much part of this lowland manor. And he guessed that was exactly her aim—to match and to blend in with this family that would be hers soon.

      When she laughed and gifted him with a smile as she used to do, the distraction caused him to trip, which then allowed the younger warrior to win their battle and led to much cheering on his part. Laughing at his error, Tavis climbed to his feet and walked to the fence where she stood. Handing his sword off to young Dougal, he accepted a cup of water from her and greeted her.

      ‘You look well, Ciara,’ he said, swallowing the water down.

      ‘I am well, Tavis,’ she said as she took the cup and tossed it into the water bucket. ‘Has there been any news from my father?’

      She knew that Duncan would keep in touch with him during this journey without pressuring her. He nodded.

      ‘And I expect another messenger from him soon. I know that he and Marian arrived home safely.’ They’d not gone too far, travelling out to visit one of Connor’s other holdings and then back to Lairig Dubh. For appearances, it worked. ‘Do you have a letter to send back to him?’

      She did not speak at first; instead, she glanced at the manor, then stared off beyond it, as she did when she was calculating the cost of something. Her skills with letters and numbers far surpassed his, but they were helpful to him many times. When she turned back to him, her gaze was filled with that expression of determination he’d seen many times before.

      ‘Send word that we will depart here in three days.’

      She was accepting the Murrays’ offer.

      He knew it in his gut, but when she met his eyes and said nothing more, she confirmed it.

      ‘So, you are accepting this betrothal then?’ Tavis leaned down closer so they could not be overheard, all the while knowing this would seal their separate lives. ‘Have you told him?’

      Ciara blinked several times quickly and he thought she fought off tears. Looking away to give her time to control herself, he waited, understanding all of the reasons for this match. All of them. And hating each and every one of them.

      ‘Aye. I told James this morn and he is telling his parents even as we speak.’

      He inhaled a deep breath and released it. Nodding at her, he said the things he knew she needed to hear. ‘His parents approve?’

      ‘’Twould seem so. They are overlooking their bloodlines back to the rulers of the ancient kingdom of Moray in accepting me, but their suffering purses are helping them to overlook certain shortcomings.’

      ‘Ciara!’ he said, laughing now. She said the most shocking things in a droll voice and it always made him laugh.

      For a moment he could hear Lady Murray’s nasal tones in the words and he imagined she’d said those words, or some of them, to Ciara already. The same lady Murray who came striding towards them from the house. He stepped away from the fence. ‘I will make the arrangements.’

      Her hand on his arm stopped him. It felt right and so wrong in the same moment, but he remained within her grasp, giving her a chance to speak.

      ‘Tell me, Tavis. Tell me if you think this a good match.’

      The desperate undertones in both the question and in her quivering voice undid him. He was struck by the need to take her in his arms even as his Highland blood urged him to steal her away into the hills to keep her as his own. Instead, for the first of what he knew would be countless times, he carried out his duties to his laird and clan.

      ‘It seems a good match for you, Ciara. You seem of a mind and have many common interests.’

      ‘Horses.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘It matters not, Tavis. We both know it, so do not placate me. I need to know if I can do this.’

      ‘The MacLeries will benefit from the access to this prosperous port and the ability to trade outside of Scotland. The Murrays will get your dowry, which will help them invigorate their farms, villages and lands. James will get a wife who is skilled and educated in all manner of things. And you will get a husband who seems quite pleased to have you as a wife.’

      He paused and saw the glimmer of hope in her eyes now. He took the last moment before Lady Murray arrived to finish the hardest task he’d carried out for his clan.

      ‘You can do this. You should do this.’

      ‘There you are, Ciara. James has told us the news and we wish to celebrate with a small feast this night,’ Lady Murray gave him a look that spoke of spoiled eels as she glared openly at him. Sliding her arm around Ciara’s, she drew her away from the fence and from him. ‘Come, we will speak of the meal and of arrangements to accompany you both to your home at Larg … Larg … your home.’

      ‘Lairig Dubh, Lady Murray.’ Tavis turned and smiled, for even at her worst moment, Ciara managed somehow to apply humour. ‘If you curl your tongue just a bit at the beginning, it is easy enough to pronounce.’ She’d begun walking back with her soon-to-be mother-by-marriage, but stopped and glanced back at him.

      ‘My thanks for your wise counsel, Tavis.’

      He accepted her thanks with a simple tilt of his head and then watched as the two women made their way back to the manor house to prepare for this celebration.

      As the importance of their words sunk in, frustrated rage began to surge in his blood. He sought out several of the Murray warriors who had been watching him and threw down a challenge to them. Several punishing hours later, when a number of opponents had been laid out in the mud of the yard, he finally gave in to the exhaustion of his body. By then, the celebration in the manor house had begun.

      Fortunately for everyone, he had not been invited.

      The celebration was not the joyous, large feast she might have expected and, in a way, it fit her mood. Ciara sat at the high table between James and his parents. Cups were raised with cheers for their future happiness. Cups were raised with calls for a fruitful marriage. Cups were raised, but she heard little of the words spoken. The only words that she could think about were those Tavis had spoken to convince her of her path.

      Words that said the correct thing, but lacked the sentiment that would have made them the