Highlanders Collection. Ann Lethbridge
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done for me. I am and shall always be your friend.’
The kiss on his cheek surprised him. Words were hard to come by just then and harder to say. He forced them out at a whisper so they remained between them.
‘And I am yours, Ciara.’
Tears filled her dark-brown eyes as he spoke and he watched as she tried to blink them away. He would never know what pushed him nearer or what made him wrap her in his arms and hold her close. ‘Be well. Be happy,’ he whispered as he hugged her for a few moments and then let her go.
He’d barely released her when her friends grabbed her and led her to the open space between the tables. The music began and they formed a circle with Ciara at its centre. Laughing and cheering, they danced—celebrating Ciara’s betrothal and, whether they realised it or not, the end of their own childhoods.
Others joined in—wee ones, mothers, fathers, kin of all ages—for they all shared the joy of this betrothal. Tavis threw off his dark feelings and smiled, clapping to the tune as more and more joined in. Then, when one of the clan held out her hand to him, he let some of his past go for a moment and joined in.
They circled and moved back and forth, each of the couples passing the others in a pattern that continued as long as the music played. The players stopped for a brief pause before beginning anew and, to his surprise, another of the women stepped forwards to claim him for the next dance. He laughed as he had not in a long time and, when the dance finished, he danced another and another until the feast was done and everyone began leaving the hall.
For the first time since Saraid’s death, he’d stepped into the middle of the clan instead of standing at the side watching. As he turned to say farewell to someone who spoke his name, he noticed that Ciara was gone.
Disappointed in some way he could not name, he drank down the last of his ale and walked through the keep and out to the yard. Since many of those who lived in the village had attended, the gates were still open to allow them to leave. Waving to several of the men who reported to him, Tavis made his way to the path that led to his cottage.
As he saw the outline of it in the bright light of the growing moon, the same stabbing pain flashed through his heart and soul. He never left a fire burning. He never came home to anyone waiting for him. He was alone as he always was, in spite of this night’s revelries when he’d allowed himself to enter back into the life of the clan for a few scant moments.
Tavis moved around the croft out of habit, needing not lamp or fire to guide his way while trying to avoid thinking too deeply on the matter. Soon, he lay on his pallet, thinking about his plans for the next few days, trying to find sleep. Instead thoughts and memories jumbled inside his mind and would not allow him to find his rest. Problems and their solutions continued for hours, but the one he thought most about was her.
Ciara.
Part of him was pleased that she had grown out of her silly notions about marrying him. It was a sign that she was more sensible now than a year ago when she had turned down several marriage offers and had made one of her own. It gladdened his heart to know she was contented in this betrothal.
And yet, as he tossed and turned and found no rest through the night, at the same time, he was not pleased. His male pride was pricked now by her ability to leave him behind, as part of a childhood outgrown. Even knowing such reasoning was irrational, and was exactly what he told her to do, did not help him put it from his mind.
The main reason he’d decided against escorting Ciara to Perthshire was that he did not want to encourage her misplaced feelings towards him, but that seemed not to be an issue now. Giving in to the futility of finding sleep this night, he climbed from the pallet and walked to the window, gazing out at the bright moon there.
Tavis did not remember making a decision over the next few hours, but somehow he had gathered what belongings and supplies he would need, packed and now stood waiting in the yard at sunrise when young Dougal and Iain arrived to lead the travelling party east. Though none of his men questioned this change of plans, he was certain it was noticed by many.
Chapter Four
The morn dawned clear and bright, surely a good omen for her journey and her future. Her clothing had been packed in trunks and placed on the wagon the night before. Any personal items she needed she would carry in her satchel.
The line of wooden animals on the mantel of the hearth in her small chamber stood waiting expectantly. Ciara could not decide whether to take them or not, so she spent several minutes staring them down and trying to make up her mind. They’d been part of her life since she had travelled to Lairig Dubh, each one carved by Tavis in an attempt to entertain her.
The first, a horse, was still her favourite because her father—stepfather—had asked him to make it for her. The rest were Tavis’s idea and over the days spent on the road, her collection included the horse, the pig, the deer and the sheep. Used by her and shared with her siblings, they were worn smooth now, but no less valued by her. She reached to scoop them up when her mother entered her room.
‘Taking them with you on your journey?’ she asked as she walked over and adjusted the cloak on Ciara’s shoulders. ‘You never leave home without them, do you?’
‘Should I?’ she asked. Part of her wanted to leave them and the other part wanted to bring them. Most likely her childish fears trying to push forwards.
‘Darling, they are part of you and your life up to today. Do not be ashamed of them, but do not let your past overshadow your future.’
Her mother smoothed her hair back from her face and pressed a kiss on her forehead. It soothed her as much now as it always did. How would she manage without these special moments? Did she have to give up all of this simply to grow up?
‘I think I will take just this one,’ she said, with more confidence than she felt. Still, these small objects always brought her comfort when she needed it most. She faced leaving behind everyone and everything she knew and loved and becoming part of another family, belonging to one man. Ciara found a scarf in her trunk, wrapped it around the wooden carving carefully and placed it in the leather bag she would carry.
‘Elizabeth waits for you in the yard,’ her mother said as she slid her arm around hers and walked at her side. ‘Her parents have given permission for her to return with you after the wedding. If you would like?’
Ciara smiled. Of all the news she could receive this morn, this was the best. Her most favourite friend would go with her to her new life, a comforting thought.
‘You tease me, Mother,’ Ciara replied. ‘Only if the laird gave permission for Lilidh to join me would my joy be greater.’ Her cousin Lilidh and she had spent many hours and days in each other’s company and Lilidh would have been a perfect companion for her. But Lilidh, as the laird’s daughter, would be married soon and would not be allowed to stay with Ciara and James in Perthshire.
She would have left, walked out of the chamber that had been hers for so long, but one question continued 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