Highlanders Collection. Ann Lethbridge

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Highlanders Collection - Ann Lethbridge


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could he say? What words could he use to explain her true worth without then claiming her for himself? Lucky for him, they reached the bridge they needed to cross to leave Perth and he was called away to pay the toll and see to their wagon. By the time they had crossed the bridge and left Perth, Ciara was riding alongside the wagon, chatting with Elizabeth.

      Soon, his men returned and they’d brought several others with them.

      James Murray was with them.

      Tavis hailed them as they approached and stopped his horse to greet the young lord. Instead, James rode past him and stopped before Ciara. Jumping from his horse, he took Ciara’s hand and kissed it. And he did not let go while he spoke in hushed tones to only her.

      Oh, aye, the Murrays would keep her longer than the MacLeries had, damn them both!

      Ciara smiled at James, enjoying the very gallant way he kissed her hand and greeted Elizabeth and Cora, welcoming them to his home. After sharing her weakness with Tavis, she felt vulnerable and exposed. She’d never spoken of such things to anyone, not her mother, not her closest friend. She’d barely admitted them to herself in the darkest hours when self-doubt ruled her thoughts. But this journey was an emotional one as much as it was a business one and her heart ached from all of the truths and changes she faced so far along the way.

      ‘Are you tired from riding, Ciara?’ James asked as he mounted once more. His horse was magnificent and her hands itched to take the reins of one like that.

      ‘Nay, my lord,’ she replied honestly. ‘The roads have been smooth and the skies clear this day.’

      He laughed aloud and nodded. Motioning forwards with his head, he asked, ‘Would you like to ride ahead with me? It is just a few miles now and my parents await your arrival.’

      Ciara turned to look at Tavis, but Cora clucked her tongue before she could.

      ‘That would be a wonderful idea, lass. Go on with the young lord, then, and we will be behind ye.’

      ‘Come then, Ciara,’ James said, turning his horse towards the road and nodding. ‘You,’ he said to Tavis, ‘you are in charge?’

      ‘Aye, Lord Murray,’ Tavis replied, his tone even though she heard something there.

      ‘See the women and the wagon safely to the keep. At the fork in the road ahead, take the left and go through the village.’

      Ciara startled then. She’d never heard Tavis spoken to as though a servant. He sat high in the MacLerie laird’s esteem and trust, but to James and others he was simply a servant to order here and there. These lowlanders did not keep to the same practices and sense of family that the clans in the Highlands did.

      James smiled at her and she followed him along the road. Though she could have given his horse a good challenge with hers, she paced herself to remain just a bit behind him.

      They took the left path at the split and found the village James mentioned to Tavis. James slowed his horse down as they made their way through the narrow street and then spurred it faster once past the cottages, going uphill to the stone keep ahead. Ciara kept her attention on James as the path became steeper, though not truly difficult. It would take some time for the wagon to climb this hill and reach the keep.

      The Murrays lived in a stone manor house, built atop the hill and surrounded by a wall. Not knowing what she expected, the unrelenting dark grey was not it. No hint of welcome. It looked like countless other houses they’d passed, not grand enough to be called castles or true keeps, but walled against intrusion. She wanted to dislike it immediately.

      James guided her through the gate and into the small yard in the front. Lord and Lady Murray stood before an open door and waved to her. Ciara waved back and brought her horse to a halt a few yards away. A servant came running to take hold of her horse and James was there at her side to help her down.

      Best behaviour. Best behaviour. Best behaviour.

      She chanted the words inside her head to remind her of what was expected by her parents and by the laird. It was clear on meeting the Murrays the first time that they disapproved the amount of choice her parents had allowed her and that they should be making the important decisions for her. Ciara caught their glances and narrowing expressions when they were in Lairig Dubh and knew they were looking her over as much as she was them, examining her for defects in character and behaviour. The fact that she hailed from the wild Highlands did not help her cause with them. Shaking the dust from her gown and smoothing it down, she looked up to see James watching her.

      ‘Take a moment to catch your breath, Ciara. That hill tasks even the best of riders,’ he whispered as they stood with the horses blocking his parents’ view of them. ‘Here now, you look lovely.’

      Without warning, he leaned down and kissed her. It was nothing but a quick touch on her lips, but it was quite daring for him to do. He stepped back before she could react and held out his arm to her, to escort her to his parents. Ciara met his gaze and smiled, taking his arm and allowing him to lead her.

      ‘Mother. Father. You remember Ciara,’ he said, bringing her to the doorway. ‘Her companions are behind us and will arrive anon.’

      ‘My lord. My lady,’ she said, dropping into a curtsy before them, remaining there a few moments and then rising. ‘My thanks to you both for your invitation to visit. My parents and the earl and countess send their greetings and their thanks for your hospitality.’

      She might not be Duncan MacLerie’s natural daughter, but she was the one who had learned all about being diplomatic from him from the time he brought her home with him from Dunalastair. She listened and watched and learned and could make it through any situation calmly. She would make certain he could be proud of her actions during this trip.

      ‘Come inside, Ciara. The servants will see to your trunks when they arrive,’ Lady Murray said, gesturing to her to follow.

      Once more the difference between her status as a guest and Tavis’s as a MacLerie underling was pointed out to her. His words about that very thing echoed in her mind then and she knew he understood it well.

      Lady Murray graciously led her into the house and up to a large chamber on the third floor. It would be for her and Elizabeth while Cora slept in an outer chamber. Her own chamber at her parent’s house was half the size and not as luxurious as this. Wherever else they might suffer for lack of gold, they lived in a measure of comfort second to few.

      It was the custom to put out the best when entertaining guests, especially when that guest was influential or important. Ciara had no illusions that she was either, but her stepfather and his laird were. The tapestries, though, showed evidence of disrepair when she looked more closely at the edges of them. The bedcoverings showed signs of threadbare areas. The bed and the furniture were worn and in need of repair.

      The façade all put in place to impress her enough to follow through with this betrothal and marriage. Her dowry would go far, but exactly for what purposes she did not know. Ciara understood that most believed it mattered not, but it did to her. If she was going to marry someone and make them wealthy, she would like to understand. If she was chattel to be bartered away, she would know the real cost and benefits.

      There would be time for all that. For now, she needed to acquaint herself with James and to try to suitably impress his parents and ease the way for this betrothal. Over the last few days, it became clear that she would not fall in love with him. Now, her only goal was to discover if she could tolerate the rest of her life with him.

      Tavis guided the rest of the group through the village and up to the manor house at the top of the hill. The wagon moved slowly along and he waited by the side of the pathway for it to pass him. Ciara and James were more than an hour ahead. The urge to grab the boy and grind him into the ground had lessened to a controllable one, for now. If his men had thought anything of his sullen silence they’d not spoken of it or to him.

      He knew his duty and he knew how to carry it out and he did not need young James Murray giving him orders.

      As


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