Читать книгу Highlanders Collection - Бренда Джойс, Ann Lethbridge - Страница 42

By the time they reached the hall and walked to the front table where her uncles waited, Ciara believed she had this yearning for Tavis under her control. She greeted her family and cousins and sat down, only then looking around the large room for the rest of the travellers from Lairig Dubh.

‘Your MacLerie escorts sent along their regrets. They have other duties to see to so that you can leave in the morn,’ Uncle Iain said.

If she had looked away just then, she would have missed it. A slight narrowing in his gaze. A minor lift in the corner of his mouth. All signs to anyone who knew Iain Robertson that there was more going on here than he would admit and that he had a hand in it somehow.

Did he know what had happened at the stream? Did he suspect something between them? Well, no matter. Ciara nodded and placed her napkin on her lap as the servants began placing platters on the table.

‘They are ever attentive to their duties, Uncle. Especially Tavis.’ His left eyebrow lifted ever so slightly, confirming that he’d ordered Tavis away from this meal.

Ciara would think about this later, for now she enjoyed the meal with her uncles. Since their path back to Lairig Dubh would go in a different direction, she might not see them for a long time. Though they supported this match, the wedding would be accomplished back at her home and she doubted any of them would attend.

Strange. Their affection for her was obvious, yet she did not remember them ever speaking of it outside their lands.

And, thinking about it in the silence of eating, she wondered if it had to do with her father. Oh, no, not Duncan, her stepfather, but the man who had never been mentioned by name to her. Ciara had feared asking about it as it was made clear to her that it was a subject not to be spoken of.

Had her father dishonoured her mother and not married her then? Had he been an enemy of the Robertsons and one not eligible to marry the only daughter of the powerful Robertson laird? Had he died before her birth? She sighed then, wishing she knew the answers to these questions and wondering why she had not the courage to ask them.

The meal ended and she and Elizabeth excused themselves to return to their chambers. Cora was off seeing to cleaning some of her garments, or at least giving them a good brushing to remove the dust of the road.

As she lay in bed, trying to find sleep, all the same questions plagued her. Tossing and turning so much that she disturbed her friend who could sleep through most everything, Ciara climbed from the bed and walked to the one small window on the wall. Pushing the shutters open, she leaned against it and peered into the darkness outside.

Those in the keep were settled for the night. A cluster of nightjars sang their song out of tune and the trees seemed to move in time with it, much as she would dance to music at a ceilidh. Night-time was magical to her and, if she were home, she and Elizabeth thought nothing of walking through the village, talking and sorting out their concerns and making plans.

Why did things seem to make sense in the dark of the night and then not when day’s light shone on them?

Unable to figure that out, Ciara climbed back into the bed and finally allowed sleep to claim her.

The rain suited his mood and kept chatter to a minimum as they left Dunalastair behind and joined up with the old drovers’ path that would take them to the market town of Crieff. All three women rode, cramped, he was certain, in the shelter of the wagon. He and the other men were not bothered by the weather. He’d lived, slept, ate, fought and … did most everything outside at one time or another. As long as the roads did not turn to mud and the wagon kept moving, they travelled.

Wrapped in the lengths of tightly woven plaid that kept most weather and water at bay, he and the men continued on. The first two days were wet, but the roads passable. On the third day of solid rain, it was as though the fates heard his thoughts; the wagon got mired down and came to an abrupt stop. He heard the startled cries from within and rode back to see if anyone was hurt. Other than a few muffled curses as he drew near, and he knew whose voice they were muttered in, everyone was safe.

‘Are we stuck?’ Ciara asked, lifting the canvas tarp that formed their canopy out of the way and peering through the downpour at him.

‘Aye, you are that.’ Tavis jumped from his horse and tested the wagon, pushing against one side. Soon a couple of the men were with him, but no amount of strength seemed to loosen its wheels from the quagmire that trapped them.

‘Here, Tavis,’ Ciara said as she stood up and tried to get out of the wagon. ‘Take my hand.’

‘Ciara, wait a wee while until we figure out if this can be freed,’ he ordered back.

She jumped, damn her, and landed just next to him, her leather boots sinking into the mud. Without hesitating, she gathered her skirts from behind, pulled them between her legs and secured them to her belt.

‘Ciara,’ he began.

‘Elizabeth, come out now,’ she called in to her friend. ‘You will not melt in the rain and we need all the help we can get.’

Was she daft? Did she think he was going to let her …?

‘If we all help, we can empty the wagon, move it through these rough patches to flatter ground and be on our way,’ she said, urging the other girl out from the protection of the covered wagon and into the torrents of rain.

Damn! Did she have to be so sensible? Should she not be sitting inside the cart, moaning and fretting, much like Cora was at this moment, waiting for him and the other men to do what was needed to free the wagon and get them moving again? Instead, with a lack of fear and with a good instinct about how to handle this situation, she took control and gave orders. Within minutes, the other women had secured the long skirts of their gowns as she had and were carrying some of the lighter supplies off to a clearing under the trees.

Tavis wanted to argue with her, overrule her, but she did exactly what he would have recommended be done and got less resistance from her women than any man would have.

It took about two hours to complete, but the wagon was emptied, contents moved and the wheels freed from the mud and moved forwards to a smoother part of the path. Through it all, not one of the women had complained. Later, when they’d repacked the wagon, found a place to rest for the night and everyone was settling down, he realised what bothered him so.

He truly liked Ciara. He liked the woman she’d become. In spite of his declarations to the opposite, he felt more for her than he could ignore. More than would do either of them any good. What he felt and what he wanted did not matter, for she was above him in status and wealth and everything that was important. He had neither the heart nor soul left to offer her marriage and that was the only thing a woman of her class could accept.

Worse, she was promised to another and any interference in the arrangements, secret at this time or not, would still result in dishonour and possibly a feud between the MacLerie and the Murrays.

The Robertson laird must have seen signs of this when he issued his warning. If that man could see it, then others could and would. So, Tavis decided he must look at her and the rest of this journey as he would any other task assigned to him by Connor. Just that—a task assigned by his laird.

He stared across the clearing, from where he stood to where she sat, stirring a pot of simple stew over the fire. As she did so many times before, Ciara lifted her head and met his gaze. Within the depths of those warm, brown eyes he saw everything he felt reflected back at him: confusion, desire, need, wanting and love. Tavis turned away.

They could not. They would not.

Despair, ruin and unhappiness lay ahead of them if they followed their desires. For him it would mean the loss of his honour, for he’d sworn allegiance and obedience to the laird. Worse, for her it would be the loss of everyone she held dear. She would face shame unlike any embarrassment she’d suffered before. They would both be exiled from clan and kith and kin with little hope of sharing even that dishonourable life.

And that was something she would never survive either.

Tavis drank down the ale in his cup and stood. His stomach rolled and he wanted no food now. How cruel the fates were to allow them both to see the truth of something between them just when they were reconciled to the impossibility of it.

As he strode off to check with the two men set as guards, he accepted that the only good thing was that both of them would do their duty and hold fast to their honour.

Ciara thought she knew how her old doll felt the day that she and her younger brother fought over it—twisted, torn and all the stuffing pulled out. As she scooped up the stew and served it to the others, she was certain of what had just passed between them. He’d allowed her to see into his heart and soul and to learn that she was not the only one confused, yet thrilled by the feelings there. Then, as though he’d made a mistake, he left, not even taking the time to eat with them.

This must be the worst part of growing up and accepting your role as an adult with duties and responsibilities to others. And she hated it even at the same moment that she savoured the brief but honest moment between them. For in that instant after he’d turned away, Ciara had thought of all the possibilities and all the impossibilities as well and none of them were acceptable to her. To them.

So, she, they, would follow the path they’d chosen, be honourable and true to their families’ expectations. Mayhap the shock of knowing he’d treated her as an adult and accepted what was honest and true in her heart had also caused her to accept the futility of it all?

After cleaning up from their meal, with Elizabeth’s and Cora’s help, she climbed inside the wagon, under the blankets spread for her use and found that her mind was quiet for the first time in so very long. A certainty filled her now—the unavoidable reality she had never wanted to consider but that now was hers.

She would not marry the man she had loved her whole life.

Four days later, after the night of reckoning as she thought of it, they reached Crieff. Tavis had sent men ahead to find them a place to stay and to make arrangements for the final part of the journey. If any in the group noticed a change between them, none mentioned it. Instead, it was as though Ciara had taken all of her feelings, wrapped them in a bundle and put them aside. Easier to ignore all of it than to have it task her mind, heart and soul during every waking hour.

And sleeping hours, too, for she saw him in her dreams. Except there, he left the stream, walked to her and kissed her with such abandonment that she woke more than once expecting to find him entangled in her blankets next to her. Some primitive urge had been awakened within her and would not cease its demand for satisfaction.

Crieff was a welcome distraction for all of them, it seemed. A busy market town, filled with all sorts of merchants and goods, it was the first large town they’d seen on their travels. Tavis had sent men ahead to locate suitable lodgings for the women.

As they entered from the north-west, she heard Cora and Elizabeth laugh at the sight of so many people and animals and stalls. She’d chosen to ride her horse and followed Tavis’s order to stay next to him at all times. With so many things to look at, it was difficult not to get diverted, but Tavis soon led them to a quieter street when the buildings were spread out from each other. They stopped before an inn and Tavis helped her, then the others, down. Young Dougal guided the wagon around the wooden inn to the yard where they would secure it for the night.

Though she probably looked like a peasant, Tavis made certain that the MacLerie name and title eased the way to the best room for them. He stayed with them while they found their chamber and waited for Iain to bring in the satchels they prepared for this stay. A bath was promised and Ciara imagined how good it would feel to soak in a tub of steaming water as they climbed the stairs to the upper level that held but two small bedchambers.

‘One is for you and Elizabeth, the other for Cora and our trunks,’ Tavis explained as the other men began to carry their supplies past them. ‘And the innkeeper will set up the bath in here.’ Once they were done, Ciara gained Tavis’s attention.

‘Can we walk around a bit after getting settled here? There were so many interesting things to see,’ she asked.

‘Did you see the stalls as we passed?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘It would be such a treat to visit them.’

She and Elizabeth named several more places and people who’d caught their eye as they rode in and Tavis just watched in silence, turning back and forth between them as they spoke. Then he held his hand up, stopping them. Though she had travelled with her parents to cities like Glasgow and Edinburgh, Elizabeth had not. This trip was a treat for her and Ciara wanted her friend to enjoy all that she could.

‘Aye,’ Tavis finally said. ‘Since it is not yet overwhelmed for the Michaelmas tryst, it is safe enough to walk. Finish seeing to your comfort and I will tell the men.’

Their excitement even spread to the usually calm Cora, who had a few coins with her to buy something that appealed to her. Elizabeth and Ciara both had small purses, too, and permission to buy what they needed or wanted, so it should be an enjoyable few hours.

And it was. The three men who walked with them had joined in the enthusiasm and made suggestions for purchases. It was a surprise to Ciara for she worried that they would keep to themselves as Tavis had done these last days. They arrived back at the inn just as supper was served. The lively conversation and good, hot, well-flavoured food all lent itself to a pleasant evening among people she’d known almost all of her life.

A fitting way to end her life with the MacLeries before beginning one with the Murrays.

Was she destined to be passed from one family to another? Was she wanting in some way that no clan wanted to keep her? She remembered little of her time with her mother’s family. The last half-score of years with the MacLeries were all she knew. But most of that time was grooming her to make her appealing to some other clan. Never was a marriage discussed or offered that would allow her to remain in Lairig Dubh—the only place she knew as home.

Trying to push away the maudlin feelings that threatened to overwhelm her, she looked around and noticed that most of all the other inhabitants at the inn had gone off to their rest, so Ciara and Elizabeth sought theirs. The steaming bath, scented with oil Cora had packed away, eased the aches and pains in her body, but not the one in her heart. Tears tracked down her cheeks to blend into the water around her. Silent tears for the loss. Tears for what could never be.

Worse, she now realised that Tavis had been correct—she had played at loving him all those years. Childish worship, all of it. Now, now when she’d thought she’d moved on and was ready to accept that he did not share her feelings, he did.

‘Damn him!’ she whispered, hitting the water with clenched fists and sending some in a cascade over the edge. ‘Damn him.’

And damn her foolish, now grown-up heart.