Читать книгу Highlanders Collection - Бренда Джойс, Ann Lethbridge - Страница 46

The sun shone brightly and everyone saw to their daily tasks, but Ciara remained abed. When Elizabeth questioned her, she blamed it on a sour stomach and head pains. Cora then wisely declared that she should not overindulge in wine if she wished to avoid such a condition. She banished them all from the chamber, only to find that, one by one, they returned. Worse, Lady Murray visited with a family remedy for such things.

Its foul odour reached her before the lady handed her the cup and her stomach, so far not truly in distress, began to retch. She drank it down without complaint, fearing that to do so would only prolong the lady’s visit. Soon, the brew brought on sleep, which could not be a bad thing considering that she’d not slept at all the night before.

Her sleep filled with images of that kiss and she lived it over and over again in those dreams. The passionate way he whispered to her as he touched his lips to hers. Then he consumed her with his mouth, tasting and caressing her lips and tongue with his until she could not breathe or think.

Ciara had been kissed before, but nothing had prepared her for the overwhelming, breath-stealing heat that filled her blood and melted the centre of her. Her body wanted him, her heart ached for him and her soul hoped against hope that this would be the step that changed everything between them.

He admitted that he wanted her and his mouth promised such pleasure as he claimed her. She whispered his name when he lifted his face from hers and closed her eyes, awaiting the next touch, the next kiss … the moment when he would claim her as his and set themselves against whoever would deny his right to her.

When the reality followed the dream and she realised he had turned his back on her just as everyone important in her life had, she fought her way out of the troubled sleep. Her body ached as the dream faded, leaving behind the memories of their kiss. Accepting that the moment was over, Ciara opened her eyes.

Unfortunately, when she did, she found James sitting at her bedside. She nearly laughed when she noticed Elizabeth sitting in the far corner sewing some torn garments. She knew that Elizabeth was there partly to protect her reputation—laughable now, but she did not know that—or so as not to miss anything interesting that might happen.

‘Ah, you are awake,’ he said quietly.

Ciara shifted on the bed, pulling the covers up to mask the fact that she yet wore her gown from yesterday. And she glanced away, trying to banish the memories of the taste and feel of Tavis from her before speaking to James.

‘Aye. The potion your mother gave me made me sleep longer. Is it mid-day yet?’ she asked, noticing how bright the chamber was from the light pouring in through the window. She pushed herself back up to sit against the wooden headboard, tugging the bedcovers higher as she moved and then gathering her loosened hair behind her shoulders.

‘Past mid-day,’ he said. ‘Elizabeth, you said Cora had made some tea for Ciara. Would you get it now?’

Nicely dismissed, Elizabeth nodded to him and gifted Ciara with an expression that promised retribution for anything missed. She did leave the door open as she left, something that amused her now. Once they were alone, James took her hand in his.

‘I feared that this illness was my fault for pressing my affections on you last evening,’ he said. ‘I apologise if it is.’

Ciara studied him as he spoke. She had never been one to play games and hide the truth. She had sought to use candour rather than deception. So she decided that she would be honest with him in this and set the practice for their life together, now that it was clear to her there would be one.

‘It was not the kissing, James, but rather what I overheard after that in the hall.’

She waited and watched for his reaction. It came swiftly—he paled and could not meet her gaze. Then he stood and began to pace the chamber as though seeking the words to explain. When he did not speak soon enough, she did.

‘I had never heard those rumours until you and your father spoke of them.’

‘Ciara … I …’ He stumbled over the words. She raised her hand and shook her head to stop him from more.

‘I cannot answer about my mother’s past—whore or not, I do not know,’ she said. A loud crash interrupted from the outer chamber. Clearly, Elizabeth was listening and trying to pour the tea and had dropped the pot. James closed the door then, keeping this conversation between them.

‘But I have only been as I was raised to be and can only speak about my behaviour. If you have questions about it, ask me now so that no misunderstanding exists between us.’

He stopped and stared at her, then blinked several times. ‘You are unlike any other woman I know, Ciara.’ His blue eyes were serious as they met hers.

‘Clearly. For good or bad, this is who I am.’ She pushed back the bedcovers and slid to the edge of the bed. He glanced in surprise at her gown, but did not mention it aloud. ‘Your words so shocked and hurt me I sought answers from the only person who could answer them for me.’

‘The man who brought you here?’

‘Aye. Tavis is an old friend and I sought his counsel.’

She’d sought much more, but that was over. He’d returned her to James Murray and ended any possibility of anything else. His face darkened, most likely remembering his father’s suspicions. But he did not ask.

‘I’d thought myself in love with him from the time I was a child, James. My parents asked him to see me safely here to you. He is a family friend and nothing more.’ She hoped the words, spoken aloud, would convince both of them. But in her heart, she screamed out in anger at Tavis’s dismissal of what truly was between them and his reasons for keeping them apart. James seemed to think about her words before nodding his acceptance.

‘Ciara, I did not mean to question your honour,’ James began. ‘But with what my father had told me from the beginning and knowing that you seek him out, I doubted you.’ A knock warned of intrusion and the door began to open. Elizabeth carried a cup before her.

‘Leave us,’ Ciara said. Elizabeth nodded and pulled the door closed. Standing, she walked to face him. ‘No matter my mother’s past, no matter what rumours you might hear otherwise, you will find me pure on our marriage night.’

His eyes widened and then he smiled. ‘That pleases me, Ciara.’ He lifted her hands and kissed one, then the other. ‘I think I like this candour between us.’

‘I cannot promise there will not be conflict between us, James, but I can promise it will never happen because of dishonesty on my part.’

She could tell he wanted to test her with a kiss, but he decided otherwise and stepped back, releasing her hands. He lifted the latch on the door and opened it. Elizabeth moved quickly away and waited to be asked in.

‘Elizabeth, see to your friend’s comfort,’ James said with a nod to her. ‘I hope to see you at the evening meal, if you are feeling up to it.’

The door from the outer chamber to the hall had not closed for a second before Elizabeth thrust the cup in her hands, placed her hands on her hips and demanded the truth from her.

‘What did he say about your mother?’ she asked.

Ciara sipped the tea. It would soothe her as it always did. And it would give her a few moments to work out what to say to her friend.

‘Well? I could not have heard what I think I heard? Tell me!’ she ordered as she clenched her jaw shut and ground out the words. Elizabeth strode over to the bed and threw herself on it, rolling on her stomach and leaning on her elbows.

‘I overheard James speaking to his father about his misgivings about our marriage last evening.’ That was a good beginning. Elizabeth would take the lead and drag the rest of it out now.

‘When? I was at the feast with you.’

‘After you retired, James escorted me back and he kissed me.’

Elizabeth sighed, clearly enamoured of this betrothal. Tavis was, as she’d told Ciara many times, too old for her. She liked James because he was only a few years older than either of them. And he was not as intimidating as Tavis. The sight of a naked Tavis, though it had excited Ciara, had overwhelmed Elizabeth. She would have to begin searching through the Murray men for an appropriate husband for her dear friend.

‘Was it wonderful?’ she asked, closing her eyes as she did.

‘It was … nice.’

Elizabeth rolled over on to her side and gave Ciara a perplexed glance. ‘Nice? But that is good, is it not?’

Ciara did not want nice, she wanted more than that. She wanted a kiss from her future husband to be wonderful and exciting and transcendent. Like Tavis’s later kiss was. Rather than trying to explain it, she simply agreed.

‘Aye. But I realised afterwards I’d forgotten my shawl on my chair and went back to get it.’

‘That one? The one James brought with him earlier?’ Ciara nodded, embarrassed that she’d not even noticed it.

‘I was about to enter the hall when I heard them talking about my mother.’

Elizabeth might seem like a flighty young girl when they spoke of a kiss, but she was her closest friend and she knew this was a serious matter. She moved to Ciara’s side and drew her to sit next to her on the bed, holding tightly on to her hand and not letting go.

‘I had no inkling of any of it,’ she whispered, the words and truth still difficult to accept let alone speak of it to another. ‘My mother was called the Robertson Harlot.’

It made no sense to her even now that Tavis had confirmed it. Marian Robertson a whore? Her mother never even looked at another man and was deeply in love with Duncan. She shook her head. ‘I cannot believe it, but Tavis confirmed it.’

‘You spoke to Tavis about this? When?’ Elizabeth asked as she pressed a linen square in her hand.

Ciara did not even realise that tears flowed once more. She dabbed her eyes and then tried to tell the rest.

‘I listened until they left the hall and could not even believe all they’d said. I went to find Tavis, hoping he would tell me it was all a lie,’ Ciara said. Taking in and releasing a deep breath, she admitted the painful truth to her friend. ‘My mother was found with several men by her father and banished as punishment. She bore me during that exile and was only allowed back after I was born.’

Elizabeth gasped then. ‘It cannot be true, Ciara. It cannot.’ She shook her head several times. ‘Your mother and father …’

‘I always knew Duncan was my stepfather and never knew about my real father. I was but a bairn the few times I asked and even I understood it was not to be asked again. I asked again just before we left Lairig Dubh, but my mother said we would speak of such things when we had time.’ She shook her head and Elizabeth tsked several times in sympathy.

‘Apparently what my mother does not wish me to know is that no one knows which of those several men is the one.’ Elizabeth released her hand and jumped up from the bed.

‘Tavis said this is true?’

‘He said that he did not know if it was the truth, but he heard the same rumours when he accompanied Duncan to Dunalastair when he met my mother. And that my mother never denied it. The laird declared that it was past and that none in Lairig Dubh were to speak of it.’

‘Surely your parents would have told you if this were the truth? They would have to expect you’d hear this.’

‘Mayhap they hoped that the Murrays were so desperate they would not bring up such a shameful matter and insult either the MacLeries or the Robertsons?’ she pointed out. ‘I cannot ask them anything until I return. But it is too late now to rescind my agreement to marry James.’

‘Why would you change your mind? Did he offer you some insult?’ Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin a bit. ‘Let me speak to him and I will make certain he knows these are lies.’ Her staunchest supporter, always ready to protect and defend her.

‘James and I are at peace over this, Elizabeth. He appreciated my frankness in speaking to him about the matter, so there is no need for you to provoke him in any way.’

‘And Tavis? Where does he stand in all this?’

Ciara turned her head and looked away. He had kissed her with abandonment, showing her everything that James’s kiss was not, and then sent her back to him. He expected her to stand by the betrothal and live her life without him. He had convinced himself that he could not claim her for himself and no matter how or what she argued, his reasons stood in their way. Damn the man!

‘He returned me to the Murrays, but not before showing me that he does feel something for me. A taste of what passion is like.’

Elizabeth gasped then. ‘What did he do?’

‘’Twas only a kiss,’ she explained, trying to believe it herself. Instead her body remembered the heat and the thrill once more, leaving her breathless in its power.

He returned you to James.

The reality of that action cooled her immediately. Anger flared now that he could claim she meant something to him and then he could discard her in the next moment.

‘A moment of passion that is gone now. Do not worry. He said there are reasons, but goes no further,’ she explained. Ciara looked at her friend and shared her innermost worries about everything she’d learned last night.

‘I think that this hidden truth, whatever it is, is the reason why the MacLeries are so happy to rid themselves of me. My uncle provided most of my dowry, I know that much, so it costs them little and gains them much. Since the Murrays are in great need, this works out for them. James marries me for my dowry and the truth as he knows it does not stand in the way.’ She paused and took a breath.

‘Tavis has some truth that stands in his way and he will not reveal it. My parents live with some lie that they will not reveal. And I stand in the middle of it, gaining a husband who does not want me, losing a man who does and with parents and family who do not care enough to give me the truth.’

Elizabeth threw her arms around her then and hugged her to within an inch of her life, forcing almost all the air from her lungs.

‘None of that matters, Ciara. You are a jewel and James Murray understands that or I will beat it into him!’ she promised. ‘Once they discover all of your skills and talents, once they know you better, the Murrays will know they had the best part of this bargain.’

Elizabeth retrieved Ciara’s brush and began to ease it through her hair. There was silence between them for several minutes.

‘You have spoken of everyone involved in this except yourself, Ciara. What of you and your feelings?’

‘I know not,’ she admitted with a shrug. ‘Within just a few weeks, my entire world has turned. My parents are not who I believed them to be. A man I thought did not love me may indeed have feelings for me, but he says he cannot claim me. And now I am betrothed to a man I know I will not love. At this moment, I do not think I feel anything at all.’

But try as she might to deny feeling anything, the flames of anger did burn within her. Anger at—

The knock at the door startled them. Cora opened the door and looked from one to the other the way her mother or Elizabeth’s mother did when she caught them doing something wrong or unseemly. They laughed this time with an ease built on their long friendship. With a warning not to be late for the evening meal and a telling glance at the already-worn gown, Cora closed the door and left them to themselves.

‘The next few weeks are set,’ Elizabeth explained as she helped Ciara off with the now slept-in gown and searched for a clean one. ‘You will know nothing more until we return to Lairig Dubh and speak to your parents. So, take this time to become accustomed to James. If the marriage is a certainty …’ She paused and looked at her, waiting. At Ciara’s nod, she continued, ‘Then it hurts nothing to learn more about him and prepare yourself.’

‘He does seem willing to accept me in spite of believing the worst about my mother and father,’ she offered.

Elizabeth slipped the clean gown, one in a paler shade of green, over her head and tied the laces of it. ‘That is to his credit, then. And if he already thinks this sordid tale is the truth, then you have nothing to worry over.’

Ciara nodded, allowing her friend to think that.

But there was something worse—if given but a sign by Tavis last night, she would have given away her honour for the chance to lie in his arms just once before she belonged to another man.

He had not dreamt of her in years, at least four, even though the very thought of her and his failure to save her as he’d promised plagued him daily. Saraid filled his dreams that night, not the pleading one, not the one who laid her death at his feet, but the one with whom he fell in love so many years ago.

They walked the hills and paths around Lairig Dubh, laughing and learning each other. Already betrothed and only weeks until they were wed, they spent the time doing what couples in love did—testing the limits of their resolve. He would never dishonour her, no matter the hunger he had for her in his body and his heart. They would have the rest of their lives to love each other and if they spent every moment in their bed, he would not complain.

Saraid was a few yards in front of him and she began to run. It would take him no effort to catch her, but this was a game they played, drawing it out and the winner demanding a forfeit from the other. Many, many kisses had been won or lost during their afternoon together and he hoped for many more. Now, she scampered away from him and he ran a couple of paces and caught her, pulling her close and demanding his prize.

She kissed him with such ferocity it surprised him. Not that she did not enjoy this game, he knew she did, but she rarely controlled their kissing. He liked it when she did, for he glimpsed the passion that waited deep inside her. For him and only him. This time as he tasted her mouth, slipping his tongue inside hers and holding her close, she guided his hand up over the fullness of her breast and arched against his touch.

In only weeks, he could claim her as his.

Then, she lifted her mouth from his and touched his cheek. Saraid smiled and whispered to him, ‘If anything happens to me, you must go on.’

Tavis shook his head. ‘Nothing will happen. We will be happy together for our lives.’ He kissed her again to convince her.

‘Promise me. Promise me, Tavis,’ she urged.

‘I promise.’

Tavis woke in the middle of saying the words. He sat up on the rough pallet where he slept and pushed the hair out of his face. Looking around, he was glad none of the others had heard him speak in his sleep. He stood, threw the length of plaid around him and walked outside. The shades of dawn were just creeping into the sky and soon the birds would awaken and begin their call to start the day.

He stood in the quiet and tried to slow his racing heart and breathing down. It felt so real to him, as though Saraid had been there, as though he had been kissing her and touching her as they had in the past. And the words, the promise, were ones he’d forgotten, but now remembered giving her that day.

She would jest about the bad things that happened to her family and how she had a feeling that they followed her as well, awaiting a time and place to happen. A chill traced up and down his spine as he realised she had known her future that day. Her death would always be on his conscience. If only he had not pressed her to attend the gathering with him. If only he’d not left in anger. If only … Tavis shook off the past and thought about the promise he’d long forgotten.

If anything happens to me, you must go on.

He searched his memory, wondering if she’d spoken them or if his guilty conscience was now serving his own needs. Now that he thought about it, he realised she’d said those same words to him a number of times after that as well.

As the sun finally rose, which it had been threatening to for as long as he’d been standing there, he decided that he would ask Connor to be assigned to another of his properties in the north. He could no longer walk those same paths and live each day in the places where his worst failures as a man yet lived. He would see Ciara safely back to her parents, explain his failures to Connor and then live elsewhere until he figured out what his future should be.

Realising that he stood there with only a plaid tossed over his shoulders, he turned to go back inside to dress for the day. And he would have if the young Murray was not walking straight towards him with a purpose clear in his intense expression.