Читать книгу Highlanders Collection - Бренда Джойс, Ann Lethbridge - Страница 52

Marian stood next to Jocelyn during the Mass, watching Ciara and James. He touched her hand several times during prayers and Ciara smiled at him several other times. All seemed as it should between a young man and woman about to marry—respectful, attentive, even affectionate.

And it broke her heart.

Jocelyn noticed her expression and mouthed, Is aught wrong? to her. Marian shook her head and turned her attention back to the altar and Father Micheil’s prayers. James had asked to walk with Ciara, alone, after Mass, so he wanted to speak to her on some private matter. Again, expected between a betrothed couple.

If she could only be a bird in the trees along their path!

* * *

Soon Mass was ended and she waited as Jocelyn spoke to the priest for a few moments. Ciara kissed her and squeezed her hands as she and James left and it brought tears to her eyes. She and Duncan had had misgivings and fears about sharing the complete truth with Ciara, but it was her due. They had no doubt she would hold it all in confidence, but she needed to know.

Marian had watched as Ciara realised she was not her true mother and feared that Ciara would never forgive her for the deception. Instead, after hearing their explanation, she called her Mother and held her as she always had, easing Marian’s heartache. When she called Duncan Father, even after all the disclosures made to her, it made her heart swell with pride and love for the daughter who could not be more her own.

Jocelyn wrapped her arms around hers and they walked from the chapel together. Marian knew her friend’s intent and it came as soon as they were away from anyone who could overhear their conversation.

‘So, you told her?’

‘We did.’

‘She seems more at peace than I expected from such revelations,’ Jocelyn observed.

She’d been the only one to whom she had told some of the truth those long years ago when she’d first arrived in Lairig Dubh with Duncan. Assisting Jocelyn at Sheena’s birth had brought back the memories of that night with Beitris and Marian had suffered from them terribly. Jocelyn’s friendship and her wonderful herbal tea had eased the way through one of her darkest nights.

‘Ciara had heard, or overheard, many of the rumours from James and his father. At least she knows the truth about those now.’

‘How did she react about her mother?’ Marian remembered the desolate expression that Ciara’s eye bore in those moments, but also the love she saw there for her, too.

‘As we expected. It shocked her to her soul,’ Marian admitted. ‘But then she accepted it. She asked about her true father.’

‘Did you tell her?’

‘Aye,’ she replied, keeping some of this particular truth to herself, for no one save Duncan and Iain knew about that situation and Iain’s secret life. Jocelyn believed her brother Ciara’s father and never spoke of it.

They were near the place on the path where it split, part going uphill to the keep, the other going downhill into the village. Their duties called them in different directions for the moment, though Marian would see to James’s parents later. For now, the laird was acting host to his newest ally and discussing all manner and sort of business with him, much to the Murray’s delight when she’d observed some of the exchanges.

She took hold of Jocelyn’s hand before they parted.

‘I have been turning this over and over in my mind and cannot come up with a reason why Tavis would not marry Ciara. The wealth would be one matter, if Tavis cared about such things. Her education might be another, for it intimidates most men when they discover her abilities. But there must be something more personal to keep his heart locked away from her.’

‘Saraid?’ Jocelyn asked.

‘It must be. I did not know her well, Jocelyn. Did you?’

‘Nay.’ Jocelyn shook her head. ‘Her family moved here just before their wedding. Tavis met her while travelling with Connor to the southern holding.’

‘The only person who could answer questions about her is Tavis,’ Marian added. ‘And Ciara, for she worshipped him in those days and she followed them everywhere.’

‘The only two people to whom we cannot speak without raising questions.’ Jocelyn sighed. ‘It seems that Ciara will marry James, then. Which—’ she touched Marian’s arm ‘—does not appear to be a bad match after all.’

Marian crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed them, staring at the path the two had taken for their walk. ‘Nay, it is not a bad match. It will just take her so far from here and to a man who does not love her. But that is not a bad match.’

Jocelyn met her gaze. ‘And how is that different from our marriages? I came here believing that Connor would murder me the way he murdered his first wife. You came here, forced to marry a man who knew you’d deceived him and everyone else.’

Marian laughed. ‘Only Rurik and Margriet’s match must have been less trying.’

‘Do not be so certain of that. Our Rurik with the way he loves women and a woman who grew up in a convent? I am certain there were some rocks on that path.’

It did calm her worries when she thought of it that way. At least James and Ciara liked each other at the beginning of their marriage. Love could grow later.

It could.

James took her hand as they walked from the church and she decided to focus on all the things she liked about him as they strolled in the privacy of the forest for this ‘talk’.

She liked the way he entwined their fingers as he held her hand. She liked the way he did not seem threatened by her behaviour and encouraged her opinion on matters at hand. She liked the sound of his voice as he spoke.

There. All good things on which to build.

They stopped and he pulled her into his arms, tilted down and kissed her without any warning. He glided his lips over hers, pressing until she opened—as Tavis had—and then moved his tongue into her mouth. Trying to participate more, remembering his comment about her previous one, she slid her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his, the way it had done on its own during the kisses with Tavis.

James seemed to like it, wrapping his arm around her waist and holding her close. But his mouth just remained there, not doing anything that engendered those hot passions to run in her blood.

Just when she thought he would bring it to an end, he slid his other hand up and skimmed over her breast. Once he found it, he cupped her, rubbing there several times. He lifted his head then and whispered to her, ‘You are an innocent.’

Ciara knew the touch was scandalous, one that should not be permitted before their marriage bed, but it did not feel scandalous to her. It did not urge her to want more. It did not heat her blood as a simple kiss from Tavis did.

‘Is that a bad thing, then?’ she asked.

‘Nay! A man likes to know he will be the first with his wife,’ James explained. He stepped back and stared at her. ‘If I might use some of that candour of yours?’ She nodded. ‘From what I’d been told, about those rumours …’ he hesitated for a moment before pushing on ‘… I did not expect a virgin bride and had accommodated myself to that notion.’

Ciara blinked at him several times as she listened. ‘And you were willing to accept that?’

‘Aye, for the many reasons that we both know about, I would have.’ James looked at her. ‘There was one that gave me some hope. All the stories spoke of your mother’s past; none of that behaviour ever was rumoured after she married Duncan. So, if your mother could be faithful, I expect that you can, too.’

Stunned by these revelations, she just shook her head and laughed, now knowing the truth of her mother’s ‘past’. He’d considered her less than virtuous and was willing to accept her.

That damned dowry! Founded on nothing less than blood money and determined to shape her life and marriage.

‘Did you like that?’ he asked, glancing at her breast.

‘Aye, it was nice,’ she answered. It did not stir her to excess or make her want to lie down with him, but mayhap it would if there was more? ‘Would you …?’ She glanced down and then met his gaze.

James stepped in close and kissed her mouth again. He held her close and then began kissing a path down her cheek and neck. That felt nice, too. Then he turned her slightly and placed his hand on her again, this time with more pressure and rubbing his thumb over its tip. Nice.

He was just about to kiss her mouth again when some branches and leaves crackled, alerting them that they were not alone. They lifted their heads and found Elizabeth there. Jumping back and pushing her hair away from her face, she smiled at her friend. A bit embarrassed by being discovered during such a personal moment, she was surprised by Elizabeth’s glare.

‘My pardon, Ciara and James,’ she said, not even looking at him. ‘The dressmaker is coming before this morn, so I thought I would let you know.’

‘I will be right along, Elizabeth,’ she said, smiling back.

Elizabeth seemed to want to say something else, but did not. With only a nod, she turned and left. James watched her go and then turned back to Ciara.

‘I suppose it was better that she found us than your parents.’

Ciara shook her head. ‘Certain leniencies are permitted between betrothed couples, James. I doubt my parents think that we have not shared some intimacies by now.’

He took her hand and kissed it, beginning to follow the path once more. She guessed that his attempts at intimacies were over.

‘Believe it or not, that was not why I wanted you alone, Ciara.’ He winked at her then. She liked his wink. ‘I wanted to ask you something before we stand before the priest. I do not like surprises.’

‘Oh? What do you wish to know?’ Ciara tried to think about the wedding ceremony, but she had not witnessed one yet. She’d avoided Tavis and Saraid’s those years ago and did not know all the words and prayers that would be said over and for them.

He stopped them once more and turned to face her, his blue eyes growing darker in that moment with an intensity she did not usually see there.

‘Do you have or know of any reasons why we should not marry?’

Of all the things she’d thought he’d ask, that was not one of them. Did loving another man count in his opinion?

‘I do not mean reasons about clans or allies or treaties, Ciara. I mean from you to me—are you content with this marriage between us?’

‘Content?’ What a strange word to choose. ‘Is that what you seek, then? Contentment?’

He turned from her then and took a breath. Shaking his head, he spoke. ‘Aye. I am not a man ruled by passions and do not seek a marriage caught up in the drama of those emotions. I am not a man of great courage. Our life in Perthshire will be very different from this Highland life you have lived here. I but seek your contentment in being my wife at my side.’ He looked at her then. ‘I have seen marriage ruled by passion—I have seen it before and do not wish it.’

She’d seen those marriages, too. Her parents. The laird and lady. Cousin Rurik and Margriet. All passion-filled marriages that were mostly about love. And she wanted that, too. But, clearly, and to his credit, that would not be theirs. He was not asking for her love, he was asking her to be content without it.

‘So, is there any reason you do not wish to stand before the priest two days hence and pledge our vows?’

A life of contentedness spread out before her. She looked into his eyes and found more emotions there than she’d ever seen in his gaze. And there, deep within, she thought he might be asking her for a way out of this, knowing she’d backed out of other betrothals before his.

Or mayhap he simply did not want to be humiliated on his wedding day to be at the church with no bride at his side? He said he did not like drama, and that would be the worst kind of it.

Still, she had promised, even knowing that she would leave behind the passion and the love she could have, she knew she could have, with Tavis. He was so scarred by what had happened with Saraid that he could not claim what could be between them.

So.

‘There is no reason, James.’

He let out his breath and looked away and in that moment she did not know if he was relieved or disappointed. Strange.

James nodded and smiled then and took her hand once more.

‘Come then, your mother and Elizabeth and the dressmaker will be waiting for you.’

Although they spoke on the way back to her home, it was of nothings: the path, the weather, the ceilidh the night before. Nothing that mattered. Ciara knew that this would most likely be the pattern of their life.

They reached her cottage and found her mother and Elizabeth waiting, drinking tea with Dolina, who was making the gown she would wear for the wedding. Ciara noticed that Elizabeth’s gaze went right to James’s.

‘Well, this is a place a man does not need to be,’ James said, smiling. ‘I will leave you all to your task, then.’

He bowed his head to them and took his leave.

Dolina had made the gown patterned on her others, so it would simply need a few tucks and stitches to make it fit well. They went into her chambers and Ciara removed the gown she wore and slid the new one over her head. It was made of a lovely rose-colored over-gown that would be worn over a linen chemise. More lowland than Highland in style, her mother had thought it suitable for the wedding.

‘So, how was your talk?’ her mother asked, winking at her. ‘Elizabeth said she came upon you in the forest on her way here and you were talking.’

She laughed, knowing it would be expected. Glancing at Elizabeth and thinking of the lie she’d told, she said, ‘It was a nice talk.’

‘Nice is good,’ Elizabeth said, reaching for another pin for Dolina.

Elizabeth liked nice. She did not like overwhelming and passionate kisses and did not seek a marriage where she would be more than content. She met her friend’s gaze, then Elizabeth turned away after a moment.

‘Yes, it is.’

They worked quietly then, gathering here, letting out there, until Dolina and her mother were pleased. Dolina would finish the dress and have it back here on the morn of her wedding.

The rest of the day went quickly, as the hours before her wedding seemed to go by. Ciara spent some of the time with James’s mother while James worked with the men in the training yard. Unwilling to see Tavis just then, she avoided it while turning another plan over in her mind. Certain it would not work, certain he would refuse, she knew she had to try it.

Passion would not be enough. When men feared something, something they could not admit or face, sometimes it was up to a woman to show it to them. And Tavis had carried fear in his heart every day since Saraid’s death. The fear had such a tight grip on him that he needed someone to help rid it from him.

She sought out the midwife who Saraid had seen during her carrying and asked questions that had plagued her since her death. If Gunna thought her questions strange or out of place, she did not say. Most likely she thought them natural ones for a young woman about to marry and her last words, trying to ease her fears of the marriage bed and bearing bairns, confirmed it.

Just as her explanation had confirmed the one thing that still held terror over Tavis—that he or something he did or did not do caused Saraid’s death.

If she did nothing else before she left Lairig Dubh as James Murray’s wife, she would free her first and dearest friend from the tyranny that held his heart prisoner.

If she did nothing else before she said the words that would make her James Murray’s wife, she would have the passion that she was forfeiting on the day of her marriage.

If she did nothing else before ending her time as Marian and Duncan’s daughter, she would be the bold, confident woman they had raised her to be.

With a plan in mind to fulfill those needs and desires, Ciara waited for her parents and siblings to seek their rest. Once the house had settled and only the sound of night birds broke the stillness of the silence around them, she considered her plans one last time.

What she planned to do was scandalous. She had told James she would come to him a virgin, but now would offer that to Tavis. If he accepted it. And now, in the quiet of the night, she did not know if he would reject her once more.

Shaking her head, she crept from her bed and gathered what she needed. She would not let doubt or fear or guilt rule her as it did Tavis. If she would live by duty for the rest of her life, this night would be about love.

And if this was the only night she would have with him, so be it.

But she had waited almost her whole life for him and she, they, would have this night.