‘We need the dowry, James. You know that,’ Lord Murray explained. ‘And the connections to her uncle and her stepfather.’
‘Aye, Father. I know it. It will be the difference between complete failure and success.’
‘Virgin or not matters not in this. The daughter of a whore or a saint matters not. The laird promised she is an innocent, but I doubt it with the way that guard sniffs around her. But even that matters not,’ Lord Murray explained calmly.
They believed her so dishonourable and yet accepted her for marriage into their family? His next words made his priority clear.
‘So take the benefits you gain from this marriage and enjoy them. A young man like you will find many uses for a woman like that one. May you and your cock be strong enough to survive the nights with her in your bed!’
Goblets clinked as though touched in a toast and Ciara heard the chairs scrape along the stone floor. They were leaving. Ciara glanced around and found a small alcove set back in the wall, so she pressed herself into it and waited for them to walk past her.
It felt like forever as she tried to unravel what was truth and what was deceit in the words she had heard. Ciara stood silent in the darkness a good while after the sound of their footsteps passed and moved off to their chambers. She was undone by it all. Shocked past action or clear thought, she simply waited to see if it made sense if she allowed a few minutes to fade away.
And another few minutes.
And another.
Was this why her parents had avoided accompanying her here? Was it more than simply trying to give more credence to a possible betrothal than they wanted to? Did they worry that their presence would stir up such talk from a rumoured past?
Thoughts and old memories swirled inside her mind until she wanted to scream. If it were daytime, she would ride, for it always cleared her thoughts and helped her to think. Mayhap she should ask Elizabeth, nay, Cora, about the truth of it? But how could she bring up such matters as the ones she’d heard spoken of by James and his father? Elizabeth was her age and would not remember discussions or mention of such things. Cora had been the laird’s wife’s servant for many years and would not reveal something she’d been ordered not to tell.
That left only one person whom she could trust.
Tavis.
Could he know the truth of it? Would he have kept it from her all these years if he knew it?
Ciara peeked out of the shadows and searched for signs or noises of nearby servants or guests. Finding none, she went by way of the kitchens and storage rooms and out into the yard. The forgotten shawl would be helpful now as the night air chilled, but she was not going back for it. She skirted around the main barracks to a smaller building where she knew that Tavis and his men stayed. So intent on discovering the truth of her past was she that she never looked up and never saw Tavis standing in the dark right next to her path. Only when she began to lift the door’s latch did he stop her.
‘Ciara, where are you going?’ Tavis asked.
His words, his voice, scared her and she leapt back, dropping her hands to her sides. It took a few moments to find the breath she’d lost.
‘I was looking for you, Tavis. I need to...speak to you privately,’ she said; her voice trembled with every word she spoke and she could not stop it. How would she ever get the questions out? How would she speak about the terrible things she’d heard?
‘We did this once and things did not turn out well between us. Mayhap you should sleep on this matter and we can speak on the morrow?’ he said, moving a few paces away from her.
The one thing she’d never considered in all their dealings was that he had known the truth and that was why he did not accept her proposal of marriage. Now, looking at his discomfort, it seemed the most likely explanation to her.
‘You could have at least spoken the truth to me, Tavis,’ she whispered. He seemed to pale at her accusation, but it was difficult to tell in the dark. She wondered now if she wasn’t on to the truth at the heart of it all. ‘You could choose not to marry the daughter of a whore, but James is so desperate that he must and will.’
Her heart broke in that moment when he did not deny her accusations. He’d been her first and most stalwart friend and yet he had never revealed the most basic truth of her life to her—who she truly was.
She turned to leave, to flee, to find some place of peace where she could think and reason her way through the myriad of feelings racing through her heart and her soul, when he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close to him.
‘You know that is not true, Ciara. I would have accepted, but there are too many reasons I cannot,’ he argued in a quiet voice.
She glanced up at his face, trying to search for some sign of certainty, but saw none there. He wore that face of stone, one devoid of all emotion, the very one she hated every time it lay on his face.
‘So, you do not deny that they spoke the truth of my past?’
He let out a breath and shook his head. ‘I...’
‘Why? Why did you keep such things from me?’ she asked, feeling the last vestiges of her control slipping away. She took a step back and shrugged off his hold. ‘I thought...I thought...’
At that moment she did not know what to think, so she did not. Instead, she lifted the edges of her gown and ran. She ran from him, from the hurtful words and insults she’d heard and from his betrayal of her trust. She ran from whatever the truth was. She just ran.
The gates were yet open, so she slipped through and followed the road into the village. Once there, she remembered a small stream that began nearby and grew into a river that fed into the Tay estuary. There was a small clearing and she found it a few minutes later. Ciara dropped on to a fallen log and tried to catch her breath.
As her thoughts tumbled around in her mind and as she searched her memories for any that would have warned her of such matters, she knew she would have to face Tavis and discover his reasons for joining in the deception that counted now as her whole life.
The peace and quiet of the night belied the turmoil within her. The melodic sounds of the birds of night, calling out from high in the trees, should have soothed her. But not this night. Not even the puffy clouds moving slowly over the face of the moon would do that. Not even... The sound of his steps through the bush behind her warned of his approach before she saw him near.
‘Tavis,’ she whispered his name as he walked to where she sat.
He did not try to come closer, treating her like a skittish colt that was ready to kick out and flee. Instead he spoke quietly and sat on a large rock, across the small clearing from her. He thrust a torch he carried into the ground, allowing them to see each other more clearly in the dark.
‘It is not safe for you out here alone, Ciara.’
‘Not safe for the daughter of a slut or not safe for the woman raised as something and someone she is not?’
He winced at the anger and betrayal in her voice. But then he had played his part in this and he knew she felt betrayed by him more than probably even her parents.
‘Ciara, you were raised by two parents who love you and given everything a young woman of noble blood would have—an education, opportunities to travel and use your knowledge.’ She glared at him then and he took the anger better than the betrayed expression.
‘He said that my mother was called the Robertson Harlot. He said that she was found with three or four men in her bed. He said...’ she paused then and he heard the emotion in her voice and knew she must be crying
‘...he said that no one knows who my father is.’
Understanding how deeply she felt about Duncan and how this must cut her deeply, he wondered how to answer her. Tavis knew some of it because he’d been there with Duncan when his marriage to Marian had happened. Even young, in that awkward time between youth and manhood, he understood the gossip at that time and knew Marian had a terrible reputation and that their marriage had been forced by her brother. The reasons had never been shared with him.
‘I think he fell in love with you first, Ciara,’ Tavis said, remembering back to the days after their arrival in Dunalastair and Duncan’s request for the first of the carved animals. ‘He met you and you made him think of all he’d never had—a family, bairns, a place of his own. He did not mention your mother to me at all when he asked for the horse.’
It was the truth. Duncan spoke only of a little blonde lass with huge brown eyes who loved horses. Of how he wanted to give her something to play with, something that would make her smile, something to please her. Only later did Duncan ever mention Marian, or Mara as she was then called.
‘Duncan became your father and has never been less than that. You know that in your heart.’
‘Was my mother a wh—?’ She could not seem to finish the word.
‘There were rumours she was.’
The words damned her mother no matter how softly he spoke them or how unadorned they were.
‘But from the moment I met her, she never acted dishonourably. And from the time she spoke the joining words and handfasted with Duncan and entered our clan, the Robertson Harlot was never spoken of again.’
Ciara rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing the tears more than she wiped them away. ‘So everyone but me knows this story?’
‘I am sorry, Ciara. The rumours about your mother were widespread at the time. Come now, you know how a scandal is spoken of and it grows and grows. It was the gossip at the time and little else challenged it.’
‘Why did they not reveal this to me instead of this farce? Did they hope that I would never learn about their lies and deception?’
‘Ciara,’ he whispered, his voice echoing in the quiet surrounding them, ‘they hoped that their beloved daughter would never be hurt by mean gossip. They hoped that you could find a match you could accept.’ He would have gone on, but she held up her hand to stop him.
‘If he, if they loved me the way you say they do, they would have told me the truth so that I would not be hurt in finding out from strangers. But what hurts me more, Tavis, is that you never told me these things when you knew about them.’
He winced at her accusation. A true one, but there had never been a time to speak about personal matters. First she was too young and knew not of such things. Then she was grown and, again, it was not for him to tell her. But she was caught up in the hurt and could not consider that now.
‘I found out from strangers who want only my dowry and from a man who counselled his son on the benefits of having a harlot’s daughter in his bed...even if my kiss was less than satisfying.’
He stood then and his fists began to curl and uncurl as she said that. The young whelp had insulted her so? She was an innocent and the Murrays were unhappy with that? They both needed to be pounded into the ground for allowing her to hear such things.
‘I understand this all now,’ she said, though he doubted
that was correct. ‘Only an indecently large dowry would overcome the objections of most families when invited to have their sons marry a woman like me. So, my uncle provided part and Duncan the other, in the hopes of marrying me off as quickly as possible.’
‘Ciara, you are hurt. Your words are from that anger.’ He knew it since he’d done the same thing since realising there was more between them than he’d thought or admitted before. He convinced himself that she would calm down, but her next words showed him otherwise.
‘They care not if I come to this marriage innocent or used.’
Tavis met her gaze and found it desolate. God help him, he wanted to wipe away the pain and hurt there. He was on his feet before he thought to move and sat next to her, gathering her in his arms to comfort her with nothing more than simple compassion as his intent.
He brushed the hair from her face as she cried against his chest. Though usually the most clear-thinking of lasses, this went deeper than simple insult. This would feed the need inside her now to believe she was worthless. Why had Duncan and Marian not prepared her for this? Regardless of orders to the contrary, Tavis knew what must be done.
‘I travelled with your father to negotiate a treaty with your uncle. It was my first time and I was so full of myself,’ he said, laughing a bit at the memory. ‘I was the youngest, yet even I had heard about the stories. Duncan warned us not to speak of such things since it was about the new laird’s sister.’
She stopped crying as hard then and Tavis knew she was listening.
‘Aye, the stories were bad, but even we knew they were not all true. Good stories seem to go their way, but bad ones grow as they’re passed and there was no doubt these had been.’
‘What had you heard?’ she whispered, tilting her back a bit so she could look at him.
‘Just what Lord Murray said—she was a whore, was in bed with a number of men, her father banished her for dishonouring her clan and that you were born.’
‘And Duncan married her?’
‘I was not privy to the more personal matters, but, aye, Duncan handfasted with her before we left Dunalastair and they had a church wedding the next spring. Your sister was born later that year.’
‘How did they keep this all secret from me, Tavis? If so many know, how did I not?’
‘Ah, lass. The first night when we arrived back in Lairig Dubh, when the hall was rife with gossip and all the stories, Connor made things very clear. He stood behind your mother and acknowledged her marriage to Duncan and claimed her for the clan MacLerie. Said any insult to her was an insult to all.’
‘And that was all he said?’ She leaned back now and he missed the warmth of her against him.
‘Ah, but Connor did it in his best beast of the Highlands voice. The one he uses to frighten people into obedience. No one dares the beast!’
‘Jocelyn does.’
‘She never believed the rumours about him being a murderous beast.’ He let those words hang in the silence between them, letting Ciara make the connection.
‘So you think my mother was not a whore? That these were all just rumours and stories?’ she asked. A hopeful tone filled her voice now and he feared giving her the wrong impression. Tavis did not know the truth about Marian before he met her. Her actions since that time were unquestionably honourable. Was that because she’d left behind her scandalous life that had led to the rumours?
‘Only your mother and Duncan know the truth of it, but soon after they handfasted, another clan came from a distance seeking the truth about you.’
‘Me?’ She sat back and shrugged. ‘Why would they ask?’
‘Rumours beget rumours and there were many about the old Robertson laird’s family. Duncan swore that you were hers before the whole clan and the other laird and claimed you as his own.’
Tavis did not need to tell her the whole of it for it would bring up more questions. Questions he could not answer. Damn Duncan and Marian for not explaining this all to her when she came to a marriageable age!
‘I have felt some of this all my life, Tavis. That I did not belong here. That I was not worthy. Now I understand why I am to be passed hand to hand—a bastard born of no family and wanted by none.’
There was an instant when he knew he should stop and simply return her to the house. When they should talk more in the cool light of the morn, but that moment passed by so quickly it did not hinder his next action at all. Tavis pulled her back into his arms, tilted her head with his hand and leaned his mouth to hers.
‘Never think that, Ciara. Never,’ he whispered as he kissed her and all his good intentions to show simple compassion were tossed asun
der at the first touch of his mouth on hers.
He kissed her with all the longing in his body and heart. He kissed her with the respect and liking he felt for her. He kissed her for all the wanting and knowing he could never have her. He kissed her.
Not as a beginning as the young Murray had, but as an ending because her place, her life, would be here and not with him.
And though the way she whispered his name as he lifted his mouth from hers made him want to hear it again and again and to hear it whispered in the deepest moment of joining, he knew it for what it was—the last time he would hear it spoken in that manner. He righted her and then stood. Reaching down for the torch, he did the hardest thing he had ever done.
‘Come, Ciara,’ he said, holding out his hand to her. She touched her fingers to her lips and then met his gaze.
‘Where are you taking me, Tavis?’ she asked.
In words that would damn him in her eyes, he remembered his honour and hers and replied, ‘Back to the house. If Elizabeth comes looking for you, she will raise more questions.’
Her gazed narrowed and then her eyes widened and he knew the moment she understood. If she thought he was declaring his love for her, and he suspected that was exactly what she thought, this would end any dreams of such a thing happening.
‘But you kissed me. You want me,’ she challenged.
‘Aye, I do, but I cannot have you. Too much depends on this marriage of yours to the Murray heir. I will not dishonour your word or mine.’
She lifted her hand up to slap his face and he waited for the sting. He deserved it. Instead she placed it gently there and caressed his cheek. ‘He already thinks we have.’
Stunned by that, he stepped back and motioned to the path back to the gates. ‘I will not take that step, then, to confirm him right. You will prove him wrong on your wedding night,’ he said.
Confusion filled her gaze now and Tavis comprehended that any more words spoken would worsen the situation, not help it. As he guided her back to the gates and then waited in the shadows for her to go in alone, he cursed himself with every foul word he knew. He fought a battle within his soul over the right thing to do for her, for him and for what could not be between them. He was not worthy of her for so many reasons. Reasons that could not simply go away because he wanted her or he’d kissed her. Reasons that haunted his heart and soul every day that he drew breath. In the end, Tavis understood that he was damned, no matter what.
Terri Brisbin Highlander Bundle Page 9