She was tearing his heart out in pieces. She had no idea what she asked of him. Not just for the words—she wanted him to act on those words and claim her. He could not tell her how he’d been responsible for Saraid’s death and could not face causing hers, too. He could not share with her that he would rather watch her walk away than watch her die through his selfishness and negligence as Saraid had.
‘I killed one wife, Ciara. I would rather watch you marry another than to lose you as I did her.’
She gasped at his words and paled. Her horse reared, reacting to the tension in her position, but Ciara got it under control quickly. Before they could speak further on the words he’d said and what he’d revealed, James approached and called out to them. For once he was glad of James’s interruption, for it saved him from humiliating himself before her and kept him from taking a step that could lead to disaster for both of them. Tavis nodded and moved ahead of Ciara to allow James to ride next to her.
He heard the polite enquiries and Ciara’s bland replies and tried not to turn back and check on her now that she’d heard part of his truth. She had been too young to know what had happened to Saraid. No matter that, for she did deserve to learn what had happened both in her own life and in his since it stood between them so firmly. But they had no more opportunity for private conversation before they arrived back in Lairig Dubh the following night as he had told her they would.
As they rode into the yard, he knew that all the pieces would fall into place in the puzzle that was their lives and she would understand all of it...
And then she would leave Lairig Dubh and him
forever.
Chapter Fourteen
No one said a word as they rode into the village. Thoroughly exhausted by the hard pace of the day, they were a much different group than the one that had begun the journey with a light mood. Dust-covered and hungry, they passed through the gates and Tavis nodded to the men on duty.
As he’d told Ciara, he’d sent messengers ahead so he knew the laird and lady would be waiting in the hall, along with Duncan and Marian and, most importantly, a hot meal for all. While the wagons followed the path around to the side of the tall stone keep as he’d instructed the drivers to do, the Murray warriors stood waiting for their lord and lady to dismount—or climb from her wagon—and to be dismissed by them before following his men to the barracks. Connor and Jocelyn stood on the steps, waiting to greet their newest ally.
‘Welcome to Lairig Dubh,’ Connor said as he walked down the steps to greet them. ‘You look a bit road-worn, so we can leave the official duties until morn,’ he offered.
Tavis knew this next part, for he’d watched Connor do it many times—sometimes to make his rank clear and sometimes to put visitors at ease. This time he was not certain which purpose this was for.
‘I am Douran and this is my wife Jocelyn MacCallum, Lady MacLerie.’ Connor lived without the ceremony of his title as earl until or unless it suited him. This was a simple reminder that the MacLeries had reached a level within the kingdom and within the king’s favour that this branch of the Murrays had not. Tavis watched as they and their son bowed to Connor, acknowledging that rank.
‘May I present my son James, my lord,’ Murray said, pointing to him.
The younger man did the same and waited on Connor before speaking. Ciara was greeted as the family she was and Tavis wanted to laugh and he could see the corners of Jocelyn’s mouth threatening the same. Connor waited a few moments before holding his hand out in a more personal greeting.
‘But we will be more than allies, William and Eleanor, and James, if I may?’ Connor met their gazes. ‘We will be family, so we need not stand on ceremony. Please call me Connor and my wife Jocelyn.’
It was interesting to watch as he did it, even knowing it was for effect only. The tension dissolved and Tavis followed them inside where he knew Duncan and Marian would be waiting. He could see the nervousness increasing in Ciara, for she stood rigidly now and her hands trembled. He hoped that she would get a good night’s rest before tackling the serious matter with her parents.
They entered the keep and walked along the corridor until they reached the hall. Tables had been set up with food and Tavis nodded to those he passed on the way to the front of the hall. Though servant in the Murrays’ hall, he had some status here and would give his report directly to Connor after the others left.
The guests were introduced to Duncan and Marian, as well as Rurik and some other of Connor’s retainers and his steward, and then seated. Some informal conversation went on while the food was served and he noticed how quiet Ciara was through it all. The welcome from her parents had been a warm one and he watched as she melted into her mother’s embrace. A few words were exchanged and then Ciara was seated between her parents and James.
It was a simple meal, but nourishing and filling and very satisfying after the meals on the journey. It took a short time and soon Gair, Connor’s steward, escorted the Murrays to the chambers above that had been prepared for them.
* * *
Less than an hour after they reached the keep, all was quiet and Connor waited in his chambers for Tavis’s report. He gave Connor time to speak to Jocelyn before climbing the steps and was surprised, though he should not have been, to find her with Connor when he entered.
‘So, tell me of the Murrays and their heir,’ Connor began.
He spoke about the lands, the holdings, the people and then the family, giving his personal opinion and making assessments as Connor asked questions. Then Tavis reported about the journey, both to and from Perthshire, along with his opinion of Lord and Lady Murray and James.
‘So, will this be a good match as well as a good treaty?’ Connor asked. Jocelyn watched him intently as he began to speak.
‘They seem companionable, from what I’ve seen,’ he admitted. ‘James is not opposed to taking her as wife.’
Connor snorted. ‘Certainly he is not! With what that family will gain from this, he would take my horse to wife if it was offered.’
‘Connor!’ Jocelyn warned with a word. Tavis forced a laugh at Connor’s attempt at humour and Jocelyn gave him a dark look, too. This particular truth hurt more than others, for Ciara was simply a means to an end for the Murrays and her virtue and honour, present or missing, meant nothing to them if it brought them the wealth they needed.
Connor shrugged as though he had not said anything offensive and then asked, ‘And what of Ciara? Will this match suit her?’
The silence that filled the room was deafening as they waited on his answer. It seemed to matter a great deal to the laird if she would be happy. As though he’d heard Tavis’s thoughts, Connor nodded.
‘She is the first of our children to be given off in marriage,’ the laird explained.
Tavis understood Connor meant the first from among him and Duncan and Rurik, though his own daughter would most likely be next for a marriage arrangement, if one was not already being planned.
Tavis tried, he really did, but this time answering a question that would result in the marriage going forwards stopped him. He pushed his hair away from his face and rubbed his forehead. He just could not seem to say the words of approval this time. He’d tried convincing Ciara that the match was a good one for her and hated every word he spoke on its behalf.
‘You will have to ask her that question, Connor. Only the lass knows for certain.’
Connor frowned and Jocelyn smiled and Tavis did not know which reaction he should worry over more. Knowing his words would be taken as something they were not, he tried to explain.
‘Ciara knows that this is your will. That this agreement will benefit both clans. That it is her duty to accept it unless there are serious reasons not to. I think that she will do her duty.’
Now Connor smiled and Jocelyn frowned, making him more nervous.
‘I will speak to Duncan in the morn after he’s spoken to her.’
‘She knows.’
The words hung out there
between them and no explanation was needed as to what she knew.
‘Did Iain tell her?’
‘Nay, she overheard a conversation about her mother. She asked me to confirm it.’
‘What did you tell her, Tavis?’ Jocelyn asked, worry and concern threading her voice.
‘I told her I did not know the whole truth of it, only that I’d heard the same rumours. ’Twas not my place, Jocelyn,’ he said.
‘Nay, ’twas not. We’d all hoped there would be no need. That no one would be foolish enough to speak of the past with her.’
‘And no one did. The lass overheard a private talk between father and son that she was not meant to hear. James apologised to her and to me, on your behalf. He understands the seriousness of raising such insults now.’
‘I do not envy Marian this night,’ Jocelyn said quietly.
‘’Tis a terrible thing when sins of the past rise to meet you.’
The laird and his wife both shared the same haunted expression, clearly thinking of the same matter and one that he had not been privy to all those years ago. He’d been a boy when Connor got his reputation as the Beast of the Highlands and the rumours flew about him killing his first wife. When he was of an age to serve and began under Duncan’s supervision, no one said or believed such things. From the glance just exchanged, there must be some truth to that rumour to cause such pain to both of them.
‘Is there anything else, Tavis?’ Connor asked.
‘Oh, Jocelyn, I spoke to your brother and he sends his greetings. He hopes to visit before the weather turns.’
Jocelyn smiled and Connor frowned. Athdar’s initial visit here was the cause of her being forced to marry Connor, but things were more cordial between them now.
‘My thanks, Tavis,’ Jocelyn said, walking over to where Connor stood. ‘And my thanks for carrying out this duty.’
‘’Twas my honour,’ Tavis said. ‘Connor. Jocelyn. I will see to my duties in the morn.’ Nodding to each of them, he turned and left the chamber.
He tried to ignore the anger that simmered just below the surface now. He attempted to convince himself of how good it would feel to sleep in his own bed and wake in his own house on the morrow. He walked swiftly through the keep, checked on the horses and wagons, then made his way out through the gates and down to the village. Without clear reason or intention, he took the path that passed by Duncan’s cottage.
Though a wealthy man, Duncan and Marian and their children lived simply, preferring a cottage in the village now to chambers in the keep. As he walked by, he noticed that no light came from within. Ciara had looked ready to drop, so he hoped she was resting before facing the troublesome conversation in the morn. The rest of the village was quiet and dark, as was his cottage.
He opened the door and found fresh water in a bucket on the table, along with some food—bread and cheese—wrapped next to it. He paid a few coins to one of the women in the village to see to its keep when he travelled on the laird’s business and she had. Clean linens on the bed and wood and peat by the hearth were ready for his use. It was well-spent money, in his opinion, to come back to a clean, stocked house and not need to worry about such matters.
Tavis removed his garments, washed as best he could so he didn’t befoul the clean sheets and fell on to the bed in exhaustion. Though he expected to lie awake and think about all that had been said and done, the next thing he knew, the sun was shining through the open shutters.
And he wondered if Ciara yet slept.
* * *
Though she had expected to spend the night dreading the morn, her body, mind and heart had been too drained to do anything but collapse into the hold of sleep. She woke as she usually did when in her own bed, with her younger brother and sister pouncing on her and begging for news. This time, their questions went on endlessly until her mother entered and intervened, ordering the young ones to give Ciara a chance to wake.
The love that shone in her mother’s eyes this morn was overshadowed by fear and guilt, so Ciara knew the reckoning was close at hand. Tempted to pull the bedcovers over her head and claim illness, she understood she was long past such antics and could not avoid, did not wish to avoid, learning the truth of her and her mother’s past.
In truth, Ciara wanted answers almost as much as she dreaded getting them. She remained in bed long enough to hear her siblings being hustled out of the cottage with instructions to visit their aunt and cousins in the keep. She was debating her approach when her mother entered, carrying a steaming mug in each hand.
‘Duncan did not know if you wished to speak only to me or to both of us,’ she began.
From the way her mother’s hands shook, Ciara worried that they would both be doused with hot liquid. She pushed back the covers, climbed from the bed and took them from her, placing them on the table near her bed.
‘Should he be present? I have no idea of what to expect, so you are the better judge of it.’
‘Duncan,’ she said, raising her voice ever so much. Her stepfather must have stood at the ready, for he entered in only a moment.
‘Good morning,’ he said, walking over and kissing her on the forehead as he always did. The tears started even then. ‘Did you get any rest?’
‘Aye,’ she said, wiping the first of what she knew would be many tears from her eyes.
Her mother sat on the edge of her bed while she chose the chair. Duncan stood near the door in the stance she’d seen countless times before—the negotiator ready to listen and evaluate. Ciara had thought about what to ask first all the way home from Perthshire, but now, when faced with the situation, she could not form a single question. Duncan cleared his throat and nodded to her mother.
‘Ciara, first I need you to understand that what is said between us here today can go no further. You cannot share what we say with anyone, not James, not even Tavis or Elizabeth. And I must have your sworn word that you will keep this all secret.’
‘No one else knows?’ she asked. ‘The laird? Uncle Rurik?’
‘They may have their suspicions and Jocelyn knows some of it, but only Duncan, my brother Iain and I know the truth that I am going to share with you.’ Stunned at this disclosure, Ciara nodded.
‘Nay, Ciara. We need you to speak the words giving your sworn oath. This goes beyond a family matter, it affects a number of clans, treaties, reputations and innocent lives,’ Duncan explained. ‘Say the words.’
He always did that during negotiations on a treaty or agreement—both parties, all parties, needed to speak the words about what they were agreeing to so there was no question that they understood the arrangements. And it always ended with their sworn oath, spoken and written.
‘Aye, Father. I swear that I will not share whatever you tell me this day with anyone. I will not speak of it with anyone, even Uncle Iain, if that is your wish?’ Duncan nodded to Marian and Ciara steeled herself for what was coming.
‘You heard the old rumours, then?’ her mother asked. ‘The ones calling me the Robertson Har...’ She could not say the words, so Ciara nodded. ‘They are not true, Ciara. I came to my marriage bed with Duncan a virgin, though no one could know it.’
‘But you had me before you married him,’ she said. ‘I had five years when you...’ Her mother took her hand and held it.
‘Although you are my daughter in spirit and in heart and in every way important, I did not give birth to you, sweetling.’
If Ciara thought hearing the rumours unsettled her, this sent her reeling. Her bedchamber dimmed and began to swirl before her eyes. Sucking in a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes closed and hoped the dizziness would pass.
‘Ciara. Ciara!’ Duncan said loudly, tapping on her cheek. She forced her eyes open and found him standing with the mug of tea in front of her face. ‘Drink this.’ He held it at her mouth and tipped it, so she had no choice but to take it in. Within the tea hid a good measure of whisky and she drank it down.
‘Then who...?’ she managed to squeak out. No matter what else t
he rumours said, they had never questioned that she was the daughter of Marian Robertson.
‘My dearest friend and sister by marriage died giving birth to you. She placed you in my arms and begged me to protect you and care for you.’
‘Beitris? Uncle Iain’s wife?’ she asked. ‘How could that be?’ There were several glances exchanged between them before her mother spoke again.
‘My father was going to shame her for...’ Her mother paused and could not say whatever she’d planned to. She tried several more times, but her tears flowed heavily. She looked to Duncan now, pleading silently for him to continue since she could not.
‘Beitris and Iain could not conceive a child together. They tried for years and lost at least two babes. So, in desperation, she agreed when he brought others to their bed.’
Plain, simple words that tore her world apart and destroyed every part of her being.
Ciara could usually come up with questions to clarify issues or to explain situations, but she was completely dumbfounded by this news. Her uncle could be her father. Her mother was not the woman who gave her life. No one was who she thought they were, including her. But this was only the beginning and she closed her eyes against the rest.
‘The old laird, Devil take his soul, was determined to shame Beitris and to protect his heir. Marian could keep you if she would take the attention and the shame on herself. She did it for you, for her friend.’ The disgust was clear in his voice. ‘The old laird announced to all that while Beitris and her babe died in childbirth, Marian took men to her bed and shamed her family. He called her a whore and cast her out.’ Duncan paused then and she opened her eyes to see him tightening his fists again and again. ‘The word and story spread across the Highlands, hiding the real truth.’
‘The only honourable thing the old bastard did was to make the arrangements he’d sworn to do and you and Marian were sent away to kin on the other side of Robertson lands.’
Her mother, nay, her aunt...nay. No matter the story. No matter the way it had happened, the woman sitting before her, torn by these admissions of the past, was her mother. And now she took a breath and spoke.
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