‘Tavis,’ Connor called to him just before he opened it, ‘is there anything else you need to discuss with me?’
Tavis looked from one to the other and tried to work out what they thought he needed to talk about with Connor.
‘Nay, Connor. That was all.’
Connor nodded, dismissing him, and he made his way back down the stairs, only to find Jocelyn waiting for him. Still full of fire and fight from whatever she was speaking, or shouting, with Connor about, she started to ask him several questions at once and then stopped. He’d never seen her so angry. She gave up trying and climbed the stairs to their chambers.
Everyone seemed to be on edge here. Were the plans for the wedding at fault? Or the new agreement with the Murrays? Or was something else at play that he was not privy to? No matter, he still had duties to see to until Connor made his decision.
Leaving the keep, he decided to try to get some rest tonight since he’d got none last night. Walking back to his cottage, one of the boys from the village stopped him with a message. Gunna the midwife wanted to speak to him. Since she had to leave to tend to a woman on one of the farms, could he come as soon as possible?
Had Ciara done this? She said she’d spoken to the woman. If the thought of losing her had not relieved him of his guilt in Saraid’s death, why would the words of a stranger persuade him?
Tavis thanked the boy for carrying the message and almost ignored it. Did he really want to dredge up more of the pain? What did she think to accomplish by this?
I know it is too late for us, but I beg you to speak to the midwife, Gunna. She saw Saraid frequently and has a different view of things.
He did not know that Saraid had sought out the old woman. She was only months into carrying and long before she would need a midwife. She had been healthy and had no problems. Why would she seek out Gunna?
Standing there, debating this in his own thoughts, would get him nowhere. If nothing else, speaking with the old woman would simply confirm that he was right about Saraid’s health.
Tavis walked through the village, past Elizabeth’s cottage and down the lane to almost the edge where the old woman lived with her daughter. Knocking on the door and identifying himself, he was welcomed in. Gunna’s daughter was feeding a babe and Gunna was packing supplies for the birth she was going off to attend to.
‘Tavis, ’tis good to see you,’ her daughter, Fia, said. Fia’s husband was one of Tavis’s warriors, a good man.
‘Fia, you look well. The bairn?’ All he could see was a small head with thick black hair pressed up against her chest.
She rubbed the bairn’s head and nodded. ‘Young Alpin is well,’ she said. He smiled at the name chosen.
‘Do you need a ride, Gunna?’ Tavis asked. ‘I could get a wagon,’ he offered. The nearest of the farms was some distance and it would take her a goodly amount of time to walk there.
‘Nay,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Nessa’s husband is sending his wagon shortly. Walk with me, Tavis. I meet him at the river’s edge.’
Bidding Fia farewell, he walked outside with Gunna, taking the sack from her and carrying it. They walked a few paces before he asked her, ‘Why did you summon me? Is there something you need?’
‘Oh, you’re a good lad,’ she said, patting him on the back. ‘Nay, I need nothing. But speaking to Ciara the other day reminded me that we never spoke after your sweet wife passed.’
‘I did not know she sought your care, Gunna. She was only about five months carrying.’
‘Oh, aye,’ she said, pointing in the direction they needed to walk, her body waddling from side to side as they did. ‘She had some fears about carrying. After all, her mam lost four bairns before delivering the three girls. And two of them died giving birth.’
Saraid had never explained her fears. He’d not known about losing sisters in childbirth.
‘She never told me,’ he said.
‘She didna want you to ken, but she wanted me to.’ She paused for a moment, staring at him. ‘Did she fall from the horse? Is that how she passed?’ Gunna asked.
‘I found her on my way from Dalmally on the laird’s business. She was bleeding heavily and said her pains had begun the day before.’ He did not speak of the rest of it or expose his role in the debacle.
‘I told her she might lose it. Told her not to strain or carry.’
‘I did not know,’ he whispered.
‘You’re a good lad,’ Gunna said. ‘But some women are not built to birth bairns. Your Saraid was one of them. She knew it, but wanted to try for you.’
‘Was there anything I could have done?’
‘Oh, nay,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘’Twas in God’s hands to decide. Even if I was next to her when the pains started, I couldna saved her. The bairn would not have lived that early born.’
It was just as Ciara had told him. Nothing would have mattered. Nothing could have saved Saraid.
That did not lessen his guilt in her death and in the manner of her death, for she’d died alone, in terror and pain, while he rode off in anger. He’d spent years regretting what he’d done. Spent years with guilt weighing down his soul for killing her. His heart locked away in fear and pain.
Tavis would rather have been at her side, soothing the fears and holding her than to know she lay by the road for hours by herself. She was incoherent by the time they arrived back here. The healer had visited and given her a potion for the pain, but nothing could stop the bleeding that eventually took her life.
If anything happens to me, you must go on.
Saraid’s words from his dream, from early in their marriage, came back to him then. She knew. Somehow she knew. And she’d warned him, but when the time came, he did not recognise it.
Stunned, he stopped walking. He stopped thinking. When he realised he was not moving, he glanced around and found that Gunna was gone. Shaking his head, he looked in the distance and saw her on a wagon many yards away—he never even realised she’d left.
He needed to think about all this and he did not know where to go. The one person he most wanted to speak to was the one he could not. She had known. And she pointed him in the right direction to find out and accept it for himself, freeing himself from the past.
I know it is too late for us...
Even knowing it would not benefit her, she’d protected him in a way he’d never been able to do for her. She’d been a better friend to him, in spite of his efforts to hold her away, than he’d been to her, even in the early years.
And she loved him enough to free him from his past and to let him go. To make him understand that his failure to one woman did not mean he would fail everyone, even while he failed her.
Tavis went back to his cottage where the echoes and ghosts of the past still haunted and tried to figure out how to right a life that had gone so wrong. But he feared that he was indeed too late to correct all his mistakes and to learn from his past ones. Only when he noticed that his latest carving—the one he’d promised to make for her—was gone, did he dare allow himself to have any hope at all.
* * *
Ciara had had no idea that pleasure could ache so much.
Or mayhap it was from sleeping up against a wall, wrapped in only a plaid shawl? As she’d uncurled herself, her body had let her know that, whatever caused the aches, she would suffer for it.
Waking to find only darkness outside, she’d wondered if she’d awoken before dawn, but after stumbling to the door on legs that were numb from being under her all night, she’d discovered the sun had risen after all. Thick clouds covered the sky and rumbles of thunder rolled within them.
Her stomach had added a few more, reminding her that she had not eaten since yesterday. And she’d had some quite strenuous exercise since then.
That had made her smile, regardless of the aches and pains.
There were places on her body that she had never known could feel the way he made them feel. The rapture that women had talked about, whispering amongst themse
lves, was no longer a mystery to her. Tavis had awakened her body and those senses and overwhelmed them. As she walked, the place between her legs actually throbbed as memories of his intimate caresses there returned. Her breasts tingled and in her mind she could still see his mouth on her.
She’d made her way home and, after hiding the wooden heart inside her trunk, Ciara had broken her fast with her family, explaining that she wanted to be home on this last day before leaving them. Her mother’s eyes had filled with tears while her sister asked if she could have Ciara’s bedchamber now that she would be the oldest. Ciara had allowed these joyful moments to wash over her for soon, very soon, they would be over and she would be gone.
Her mother had made her favourite porridge, extra creamy this morn, and even her father had joined them and lingered there longer than usual. She wondered if they could tell that she was somehow different this morning. She felt different from inside out. A woman now where a girl stood before. Though that last step to womanhood would be on the morrow.
Finally, everyone had set about on their day’s tasks and she began to pack for both the next night, which would be spent in a chamber in the keep, and for the journey—nay, move to James’s home. She stumbled now just as she had a few weeks ago over what to take and what to leave behind, but now it meant letting go of whatever remained here in the chamber. She was touching the carvings when her mother came in. She did not know she was crying until her mother touched her shoulder and took her in her arms.
‘There now, sweetling,’ she soothed. ‘Soon you will have your own bairns and I can send these along for them.’
‘I do not know why I am so weepy, Mother. ’Tis not as though I did not know this day would come.’
‘Knowing it approached and having it here are two different matters.’
Ciara leaned back and searched her mother’s face. ‘I do not know how you did it. Taking on everything you did. Seeing to me. Then marrying Papa and coming to a new village, a new clan and a whole new life.’
‘I married a good man, just as you will.’
Her mother stroked her back, touching her hair and combing it with her fingers in a calming motion she would miss. She was thinking of the man she was not marrying, so she remained silent in her mother’s embrace.
‘You are at peace with this marriage?’ her mother finally asked. Leaning back, she nodded.
‘I am.’ Her mother kissed her on both cheeks and released her. ‘There is much good that will be gained by seeing it through.’
‘Then you must get dressed, for there is much to do. Jocelyn is waiting for our help.’ Her mother did not dally, leaving and pulling the door closed as she went.
Looking at the wooden animals that stared back at her, she wondered if Tavis would speak to Gunna or remain mired in his grief and guilt. She touched each of them, offering up a short prayer for his happiness, and wondered if he’d even noticed the heart was missing from his shelf.
* * *
The day moved quickly by her. She spent time with James at the keep. Even he joined in the efforts to prepare for the wedding feast. His parents clearly did not think it appropriate for anyone but the servants to do such work and they left rather than watch their son doing menial labour or before they could be coerced into helping in some way.
Ciara had learned long ago that she could not sit for endless hours sewing or embroidering or reading aloud from prayer books or other such womanly arts. Oh, she had the abilities and skills to do such work, but not the patience for it. She would rather be riding or walking or debating with her father or playing chess against her mother. As she watched the Murrays leaving, she wondered if she would change once she was under their roof or if they would make allowances for her Highland upbringing.
The families ate a mid-day meal together, light fare since the cooks were preparing the roasts and stews and fish and sweets that would feed them all after the wedding and they had not the time nor the hands needed to cook a full meal for mid-day as well. She sat next to James, who grew quiet as a few bawdy toasts were made. There would be more, many more and much bawdier, during the feast, but that was expected.
She looked up at the corner tower where their bedchamber was. Her mother and James’s mother had prepared it for their use and the bed was now covered in clean linens. Her mother’s wink told her other pleasant surprises awaited them there.
* * *
Soon, their tasks complete, she walked with her mother and Elizabeth back to the village.
‘Will you stay with me this night, Elizabeth?’ she asked as they reached the split in the path. ‘I would love your company on my last night before my marriage.’
‘As long as you do not stay up all night chattering away and get no sleep,’ her mother warned.
‘I...I cannot,’ Elizabeth murmured, looking away. ‘I am needed at home.’ Her voice shook, filled with some unnamed emotion. ‘Forgive me, Ciara,’ she whispered.
Ciara hugged her and shook her head. ‘There is nothing to forgive. We will have much time together when we live in Perthshire, Elizabeth. No worrying over this one night.’
Elizabeth stepped back and nodded. She left without another word to either of them.
‘Weddings and funerals bring out the best and worst in people, Ciara. Emotions run high for so many reasons.’
All throughout the day she had hoped. She had hoped he’d spoken to Gunna. She had hoped he would overcome his fears. She had hoped that he would... None of it mattered, for the night finally arrived and he did not.
Her trunks were packed, her clothing folded neatly within them, ready for the trip to begin her married
life with James. Though she wanted to give in to some need within her soft heart and bring the newly carved heart along with her, she feared she was holding on to the past too firmly and let it remain in its place there.
In spite of knowing that it would offer some measure of comfort for the days ahead, she told herself repeatedly in that moment that she must leave it behind. Tavis had been her first friend and she would never forget him, but ’twas time to relegate him to her past. Anger surged past the pain in her veins and made her want to pound her fists and stamp her feet over the fact that he could, and had, let her go...again.
No matter that, she took a breath and walked away from the shelf that held so many memories. She had to put aside her hopes for something more between them now, for to do otherwise would guarantee not contentedness, but bitterness in her marriage. She wondered through the day and into the evening if a day would pass in which she did not think of him. Each time such a thought arose, she convinced herself that a time would indeed come.
Her mother and sister joined her in her bed for a while, probably sensing her nervousness, and they talked into the night. She missed Elizabeth’s presence, but Ciara sensed that something was wrong and would speak to her in the morning to settle it. Thinking back on the last several days, she tried to remember if she’d said or done anything that was hurtful to her friend and could think of nothing. Well, mayhap her mother had the right of it—weddings brought out all kinds of emotions.
When her mother handed her a cup of steaming tea, she knew there was something in it to help her sleep. She sipped it slowly and allowed her mother to tuck her under the covers for the last time.
Whether the potion’s effect or her heart’s, her sleep was filled with the most wondrous dreams of the life ahead of her. The wedding, the feast, the first night together and even dreams of her first child. Tears and joy in every scene as they spun out through the whole night.
* * *
When Ciara woke in the morning and recognised the day, she realised that every single one of her dreams had the wrong husband in them. She’d dreamt the night away married to Tavis, while James would be the one awaiting her as she walked down the church’s aisle.
Chapter Twenty
The wedding would take place just before noon with the feast following for...well, for as long as it took. Her mother moved quiet
ly through the cottage this morn as though not to disturb her thoughts. And strangely she had few.
These last days had wiped her clean of regrets and had given her the resolve to do the duty she owed to her parents and to the MacLeries. Now, knowing everything her mother had given up and suffered for her over these years, she thought that marrying James was a small thing to do in return.
Elizabeth had not arrived yet and Ciara wondered over her lateness. They’d planned to prepare themselves here and walk to the chapel together with her parents, meeting James and his parents at the entrance. Then together she and James would enter the church and leave as man and wife.
They’d not yet made their final plans, but his parents mentioned travelling to Glasgow before returning to their home. How strange would it be to travel now with a husband? One to sleep with at night. One to care for during the day. She turned to watch her parents as they spoke quietly and wondered how long it took them to fall in love after their precipitous wedding. After hearing more of the story from them and comparing it to what she knew as childish memories, she understood now that more had happened between them than what she knew. And she doubted now their marriage began on less than a rocky start.
When Elizabeth still did not arrive, her mother helped her dress and, along with her younger sister, they decorated her hair with flowers. The tears in her father’s eyes when he watched from the doorway of her chamber told her this was the right thing to do.
For everyone involved.
Soon, the time came to leave for the chapel. Walking between her parents, they made their way to Elizabeth’s cottage first to find her. Ciara did not remember a change of plans, but in the emotional upheaval over this last week or so, she could have missed it. The expression of shock on Elizabeth’s mother’s face told her it was not her failure at all.
‘Is Elizabeth ready, Edana?’ her mother asked.
Edana shook her head, glancing from one to the other and back again to her. ‘I thought she was with you already, Ciara. Her dress is gone. She left last night, saying she would spend the night with you, to calm your fears over your coming marriage as a friend should.’
Terri Brisbin Highlander Bundle Page 18