Terri Brisbin - The Highlander's Stolen Touch

‘I appreciate this, Tavis,’ her father said. Holding out his hand, he continued, ‘More than I can say.’

More than I can say .

Ciara sighed then, understanding how many problems her previous behaviour had caused for the laird and for her parents.

No clan wanted their heir embarrassed before others and she had done exactly that twice before in turning down offers of marriage. Even if those offers were handled privately, everyone in the Highlands knew that if the MacLerie negotiator visited, business was being discussed. If his unmarried daughter accompanied him, the subject was pretty obvious to all, as it had been twice before.

The Murrays of Perthshire might be destitute, but they were proud with their own powerful connections and they’d refused to consider this betrothal without first gaining assurances that humiliation at the hands of a ‘wilful, senseless girl’ would not happen. If her parents accompanied her on this visit, a contract would be expected by all their allies and friends … and their enemies. To forestall all that, it was decided that Ciara would travel to visit her distant cousin, James’s mother Eleanor. Outside the MacLeries, no one thought this journey was more than that.

Hence the small travelling group and her parents’ ‘other commitments’ elsewhere on the earl’s business to anyone who would ask.

And one more reason she treasured her parents, for they could have simply forced her to marry a man of their choosing with little consideration of her own opinions on the matter. But she suspected that something in their past kept them from doing so … and their obvious love for her.

‘As do I,’ she added. For many reasons as well.

‘We should be on the road, then,’ Tavis said, glancing up at the ever-brightening sky. ‘The weather will not hold and there are miles to cross.’ Tavis nodded to the other men, who began to mount up. Then he glanced at her. ‘Say your farewells, Ciara.’ He walked away to check the wagon, giving her a moment of privacy with her parents.

Tears filled her eyes and she found the words she’d practised all night while tossing restlessly in her bed were stuck in her throat. But words were not necessary now, she knew that, so she just hugged her parents—the mother who supported her every step and every challenge and the stepfather who was the only father she’d ever known.

‘This is not truly farewell,’ she whispered as she held them close. ‘I will return.’

‘You will return for a happy wedding day before you leave us for …’ Her mother’s voice filled with emotion and all she could do was squeeze Ciara’s hand.

‘Whatever your decision, love, I …’ her father began to say.

‘I understand, Papa. I have your backing.’ A nod and a grunt followed and Ciara knew, too, that, though she was not the flesh of his flesh, she was the daughter of his heart.

Ciara released them and stepped back as she realised that everyone was already on their horses, including Elizabeth. Cora, an older woman who served Lady Jocelyn for a number of years and would serve both her and Elizabeth as a maid, rode in the wagon. Everyone waited without a word, save Tavis, who held the reins of her horse in one hand and held out his other to her. She handed him her satchel and he secured it on the horse before offering her help to mount.

Once that was done, she accepted his help and in a scant moment sat atop the strong horse she’d ridden for nearly a year now. Gathering the reins in her gloved hands, she nodded to her parents and then to Tavis. At his call, the group began to ride out through the gates, with the wagon at their backs. Ciara released a deep breath and touched her boots to the horse’s side, riding off to face her future.

Ciara rode as she did everything else in life—with focus and drive. As she sat atop the huge, black horse Tavis would never have chosen for her or ever permitted her to ride, her intense expression bespoke her attention to the road they took out of Lairig Dubh, east through Dunalastair first, then south to Crieff. The last part of the journey would be easier for it would follow the main road into Perth and into the heart of the Murrays’ lands. Tavis set an even pace and offered a prayer of thanks when the sun shone and the clouds scattered across a clear sky for the whole of the first day. It would take them several days to reach Dunalastair, going by way of the MacCallum lands where they would visit Jocelyn’s family. Then they would follow the old drovers’ roads and paths through the glens and valleys south.

Ciara spoke little as they rode, but chatted with everyone when they stopped on their journey. Whether she was seeing to Cora’s comfort in the wagon or walking to stretch her legs or speaking in hushed tones to her friend Elizabeth, he passed her often and spoke to her as well. Never did she hesitate or seem ill at ease during their encounters, so Tavis began to accept that she had relegated him to her past and she looked forward to her future. The first days passed pleasantly, with the weather co-operating and the roads smooth.

Then, as they approached MacCallum lands, Ciara grew excited. He’d not been back here with her since their first trip through on her way to her new home with Duncan and the MacLeries, but he knew she’d travelled many times with her parents and he was certain she’d stopped here on the laird’s business. Duncan had sent word ahead so that the MacCallum laird expected them. Ciara and the women would be pleased, he knew, to sleep on real beds this night after several nights in tents on the trail.

They’d not been in MacCallum lands for too long when a group of warriors met them. Leading it was Jocelyn’s brother Athdar.

‘Tavis!’ he called out as he rode closer. ‘Is all well?’

Considering all that could go wrong during the journey and that none of it had, he nodded. ‘All is well.’ Ciara rode up next to him and smiled at Athdar.

‘You grow more lovely with each passing day, Ciara,’ he said. Tavis watched as a becoming blush crept into Ciara’s cheeks. Athdar had a way with women and Tavis had watched as some in Lairig Dubh had fallen for his words and compliments. ‘Who would have thought that such a wee lass would grow into such a beautiful woman?’

Tavis fought back the snort that threatened at Athdar’s flowery words. Was Ciara taken in by such blathering? He glanced over to see if she did believe it and found Elizabeth more under Athdar’s spell than Ciara. Ciara’s gaze was filled with scepticism and mirth. Tavis smiled. He should have known her too smart and too confident in her own worth to fall for such.

‘Have you nothing better to do than to come and gawk at visitors, Athdar? Surely the laird can find better things for you to do.’ Tavis slid down from his horse, laughing at Athdar’s now-disgruntled expression. He doubted his friend was insulted or worried over his words, so he held out his hand in greeting.

‘Someone has to offer the women soft words, Tavis,’ Athdar said as he clasped hands and then shoved him back. They’d been friends for some years now, being of a similar age. ‘You never speak unless it’s about fighting or your horse! ‘

Then, things proceeded the way they usually did when the two of them met—with them ending up rolling on the ground, each one fighting to gain control over the other. Testing his strength against an equal felt good after the days of slow riding from Lairig Dubh. It took only minutes for Tavis to overcome Athdar, evening their matches. Standing and reaching down a hand to pull him up, Tavis laughed as they both dusted off the dirt from his cloak.

‘Are you ready yet?’ he asked.

A dark look filled his friend’s eyes and then a shake of his head gave his answer. Years before, Athdar had been beaten, badly, in a fight with the laird’s friend and commander Rurik Erengislsson and longed to pay him back. Though now, after having observed the heated glances exchanged between his friend and Rurik’s daughter Isobel, Tavis wondered if beating the man wasn’t the intention after all. A rising wind, ripe with moisture and the promise of a breaking storm, reminded him of his duties and Tavis motioned the group on, allowing them to precede him to the MacCallum’s keep.