Terri Brisbin - The Highlander's Stolen Touch

Tavis moved around the croft out of habit, needing not lamp or fire to guide his way while trying to avoid thinking too deeply on the matter. Soon, he lay on his pallet, thinking about his plans for the next few days, trying to find sleep. Instead thoughts and memories jumbled inside his mind and would not allow him to find his rest. Problems and their solutions continued for hours, but the one he thought most about was her.

Ciara.

Part of him was pleased that she had grown out of her silly notions about marrying him. It was a sign that she was more sensible now than a year ago when she had turned down several marriage offers and had made one of her own. It gladdened his heart to know she was contented in this betrothal.

And yet, as he tossed and turned and found no rest through the night, at the same time, he was not pleased. His male pride was pricked now by her ability to leave him behind, as part of a childhood outgrown. Even knowing such reasoning was irrational, and was exactly what he told her to do, did not help him put it from his mind.

The main reason he’d decided against escorting Ciara to Perthshire was that he did not want to encourage her misplaced feelings towards him, but that seemed not to be an issue now. Giving in to the futility of finding sleep this night, he climbed from the pallet and walked to the window, gazing out at the bright moon there.

Tavis did not remember making a decision over the next few hours, but somehow he had gathered what belongings and supplies he would need, packed and now stood waiting in the yard at sunrise when young Dougal and Iain arrived to lead the travelling party east. Though none of his men questioned this change of plans, he was certain it was noticed by many.

The morn dawned clear and bright, surely a good omen for her journey and her future. Her clothing had been packed in trunks and placed on the wagon the night before. Any personal items she needed she would carry in her satchel.

The line of wooden animals on the mantel of the hearth in her small chamber stood waiting expectantly. Ciara could not decide whether to take them or not, so she spent several minutes staring them down and trying to make up her mind. They’d been part of her life since she had travelled to Lairig Dubh, each one carved by Tavis in an attempt to entertain her.

The first, a horse, was still her favourite because her father— stepfather —had asked him to make it for her. The rest were Tavis’s idea and over the days spent on the road, her collection included the horse, the pig, the deer and the sheep. Used by her and shared with her siblings, they were worn smooth now, but no less valued by her. She reached to scoop them up when her mother entered her room.

‘Taking them with you on your journey?’ she asked as she walked over and adjusted the cloak on Ciara’s shoulders. ‘You never leave home without them, do you?’

‘Should I?’ she asked. Part of her wanted to leave them and the other part wanted to bring them. Most likely her childish fears trying to push forwards.

‘Darling, they are part of you and your life up to today. Do not be ashamed of them, but do not let your past overshadow your future.’

Her mother smoothed her hair back from her face and pressed a kiss on her forehead. It soothed her as much now as it always did. How would she manage without these special moments? Did she have to give up all of this simply to grow up?

‘I think I will take just this one,’ she said, with more confidence than she felt. Still, these small objects always brought her comfort when she needed it most. She faced leaving behind everyone and everything she knew and loved and becoming part of another family, belonging to one man. Ciara found a scarf in her trunk, wrapped it around the wooden carving carefully and placed it in the leather bag she would carry.

‘Elizabeth waits for you in the yard,’ her mother said as she slid her arm around hers and walked at her side. ‘Her parents have given permission for her to return with you after the wedding. If you would like?’

Ciara smiled. Of all the news she could receive this morn, this was the best. Her most favourite friend would go with her to her new life, a comforting thought.

‘You tease me, Mother,’ Ciara replied. ‘Only if the laird gave permission for Lilidh to join me would my joy be greater.’ Her cousin Lilidh and she had spent many hours and days in each other’s company and Lilidh would have been a perfect companion for her. But Lilidh, as the laird’s daughter, would be married soon and would not be allowed to stay with Ciara and James in Perthshire.

She would have left, walked out of the chamber that had been hers for so long, but one question continued to bother her. Ciara usually ignored it tugging at her heart, but as this betrothal and wedding came nearer to reality for her, she could no longer keep it in.

‘My father …’ she said before her confidence faltered. A quick glance at her mother’s face stopped her from saying more.

‘Duncan is your father, dearling. Always,’ her mother whispered. An expression of such desolation entered her mother’s eyes that it hurt Ciara to see it there. Gone as quickly as it came, her mother smiled and touched Ciara’s cheek. ‘We can speak more on this when there is time. But, now, we must hurry and not keep everyone waiting.’

Her mother turned to leave once more, but Ciara was uncertain if she wanted to let this matter remain silent between them. For too many years, the question about who she was and where she fit in plagued her. Though there were mostly moments where she felt treasured and valued for herself, other moments when she thought the efforts to see her so accomplished and so educated just to make it easier to be rid of her also taunted her. Her self-confidence waned in those moments as it did now. Her expression must have revealed it to her mother.

‘I beg you, Ciara. Not now,’ her mother whispered without facing her, frightening her more than anything else ever had.

She reached over and took her mother’s hand, allowing the matter to drop back to its silent place. There would be time for her to press the issue and get the answers she craved so much.

The two of them reached the path and her father joined them, wordlessly following as they walked through the gate and into the yard of the keep. A small crowd gathered there in the quiet, mist-filled dawn, with a wagon and several mounted soldiers who would be her escort. But it was the tall warrior standing near the wagon, issuing orders in low tones, who drew her attention and made her stop so quickly that her father bumped into her. She would have tumbled to the ground had he not grabbed her shoulders and held her until she regained her balance.

‘Tavis,’ she whispered, not believing her eyes after his prior refusals. ‘Tavis.’

‘Let me see if aught is wrong,’ her father said, stepping around both her and her mother … her mother, who looked as pleased at Tavis’s presence as she was.

‘Mayhap he has seen to his other responsibilities and is now free to travel to Perthshire?’ she mused aloud.

The dark glance shared between her parents intrigued her, but Tavis’s reasons for being here interested her more. Following right behind without pause, she stepped out from his shadow and watched Tavis. Men tended not to explain themselves much and this was one of those times—a few words, a few looks and frowns and they were done. Ciara was just as confused as before, but if it meant Tavis would escort her, so much the better.