Chapter 8
T ara felt perplexed when she left Gordon. There were a few moments during dinner when she could see the epitome of a charming Laird, at least one who was aware of his own station in life. But his wildness was never far from the surface. It could erupt at any moment, as though he was a spark that could turn into a blaze. His emotions were intense, which wasn’t something she had expected given the clan’s reputation.
The Abernathy people were supposed to be cold, isolated, more like the wind than anything else. But Gordon felt things deeply. It was why his reactions were so intense.
Whenever she tried to ask him about his wife and how his son got sick, he reacted with anger, as though merely asking was a heinous crime. She had noticed how his wife had been absent. Was she still sick? Was she locked away in the keep somewhere?
There was no denying that Gordon was capable of some terrible things. She paled when she thought of what his anger might have driven him to do to his wife if he thought that she was responsible for making Keith sick.
When she left, her heart was in her mouth as she feared that her freedom was being taken away from her. Whenever she began to relax in front of Gordon, he did or said something to remind her that he was in charge here, and that this was his land, his Keep. He wanted her to stay one more day, but would this be an endless day without the sun setting? Would she be taken to a dungeon and forced to remain so that he had a healer on hand should his son ever fall ill again?
His devotion to Keith was admirable in a way, but it made him do dark things. Tara wondered if Ryan and Caroline would ever have been driven to these lengths, and then she considered the same about herself. If she had a child, would she kidnap someone if she believed they could help? Would she lock someone in a dungeon? What boundaries did love have?
She wasn’t entirely sure.
There was a maid not far from the door. The taste of wine lingered on Tara’s lips. She wondered if that had been her last meal, a grim reward before she was taken down into the depths of the Keep. Her heart trembled as she approached the maid, for this was Gordon’s world and there wasn’t anything she could do to refuse his hospitality, no matter how grisly it seemed. If he wanted her in a dungeon, then he would find a way to get her there.
“Laird Abernathy told me that I should speak tae ye. He said that he hae a new room for me?”
The girl, a plain lass with gray eyes and wispy hair, smiled and nodded, gesturing for Tara to follow her. Breath caught in her throat as they reached a stairwell, but she breathed a sigh of relief when they ascended the stairs, rather than being swallowed by shadow. They walked up one level and then passed through a hallway that was lit by torches.
The maid showed her to a large door and opened it, bowing her head. Tara’s eyes widened when she looked inside. The bed was wide and expansive, cream-colored sheets were covered by a heavy blanket that was soft to the touch. She only needed to place her hand beneath it to feel the warmth it generated.
Beside this, there was a wide table, upon which sat a number of different candles. There was also a hearth, in which a fire blazed. There was a dresser, a chest filled with clothes, and a window that looked out on the land. A yellow rug was draped across the stone floor, offering her feet some comfort, and upon the walls a few tapestries were draped. One of them was a simple banner of the clan’s colors, while another depicted a Laird slaying a wolf. The pattern was intricate, and she wondered if this was to celebrate one of Gordon’s achievements, or if it was an ancestor of his.
“If there’s anything ye need, dinnae hesitate tae ask,” the maid said before bowing out of the room and closing the door behind her. Tara was left to admire more of the room.
The far wall was filled with shelves. There were thick leather-bound books packed tightly into one, and another held goblets and crockery. She inspected them, blowing the dust off them. They had not been used for a long time, either the books or anything else. She leafed through a few of the tomes, but she wasn’t in the mood to read.
When she was sure that nobody was looking, she rummaged in her dress and pulled out the pages of her makeshift journal. When she left the room for dinner, she couldn’t be sure that she would return, so she took the pages with her. She smoothed them out on the dresser and then looked through the drawers. There were already writing supplies contained within.
I am still unsure what fate Laird Abernathy has in store for me. He is a most curious man. I have seen him capable of tender emotion, such as when he thanked me after Keith returned to consciousness. However, he can also erupt with a vicious anger without a moment’s notice. He claims he wants to show me the hospitality of his clan as well, but I fear that one more day may mean the rest of my life. He has certainly given me better lodgings, but if I am a prisoner, then is it not just a prison by any other name? I might be comfortable, but I would rather be free.
I spoke about Caroline and Nessa tonight. I wish that they were here with me. I’m sure that they would be able to think of something I have not considered. There is likely an opportunity to escape that has eluded me. I hope they are not too worried about me.
The only thing I can be happy about is that Keith is awake and alive. Now that his fever has broken, I am sure he will make a full recovery. I have healed a patient, but I do not know what it is going to cost me.
What does Laird Abernathy have planned? Am I to be his prisoner for the rest of my life? Will he allow me to leave of my own free will? I cannot untangle the mystery of the man, nor can I stop thinking about him. He is such a devoted father. He loves Keith fiercely, surely a man capable of that kind of love can also be capable of compassion?
She held the quill above the paper, searching for an answer to the question she posed, but she could not think of one. She folded the pages and placed them below the mattress, just as she had done in the other room. She lit the candles and watched the flames dance, before plucking a book at random from the shelves. She knew that Nessa would have scoffed if she learned about this. Taking the time to read when an escape needed to be planned? No, Nessa would have been pacing the floor, scratching at the walls in search of a weak point. But Tara wasn’t Nessa. She would wait to see what Gordon had planned for her the following day. After all, he might be true to his word and allow her to leave. One day might only mean one day.
Not everything needed to last forever.
Although she read, she could not remain focused on the words. She thought of Gordon and only Gordon. This lulled her to sleep, and she did not even notice when the book fell to the floor with a thud.
Tara awoke with a yawn, stretching her limbs wide. The bed was the softest she had ever slept in, and she felt well-rested. However, she was not given much time to be alone. There was a soft knock on the door, and then a row of maids entered, each of them carrying something different. They stood in a line, waiting for Tara to address them. She looked at them curiously.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“We come bearing gifts from Laird Abernathy. There is tae be a feast taenight, and he wishes ye tae wear these things.”
“Of what is the feast in honor?”
The maid paused before she answered. “It’s in honor of ye, m’lady. The Laird wishes tae thank ye for saving his son’s life.”
Tara pressed her lips together. She hadn’t been expecting all this. Perhaps Gordon really was trying to show her the true hospitality of the Abernathy Clan. One by one, the maids approached her and showed her what they were holding.
The first maid held a long gown in her arms. Unfolding it, the fabric shimmered a pale yellow, and black stripes wound around it. A ribbon hung at the waist, and a thin piece of fabric stretched from the wrists to the shoulders, giving the impression of angel wings when the arms were stretched out.
It was a fine outfit indeed, and one that Tara admired greatly, even if she did not think it was her place to wear such a thing. She had worn the clan’s colors last night in order to make a good impression on Gordon and show him that she was willing to respect his clan. But to wear something as fine as this to a feast… it was really something that the lady of the clan should wear.
The second maid approached and showed a thin necklace that was inlaid with precious stones, which the maid explained were found in nearby mountains. When Tara held the crystals up to the light, they shimmered with a rainbow effect, and seemed to dance before her eyes. It was a reminder that even in a bleak place like this, beauty could be found.
The third maid carried a ring. It was made of amber, and inside a small flower had been preserved, frozen in time, its beauty lasting forever.
The fourth maid displayed a small, decorative bottle. She uncorked the top and held it to Tara’s nose. What poured out was a potent, flowery scent that was pleasing to the senses. It was light and playful.
Tara was floored by all of these gifts. She had not anticipated anything like this from Gordon, and she had never received gifts like these before. The only gift that had meant anything to her was the special healer’s pouch given to her by Ryan, welcoming her to the clan and making her an honorary Knox. But these were different types of gifts entirely, and they brought a blush to her cheeks.
Later that day, as Tara stood in front of the mirror and admired her own reflection, she almost did not recognize herself. She saw more of Caroline than her, a lady who possessed poise and grace and was aware of her own beauty.
The dress fit Tara perfectly. It flowed when she turned, and as she stretched out her arms she gave the illusion of wings. The jewelry sparkled, and the scent filled the air. Was it just coincidence that the gifts had matched her likes so well, or was Gordon more perceptive than he seemed?
She had never had a feast held in her honor either, at least not by herself. It was all overwhelming, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. In her mind, she imagined what her sisters would say.
You saved his son’s life. You should appreciate the reward , she imagined Caroline saying.
He’s put you through enough. It’s time to enjoy yourself, was the pragmatic way Nessa would approach the situation.
It was strange to think of how they met. She would never have believed that her abductor would treat her like this. She reminded herself to be careful because she knew full well what he was capable of, but it was hard not to enjoy the comforts he provided.
When she entered the Great Hall, it was a far different scene to the one the previous night. Instead of Gordon sitting at his table alone, surrounded by shadows, torches hung from walls and the light reached every far corner of the room. The clansmen had been invited and all were drinking and eating merrily.
The table was covered in various plates of food, too many dishes to count or note, and the voices were loud. When the servant announced her arrival, there was a great cheer at her presence. Tara blushed and curtsied demurely, before finding Gordon’s eyes. He was smiling at her, and he seemed different from before.
No longer was his dark hair in straggling locks, but it was tied back in a tight ponytail, revealing his high cheekbones and deep-set eyes. But his skin was no longer ashen, and the shadows under his eyes had faded. He wore fine clothes, fitted to perfection over his muscular body, having shrugged off the wolf pelt. His shoulders were broad, and while he was not a man for jewelry, he noticed that he wore an amber ring as well.
He beckoned a servant over, who poured Tara a glass of wine. There was another cheer, and then people carried on drinking. A trio played soft music that added to the ambience, and she was honestly floored that such an occasion could have been arranged for her.
“Ye seem awed,” Gordon observed as Tara’s wide eyes drank in her surroundings.
“I was nae expecting a feast like this.”
“Ye saved my son, what did ye think I was gaeing tae dae?”
Tara wasn’t sure how to answer him. “Thank ye for the gifts. I am very grateful.”
“Ye are welcome. It seems as though the clan colors suit ye,” Gordon stated.
She noticed how his gaze dropped down her body. They flickered with something that might well have been dangerous, something that caused her heart to flutter. She gripped her mug tightly, as if to anchor herself.
“I notice ye hae a similar ring,” she said, nodding to his amber ring.
He stretched out his hand, the fingers long and elegant. They didn’t seem like a warrior’s fingers at all.
“They’re old family heirlooms, given tae people who hae done great deeds for the clan. It’s tae symbolize that the clan is eternally grateful, and that as long as ye wear this ring, ye are guaranteed sanctuary and safety if ye should ever need it. It is a sign of a debt that can never be repaid.”
Tara smiled, gazing at the ring with a new appreciation. She hadn’t realized that it possessed so much meaning. She shielded it with her other hand.
“Then I shall treasure it always,” she replied.
Gordon smiled at her behind his mug.
“Is Keith nae in attendance?” she asked, looking around, but not seeing the boy.
“I thought it would be tae much excitement for him. He needs his rest, as ye prescribed. I am nae gaeing tae gae against the advice of a healer.”
“That would nae be wise,” she argued, enjoying the friendly banter.
He had changed immensely, as though he was an entirely different person. If this had been the man she met out on the moors, then perhaps their time together would have gone entirely differently.
Gordon fetched her some food and asked about some of the customs in the Gilmour Clan, as well as the recent developments over the last couple of years. Although his clan was isolated, they were not ignorant of the changing dynamics between clans in the Highlands.
As the night continued, he never left her side. They drank and ate heartily, sharing light banter and even laughs. The music swirled through the air, tugging at her heart. People all around them were dancing and she was lured by the rhythm.
“Would it be inappropriate of a healer tae ask a Laird for a dance?”
Perhaps if they had not had so much wine to drink, she would never have asked. Perhaps he would never have accepted.
“I would say that usually an Abernathy would feel offended for letting a lady take control of the situation and ask, but we are long past this, arenae we?”
They stepped into the middle of the floor together. He bowed to her, and she curtsied. He moved with grace, never missing a beat. She spun around, enjoying the way her dress added to the spectacle. There was a moment when they came together, and he placed his arm around her, his hand pressing against her hip.
Their eyes met, and she felt all of the strength coiled in his body, pressed up against her, burning with heat. Her knees trembled and breath caught in her throat. The rest of the world fell away, slipping into a void. There was only him and her and the music. His eyes were like two dark pools, filled with a blend of emotions. His lips were parted slightly, his scent musky, a combination of masculinity and wine.
He exuded strength. It bristled all over him and rolled off him in waves. His arm was unerring and strong, his bicep swelled slightly. She felt safe with him, as though he was a shield, and that while in his arms, nothing would ever happen to her.
And then she wondered what he was thinking. What did he see when he looked at her? Was she just the healer who had saved his son? Was she merely a random chance encounter that would soon be sent away from the Keep?
The gifts suggested that she might have been something more, and the way he looked at her… She was naive in the ways of love, but some things could be understood by instinct. Some things were written deep in the hearts of men and women so that when they appeared they were recognized instantly.
“This jewelry matches yer eyes perfectly,” he whispered in her ear.
She got goosebumps as his warm breath reached her ear, and she fought the urge to incline her head, seeking the touch of his lips.
“Ye have a great taste in fine jewelry, M’Laird.” She tried to compose herself, and keep the conversation light.
“I didnae hae to do much, really. Everything looks beautiful on ye.”
It was as though his soul were stripped bare before her. The realization took her by surprise, dazed her. She lost track of the music, and now she was dancing to another tune entirely, this one caused by her frantic heart. When he looked at her, his gaze penetrated her. He saw her very soul and his hand tensed.
He did not want to let her go.
“Thank ye for saving my son. Ye dinnae know how much it means tae me, Tara…”
Was this… was this more than an honorary feast? He had dressed her in the colors of his clan, had gifted her jewelry, had allowed her to stay in what must have been the finest room in the Keep. Yes, she had saved Keith’s life, but this wasn’t the way an ordinary guest was treated. This was the way someone would treat an expectant bride.
The only thing more surprising than the thought that he would ask her to marry him was the realization that she did not find the idea unappealing.
It should have. This was a man who had captured her, who had tied her up and thrown her on the back of his horse and demanded help rather than requested it. He had shouted at her, berated her, and kept things from her when they would have helped her cause.
But still, she could not hate him. This was a man who had wept over his child, who had shown himself capable of great love, and who was not simply some specter on the horizon. He was far more complicated than that. And perhaps it spoke to her instincts of healing that she would be drawn to a man who was clearly in so much immense pain, but no person was ever in control of their heart’s desire.
Love was a fluttering, whimsical thing that followed its own rules and often settled on someone surprising. With his eyes and his arms and the music swirling, it was easy to get lost in the thought that this could be her life, that this could be her man.
“Thank ye for staying. Tae me ye are?—”
But then fragments of the outside world began to chip away. People’s attention was solely on them, and there were whispers and mutterings blending in with the music. There was one phrase in particular that shook Tara from her reverie and reminded her that perhaps this was an illusion after all.
“This is the first time he’s danced since his wife…”
And Tara wasn’t the only one who was shaken. As soon as the word “wife” was uttered, the spell was broken. Gordon shifted from the charming, handsome laird to a creature of anger once again. His arm slipped from around Tara’s waist, and he scowled, his glaring eyes seeking whomever had spoken this curse. His eyes blazed with anger and his hands twitched, curling into fists, ready to throttle and flail and bring thunder to the feast.
Everything fell silent.
There was a twang as a string broke on the lute. Everyone realized that a mistake had been made, but it was too late to rectify it. There were suddenly three types of people in the room. Gordon, who was angry, Tara, who was confused, and everyone else, who were terrified. She wouldn’t have been surprised had storm clouds erupted above them and drenched everyone.
Gordon surveyed the scene with careful eyes, and people cowered. They looked away, they looked at each other, they looked at the ground in the hope that it would swallow them up. Again, Gordon reacted this way to the mention of his wife, but why? What terrible secret was being kept? She deserved to know, especially if she was taking someone’s place, especially if the same fate could befall her as well.
Tara reached out tentatively towards Gordon, touching his arm. He flinched, turning back to her.
“What’s gaeing on?” she asked as softly as she could.
“It’s naething,” he replied, his words as dark as the night.
“Gordon, please, I?—”
“It’s nae yer place tae ask!”
All of the warmth had left his body. All of the charm and the tenderness suddenly vanished, as though it had never been there at all. It was a dose of cold water, and it left Tara feeling sober, eradicating the intoxicating effects of the wine. All her thoughts of love and romance were proven to be foolish dreams of a foolish girl. There was no loving this man. He was too harsh, too prickly. She might as well have fallen in love with a boulder.
Angry at him and angry at herself, she clamped her lips together and huffed.
“Aye, I think ye are right. This is nae my place. I was forced tae come here. Ye should have thought better than holding a feast for a mere healer, and giving her gifts like these. Someone would say ye know of naething of yer place, M’Laird. A “thank ye” is enough for my services. Now, if ye excuse me…”
She spun on her heels and marched towards the exit, as there was no reason for her to be there in the first place. It was all a sham, it was all false. Gordon hadn’t truly meant any of it. He only wanted her to think better of him before she left, probably because of his own ego.
She wasn’t about to fall in love with a man who let secrets rule him. So as she turned away from him, she did not look back. She would return to her room and then demand to leave, and if he refused, then she would make him feel her wrath. No longer would she be accommodating. No longer would she offer her services so freely. She would become harder, learning from the example he set, and she would see how well he liked that .
Tara ignored the whispers and the murmurs as she walked through the Great Hall. She normally hated to be the center of attention and preferred to fade into the background. Soon enough, she would do that again. Gordon could keep his temper and keep his secrets. She needed neither of these things.
She wasn’t about to wait for the servants to open the door, either. She wrenched it open, using all the strength she could muster, and the wide hallway of the Keep beckoned. She was almost tempted to turn around and look at him again, but she resisted the urge.
Until she heard footsteps crashing after her.