Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
The combined party made camp as twilight deepened, Sinclair green and black mingling uneasily with MacBain blue and white around fires that crackled in the damp air.
Tavish had negotiated tense alliances before, had shared meals with men he didn't trust. But he'd never done it while pretending to be betrothed to a woman he'd met hours before—a woman whose life now depended on how well he could lie.
None of that compared to sitting across a campfire from Keir Sinclair while pretending to be betrothed to a lass he'd just met.
The combined party had made camp in a clearing ringed by ancient pines.
Sinclair's men outnumbered his two to one, their green and black visible even in the dying light.
They'd set watches, distributed oatcakes and dried meat, built fires that crackled and spat in the damp air.
Now they sat in uneasy clusters, eyeing each other like dogs circling before a fight.
Greg caught Tavish's gaze from across the flames again.
Maighread sat beside him, close enough that her shoulder nearly touched his. She'd been silent since they'd dismounted, her face drawn tight. Exhaustion, probably. Fear, certainly. The lass had been attacked, chased, covered in mud, and then had claimed a complete stranger as her betrothed.
A typical Tuesday in the Highlands, really.
"We need tae talk." He kept his voice low, pitched only for her. "Privately."
She turned to him, grey eyes shadowed. "Is that wise? With Sinclair watching?"
"He's already suspicious. Better we get our story straight now than fumble it later." Tavish stood, offering his hand. "Come. We'll walk intae the trees where we cannae be overheard."
Maighread hesitated only a moment before taking his hand. Her fingers were cold, trembling slightly. He pulled her tae her feet and kept hold of her hand as they walked away from the fire.
Behind them, conversation quieted. Every man in that clearing was watching. Tavish could feel their gazes like blades between his shoulder bones.
They moved intae the darkness beyond the firelight, far enough that voices wouldnae carry. The forest pressed close, full of night sounds and hidden threats. Tavish guided her tae a large pine, its trunk broad enough tae shield them from view of the camp.
"All right." Tavish released her hand. "Start talking. How long have we supposedly been betrothed?"
"Recent." She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. "Very recent. We kept it quiet because of the political situation. Me faither's illness."
"And how did we meet?"
"Through our faithers' friendship, obviously."
"Obviously." He studied her face in the dim light. "They were friends and allies long before we met. And what exactly daes yer faither ken about me?"
"That ye're honorable. Trustworthy." Her chin lifted. "That ye owe him a debt."
He shouldn't have mentioned that. The words had slipped out in the heat of the moment, and now she was throwing them back at him like a weapon.
"That's between yer faither and me," he said quietly. "It daesnae concern ye."
"It daes if it's the only reason ye agreed tae this madness."
Tavish looked away, jaw clenching. The debt was significant. Life-changing. Soul-crushing. And none of her concern.
He studied her face, noting the intelligence behind those storm-grey eyes.
"Ye're clever. But clever only gets ye so far when ye're lying tae a man like Keir Sinclair."
"Then help me lie better."
"I'm trying." His voice came out rougher than intended. "But ye've put us both in danger with this scheme."
Wind picked up, cold and sharp. Maighread shuddered, teeth starting tae chatter. The temperature had plummeted with nightfall, frost forming on the pine needles overhead.
Tavish swore under his breath. She was still wearing that mud-stained cloak, soaked through from earlier. No wonder she was freezing.
He stepped closer, positioning himself between her and the worst of the wind. Close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, but not touching. The tree trunk pressed against her back, and he braced one hand against the bark beside her head.
"Better?" he asked quietly.
"A bit." But she was still trembling.
The space between them felt charged, dangerous. He could see her breath misting in the cold air, could count the freckles across her nose in the faint moonlight filtering through the branches. She watched him with those storm-grey eyes, wary but not afraid.
"Ye ken what ye're asking of me," he said, his voice low. "This isnae just a lie we can walk away from."
"I ken." Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "But I'm asking anyway."
Tavish became acutely conscious of how close they stood, how easy it would be to lean in just a fraction more.
This is dangerous.
From the camp, voices drifted on the wind. Laughter, rough and masculine. The crackle of burning wood. Greg's voice raised in some jest that earned answering guffaws.
There at the tree line, wrapped in shadow and cold, Tavish allowed himself to notice how her breathing gradually slowed, steadied. How trust radiated from her despite having every reason to distrust him.
"Why did ye really agree tae help me?" she asked quietly.
"I told ye. I owe yer faither."
"That's nae a full answer."
"It's all the answer ye're getting taenight."
She looked up at him. Their faces were very close now. He could see flecks of darker grey in her eyes, could count her eyelashes if he wanted. Could lean forward just a fraction and––
Tavish stepped back abruptly, breaking contact. "We should return. Before Sinclair comes looking."
Disappointment flickered across her face, there and gone. "Aye. Of course."
They walked back side by side, not touching. The cold rushed in where her body had been, making him instantly regret the distance.
Get hold of yerself.
His body didn't seem to be listening.
As they approached the fire, Keir Sinclair looked up. His grey eyes tracked their movements like a predator watching prey.
"Lovers' quarrel resolved?" His voice carried false pleasantry.
"There was nay quarrel," Tavish said evenly. He guided Maighread back to their spot near the flames. "Just discussing travel plans."
"How romantic." Keir smiled, cold and sharp. "Though I confess curiosity about this betrothal. When were things finalized between yer clans?"
Tavish settled himself, pulling Maighread down beside him. His hand rested possessively on the back of her seat. "Last month. The negotiations were conducted privately through letters between our families."
"I see." Keir leaned forward slightly. "And when were ye planning tae wed?"
"Soon," Tavish said firmly, before Maighread could speak. "With her faither's blessing."
"How convenient that ye finalized everything right when Lady Maighread needed tae return home." Keir's tone dripped skepticism. "Almost providential timing, wouldn't ye say?"
"Me father's illness wasnae convenient," Maighread said sharply. "But aye, when the summons came, Tavish offered tae escort me home. As me betrothed should."
"And where did ye meet?" Keir directed this at Tavish. "Originally. When this grand romance began."
"At the Beltane gathering three years ago," Tavish said smoothly. "In Edinburgh. Our families were both attending court."
Maighread nodded in agreement.
Three years ago, Tavish had been nowhere near Edinburgh during Beltane. He'd been dealing with the aftermath of his catastrophic mistake, hiding in shame while Angus MacEwan protected him from consequences.
But Keir couldn't know that.
Keir sat back, still watching them. "Tell me, Lady Maighread, what attracted ye tae Tavish MacBain? When ye first met at this… Beltane gathering."
"His kindness." She didn't hesitate. "He helped me when I dropped me wine cup. Caught it before it spilled all over me gown."
Tavish blinked. That was… actually clever. Specific enough to sound real, vague enough to be unverifiable.
"And ye, MacBain?" Keir asked. "What attracted ye tae the lady?"
Her desperation and me guilt.
"Her spirit. She spoke her mind, even at court where everyone's so careful. I liked that."
"How charming." Keir's smile never reached his eyes. "Young love blooming at Beltane. Like something from a bard's tale."
"Aye," Tavish said simply, his hand finding Maighread's beneath the table. "It was."
Keir studied them both for a long moment, clearly searching for cracks in their story. When none appeared immediately, he shifted tactics.
"And the wedding?" he asked. "When is that tae occur?"
"Soon," Tavish said firmly. "The details will be settled at MacEwan lands."
"With me faither's blessing," Maighread added.
"How touching." Keir stood abruptly. "Well, I wish ye both every happiness. I look forward tae seeing Laird MacEwan confirm this joyous news."
"As dae we," Tavish replied evenly, meeting Keir's gaze without flinching.
Keir's smile was predatory. "Sleep well, both of ye. We've a long ride tomorrow."
He walked away, his men following. The Sinclair contingent settled on the far side of the clearing, leaving MacBain's men clustered near Tavish and Maighread.
Greg immediately moved closer. "What in Christ's holy name—"
"Nae now," Tavish cut him off. "Later. We'll talk later."
"Aye, we will." Greg's voice promised a thorough interrogation. "Because that was the biggest load of bollocks I've ever heard, and I've listened tae Lowland merchants haggle."
"Greg—"
"Later," his friend repeated, echoing Tavish's own words back at him. "But by God's wounds, Tavish, ye'd better have a good explanation."