Chapter 6 #2
"Aye. So now," Tavish's tone held something sharp, "that he's nae actively threatening ye, we can quietly dissolve the betrothal and ye can find some other solution." Tavish's voice held caution. "But he'll be back. Men like that dinnae give up so easily."
She turned to face him fully. That close, she could see the exhaustion etched around his eyes, the tension still held in his shoulders.
"When dae ye leave?" The question came out quieter than she'd intended.
Something shifted in his expression. "Day after tomorrow. I need tae return tae MacBain lands, let me braither ken what's happened. Settle things there."
Her stomach dropped, though she couldn't name why. This was always the plan—temporary help until Keir left. Tavish had his own life, his own clan. Of course he'd go home.
"But I’ll be back in a fortnight, maybe less." He studied her face. "Why? Will ye miss me, lass?"
The teasing tone should have irritated her. Instead, heat crept into her cheeks. "I'm just wondering how we maintain this fiction if ye're nae here."
"The fiction." His jaw tightened slightly. "Right."
"What else would ye call it?" But even as she said it, something twisted uncomfortably in her chest. The evening had felt less like performance and more like… something real.
Dangerous thoughts.
"I'd call it complicated." Tavish moved closer, and Maighread's breath caught.
He was still keeping proper distance, but she was acutely aware of him—the breadth of his shoulders, the way he looked at her like he was trying to puzzle her out.
"Ye played yer part perfectly taenight. In front of Keir, the Council, yer whole clan. "
"As did ye." She lifted her chin. "Very convincing."
"Was I?" His voice dropped lower, rougher. Something in his eyes made her pulse quicken. "Because from where I stood, it didnae feel like acting."
Her heart hammered against her ribs. "Tavish—"
"Ye were terrified," he continued, not letting her deflect. "I could feel ye trembling when ye took me arm. See the fear in yer eyes when Keir spoke. But ye didnae let it show. Ye stood there, brave and beautiful, and faced him down."
Beautiful. He'd called her beautiful, and the way he said it—like he meant it, like it mattered—made something warm unfurl in her chest.
"I wasnae brave," she admitted quietly. "I was scared out of me mind."
"Bravery isnae the absence of fear, lass. It's acting despite it." His hand lifted, as if to touch her face, then dropped back to his side. "Ye did well taenight. Better than well."
The compliment shouldn't have affected her so strongly. This was all still just an arrangement, a temporary alliance born of desperation. But standing there in the quiet corridor, with Tavish looking at her like that, it was getting harder to remember why that mattered.
"When ye come back," she said, forcing herself to focus on practical matters, "we'll need tae have our story even more solid. In case Keir returns."
"Aye." But he didn't step back, didn't break eye contact. "We'll practice. Make it convincing."
"More convincing than taenight?"
"We cannae afford any mistakes. Ye should rest now," he said, though he still didn't move. "It's been a long day."
"So should ye." But neither of them stepped away. "Thank ye," she said then, quietly. "Fer tonight. Fer all of it. I ken this is more than ye signed up fer."
"I signed on tae protecting ye from Keir Sinclair." His voice gentled slightly. "That hasnae changed. Whatever else happens, I'll keep that promise."
"Why?"
"Because I made a vow. And I keep me vows." He continued up the stairs. "Goodnight, Maighread."
"Goodnight."
She watched him climb the stairs, her heart still racing, her skin still tingling from his proximity. Only when he'd disappeared from view did she realize she'd been holding her breath.
This was supposed to be simple. Temporary. A strategic lie to escape Keir's trap.
So why did watching Tavish walk away feel like loss?
Tavish made it halfway to his assigned chamber before Greg intercepted him, falling into step beside him with the ease of long friendship.
"That was quite the performance taenight," Greg said mildly.
"Was it?" Tavish kept walking, not looking at his friend.
"Aye. Very convincing. Almost had me believing it meself." Greg paused.
Tavish said nothing, just pushed open the door to his chamber. Greg followed him inside without invitation, closing the door firmly behind them.
"We're leaving day after tomorrow," Tavish said, moving to the window. "Back tae MacBain lands. I need tae speak with Fionnlagh, explain what's happened."
"Explain what, exactly? That ye've agreed tae a fake betrothal with a woman ye just met? That ye're lying tae one of the most dangerous men in Scotland? That ye're risking a clan war over a debt ye've never told anyone about?" Greg crossed his arms.
Tavish's hands clenched on the windowsill. "I'm helping her. That's all."
"Is it?" Greg's voice softened. "Because from where I stood taenight, it looked like considerably more than duty."
"Ye're seeing things that arenae there."
"Am I? Because the way ye looked at her when she took yer arm—" Greg shook his head. "I've kenned ye since we were bairns, Tavish. I've never seen ye look at a lass like that."
Heat crept up Tavish's neck. "She needed protection. I provided it."
"Aye, ye did. Ye also touched her every chance ye got. Positioned yerself between her and Sinclair like a man guarding something precious. Smiled at her like she was the only person in that hall." Greg moved closer. "So I'll ask ye again—what's really happening here?"
Tavish turned from the window, meeting his friend's gaze. "I dinnae ken."
The admission cost him, but it was true.
He didn't know what was happening. Didn't understand why protecting Maighread felt like more than obligation.
Why the thought of leaving her there, even temporarily, made his chest tight.
Why watching her face down Keir with that quiet courage had made him want to pull her close and never let go.
"She's clever," he said quietly. "Brave. Desperate enough tae gamble everything on a stranger's honor."
"And beautiful," Greg added. "Ye forgot beautiful."
"I didnae forget." Tavish scrubbed a hand over his face. "Christ, Greg. What have I gotten meself intae?"
"Something complicated." Greg clapped him on the shoulder. "But when has that ever stopped ye?" He sobered. "Ye ken this isnae just about the debt anymore, aye?"
"I ken." The words came rough. "But I made a promise tae Angus. Tae keep her safe. That's what I'm daeing."
"Is that all ye're daeing?"
Tavish thought about Maighread trembling in the cold, pressing close tae him by the tree.
Thought about her grey eyes looking up at him in the corridor, wide and trusting despite every reason not tae trust. Thought about how right she'd felt on his arm, how natural it had been tae stand beside her and claim her as his.
"Nay," he admitted. "I dinnae think it is."
"Good." Greg grinned. "Because lying tae Keir Sinclair is one thing. Lying tae yerself is considerably more dangerous."
"I'm nae lying tae meself."
"Aren't ye? Then answer me this—when ye return here, will it be tae maintain a fiction? Or because ye cannae stand tae be away from her?"
The question hit harder than any blade. Because Greg was right. The thought of two weeks without seeing Maighread, without knowing she was safe, without hearing her sharp wit or watching her face down threats with that fierce determination—it already felt like too long.
"Both," Tavish said finally. "It's both."
"That's what I thought." Greg moved toward the door.
He left, closing the door softly behind him.
Tavish stood alone in the quiet chamber, Greg's words echoing in his skull.
Stop pretending.
But what was the alternative? Admitting he was falling for a woman he'd known a day? A woman who'd claimed him out of desperation, who saw him as a convenient shield rather than a man? A woman who would dissolve this betrothal the moment Keir was no longer a threat?
He moved tae the bed and sat heavily, exhaustion crashing over him.
Soon he'd leave. Return tae MacBain lands and face his brother's questions. Explain the mess he'd walked intae and the promises he'd made.
And in two weeks, he'd come back.
For the betrothal. For Angus. For the debt he owed.
And, God help him, for Maighread herself.
Morning light streamed through the narrow window, cold and grey. Maighread dressed quickly, stomach knotting.
Today Keir would leave the castle. He would not be far, but at least out of the immediate household. One less set of eyes watching constantly.
She descended to the courtyard just as Keir's party assembled. Horses stamped, breath steaming in the chill air. Sinclair men checked saddles and weapons with military efficiency.
Keir spotted her immediately. "Lady Maighread. I hoped tae bid ye farewell properly."
"Safe travels, me lord." She kept her voice neutral.
"I'll be in the village." He mounted smoothly. "Should ye need anything. Anything at all."
"I'm well cared fer here."
"I'm certain ye are." His gaze flicked past her. "Ah, MacBain. Come tae see me off?"
Tavish appeared at her elbow, steady and solid. "Seemed only courteous."
"How thoughtful." Keir gathered his reins. "I'll see ye both soon. Very soon. I wouldn't miss witnessing the wedding fer anything."
He wheeled his horse and clattered through the gate, his men following in tight formation.
Silence fell over the courtyard.
"Well," Tavish said quietly. "That wasn't ominous at all."
Despite everything, Maighread almost laughed. "Nay. Nae even slightly."
They stood together, watching the road long after Keir disappeared from view.