Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tavish arrived at the solar and found standing by the window.
Ch"Ye're late," she said without turning. She faced him, all business. "The monthly gathering starts at midday. That gives us three hours tae make sure ye ken our traditions."
He leaned against the doorframe. "That's harsh. I'm nae completely hopeless."
"Ye called Finlay 'sir' yesterday instead of using his proper title."
"He didn't seem tae mind."
"He minded. He just didn't say so because ye're me betrothed and he's being polite." She laughed. "Now close the door. We've work tae dae."
Tavish obeyed, the snick of the latch feeling far too intimate for the conversation they were about to have.
"Right then." Maighread moved tae the center of the room. "At the gathering, there's a betrothal tradition ye'll need tae ken. The handfasting dance."
"Handfasting dance?"
"Aye. It's performed by newly betrothed couples before the clan.
We'll be bound taegether with a ceremonial cord while dancing three circles around the bonfire.
" She demonstrated the footwork, her movements graceful despite the confined space.
"It symbolizes our unity and commitment before the clan. "
"Sounds simple enough."
"It is, except the steps must be perfectly synchronized or it's considered an ill omen fer the marriage." She gestured for him to join her. "We need tae practice until we can dae it without thinking."
Tavish stepped forward and attempted to mirror her movements, but his timing was off, feet tangling with hers.
Maighread's giggled. "That was appalling. Try again," she said, stepping back.
He bowed, this time getting the form mostly right, though his movements still held a touch of self-consciousness.
"Better." She nodded. They practiced for another quarter of an hour, until she seemed satisfied.
"Now, seating arrangements. At the gathering, ye'll be beside me at the High Table. Ye cannae drink until the toast is given."
"Aye. I ken." He studied her face. "Ye're worried about this."
"Every eye will be watching us. One wrong move could undermine everything we've built."
"Then we'll be careful." He caught her hand as she reached fer the parchment on the table. "Maighread. We'll manage this taegether. I promise."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Ye’re right. I'm just… nervous."
"I ken. But ye've prepared me well." He squeezed her hand.
She pulled her hand free, pacing to the window. "Dougal and his faction are watching fer any excuse tae question this match. One mistake, one slip, and they'll use it tae undermine us."
"Then we dinnae slip." He came up behind her, close enough that his chest nearly brushed her back.
"We walk in there taegether, confident and united.
We smile at the right people, say the right things, and make it clear we're a team.
That's what matters. Nae whether I remember Councilor Whatever's third cousin's name. "
She turned, and suddenly they were closer than either had intended. Her breath caught, grey eyes wide.
"Ye make it sound easy," she whispered.
"It is easy. When ye stop overthinking." His hand rose, almost touching her cheek, before he forced it back down. "When ye trust that I've got yer back, same as ye have mine."
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. They sprang apart just as a servant passed by the door, her shadow visible through the gap beneath.
Maighread cleared her throat. "Right. Where were we?"
"Seating arrangements. Nae eating before ye dae." He grinned. "See? I was listening."
Some of the tension had left her shoulders. "Now. Speech protocol. If someone asks ye a direct question about clan matters, what dae ye say?"
"That I'm still learning MacEwan customs and defer tae me betrothed's superior knowledge?"
"Exactly. And if they press?"
"I smile and change the subject."
"Good. And if Keir shows up?"
Tavish's jaw tightened. "We havenae discussed that possibility."
"We should. He's been suspiciously quiet since he left." She worried her bottom lip. "If he appears at the gathering, we need tae handle it carefully."
"I can handle Keir."
"Nae by fighting him. That's exactly what he'd want." She moved closer again, urgency in her voice. "Promise me ye'll stay calm. That ye'll let me take the lead if he approaches."
"I dinnae like that plan."
"It's nae about what we like. It's about survival." Her hand found his arm, gripping tight. "Please, Tavish. Just this once, let me manage him."
The ‘please’ did him in. "Fine. But if he touches ye—"
"He willnae. Nae in public with witnesses." She released him, though her fingers seemed reluctant to let go. "Now. One more thing. When we're seated, I may need tae touch yer hand or arm tae signal ye. Dinnae flinch or pull away. Act like it's natural."
"Act like me betrothed touching me is natural?" Heat crawled up his spine. "I think I can manage that."
"Can ye?" Challenge glinted in her eyes. "Because ye've been keeping yer distance since we set those rules."
"Ye set those rules."
"We both agreed tae them."
"Aye. We did." He stepped closer, testing boundaries. "But ye're the one who just brought up renegotiating."
Pink bloomed across her cheekbones. "This is about appearances."
"Is it?" His voice dropped lower. "Or is it about something else entirely?"
She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. "We should finish the lesson."
"Should we?" He was close enough now to see the rapid pulse at her throat. "Or should we discuss what's actually happening here?"
"Naething's happening here. We're preparing fer a gathering."
"Liar."
"Tavish—"
"Ye're terrified," he said softly. "Nae of the gathering. Nae of Keir. Of this. Of us. Of whatever's building between us that we keep pretending isnae real."
"That's nae—"
"It is." His hand rose again, this time actually touching her face, fingers gentle against her cheek. "And I'm just as scared, if that helps."
Her eyes fluttered closed. "It daesnae."
"Nay?"
"Makes it worse. Because if ye're scared too, then it must be real."
"Aye." His thumb brushed her cheekbone. "It must be."
She leaned into the touch for just a heartbeat before stepping back. "We cannae dae this. Nae now. Nae with the gathering in two hours and half the castle watching our every move."
"When then?"
"I dinnae ken." She smoothed her skirts, composure sliding back into place like armor. "After the gathering. After we've survived today without incident. Then maybe we can talk about… this."
"That's a promise?"
"That's all I can offer right now."
Fair enough. He nodded, backing to a respectable distance. "Then let's finish yer lesson. What else dae I need tae ken?"
Relief and disappointment warred across her features. "Right. Yes. Um." She gathered the parchment from the table. "Games. There will be competitions. Archery, stone toss, wrestling. Ye're expected tae participate but nae tae dominate. Let some of the younger men win occasionally."
"Let them win? That's humiliating."
"That's politics. Ye want them tae like ye, tae see ye as one of them instead of an outsider lording over everyone." She met his gaze. "Can ye dae that? Can ye lose gracefully?"
"Depends on the game."
"Tavish."
"I'll try. How's that?"
"It'll have tae dae." She moved tae the door, pausing with her hand on the latch. "One more thing. Dinnae make it weird."
"Wouldnae dream of it."
She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "Meet me in the main corridor in an hour. Dinnae be late."
"When have I ever been late?"
"This morning."
"That was different."
"How?"
"I wasnae properly motivated yet." He caught her hand before she could leave, pressing a quick kiss tae her knuckles. "Now I am."
She fled, and he watched her go with satisfaction warming his chest.
An hour later, Tavish stood in the main corridor as instructed, freshly washed and wearing his finest doublet. The fabric felt constrictive after days in simpler clothes, but Maighread had insisted on proper attire.
She appeared from the opposite direction, and his breath caught.
She'd changed intae a gown of deep blue wool that brought out the silver in her grey eyes. Her hair was braided intricately, woven with ribbon that matched the dress. She looked every inch the Lady of the Clan, and something fierce and possessive surged through him at the sight.
Mine.
Even though she was not. Even though this was all performance.
"Ye look bonnie," he said when she reached him.
"Thank ye." She circled him, assessing. "Yer cloak's crooked."
"Is it?"
"Aye." She stepped close, hands busy adjusting the fabric across his shoulders. Her scent wrapped around him, lavender and something uniquely her. "There. Better."
"Much better." He caught one of her hands, holding it against his chest where she could feel his heart hammering. "Ready fer this?"
"Nae even slightly." But she smiled, quick and genuine. "Let's go anyway."
They walked tae the outer grounds side by side, close enough that their arms brushed with every step. The gathering had already begun tae form, tables laden with food, fires burning, people milling about in groups.
The priest spotted them first, raising his hand in blessing. Tavish bowed—properly this time—and Maighread curtsied.
"Me lady. Master MacBain." The old man's eyes twinkled. "A joy tae see ye both looking so well. And taegether, as it should be."
"Thank ye, Father Brennan." Maighread's voice carried just enough warmth. "Yer blessing means everything."
They moved through the crowd methodically. Finlay first, who clasped Tavish's arm with surprising strength. "MacBain. Good tae have ye here."
"Councilor. The honor's mine."
Dougal next, who offered grudging acknowledgment. "Me lady. MacBain."
"Councilor Dougal." Tavish kept his voice neutral, his hand steady on Maighread's back.
More greetings followed, each one a test he navigated with Maighread's subtle guidance. A touch to his arm meant move on. Pressure meant stay and engage. Her hand slipping intae his meant present a united front.
They eventually headed to the High Table and sat, Maighread on his right, her father's empty seat on her other side. Angus had been too ill tae attend, leaving them as the primary representatives of the MacEwan line.
The feast began with a toast tae the clan's prosperity. Tavish waited until Maighread lifted her cup before touching his own, their eyes meeting over the rim as they drank.
"So far so good," she murmured.
"Told ye I could manage."
"Dinnae get cocky. The day's just started."
Food appeared, trenchers piled high with roasted meat and root vegetables. Music started, fiddles and drums creating a cheerful din. Children ran between the tables, laughing and playing games that had probably existed since before either of them were born.
Tavish ate when Maighread ate. Drank when she drank. Smiled when she smiled. It was easier than he'd expected, following her lead. Natural, even.
"Archery's starting," she said, nodding toward the field where targets had been set up. "Ye should participate."
"Want tae watch me show off?"
"Want tae watch ye blend in." But amusement flickered across her face. "Though if ye happen tae impress everyone, I wouldnae complain."
He stood, offering his hand. "Come watch then. Be me good luck charm."
"That's nae how luck works."
"Humor me."
She took his hand, and they walked tae the archery field together. Other men had already gathered, testing bows and arguing good-naturedly about technique.
Tavish accepted a bow from the steward, weighing it in his hands. Decent quality, though nae as fine as his own weapons back at MacBain lands.
"Three shots," the steward announced. "Closest tae center wins."
The first man shot. Solid hit, just left of center.
The second man shot. Better, nearly splitting the center line.
Tavish stepped up, aware of Maighread watching. He could feel her gaze on him, warm and assessing. Could sense the crowd's curiosity about how the lady's betrothed would perform.
He drew the bow, muscles protesting slightly from his healing ribs. The arrow flew true, striking dead center.
Approval rippled through the watchers.
"Again," the steward said.
Tavish's second shot split his first arrow, an old trick he'd mastered years ago.
Now people were actively cheering.
"Last shot," Maighread called. "Make it count."
He turned tae look at her, grinning. "What dae I get if I win?"
"Me eternal gratitude?"
"Nae good enough."
"What dae ye want then?"
Heat flared between them, quick and sharp. "Wouldnae be appropriate tae say in public."
Pink stained her cheeks. "Then ye'd better win so we can discuss it privately."
His third shot matched the first two, a perfect cluster that had the crowd roaring approval.
"Show off," Maighread muttered when he returned tae her side.
"Ye told me tae blend in."
"That was nae blending. That was dominating."
"Couldnae help meself." He leaned close, voice dropping. "Wanted tae impress ye."
"Mission accomplished." She squeezed his arm. "Now try the stone toss and actually let someone else win."
The afternoon continued in that pattern.
Games and competitions interspersed with eating and drinking.
Tavish participated in wrestling—losing honorably tae a young man who needed the confidence boost. He threw stones and axes, always coming close but never quite winning, except a couple of times, to not raise suspicion given his size.
Through it all, Maighread stayed close. A constant presence at his side, her hand finding his whenever the crowd pressed close. Her smile genuine when he made a good showing, her laughter bright when he deliberately fumbled.
People noticed. How could they nae? Every touch, every shared glance, every moment of easy partnership was witnessed and catalogued.
Tavish caught fragments of conversation from a nearby group—women clustered together, watching them with knowing smiles.
"… perfect taegether," one whispered.
"Aye, ye can see the affection plain as day," another agreed.
A third woman leaned in. "Me Ailsa said Lady Maighread's eyes go soft when she looks at him."
"And he watches her like she's the only person in the world."
Maighread's fingers tightened on his arm. When he glanced down, he saw color rising in her cheeks—she'd heard them too.
"They're buying it," she murmured.
"Aye." He covered her hand with his own. "They are."
But the question neither of them asked… What exactly were people buying? The performance or the truth?