Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The afternoon sun had shifted lower, casting golden light across the gathering grounds. Maighread watched a group attempting some variation of lawn bowling, though the rules seemed to shift with each round and the participants were more interested in wagering than actual competition.
"Come on then." Tavish's voice rumbled near her ear, close enough that his breath stirred the loose tendrils at her temple. "Let's show them how it's done."
"Ye think we can manage lawn bowling after yer archery display?" She turned her head slightly, finding him closer than expected. "They might start expecting perfection from us."
"Then we'll disappoint them magnificently." His grin was pure mischief. "Taegether."
Heat bloomed in her chest at that single word. Together. As if they were truly a unit instead of two people playing at partnership.
They joined the group, and someone handed Maighread a wooden ball worn smooth from years of use. The weight of it felt solid in her palm, grounding.
"Rules are simple," Finlay called from where he stood keeping score. "Get closest tae the white ball. Three rounds. Losers buy the winners ale."
"Sounds fair." Tavish positioned himself behind her, his presence a wall of warmth at her back. "What dae ye think, lass? Can we manage?"
"We'd better. I'm nae buying Dougal anything."
Laughter rippled through the group at that, and even Dougal cracked a reluctant smile.
Maighread lifted the ball, gauging the distance. Tavish's hand settled at her waist, fingers splayed across the fabric of her gown. The touch sent sparks racing along her spine.
"A wee bit tae the left," he murmured, his chest brushing her shoulder blades. "See how the ground slopes there?"
She did now. "Good eye."
"I'm full of surprises."
She released the ball, watching it roll true and stop a hand's width from the target. Satisfaction curled through her at the approving sounds from the watchers.
"Me turn." Tavish stepped up beside her, and she found herself unwilling tae move away. His arm brushed hers as he took aim, the casual contact setting her nerves alight.
His ball landed even closer than hers.
"Show off," she muttered.
"Ye love it."
The terrible thing was, she did.
The game continued, players taking their turns while the crowd around them ebbed and flowed.
Some wandered off to watch the wrestling matches resuming nearby.
Others drifted toward the ale tables. Within minutes, the immediate area around Maighread and Tavish had cleared significantly, leaving them partially shielded by a large oak and the angle of the playing field.
"Yer turn again," Tavish said, retrieving another ball. He handed it to her, his fingers lingering against hers a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Maighread stepped into position, acutely aware of how Tavish moved with her, his body angling behind hers again. His hand returned to her waist, but this time the touch felt different. More intentional. More intimate.
"Steady now," he said, voice dropping to that rough register that made her stomach flip. "Dinnae rush it."
"I ken how tae throw a ball, Tavish."
"Aye, but ye're trembling."
She was. Curse him for noticing.
His hand slid lower, settling on her hip with a sureness that stole her breath. His palm was warm even through the layers of fabric, and when his fingers flexed slightly, gathering a handful of her skirts to steady her, something hot and urgent unfurled low in her belly.
"Better?" The word brushed against her ear.
"Nae even slightly."
"Liar." His thumb traced a slow circle against her hip bone. "Ye like this."
She released the ball without looking, barely caring where it landed. All her focus had narrowed to the warmth of his hand at her waist, steadying her, the way he stood close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him.
"Good throw," he murmured, his voice rougher than the simple words warranted.
She turned her head slightly, finding him closer than expected. Close enough to see the pulse beating at his throat, to catch the scent of leather and wine that clung to him. "Was it? I wasn't paying attention."
"Neither was I." His hand lingered at her waist a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back, putting proper distance between them. "People are watching."
"Let them watch." But she moved away as well, smoothing her skirts with hands that trembled slightly. "That's the point, isn't it?"
"This isn't part of the rules," he said, though his hands didn't release her.
"We renegotiated, remember?"
"Did we agree tae this?" His fingers tightened on the fabric bunched in his fists. "Because I dinnae recall specifics."
"We agreed tae whatever feels necessary."
"And this feels necessary?" His voice had gone dark, edged with something that made her knees weak.
"Aye." The admission cost her, but she meant it. "It daes."
For several heartbeats, neither of them moved.
The sounds of the gathering faded to background noise—distant laughter, music, children playing somewhere out of sight.
All of it became insignificant compared to the feeling of Tavish's hands on her, the way his chest rose and fell against her back, the tension coiling tighter between them with every passing second.
Then a ball came flying through the air, landing with a thump near their feet.
They sprang apart so fast Maighread nearly stumbled. Tavish's hands vanished from her hips, and the loss of contact felt like a physical ache.
"Sorry!" A young boy raced over, scooping up the errant ball. "Didnae mean tae interrupt!"
"Ye didnae interrupt anything," Maighread managed, her voice only slightly breathless. "We were just…"
"Practicing," Tavish finished smoothly. "Getting the stance right."
The boy grinned and darted away, oblivious to the tension crackling in the space he'd invaded.
Maighread risked a glance at Tavish. His jaw was clenched tight, his hands fisted at his sides. When their eyes met, the heat in his gaze nearly knocked her back a step.
"We should return tae the others," she said, though every part of her wanted to stay right there, wanted to step back into his arms and finish whatever had started between them.
"Aye." He didn't move. "We should."
"Tavish."
"Ye're still trembling."
"I ken that."
"And flushed." His gaze traveled over her face. "Pink all the way down yer throat."
She pressed a hand to her heated cheek. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like ye want tae..."
"Want tae what, lass?" He took a step closer, and she held her ground despite every instinct screaming at her to run. "Finish the sentence."
"We should rejoin the others," she managed, her voice not quite steady. "Before people start wondering where we've gone."
"Aye." But he didn't move immediately, and neither did she. "Though a bit of wondering might serve our purposes well enough."
"Tavish—"
"I ken." He stepped back deliberately, putting proper distance between them. "Rules are rules. Even when they're inconvenient."
The teasing note in his voice made her breath catch. "Especially when they're inconvenient."
"Is that what this is? Inconvenient?" His eyes held hers, something warm and challenging in their depths. "Are ye starting tae regret setting them in the first place?"
Heat flooded her cheeks. "I regret naething."
"Liar." But his smile was gentle, even as his gaze remained intent. "Ye're thinking about it. About whether those rules still serve us, or if they're just in the way now."
"That's…" She struggled for words that wouldn't betray too much. "That's nae a conversation fer a public lawn bowling game."
"Then we'll have it later. Privately." He offered his arm. "Come. Let's show everyone how well-matched we are at games that dinnae involve… complications."
"Ye're impossible."
"And yet here ye are, still trembling, still flushed, still thinking about what might have happened if that boy hadn't interrupted us."
She opened her mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn't come.
Because he was right, curse him. She was thinking about it.
Thinking about his hands on her, about what it would feel like to turn in his arms and press herself fully against him, about whether his mouth would be as clever at kissing as it was at driving her mad with words.
"Come on." She forced herself to turn away, to start walking back toward the main gathering. "People will wonder where we've gone."
"Let them wonder." But he fell into step beside her, close enough that their arms brushed with every step.
"That's what ye said earlier and look where it got us."
"Seemed like a fine place tae me."
"Tavish."
"What? I'm just saying, if we're meant tae be convincing everyone we're madly in love, a bit of public affection isn't out of place."
"That wasn't public affection. That was..." She struggled for the right word. "That was reckless."
"Felt good though, didn't it?"
She refused to answer, which was answer enough.
They rejoined the main group, and Maighread tried to focus on anything except the lingering heat of Tavish's hands on her hips, the rough edge to his voice when he'd talked about wanting more, the way her body still hummed with awareness of him.
Kathleen appeared at her elbow, eyes sharp and knowing. "Having fun?"
"It's a lovely gathering."
"That's nae what I asked." Her cousin leaned closer, voice dropping. "Ye disappeared fer a bit. With yer betrothed. Looking rather flushed when ye returned."
"The sun's strong today."
"The sun." Kathleen's tone suggested she believed that about as much as she believed pigs could fly. "Right. Naething tae dae with the way Tavish MacBain was looking at ye like he wanted tae devour ye whole?"
"Kathleen!"
"What? I'm just observing. And what I'm observing is that ye two are getting very comfortable with each other."
"We're betrothed. We're supposed tae be comfortable."
"There's comfortable, and then there's whatever that was." Kathleen's expression softened. "I'm nae judging, cousin. I'm just saying… be careful. Lines blur easily when ye're pretending."
"I ken that."
"Dae ye?" Kathleen squeezed her arm gently. "Because from where I'm standing, ye're nae pretending anymore. Neither is he."
The words landed like stones in still water, sending ripples through Maighread's chest. Before she could formulate a response, Tavish returned carrying two cups of ale.
"Ladies." He handed one to Maighread, his fingers brushing hers in a way that felt entirely too intentional. "Thought ye might be thirsty after all that… activity."
Kathleen's eyebrows rose, but she had the grace not to comment. "I should check on the children. They've been suspiciously quiet."
She slipped away, leaving Maighread alone with Tavish again.
"Yer cousin daesnae miss much," he observed.
"Nay, she daesnae." Maighread sipped the ale, grateful for something to do with her hands. "What did ye tell the others about where we went?"
"Told them we were practicing yer throwing technique." His smile was pure innocence. "Which is technically true."
"Technically."
"I'm very good at technicalities."
"I'm starting tae notice that."
They stood together, watching the gathering continue around them. The wrestling matches had concluded, and now musicians were setting up for evening dancing. Soon the real celebration would begin, with bonfires and songs that would last well into the night.
"Ye'll dance with me later," Tavish said. It wasn't a question.
"Will I?"
"Aye. We danced three times the night we met, remember? At Beltane." His voice held laughter. "Can hardly break tradition now."
"That's nae a real tradition. We made it up."
"Best kind of tradition. The ones we create ourselves."
She looked up at him, at the way golden light caught in his hair and turned his eyes the color of the sea in summer. At the slight smile playing around his mouth, the relaxed set to his shoulders. He looked happy. Content. Like being there with her was exactly where he wanted to be.
The realization struck her with the force of a blow. It wasn't just performance anymore. Somewhere between the desperate lie in the forest and now, something had shifted. Changed. Become real in ways she hadn't intended and certainly hadn't planned for.
"What?" Tavish asked, catching her expression.
"Naething. Just thinking."
"About?"
"About how complicated this has become."
"Complicated isn't always bad." He moved closer, lowering his voice. "Sometimes complicated is exactly what ye need."
"And sometimes it's exactly what destroys ye."
"Only if ye let it." His hand found hers, fingers lacing together in full view of anyone watching. "But I'm nae planning on letting that happen. Tae either of us."
The promise in his words, the certainty, made her chest ache with something she wasn't ready to name.
"The dancing's starting," she said instead of addressing what he'd actually meant. "We should..."
"Aye." He squeezed her hand once before releasing it. "Lead on, lass. I'll follow wherever ye go."
And she believed him.