Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The corridor outside the solar was empty when Maighread found Tavish waiting, arms crossed and jaw set in a way that promised trouble. Two days had passed since the training yard incident, two days of careful distance and pointed silences that had started gnawing at her patience like a dull blade.
"We need tae talk," he said before she could speak.
"Aye, I gathered that from the summons."
"What ye did in the training yard was out of line." His voice carried an edge she hadn't heard before.
Heat flared through her chest. "Out of line? That warrior was accusing ye of daein’ what Sinclair is daein’. I defended me betrothed."
"Ye made me look weak." Tavish moved closer, lowering his voice to something rough and angry. "Stood there in front of everyone and fought me battles like I'm some helpless bairn who cannae handle himself."
"That's nae what happened."
"Isn't it? Because from where I was standing, ye rushed in tae save me before I'd even opened me mouth tae respond."
Maighread's hands fisted in her skirts. "He was calling ye a traitor. Suggesting ye were betraying us tae Sinclair. I wasnae goin’ tae stand there and let him spread poison."
"I can defend meself against accusations." His eyes blazed with something between fury and hurt. "I've been daein’ it me whole bloody life without ye swooping in tae rescue me."
"This is different."
"How? How is this different from any other time I've had tae prove meself?" He stepped closer still. "Because we're betrothed now? Because ye think that gives ye the right tae speak fer me in public?"
The words hit harder than she'd expected. "I was trying tae help."
"I didn't ask fer yer help. Didnae need it either." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration radiating from every tense muscle. "That warrior was spoiling fer a fight, aye. But I've handled worse than him. Could've managed it without ye charging in like I'm incapable of basic defense."
"So, what was I supposed tae dae? Stand there and let him call ye a traitor?"
"Aye! Let him say whatever poison he wanted, then let me shut him down meself." Tavish's jaw clenched. "Because when I respond, it's me defending meself. When ye respond, it looks like I need me betrothed tae fight me battles."
"I didnae think of it that way."
"Clearly."
Silence pressed between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Maighread's anger warred with the growing realization that maybe, possibly, he had a point. She'd acted on instinct, seen someone threatening what was hers and responded without considering how it might look to observers.
Without considering how it might make Tavish feel.
"I was wrong," she said finally, forcing the admission past pride that wanted tae argue further. "Ye're right. I should've let ye handle it."
"Aye, ye should have." But some of the anger had drained from his voice. "I ken ye were trying tae help. I appreciate the impulse even if the execution was awful."
"Awful?"
"Absolutely terrible. Timing, delivery, everything." His mouth quirked despite the lingering tension. "Though watching ye tear intae that warrior was fairly impressive."
"Was it?"
"Aye. Terrifying and impressive in equal measure." He shifted his weight, still standing too close fer comfort or propriety. "But next time, let me handle me own fights unless I actually ask fer backup."
She nodded, the promise feeling easier than she'd expected. "Agreed."
The following days passed in careful preparation. Tavish spent hours studying maps and documents, familiarizing himself with MacEwan holdings and the complexities of inheritance law. Maighread coordinated with Malcolm, ensuring supplies were gathered without drawing unwanted attention.
When she finally found him in the solar on the third morning, he was bent over a map of MacEwan lands with the kind of focus that suggested he'd been at it since dawn.
Morning light streamed through the narrow windows, turning his hair to burnished gold and making the blue-green of his eyes even more striking when he glanced up at her approach.
"Ye wanted tae talk about inheritance laws," he said without preamble. "So let's talk."
Maighread closed the door behind her, appreciating the directness even as nerves fluttered in her stomach. This conversation had been postponed too long already, delayed by pride and fear and the residual tension from their corridor argument.
"Aye." She moved tae the opposite side of the table, using the map as a buffer between them. "Ye need tae understand what happens when me faither dies."
"He daesnae have a male heir. The Council will push fer ye tae marry quickly so yer husband can take over as laird." Tavish's tone suggested he'd already pieced together most of it. "That's why Keir's been circling like a vulture."
"Partially." She traced a finger along the eastern border where Sinclair lands pressed close. "But it's more complicated than just needing a husband. MacEwan inheritance law allows fer a daughter tae inherit if she's married tae someone the Council accepts as capable of leading."
"And if ye're nae married when he dies?"
"Then inheritance passes tae the next male kin.
" Her finger moved tae mark several villages along that contested border.
"Me faither's cousin, Donald MacEwan. He's elderly, childless, and has made nay secret he'd sell the succession tae whoever offers the most. Keir's already approached him with promises of gold and alliance. "
Tavish's jaw tightened. "So Keir either marries ye directly or buys the inheritance from Donald and takes the clan by right of succession."
"Aye. Or—" She hesitated. "If Donald refuses tae recognize any sale and the succession falls intae dispute, the clan appears weak and leaderless. That's when someone like Keir could simply take what he wants by force. Contested succession is an invitation fer conquest."
"Which is why yer faither pushed fer this betrothal." Tavish's voice was grim. "Nae just tae protect ye, but tae secure the succession before he dies and everything falls intae chaos."
"Exactly." She met his gaze. "Once we're married, I inherit through ye as me husband. The succession is clear, nay room fer Donald tae sell it or fer Keir tae contest it."
Tavish's expression went dark. "That's barbaric."
"That's politics." She met his gaze across the map. "Me faither's been holding them off through sheer force of will, but his health is failing fast. Once he's gone, I have maybe a week before the Council starts making moves."
"Unless ye're already married tae someone they've accepted."
"Exactly. Which is why this betrothal needs tae be absolutely solid. Nay cracks, nay doubts, nay room fer them tae argue it's invalid or insincere."
Tavish studied the map fer a long moment, jaw working like he was chewing through implications. "What about recognition? Dae we need further formal ceremonies, witnesses, specific documentation?"
"The betrothal itself is binding once publicly announced and accepted by the laird, which me faither's already done.
But the marriage would need tae happen before he dies if we want full protection.
So this whole lie is just a quick fix to a temporary solution.
" She hesitated, then pushed forward. "After he's gone, the Council could argue any marriage is invalid without their approval.
Could claim I was coerced or acting without proper authority. "
"That's worse than I thought."
"Aye."
"So we're dealing with yer faither's failing health and the Council's ambition simultaneously." He looked up, expression grim. "How long daes he have?"
"Weeks. Maybe a month if we're fortunate." The admission tasted bitter. "The healers are daeing what they can, but..."
"But he's dying."
"Aye."
Silence fell between them, heavy with implications neither wanted tae voice. Maighread's throat felt tight, emotions she'd been suppressing threatening tae surface in ways that would help nothing.
"I'm sorry," Tavish said quietly. "About yer faither. I ken ye're close."
"We are." She forced the words past the lump building. "He's been everything tae me. Faither, teacher, friend. The thought of losing him… ‘tis hard enough without everything else weighing on me shoulders."
"I ken." Something shifted in Tavish's expression, going softer. "Lost me own faither five years back. Still feels raw sometimes."
The shared grief hung between them, a bridge across the map separating their bodies. Maighread wanted tae reach fer him, tae take comfort in the solid warmth she'd come tae associate with his presence. But pride and uncertainty kept her rooted in place.
Tavish broke the silence, his attention returning tae the map.
"We need tae secure the border villages.
" His finger traced the eastern border, marking specific settlements.
"These three are most at risk - farthest from the castle, closest tae Sinclair lands.
They've been making noise about seeking alternate alliances, haven't they? "
She blinked, surprised he'd noticed. "Aye. How did ye—"
"I've been listening. Paying attention tae what people say when they think I'm nae." He tapped the easternmost village. "They're scared. Scared of what will happen when yer faither dies, scared the Council will leave them exposed, scared Keir will offer protection ye cannae match."
"So what dae ye suggest?"
"We give them something better tae trust in.
We need tae show them strength. Make it clear yer future husband will protect them same as yer father would have.
" His eyes met hers, something fierce burning in those blue-green depths.
"I'll ensure yer right tae inherit is protected, Maighread. Whatever it takes."
The promise in his words made her chest tighten. "That's a bold claim."
"It's the truth." He straightened, rolling his shoulders. "Which means we need tae take direct action. Sitting in the castle waiting fer problems tae come tae us helps nobody."
"What are ye suggesting?"
"A show of strength. Public. Something that makes the border villages remember who they owe loyalty tae." His hand flattened on the map. "And something that makes Keir understand ye're nae as vulnerable as he thinks."
"Such as?"
"That depends. What would make the biggest impression on those wavering villages?"
They were both silent for a moment.
"We bring them supplies," Tavish said decisively. "Grain, salted meat, whatever they need tae get through till spring. And we deliver it personally - ye and me taegether, showing them their future lady and her husband will provide and protect."
Maighread blinked. "That would take significant resources—"
"Which ye will have tae sacrifice fer now.
Then, perhaps through an alliance with me clan, MacBain stores, which are well-stocked this year, can be sent here.
" He traced the route between villages. "We visit each settlement, distribute aid, leave a small garrison of warriors tae protect them.
Show them concrete proof that MacEwan strength hasn't died with yer faither's illness. "
"The Council—"
"We present it tae yer faither first, get his blessing, then tell the Council our plans rather than asking permission." His expression was firm. "This needs tae happen before Keir has more time tae poison minds against us."
She studied his face, seeing the conviction there. "Ye've been thinking about this."
"Since I first looked at this map." He moved around the table toward her. "These people are starving and scared. Words willnae help them. But food, protection, and seeing ye fight fer them? That might."
"How long tae organize?"
"Three days if we move fast. I'll coordinate with Malcolm on supplies. Ye prepare yer faither and select the warriors we'll take." His voice dropped. "We need tae act now, while we still have momentum from the betrothal announcement."
"Aye." She met his gaze. "Three days then."
He caught her hand briefly, squeezed once. "Trust me on this, lass. We move forward taegether or we lose everything."
The contact sent familiar sparks racing up her arm, awareness flooding through her in ways she was learning to expect but never quite prepared fer.
His palm felt warm and calloused against hers, his grip firm without being controlling.
before he released her and turned back to the map, already planning logistics.