Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The hoofbeats pounded a rhythm that matched Maighread's racing heart. They'd left the bloodied road behind, the bodies cooling in the forest shadows, but she couldn't shake the image of Tavish throwing himself between her and that mercenary.
The way he'd moved, fast and brutal, driven by something far beyond duty or obligation.
She glanced at him riding beside her, his jaw set and his eyes scanning the treeline for threats.
Blood still streaked his face, dried now into dark lines that made him look savage.
Dangerous. Beautiful. The thought struck her so suddenly she nearly lost her grip on the reins.
When had that happened?
When had she stopped seeing him as merely convenient, a shield against Keir's ambitions, and started seeing him as… essential? The answer came swift and terrible: when she'd watched that blade arc toward him during the fight. When her heart had stopped beating until she saw him roll clear.
When the thought of his death had carved through her chest so sharply she'd tasted blood. She wasn't pretending anymore. The realization settled over her, heavy as winter frost. Everything had shifted.
Changed.
The betrothal that had started as desperate fiction had become something far more complicated. Something real. Maighread studied Tavish's profile, the strong line of his jaw, the way his hair caught the fading sunlight.
She wanted to reach over, to touch him, to make certain he was truly there and whole.
The urge felt foreign and frightening in its intensity.
Keir's threat had terrified her, true. The prospect of losing her lands, her clan, her autonomy had driven her to reckless action. But the thought of losing Tavish?
That unsettled her in ways she hadn't known were possible.
Because losing Tavish wouldn't just mean losing protection or an ally.
It would mean losing the man who made her laugh when she wanted to scream.
Who challenged her to be sharper, smarter, better.
Who looked at her as though she was worth protecting not because of what she represented, but because of who she was.
Och, she was in trouble.
Tavish turned his head, catching her watching him. His expression softened fractionally. "Are ye all right, lass?"
"Aye." The lie came automatically. "Just thinking."
"About?"
Everything. Nothing. How completely ye've turned my world upside down without even trying.
"The attack," she said instead. "How they kenned exactly where we'd be."
His jaw tightened. "We'll find the traitor. I promise ye that."
"I ken ye will." The certainty in her voice surprised them both.
But it was true. She trusted him to root out whoever had betrayed them.
Trusted him to keep his word. Trusted him in ways she'd never trusted anyone outside her immediate family.
They rode in silence for several more minutes, the tension between them different now.
Charged with awareness and things neither of them could say.
Maighread found herself hyper-conscious of the distance between their horses, the way their legs nearly brushed with each stride.
She wondered if Tavish felt it too. This shift.
The evolution from performance into something neither of them had planned for.
His hand flexed on the reins, and she caught the tremble in his fingers before he stilled it.
He was shaken. As shaken as she was, though he hid it better.
"Tavish," she started, then stopped, unsure what she'd meant to say.
He glanced at her, waiting.
"Thank ye," she finished quietly. "Fer protecting me."
"Ye dinnae need tae thank me fer that."
"I dae, though. Ye could've been killed."
"Ye too." His voice roughened. "That's what I cannae stop thinking about. How close they came tae taking ye."
"But they didnae."
"This time." He looked away, his profile stark against the grey sky. "Next time—"
"There willnae be a next time. We'll be ready."
"Ye cannae ken that."
"Nay, but I can believe it." She urged her mare closer until their legs did brush, the contact grounding. "And I can trust that ye'll be there if it happens again."
Something flickered across his face. Relief? Gratitude? She couldn't name it, but it made her chest ache.
"Always," he said simply. "I'll always be there."
The promise hung between them, far heavier than the words themselves.
Maighread knew what he wasn't saying. That this had stopped being about debts owed or favors rendered.
That somewhere along the way, it had become personal.
That leaving her now would destroy him same as it would destroy her.
Neither of them spoke the truth aloud. Perhaps they weren't ready.
Perhaps the fear was still too fresh, the danger too immediate.
But they both knew it. The lie had become truth.
MacEwan Castle rose ahead, its walls solid and reassuring.
Home. Safety. Or as much safety as existed anywhere while Keir Sinclair still drew breath.
The gates swung open at their approach, guards already moving into position.
Someone must have spotted them from the towers, seen the urgency of their pace.
They clattered into the courtyard, horses lathered and blowing hard.
Maighread's legs trembled as Tavish lifted her from the saddle, his hands steady on her waist despite the chaos erupting around them.
"What happened?" The captain of the guard appeared, taking in their bloodied state with sharp eyes. "Were ye attacked?"
"Aye." Tavish didn't release Maighread, keeping her close to his side. "Sinclair mercenaries. They tried tae abduct Lady Maighread."
Voices erupted. Questions flew. The captain barked orders, sending men to secure the gates and double the watch. Someone ran to inform the Council. Maighread felt herself swaying, the aftermath of terror finally catching up to her. Tavish's arm moved around her shoulders, supporting her weight.
"Easy, lass," he murmured into her hair. "Ye're safe now."
"I ken." But she leaned into him anyway, grateful for his solid warmth.
Kathleen pushed through the growing crowd, her face pale. "Maighread! Saints above, are ye hurt?"
"Nay, I'm fine. Tavish kept me safe." Her cousin's eyes darted between them, noting how closely they stood, how Tavish's arm remained firmly around Maighread's shoulders. "I can see that. Come, ye need tae sit down. Both of ye."
"The Council needs tae be informed," Maighread protested.
"They're being summoned now." Kathleen gripped her arm, gentle but insistent. "But first, ye need tae breathe. And clean that blood off before ye frighten the servants half tae death."
Maighread glanced down at her dress. Dark stains marred the fabric, some hers from handling Tavish's wounds, most from the battle itself. "Me faither," she said suddenly. "I need tae see him. He should hear this from me before the Council descends."
Tavish's arm tightened fractionally. "Is he well enough tae receive visitors?"
"I dinnae ken. But he deserves tae ken what happened." She pulled away from his embrace reluctantly. "I'll go tae him now."
"Maighread—"
"I need tae dae this." She met his eyes, silently asking him to understand. "Alone."
He searched her face for a long moment, then nodded. "I'll handle the Council. Buy ye some time."
"Thank ye." She left him standing in the courtyard, surrounded by guards and servants, and made her way through the familiar corridors.
Her legs felt unsteady, her hands still trembling with residual fear.
But she forced herself to move with purpose, to appear stronger than she felt.
The guards outside her father's chamber straightened at her approach.
One of them took in her bloodied appearance and blanched.
"I'm fine," she said before he could ask. "Is Faither awake?"
"Aye, m'lady. He's been asking fer ye."
She pushed open the door quietly, slipping inside. The chamber was dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon light. Her father lay propped against pillows, his face gaunt and grey. But his eyes opened at the sound of her entry, and they remained sharp despite his failing body.
"Maighread." His voice came thin and reedy. "What's happened? Ye're covered in blood."
She crossed to his bedside, sinking into the chair placed there. "We were attacked on the road back from the border village. Sinclair mercenaries."
His hand found hers, the grip weak but insistent. "Are ye hurt?"
"Nay, Faither. Tavish protected me. He..." Her voice caught. "He saved me life."
"Tell me."
So she did. She recounted the ambush, the coordinated attack, the orders to take her alive.
She described how Tavish had fought, how he'd placed himself between her and every threat.
How close they'd come to failing. Angus listened without interruption, his fingers tightening on hers whenever the tale turned particularly grim.
When she finished, silence settled over the chamber.
"Keir has escalated beyond what I anticipated," her father said finally. "This was nay political maneuvering. This was attempted kidnapping."
"Aye. He means tae force a marriage before Tavish and I can legitimize our betrothal."
"Then ye must marry quickly. Before he can strike again."
Maighread's breath caught. "Faither—"
"Dinnae argue with me, daughter. I may be dying, but I'm nae blind." He squeezed her hand with what little strength he had. "Tavish MacBain is good fer ye. Ye chose well."
Heat flooded her cheeks. "I didnae choose him. Nae really. It was a lie tae escape Keir."
His eyes held hers, knowing. "Is it still?"
Maighread found she couldn't answer. Couldn't voice what she'd realized on that ride home.
"He makes ye laugh," Angus continued when she remained silent.
"I've heard it from the servants. And he challenges ye tae be sharper, fiercer.
Ye've grown into the leader I always kenned ye could be, and part of that is because he refuses tae let ye hide. "
"He thinks leadership terrifies him," Maighread said softly. "He carries guilt from something that happened years ago. Something ye protected him from."
"Aye, I did. And I'd dae it again." Her father's expression turned distant.
"Tavish was little more than a lad when that border incident happened.
He made a mistake, one born of youth and inexperience.
But he's learned from it. Grown. The man who saved yer life today is nae the same frightened boy who came tae me begging fer mercy. "
"He still fears causing harm. Making the wrong decision."
"All good leaders carry that fear. It's what keeps them cautious." Angus coughed, the sound rattling in his chest. When he recovered, he fixed her with a stern look. "But tell me true, daughter. Dae ye care fer him?"
The question pierced through her carefully constructed defenses. Did she care for Tavish? The man who made her pulse race and her thoughts scatter? Who touched her so gently while fighting so fiercely? Who looked at her as though she was worth dying for?
"Aye," she whispered. "I care fer him. More than I should. More than is wise."
"Why is it nae wise tae care fer the man ye could marry?"
"Because I dinnae ken if he feels the same." The admission hurt to voice. "What if this is still just a burden tae him? A debt he's repaying? What if when Keir is dealt with and the danger passes, he'll want tae leave? This was never supposed tae turn intae a marriage."
"Dae ye nae see how he looks at ye? "
"That is just—"
"Love, daughter. That was love." Angus's voice softened. "The kind that drives a man tae madness when the woman he loves is threatened. I ken that look. I had it meself when yer maither was alive."
Maighread's throat tightened. "Ye really think so?"
"I ken so. That lad would walk through fire fer ye. The question is, are ye brave enough tae let him?"
Was she? Could she set aside her fear of losing control, of being diminished by marriage, long enough to trust what was growing between them?
"I dinnae ken how," she admitted.
"Start by being honest. With him and with yerself." Her father's grip loosened, his strength waning. "Life is too short fer games, Maighread. Trust me on that. If ye love him, tell him. Give him the chance tae love ye back."
"And if he daesnae?"
"Then at least ye'll ken. But I'd wager me remaining days that he daes." A faint smile crossed his weathered face. "Now go. The Council will be gathering, and ye need tae wash that blood off before ye give old Malcolm a heart attack."
Maighread leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her father's forehead. "Rest, Faither. I'll handle the Council."
"I ken ye will."
She left the chamber quietly, her mind spinning with everything he'd said. He thought Tavish loved her. The possibility made her heart race and her palms sweat. Could it be true?
She replayed the day in her mind. How Tavish had checked her for injuries, his hands frantic and thorough.
How he'd held her close in the courtyard, refusing to let go until he was certain she was safe.
How he'd looked at her during the ride, his expression raw and unguarded.
Maybe her father was right. Maybe Tavish did feel more than obligation.
But what if he didn't? What if she confessed her growing feelings only to discover he was merely being honorable? The thought made her stomach twist. She couldn't bear it. Couldn't bear to see pity in his eyes when she told him the truth.
Better to stay silent. To protect herself from that particular devastation. Even if it meant never knowing what they could have been. Maighread made her way to her chambers, her thoughts a tangled mess of hope and fear.