Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The gathering had been called hastily, a small affair meant to reassure the household after the day's attack. Tavish stood near the hearth in the Great Hall, nursing a cup of ale he hadn't touched and watching Maighread from across the room.
She moved through the assembled guests with practiced grace, her manner composed despite the violence they'd survived mere hours ago.
She spoke to council members, nodded at servants, smiled at anxious villagers who'd come seeking reassurance.
Every inch the laird's daughter. Every inch the woman who would lead that clan.
And every time their eyes met, she smiled slightly.
It was subtle. A barely-there quirk of her lips that no one else would notice. But Tavish saw it, felt it straight through his chest to settle low in his belly. Because he knew exactly what that smile meant.
She was remembering. Same as him.
The taste of her mouth. The feel of her hands clutching his shirt. The way she'd looked at him when she'd asked what would happen if she had begged.
Tavish took a long drink of ale, trying to cool the heat that threatened to show on his face. They'd agreed to wait. To be proper and careful until the betrothal was legitimate. But standing there watching her move through the room, knowing what lay between them, made waiting feel impossible.
Maighread glanced his way again. This time, her gaze grew into something almost wicked before she turned back to the elderly woman speaking to her.
Och, she was going to kill him.
"Ye look troubled, lad." Greg appeared at his elbow, his own cup already half-empty. "Something bothering ye?"
"Nay. Just thinking."
"About the attack?"
"Among other things." Tavish forced his attention away from Maighread. "Have ye heard anything from the men? Any word on where those mercenaries fled?"
"Into the woods toward Sinclair territory. We tracked them for a while but lost the trail after dark." Greg's expression hardened. "They'll be reporting back tae Keir by now. Telling him the attempt failed."
"Which means he'll try again."
"Aye. Soon, probably." His friend studied him. "Ye protected her well today. Fought fierce."
Tavish thought of that mercenary's hand reaching for Maighread's leg. The cold terror that had flooded his veins. "I nearly wasnae fast enough."
"But ye were. That's what matters."
"Is it?" He gripped his cup tighter. "Next time—"
"Next time ye'll be faster still. Or she will. That lass is nay helpless flower, Tavish. She can handle herself."
"I ken that." He did. But it didn't stop the fear that gnawed at him whenever he thought about how easily she could be taken.
Greg clapped him on the shoulder. "Whatever's going on between ye two, it's changed ye. Made ye sharper. More focused."
"What makes ye think something's going on?"
"The way ye cannae stop looking at her. The way she keeps glancing over here with that secretive smile." Greg grinned. "Ye forget I've kenned ye since we were lads. I can tell when ye’re distracted by a woman."
Tavish opened his mouth to deny it, then closed it again. What was the point? Greg would see through any lie he told.
"It's complicated," he said instead.
"It always is." His friend's expression turned serious. "But fer what it's worth, I think she's good fer ye. Makes ye think before ye charge into situations. Makes ye want tae be better."
The observation struck closer to truth than Tavish wanted to admit. Maighread did make him want to be better. Smarter. Worthy of the trust she'd placed in him.
A servant approached with a lute, speaking quietly to one of the council members. Moments later, soft music began to fill the hall. Not a full performance, just gentle background noise meant to ease the tension still lingering from the attack.
Tavish watched as several couples moved to the center of the room, forming the beginning of a dance. It was simple, traditional. The kind of thing expected at gatherings such as this.
His eyes found Maighread again. She stood near the far wall, watching the dancers with an expression he couldn't quite read.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Tavish crossed the room.
She saw him coming, her eyebrows lifting slightly. "Tavish."
"Maighread." He stopped in front of her, acutely aware of the eyes tracking his movement. "Would ye dance with me?"
"Dance?"
"Aye. Yer betrothed is asking ye tae dance. It would look strange if ye refused."
Something flickered in her eyes. Amusement? Challenge? "And here I thought ye didnae care about appearances."
"I care about giving the Council nay reason tae question our match." He offered his hand, palm up. "So. Will ye dance with me, lass?"
She placed her hand in his, her touch sending sparks racing up his arm. "Aye. I suppose I must."
He led her to the center of the room, positioning them among the other couples. The music swelled, and Tavish placed his hand at her waist, keeping the contact proper. His other hand held hers, raised to shoulder height.
They began to move.
The dance was one he'd learned as a lad, simple steps that required little thought. Which was fortunate, because most of his thoughts were occupied with how close Maighread stood. How her waist felt beneath his palm, warm and firm. How her grey eyes watched him with that same secretive knowledge.
"Ye've been staring at me all evening," she murmured as they turned.
"Have I?"
"Ye ken ye have."
"Can ye blame me? After what happened in me chambers?"
Her cheeks flushed, but her smile remained. "I thought we agreed tae be proper."
"We are being proper. I'm keeping me hand exactly where it should be." He pulled her slightly closer as the dance required, their bodies nearly touching. "Though I'll admit, it's taking considerable effort."
"Is it now?"
"Aye. Because all I can think about is how ye looked when ye asked me what would happen if ye begged."
Her breath hitched. "Tavish."
"What would ye have done if I'd said yes?" He leaned in, his lips near her ear. "If I'd told ye tae get on yer knees and ask me properly?"
"Ye wouldn't have."
"Nay. But only because I have some shred of honor left." The dance turned them again, and he used the movement to press her closer. "Though that shred grows thinner every time ye look at me the way ye are right now."
"And how am I looking at ye?"
"As though ye're imagining what it would be like if we weren't in a room full of people."
She laughed softly, the sound going straight through him. "Maybe I am."
"Then we're both doomed, lass. Because I've been imagining that since the moment ye walked intae the hall taenight."
They moved through the steps in silence for a moment, the music swelling around them. Other couples danced nearby, oblivious to the tension crackling between him and Maighread.
"This isnae helping," she said finally.
"What isnae?"
"Dancing with ye. Being this close. It's making waiting harder."
"I ken." His hand flexed on her waist.
The music began to wind down, the final notes drifting through the hall. Tavish reluctantly stepped back, releasing her waist but keeping hold of her hand for a moment longer than necessary.
"Thank ye fer the dance," he said, loud enough for those nearby to hear.
"The pleasure was mine." Her eyes held his, conveying far more than her polite words suggested.
He bowed slightly, then stepped away, leaving her standing in the center of the room. It took every ounce of control he possessed not to look back.
The gathering continued for another hour, but Tavish barely noticed. He moved through the motions, speaking to guests and reassuring nervous villagers. But his mind stayed fixed on Maighread. On the promise of what would come once they were finally free to stop pretending.
When the last guests finally departed and the hall began to empty, Tavish slipped away. He climbed the stairs to his chambers, intending to try for sleep despite knowing it would be futile.
And surely enough, sleep refused to come.
He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day over and over. The attack. The terror of nearly losing her. The kiss in his chambers. The dance.
After what felt like hours, he gave up. Rising, he pulled on his trews and shirt, leaving the laces loose. Perhaps a walk through the castle would clear his mind.
The corridors were dark and quiet, most of the household already abed. Tavish made his way to the solar without conscious thought, drawn by some instinct he couldn't name.
Firelight flickered beneath the door.
He pushed it open quietly. Maighread sat in one of the chairs near the hearth, wrapped in a thick robe. She looked up as he entered, unsurprised.
"Couldnae sleep either?" she asked.
"Nay. Too much running through me head."
"Same."
The fire had burned low, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. Tavish settled into the chair beside hers, close enough to feel her warmth but not touching. They sat in silence for a long moment, both staring into the flames.
"I dinnae regret staying," he said finally. "When I left MacBain lands tae escort Marsaili home, I thought it would be a simple journey. A favor fer me sister. But then I met ye, and everything changed."
"Changed how?"
"I stopped thinking about returning home.
Stopped seeing this as temporary." He turned his head to look at her profile, illuminated by firelight.
"Ye asked me earlier what happens next. The truth is, I dinnae want there tae be an 'after this.
' I want tae stay. Nae just until Keir is dealt with. Permanently."
Maighread's hands tightened on the arms of her chair. "That's a significant decision."
"Aye. But it's the right one." He paused. "Daes it frighten ye? The thought of me staying?"
"Nay." She finally turned to meet his eyes. "What frightens me is how much I want ye tae stay. How much I've come tae need ye here."
"That frightens ye?"
"Aye. Because needing someone gives them power over ye. And I've spent so long fighting tae maintain control of me own life that the thought of surrendering even a piece of it is…" She trailed off, searching for words.
"Terrifying," he finished for her.
"Aye."
Tavish understood. He felt it too. The pull between them, that connection that had grown from necessity into something far more dangerous. It would be easier to walk away. Safer to keep his heart guarded.
But he didn't want safe. He wanted her.
"I'm afraid too," he admitted. "Of making the wrong choice. Of failing ye when ye need me most. Of becoming the kind of leader who causes harm instead of preventing it."
"Ye willnae."
"Ye cannae ken that."
"I can. Because I've seen ye make difficult choices already.
Seen ye put others before yerself. That's nae the mark of a man who'll fail when it matters.
" She shifted slightly in her chair, angling toward him.
"Yer faither's friend saw something in ye worth protecting all those years ago. And I see it too."
The words settled over him, soothing some of the guilt he carried. "Thank ye fer that."
"It's only the truth."
They fell silent again, the fire crackling softly. Tavish was acutely aware of how close she sat. How easy it would be to reach over, to pull her into his lap and finish what they'd started earlier.
But he didn't move.
Neither did she.
They sat together in the quiet, sharing the companionship and the understanding that what lay ahead would test them both. Keir wouldn't stop. The Council would continue to question their match. The traitor in their midst remained unidentified.
But sitting there beside Maighread, Tavish felt something settle in his chest. A certainty he hadn't known he was seeking.
That was where he belonged. Not at MacBain castle, not traveling the Highlands. There. Beside that fierce, brilliant woman who challenged him to be better.
The fire burned down further, the room growing colder. Eventually, Maighread stirred.
"I should return tae me chambers," she said softly. "Before someone notices we're both gone."
"Aye."
But neither of them moved immediately. They remained seated, reluctant to break the moment.
Finally, Maighread rose. Tavish stood as well, following her to the door. She paused with her hand on the latch, looking back at him.
She smiled, then slipped through the door into the darkened corridor. Tavish watched her go, making no move to follow or call her back.
When she'd disappeared from view, he returned to the dying fire, sinking back into his chair.