Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The corridor outside Angus MacEwan's chamber was quiet, the noise from the Great Hall a distant murmur. Tavish paused outside the door, steadying himself, then knocked firmly.
"Come," a weak voice called.
Tavish pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was warm, a fire crackling in the hearth, but it couldn't chase away the scent of sickness that hung in the air. Angus lay propped against pillows, his face gaunt, his breathing labored. But his eyes were sharp when they fixed on Tavish.
"Lad," Angus said. "What brings ye here?"
Tavish closed the door and crossed to the bedside. He didn't sit. This required him to stand.
"I've come tae ask fer yer daughter's hand in marriage."
Angus went still. For a long moment, he just stared, assessing.
"Ye've already claimed her as yer betrothed," Angus said finally.
"Aye. But that was an arrangement. This is different. This is real." Tavish's voice steadied. "I want tae marry Maighread. Truly marry her. And I'm asking yer permission."
Angus studied him, reading him the way he'd read men his entire life. Then he nodded slowly.
"Ye have it. Me blessing. Me permission. Marry her."
"Thank ye."
"But ye must act quickly."
Tavish frowned. "How quickly?"
Angus shifted against the pillows, his breathing rougher. "Days, lad. Nae weeks. Nae months. Days."
"Why the rush?"
"Because I willnae be laird much longer." Angus's voice was blunt, matter-of-fact. "Me body's failing. I have weeks at most. Maybe less."
Tavish's chest tightened. "Angus—"
"Listen tae me." The old man's gaze sharpened. "If I die before Maighread is married, this clan will tear itself apart. The Council will fight over who holds authority. Sinclair will use the chaos tae make his move. Everything will collapse."
"I understand."
"Dae ye?" Angus leaned forward slightly. "Because I need ye tae truly understand. Ye must marry her before I'm gone. Make it official. Make it binding. Give her the protection of yer name before there's naebody left tae enforce it."
"Then it will be done." Tavish's voice was firm. "I promise ye. The wedding will be arranged immediately."
Angus exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Good. That's all I needed tae hear."
He extended his hand. Tavish clasped it, feeling the weakness in the older man's grip, the tremor in his fingers. But the handshake was sure. Binding.
"Thank ye," Angus said quietly. "Fer loving her. Fer protecting her. Fer giving me peace before I go."
"I'll nae fail her. Or ye."
"I ken ye willnae. And she really loves ye."
They held the grip for another moment, then Angus released him, sinking back against the pillows with obvious exhaustion.
"Go on, lad," Angus said. "Ye have work tae dae. Dinnae waste time sitting with an old man."
Tavish bowed his head slightly, then turned and left the chamber, closing the door quietly behind him.
Maighread stood in the solar, staring at the ledger in front of her without really seeing the numbers. The room was quiet, removed from the chaos of the Great Hall where the men still celebrated. She'd escaped there to think, to breathe, to process everything that had happened in the past weeks.
The door opened behind her.
She turned, expecting Kathleen or a servant. Instead, Tavish stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind him.
"I need tae speak with ye," he said.
His voice was different. Serious. Determined in a way that made her pulse quicken.
"Alright." She set down the quill she'd been holding. "What is it?"
Tavish crossed the room in three long strides. He stopped in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. They were blazing with something she couldn't quite name.
"I just went tae yer faither," he said.
Her breath caught. "Why?"
"Tae ask fer yer hand in marriage. Properly. Nae as a lie or a strategy, but as the truth."
The world seemed to tilt slightly. Maighread gripped the edge of the desk behind her.
"What did he say?"
"He gave his blessing." Tavish's jaw tightened.
"But that's nae why I'm here. I'm nae asking ye tae marry me because yer faither agreed.
I'm asking because I love ye, Maighread.
Because I cannae imagine me life without ye in it.
Because every breath I take feels easier when ye're near, and every moment apart feels like suffocation. "
The words hit her like a physical force. She stared at him, her throat closing.
"I love ye," Tavish repeated, his voice rougher now. "I've tried nae tae. Tried tae keep distance, tae stay practical, tae remember this started as a lie. But it's nae a lie anymore. It hasnae been fer a long time. And I willnae pretend otherwise fer another bloody second."
Maighread's eyes burned. "Tavish—"
"We already talked about this. But I want to make sure this is clear. I'm asking ye tae marry me, nae because of Keir, nae because of politics, nae because of anything except that I love ye and I want ye as me wife. Will ye have me?"
The question hung in the air between them. Maighread felt tears spill over, hot against her cheeks.
"Aye," she whispered. "I ken we already spoke about it.
But aye, I'll marry ye, because I love ye too, even if I have nae said those words yet.
I've never been more certain of anything.
" She covered his hands with hers. "I love ye too.
I think I have since ye first stood between me and those men on the road. Maybe even before."
He kissed her then, fierce and claiming. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing closer, pouring everything she felt into the contact. When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, his forehead rested against hers.
"There's something else ye need tae ken," Tavish said quietly.
The shift in his tone made her stomach clench. "What?"
"Yer faither told me tae act quickly. He said…" Tavish's voice roughened. "He said he willnae be laird much longer. Weeks at most. Maybe less."
The words struck like a blow. Maighread went very still.
"He said if he dies before ye're married, the clan will tear itself apart. The Council will fight fer control. Sinclair will use the chaos tae make his move." Tavish's grip on her tightened. "We need tae marry soon, Maighread. Days, nae weeks. Before it's too late."
The reality of it crashed over her. Her father was dying. Actually dying. She'd known he was ill and that his time was coming soon, she had seen him growing weaker, but some part of her had refused to accept the finality of it. Now there was no denying it.
"Days," she repeated numbly.
"Aye."
She pulled back slightly, her vision blurring as tears welled up again. "He's really going tae die."
"Maighread—"
"I ken he's ill. I've kenned fer months. But hearing ye say it, hearing that he's planning fer his death, that he's… " Her voice broke. "This is how it ends fer him. Weak and failing, rushing tae marry me off before he's gone."
"He's nae just rushing tae marry ye off. He's ensuring ye're protected. That's different."
"I ken. I ken that. But it daesnae make it easier." The tears came faster now, hot and unstoppable. "He should have years left. He should see his grandchildren. He should…"
She couldn't finish. The grief swallowed the words.
Tavish pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her completely. "I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry."
Maighread buried her face in his shirt and sobbed. All the fear and pain and exhaustion she'd been holding back for weeks poured out in harsh, wrenching sounds. Tavish held her through it, one hand stroking her hair, the other firm against her back.
"I dinnae want tae lose him," she choked out. "I'm nae ready."
"I ken. Nobody ever is."
"He's all I have left. Me maither's gone. I have nay siblings. Just him. And now…"
"Ye have me." Tavish's voice was fierce. "Ye have me, Maighread. Ye'll always have me."
She clung to him, her fingers twisting in his shirt. They stood like that for a long time, her crying and him holding her, neither speaking. The fire crackled softly in the hearth. Outside, distant sounds of celebration drifted through the windows.
Eventually, the tears slowed. Maighread's breathing evened out, though she didn't pull away. Tavish's steady presence anchored her, kept her from fracturing completely.
"I'm sorry," she whispered finally.
"Dinnae apologize. Nae fer this. Never fer this."
She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark with concern, his expression gentle in a way she'd rarely seen.
"We'll give him what he wants," she said quietly. "We'll marry quickly. I want him tae be there with me when I marry ye."
"Aye. We will."
The next day passed in a blur of activity.
Maighread woke early and immediately began issuing orders. The wedding would be small, she decided. Immediate family, close friends, essential council members. There wasn't time for anything elaborate, and given her father's condition, celebration felt wrong anyway.
Tavish found her in the kitchens mid-morning, consulting with the head cook about the wedding feast.
"Simple dishes," Maighread was saying. "Roasted meat, bread, cheese. Naething fancy. We dinnae need—"
"We need enough tae feed everyone properly," Tavish interrupted. "Dinnae skimp because ye think it's inappropriate."
The cook looked between them nervously.
Maighread turned to Tavish. "I wasnae planning tae skimp. I was planning tae be practical."
"Practical is fine. Meager isnae." He glanced at the cook. "Prepare what ye normally would fer a feast. Dinnae hold back."
"Aye, me laird."
"He's nae—" Maighread stopped herself. Soon he would be laird. Or at least her husband, which carried similar authority. "Dae as he says."
The cook nodded and retreated to the ovens. Maighread shot Tavish an exasperated look.
Despite her irritation, warmth bloomed in her chest. This felt normal. Comfortable. Like they'd been partnering fer years instead of weeks.
They moved through the castle together after that, dividing tasks naturally. Tavish handled arrangements with his men and consulted with Greg about security. Maighread spoke with Kathleen about her dress and worked with the steward on guest accommodations.
In passing moments, they found each other. His hand brushed hers in a corridor. Her fingers lingered on his shoulder when she passed behind him. Small touches that steadied both of them.
That afternoon, Maighread returned to her chamber to find a note on her desk.
The priest confirmed he can perform the ceremony at midday in two days' time. I told him we'd meet him tomorrow tae discuss vows. —T
She smiled, running her finger over the hasty scrawl. Then she pulled out parchment and wrote back.
Perfect. I'll arrange fer flowers from the garden. Kathleen says white roses are traditional. Dae ye have a preference? —M
She left the note in his chamber, tucked under a stone on the windowsill where he'd see it.
An hour later, she found his response in the same spot in her room.
Whatever ye want is fine. I only care that ye're there. —T
Her throat tightened. She pressed the note to her chest briefly before tucking it away carefully.
Evening brought another round of tasks. Maighread finalized the guest list with the steward while Tavish reviewed defensive positions with his men in case Sinclair tried something during the ceremony. They met again in the Great Hall as dinner was being set out.
"All arranged?" Tavish asked.
"Aye. Ye?"
"Aye."
They sat together, eating in comfortable silence. Around them, the castle buzzed with preparation. Servants hurried past carrying linens and supplies. Council members huddled in corners, discussing the sudden wedding. Maighread caught snippets of conversation, some approving, some skeptical.
She didn't care. Let them talk.
"Ye're exhausted," Tavish said quietly.
"So are ye."
"I'm nae the one who spent three hours arguing with the seamstress about hem length."
"It was important."
"Was it?"
"Aye. I refuse tae trip over me own dress during me wedding vows."
His mouth twitched. "Fair enough."
After dinner, they walked through the gardens together. The night air was cool, stars bright overhead. Maighread breathed deeply, letting the quiet settle her frayed nerves.
"Two days," she said softly.
"Aye. Two days and ye'll be me wife."
"Are ye nervous?"
"Nay. Are ye?"
"A little. Nae about marrying ye. Just… everything else."
Tavish stopped walking and turned to face her. "We'll handle everything else taegether. One thing at a time. First the wedding. Then whatever comes after."
"What if—"
"Nay. Nay what-ifs taenight." He cupped her face gently. "Taenight we just breathe. Tomorrow we finish preparations. The day after, we marry. That's all we need tae think about."
She nodded, leaning into his touch. "Alright."
"Get some rest. Ye'll need yer strength."
"So will ye."
"I'll sleep when ye dae."
They parted at the base of the stairs, his fingers trailing down her arm before releasing her completely. Maighread climbed to her chamber, her body heavy with exhaustion but her mind surprisingly calm.
Two days. In two days, she would marry Tavish MacBain. The thought terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.
She undressed slowly, then slid between the sheets. Sleep came quickly, dragging her under into a dreamless dark.
When she woke the next morning, there was another note on her bedside table.
Good morning, wife-tae-be. Try nae tae terrify too many servants today. —T
She laughed despite herself, warmth flooding through her.
Two days.
She could manage two days.