Chapter Twenty-Three
“And just where do ye think ye are going?”
Moira gasped, whirled around, and gaped at Tavig.
He stood in the stable doorway, his clenched fists planted firmly on his hips.
He looked a little cleaner than he had when she had last seen him.
He also looked furious. She was both elated and saddened to see him.
It pleased her beyond words that he had come after her, but now she would have to go through the painful farewell she had been trying so desperately to avoid.
“I was trying to leave, but I seem to be having trouble saddling a horse.”
“Good. I should hate to have to hunt down my own wife because she is a horse thief.”
“A wife cannae steal from her husband.”
“Aye, she can. The law says that what I own is still mine, and what ye own is mine as weel.”
“I dinnae think that is quite right.”
There was a cold, hard tone to his voice that made her uneasy.
She was not sure what emotion he was feeling besides anger.
Considering all that had happened and what she was about to do, their conversation was a little silly.
It began to look as if he had not come to stop her, just to complain about what she was taking with her.
“How did ye find out I was here?” she asked, suddenly recalling that the last time she had seen him, he was thoroughly engrossed in celebrating his victory. That should have kept him occupied long enough for her to get away.
“I asked Mungan.”
Tavig walked over to her horse, gently pushing Moira aside.
He removed the saddle she had been unable to secure and tossed it aside as well.
His emotions were still running high, and he used the few minutes it took to put the horse away to try to get a firmer grip on himself, on the feelings raging through his body.
It hurt, and the pain made him angry. Frustration also gnawed at him.
He had tried everything he knew how to do to make Moira want to stay with him, yet she was trying to leave.
Tavig did not know what else to do, and that sense of helplessness also made him angry.
Visiting that anger on Moira would not solve anything, however.
Moira softly cleared her throat. “I asked Mungan not to say anything.”
“Ye should have been more specific, lass. He didnae say anything. He answered my question.” He turned to look at her, her obvious nervousness giving him some satisfaction.
“Ye are my wife now. That means ye stay with me. The law says ye are my property, and I am not a mon who likes to lose his property.”
“When I said I would marry you, ye said it didnae have to be forever, that I still had the freedom to change my mind.”
“I lied.”
“Tavig!”
“Curse ye, Moira. Why are ye running away? I am certain ye care for me at least a little, we share a passion that is sweet beyond words, and I am also certain ye love Adair. So why leave?”
“For the reasons I have told ye again and again, since we first started out on this journey. Now ye ken that there were even more than I told you about. I carry a greater spur to superstition than I can fairly burden ye with.”
“Ah, your healing hands. I still puzzle over why ye kept that a secret, especially from me.”
“For the same reasons ye are loath to let people ken ye have the sight.”
“Ye thought I would turn from you?” he yelled. “Me? A mon who understands better than any other the burden ye are carrying?”
“The clever part of me kept pointing that out, calling my fears groundless, but fear can make one unreasonable.”
“Aye, ye have shown that often enough.”
Moira bit back a sharp response to that casually flung insult. Tavig was angry, which made him nasty. She had known that he would be furious. It was why she had tried so hard to keep her leaving a secret.
“That doesnae matter now,” she said. “Howbeit, ye must now see why I have to leave. Mayhap all the other things I mentioned wouldnae be enough to raise superstition to a life-threatening height, but putting a seer and a healer together certainly would.”
“When my people saw ye using your skills, did they turn from you?”
“Weel, nay, but the midst of a battle isnae the best place to judge such things.”
“But ye arenae staying long enough to see if things will change now that the battle is over.”
“Nay, but as we saw in Craigmoordun, things can change so swiftly, become threatening so quickly, ye dinnae have time to get away. I daren’t chance that because of me ye may not have a chance to flee.”
“So, this is all for my sake. Did it not occur to you that I am mon enough to decide whether or not I wish to face those risks? Did ye even think to ask me?”
She blushed with guilt and some embarrassment.
He was right. She had, in fact, never asked him how he felt about facing any possible consequences of their marriage.
The dangers had been clear to her, so she had simply told him how it was to be.
Moira knew she had always just said we cannae.
She had never asked him if he wanted to take the risk.
A moment later she inwardly shook away those feelings.
The danger was real. One of them had to have the common sense to do what was needed to avoid that danger.
She sternly ignored the little voice accusing her of deceiving herself, that there was far more to her urge to flee than a fear of superstition.
“Nay, I didnae think to ask you,” she agreed. “Ye ne’er agreed with me about the dangers, so naturally ye would say ye were willing to face them. Aye, and then ye would convince me. Life will be much simpler for you if I leave.”
“Simpler for me?” He stepped over to her, grasping her by the shoulders and shaking her slightly. “How can life be easier for me when half of me isnae here? Mayhap my error was in treating ye so gently, like some poor wounded bird.”
“Wounded bird?” Moira pushed aside the hair that had tumbled into her face to scowl at him.
Tavig ignored her protest and continued. “Mayhap I spoke too much of fate and destiny, thus giving ye the idea I was being pushed toward ye by some unseen hand and had no free choice. Do ye really think me so weak-willed?”
He gently held her face between his hands, giving her a slow, heated kiss.
Moira tried to resist, knowing that the passion they shared could easily weaken her resolve.
She discovered she did not have the strength to turn away from what might be her last kiss.
When he ended it, she felt dazed and stared at him through heavy-lidded eyes.
He had successfully reminded her of how much she was going to give up, and that saddened her.
There was also a soft look in his dark eyes that promised her far more than passion.
Moira so desperately wanted to believe there was more; she struggled to fight the strong pull of that look.
“I dinnae ken what more I can do, lass,” he said in a hoarse voice.
“Ye dinnae seem willing to heed me, my words, or my actions. I have no words to tell ye how sharply I need you and I dinnae mean just in my bed. Aye, and if ye dinnae ken how much I want you, how ye can make me eager with just a smile, then there is naught else I can do. What do ye think drove me to act like such a crazed mon when Jeanne nearly succeeded in having ye burned as a witch? When Mungan told me ye were leaving, ’twas like a knife stuck in my belly.
The knowledge that I have already done all I can do to make ye stay, that there is naught else for me to do, was akin to twisting that knife in the wound. ”
Moira blinked, too emotional and confused to speak.
There was such feeling in his voice that she felt bumps rise on the skin of her forearms and shivered.
Suddenly any possible danger they might face because of their particular gifts was unimportant, yet she was afraid to trust her own judgment of what was behind Tavig’s words.
“Tavig? Are ye saying that ye really care for me?” She swallowed hard, but her voice was little more than a whisper as she asked, “Are ye saying that ye love me?” His eyes widened, and he stared at her with a look of such total disbelief that she was sure she had overstepped.
“Nay, ye need not answer. I shouldnae have asked such questions—”
He suddenly raised his fists and face to the roof of the stable. The yell that escaped him startled Moira. Before she could recover from that shock, he grabbed her, tossing her over his shoulder.
“What are ye doing?” she cried as he carried her out of the stable, striding toward his keep.
“I am going to lock ye—nay, us—in a room until I can talk some sense into you. It may take a while as ye seem to have lost what few wits ye had at the start of our journey.”
Moira cringed with embarrassment as the people in the inner bailey watched her being carried like a sack of grain.
It was little comfort at the moment that they laughed and called out to her, revealing no hint of the fears and superstitions she had worried about.
She cursed and pummeled Tavig’s broad back, but he took no notice of her.
As they entered his keep, her mortification increased. People were crowded in the wide doorway to the great hall, Mungan, Una, and Nicol to the fore. Una looked shocked and yet amused. Nicol and Mungan just looked amused.
“I see ye found the lassie,” said Mungan, starting to laugh out loud.
“Aye,” replied Tavig. “I am taking her to my chambers to have a wee talk with the fool.”
“Have at her, laddie. We can celebrate this victory without you.”
“Have at me?” Moira grumbled, lifting her head enough to glare at Mungan as Tavig toted her up the stairs. “Put me down, ye great oaf,” she ordered Tavig, but he ignored her.