Chapter 7
Moira walked beside her sister as they made their way through the village, greeting the early risers as they passed. Moira liked mornings the best, where the ground was still damp from dew and the air crisp and cool.
It had been her reprieve when her da was still alive and in rule.
He and her brothers had never been early risers, which meant that Moira could escape the keep and enjoy the morning in peace.
She had continued the tradition when they were removed, until Will had chastised her about walking about in the meadows with her bare feet.
Apparently, it was yet another thing that a lady did not do.
Frankly, Moira was thinking about transferring her power to him so that she could do the things she enjoyed again.
Hefting the basket in her hands, Moira allowed Sorcha to take the next hut.
Once a week, they passed out hot loaves of bread from the keep, along with blackberry jam of her own making.
It was a time for her to be face-to-face with her own clan, to converse with them, and provide any assistance they might need.
The first time she had suggested such, Will had told her no, refusing to allow her to take part in such a manner where he could not keep her safe.
Eventually, however, she had worn Will down and he had allowed the visits to continue, as long as she allowed two of their best warriors to accompany her.
Even now, the two burly warriors stood a few feet away, their gazes scanning the growing crowd for any signs of a threat to her life.
Moira thought it quite ridiculous but since he had budged a little and allowed her to do this, she would accept the fact that she had to keep the guards.
“What are you going to do about the trials?” Sorcha asked as she returned from the hut, wiping her hands on the apron that covered her dress.
“What do ye mean?” Moira asked.
“The trials,” Sorcha repeated. “For yer hand.”
Moira blew out a breath. “The gathering is not about trials for mah hand. It is a means for us tae agree tae align ourselves with the rest of the clans in all of Scotland.”
Sorcha snorted. “Ye can say that is why they are having it, but the truth is that they wish for ye to take a husband.”
Moira didn’t want to think of it like that, though she knew her sister spoke the truth. She would be wed—and soon—if it were up to the elders.
It wasn’t that she was against marriage. It was that she wished to have control over who she was to marry, and it not be because they would be over her clan.
“Guid mornin.”
That familiar voice. Moira lifted her head to see the Scot standing before them, the sun glinting on his red locks. In the morning sun, she had a better view of his handsome features.
“Guid mornin,” Sorcha said.
Moira cleared her throat, dipping her head. “Guid mornin. I trust ye are well?”
“I am mah lady,” he answered, a hint of a grin on his face. “I dinnae expect tae see ye out so early.” He then motioned toward the basket. “Can I be of service?”
Moira hesitated but Sorcha was already wrenching the basket out of her grasp, thrusting it toward the stranger. “Yes. Here, ye can carry the basket.”
The stranger chuckled as he took the basket. “I am at yer service then.”
“Go with him,” Sorcha hissed in her ear. “I can see it in yer eyes. Ye are smitten.”
Clearing her throat once more, Moira lifted her chin.
“Thank ye. We are almost finished.” Not bothering to hear his response, she marched to the next hut, acutely aware of his close presence.
Those green eyes had filled her dreams last night and Moira had woken this morning with a pounding head and a troubled heart. Why had he just disappeared on her?
Why had he engaged her in discussion last evening?
She was not smitten. She didn’t even know the Scot. Turning toward him, she held out her hand. “A loaf please.”
He reached into the basket and pulled out the loaf, handing it over. “For ye lass.”
His soft timbre had her insides warming and she took the bread more forcefully than planned, nearly breaking it in half. “Careful lass,” he said softly.
Flustered, she took the bread and hurried into the hut, spending more than her usual few moments conversing with the woman that was inside. When she emerged, he and Sorcha were in a discussion. “This is Tavin,” Sorcha stated, a knowing smile on her face. “He is here for the gathering.”
His name was fitting. “Tavin, welcome to McPherson land.”
“I believe ye welcomed me last night, mah lady.”
Moira winced inwardly as she saw the question in Sorcha’s eyes. She had not told her sister about their encounter, not quite sure she hadn’t dreamed it up to begin with. “Yes well, I met a great deal.”
“Of course, mah lady.”
Flustered for yet the second time in his presence in the span of only a few minutes, Moira grabbed the next loaf herself and went to the last hut, delivering the bread with a serene smile on her face. Inside, however, she was a mess of jumbled thoughts and feelings.
Tavin. Now that she knew his name, she wondered which clan he belonged to.
Did it matter? Not necessarily. Whatever husband she did choose would likely have a clan of his own and could be his own laird. Moira would not leave her own clan for his, for that was not the intent of her marriage.
Which meant the blending of two clans. While not unheard of, the unions were rare as the woman was normally the one who was given to the man.
Not the other way around.
But in her situation, her clan was the one that would reign supreme over her husband’s. She would be good to remember that as she met her potential suitors. The last thing Moira wished to do was choose a clan that was not going to be good for her own or cause conflict along the way.
Exiting the hut, Moira found Tavin waiting for her with her sister nowhere to be seen. “Where is Sorcha?”
“She stated she had something urgent tae attend tae,” he responded, still holding the empty basket. “She asked me tae escort ye back tae the keep.”
“And mah guards?”
“They followed yer sister.”
Cursing Sorcha for attempting to meddle in her life, Moira moved next to him. “Well, then ye are mah protector until we reach the keep’s safety.”
“Understood,” Tavin replied, handing her the basket. “I can wield a sword mah lady. Ye have nothing tae fear.”
Oh, there was a great deal to fear with him near her, but Moira didn’t wish to share that particular reason. “As well as ye can wield yer tongue?”
Tavin waggled his brow at her. “Are ye discussing mah tongue skills mah lady?”
Heat crept up Moira’s neck as she thought about what she had just said. “I meant yer words, sir. I wouldn’t k-know about yer tongue skills.” Heaven help her, it was growing worse by the minute!
Tavin chuckled. “I suppose not. My da always said I was a smooth talker, much better than mah brothers.”
Interested to learn more about him, Moira slowed her steps. “Ye have brothers?”
“Aye, two.”
Two brothers, just like she had two sisters. “Siblings can be difficult, can’t they?”
“Aye mah lady.”
“Moira please.” She had grown tired of the title long ago. She didn’t feel like a lady, but a young woman in the thick of things trying to muddle her way through.
Tavin gave her a sidelong glance. “Moira then.”
Her entire body shivered at the sound of her name on his lips, her mouth suddenly dry.
What was it about this Scot that had her all tongue-tied and unsure of herself?
Had she been that sheltered to have her head turning at the first man who conversed with her?
“Where are yer brothers?” she asked, attempting to get the attention off her for once.
“They will be along,” he replied as they reached the keep’s doors, which were thrown open to admit the masses that needed an audience with her this morn.
She would be late if she did not hurry, but Moira still dragged her feet.
Hours upon hours of listening to frivolous—not to mention ridiculous—bickering was not her idea of a well-spent afternoon, even if it were her duty. “Ye will be busy soon mah lady.”
“Yes,” she admitted, clasping her hands tightly around the basket. “But it is for the good of the clan.”
“Aye, but what is good for ye?” he asked softly, his eyes searching hers. “May I give ye a word of advice?”
She nodded, finding herself curious as to know what he was going to say.
Tavin clasped his hands behind his back, a contemplative look on his face. “What is good for the clan is that ye are happy lass. A ruler that is unhappy cannae rule effectively. Dinnae lose yerself in this process.”
Moira wanted to retort, but the words were stuck in her throat. If nothing else, he had just confirmed her worst fears. She was afraid of being a ruler like her da, one that did not bring any good to the people she loved.
And herself. She wasn’t sure what that meant any longer.
Tavin opened his mouth to say more but Will appeared at the doorway, looking at him with a frown on his face. “Scot, we meet again.”
“Aye,” Tavin said, much to Moira’s surprise. “I was just seeing yer lady home.”
“Well, ye did,” Will said firmly, looking at Moira. “They are ready mah lady.”
“Of course,” Moira said, glancing at Tavin. “Enjoy yer time here.”
Without waiting for a response, Moira entered the keep with Will at her side. “I dinnae trust him,” Will said in a low voice. “I found him walking around the keep this morn and now he has found ye.”
“He’s doing what everyone else will be doing in a few days,” she snapped. “I know what I am doing.”
“Aye mah lady.”
The truth was, she had no idea what she was doing.
Later, after an afternoon of sitting in her chair, listening to the affairs of the clan, Moira wearily climbed the stairs to her chambers to dress for dinner. Her feet hurt along with her head and all she wished to do was slide into her bed and sleep the night away.
Unfortunately, she and Will still needed to discuss the battlefield this evening before the clans started to arrive.
As an extra precaution, she had ordered that their guards be there when the clans start to arrive in case a skirmish broke out.
Even though they would all be gathering peacefully, it didn’t mean that every clan cared for each other and she didn’t want to see bloodshed while they were on McPherson land.
Will had plotted out a solution to keep the clans civil during the few days they would be here in attendance and Moira could only hope that it was a short one.
She was in no mood to hash out anything with him tonight.
Pushing the door open, Moira found Sorcha seated on her bed again. “Well?” her sister asked as Moira closed the door.
“Well, what?”
“Tavin!” Sorcha hissed. “He’s a bonnie lad. Did you see the way his muscles bunched under his tunic? I would like a peek under his kilt.”
“Sorcha!” Moira admonished, her cheeks stained red. When did her sister grow up so? “Ye shouldn’t say things like that.”
Sorcha shrugged. “’Tis the truth. Tell me ye dinnae see how handsome he is.”
“He’s bonnie alright,” Moira muttered, turning so her sister could undo the laces on her gown. “But Will cautioned me about him.”
“Pah,” Sorcha stated. “He just wants tae see ye with someone that the elders want. I like Tavin. He dinnae ask me questions about ye or the keep while ye were inside the hut.”
Moira slid the gown off her body and picked up the one that was laid out next to Sorcha, pulling it over her head. “That doesnae mean he isn’t interested.”
“Och he’s interested alright,” Sorcha giggled. “In ye, dear sister. Trust me, he would have liked to have ye alone in a field somewhere.”
Moira’s cheeks burned as she let Sorcha pull the laces tightly against her skin.
He definitely sent her heart aflutter with that sinful smile of his.
In fact, Will had to prompt her a few times today to respond when she had daydreamed about the very man.
“It’s only because he’s the only one here,” she finally said, setting her jaw.
“I will have the same reaction with the rest of the Scots that arrive.”
Sorcha tied the laces before placing her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Ye can tell yerself that dear sister, but I saw how ye looked at him and him at ye. He could be the one.”
Moira didn’t know what to say to her sister’s words. “Come, we are late for dinner.”
But as they walked out of her room, Moira bit her lip.
Her sister was right about one thing. She did feel wonderful things when Tavin had joined them this morning.
There were right fine men in the village, but none of them made her heart flutter as he did, or the easy way she blushed around him.
There was something about him, something that made her feel comfortable in his presence.
Whatever Will was concerned with, he would have the same problem with the others that were coming.
Their keep was about to be overrun with Scots that were looking for her hand, a chance to be laird of this clan.
Moira knew it was going to be difficult to discern who was being genuine or not, but she felt like she had found one this morning in Tavin.
It was up to him to prove her wrong, but she was going to give him the benefit of the doubt when it came to her heart, as she would any other Scot that made her feel the way he had.