Chapter 19
Moira watched the last game halfheartedly, wishing that she could be anywhere but here.
Her head still hurt from the smoke they had consumed from the fires and the lack of sleep that she had been forced to experience.
When dawn had crested, Moira had risen with a heavy heart.
Today she would confer with her elders and choose a husband amongst the clans, so that the ceremony could happen before the end of the week.
And that man would not be Tavin.
Her heart ached and she rubbed it absently, wishing that someone could remove the pain from her heart. It did not matter that she could forget Tavin. Her heart would not.
“Moira!” Sorcha hissed, and Moira realized that the game was over with and she was to stand and acknowledge the winner.
With a sigh, she did so, gathering her skirts in her hand and making her way off the platform, flanked by Will.
Will had told her this morning that he was going to stay close to her today in case the Stuart clan would attack, but as the day had gone on, there had been no attack.
Perhaps another lie that Tavin had given them so that they would release him.
A young Scot stood in the center of the area, a grin on his handsome face as she approached him, and Moira wished she could drum up some sort of happiness in return.
The young girl who had been so wild and carefree no longer existed and in her place was a woman who had experienced loss, experienced the pain of heartache. “Mah lady,” he stated, bowing.
She gave him a short nod, laying the sword she carried on his shoulder. “May yer clan be blessed with riches beyond measure.”
It was the same phrase she had said repeatedly, knowing that riches were different for each clan.
Some wished for funds, while others wished for bountiful crops or water in which to water them.
This morning, she had sat amongst the clans and their lairds, listening to their plights, and realizing that they were all similar in nature.
They all wanted to care for their clans and their families and Moira was glad to see that she was not the only one who cared so fiercely.
“Thank ye mah lady,” the young Scot said as she handed the sword to Will. “And may ye find one of us acceptable tae be yer husband.”
She gave him a faint smile and turned away, knowing that everyone wanted an answer. Now she did not care who was her husband.
Moira started back to the platform before a hand wrapped around her arm and she came face-to-face with a dirty Tavin. “Tavin?”
“Moira, lass,” he said, his eyes wide. “I need tae speak tae ye.”
“Unhand her,” Will growled, the sword drawn. “I dinnae know how ye got out of the dungeons but that is where ye will go back, traitor!”
Realizing they were causing a commotion, she shook her head at Will. “I will go willingly with him.”
“I will not hurt her,” Tavin stated firmly, his grip on her arm gentle. “I swear it.”
Will glared at him, but he lowered his sword and Tavin pulled her into the crowd, finding an open tent. Moira swallowed the wave of emotion as she faced him, her mind whirling with everything she wished to say.
“Yer in danger,” he said in a rush, his eyes searching hers. “My da is going tae try and overthrow yer clan.”
Moira let his words sink in before she laughed. “Overthrow who? Me? I would like tae see him try!”
Tavin reached for her, his hands curling on her upper arms. “He’s bringing some of our clan, a rebel clan. He will be waiting for ye at the keep and by the time ye get there, it will be too late.”
The urgency in his voice caused her to pay attention. He genuinely believed that his da was going to cause her family—her clan—pain.
“Ye have tae get the warriors there,” Tavin continued on. “Protect what is yers, Moira. Please.”
Moira stepped out of his touch and strode to the entrance of the tent, where Will waited, anger and frustration on his face. “Send the warriors tae the keep,” she said urgently. “There is an impending attack on our home.”
His jaw clenched. “I heard his claim. Ye believe him?”
“I have no choice,” she said. “There are plenty of clans here tae keep themselves protected, but we cannae leave the keep and the village unarmed. Go, hurry! Make a perimeter and if it’s unfounded, then we will deal with it then.”
Will didn’t look excited to do so but he walked away regardless, and Moira let out a small sigh of relief, turning toward Tavin. “I hope ye aren’t lying tae me.”
“Never,” he told her, his gaze softening. “I have no wish tae cause ye harm. Not tae the woman I love.”
Moira held up her hand, finding it trembling. “Dinnae. I cannae go through this now.”
“Understood,” he answered, taking her hand in his. “But once this is over, I hope that ye will hear me out, love.”
“I cannae promise anything,” she said, withdrawing her hand and exiting the tent before he could say anything else.
Fennella found her a moment later. “Did ye see Tavin?”
“Yes, he told me of the attack,” Moria stated before pausing. “How did ye know he was here?”
Fennella’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I may have let him out of the dungeon a mite earlier than planned.”
“Fennella!”
Her sister took her hands. “He loves ye, Moira. Give him a chance tae prove it.”
“After we save our clan,” Moira promised, giving her sister’s hands a squeeze. “Come, we have tae go.”
Moira found her horse and despite the protests of her family, started toward the keep, where she could see the gathering of another clan in the distance. Tavin had been telling the truth it seemed. His da was about to strike.
“Och lass I wish ye would stay behind,” the object of her thoughts stated as he reached her side. “Less for me tae worry about.”
She smirked, not looking at him. “I’m the laird of this clan. I dinnae back down.”
“Nay lass,” he said. “Ye dinnae. But in case I dinnae come out of this alive, know that I love ye with everything I have, my traitorous name and all.”
Moira’s breath caught as Tavin spurred on ahead, leaving her behind to think about his words. That was why she had chosen him.
Because he could take her breath away.
By the time she arrived at the keep, the battle was in full force. Her warriors were fighting the other clan, the clash of swords ringing in the air. There were also screams coming from the village and Moira grabbed her dagger before she slid off her horse, racing to the village first.
There were huts on fire once more as she raced through the village, striking out at the enemy as she did so. Blood gushed over her fingers as she jabbed her dagger into a leering Scot, but she ignored it, her heart hammering in her chest. She could not allow her clan to be overrun, taken hostage.
This was her family.
“Moira!”
She turned to see Will running toward her, his sword coated with blood. “Here,” he said, thrusting it at her. “Ye cannae fight with a dagger alone.”
“What will ye fight with?” she asked as she took the heavy sword.
He grinned. “Dinnae worry about me. Head tae the keep. I have alerted the other clans; they are on their way.”
Moira nodded, her arms heavy as she held the sword aloft and started toward the keep. If the other clans were on their way, then it would not be long before the Stuart clan would have to surrender.
As she entered the courtyard, Moira stopped at the devastation that was around her. Bodies littered the dirt, some that were of her tartan, and her heart clenched in her chest. Warriors were dying.
“Lady McPherson. I almost dinnae recognize ye with the blood on yer hands.”
Moira turned to find an older man approaching her, his sword drawn. “Laird Stuart. I must say, this is not a friendly meeting.”
He grinned and Moira could see the resemblance in the way that Tavin grinned. “Aye, yer a bonnie lass. Ye will make me a fine wife indeed.”
Moira held her sword, her arm shaking under the weight. “I dinnae think so.”
The older laird continued his approach, his eyes narrowing. “Then I shall kill ye and take yer sister as mah wife.”
The mere thought of Sorcha under this man’s thumb had her shaking with anger and she yelled, meeting his thrust as he attempted to drive his sword into her stomach. He grunted under the force of her sword meeting his but quickly recovered. “Ye have some fight in ye lass.”
“And ye are about tae find out just how much,” she answered evenly. “Or ye can surrender now and save ye some men.”
“I dinnae care about them,” he answered before raising his sword. Moira met the wide arc, the meeting of the metal vibrating throughout her body. If she survived this fight, then she was going to have Will practice with her more. Her arms already felt like jelly.
“Da!”
Moira heard Tavin’s voice before she saw him and when he stepped in front of her, his da’s sword thrusting through his sword and having him howl in pain, Moira cried out.
“Get out of mah way Son,” Laird Stuart growled as he removed the sword, now stained with his own son’s blood.
“Never,” Tavin panted, raising his own sword. “Ye will have tae go through me tae ever get tae her.”
The laird laughed. “She’s holding yer cock in her hands now, is she? Too bad she’s a McPherson. I bet she would birth strong, strapping sons.”
“I’m giving ye a chance,” Tavin stated, ignoring his taunt, “tae walk away and call off the clan.”
“Ye dinnae understand do ye?” he shouted. “This fight is mah reckoning! This should be yers as well!”
Moira watched as Tavin struggled with his da’s words, knowing that he had to still hold affection for the man that had raised him.
When the older laird charged his own son, she screamed, watching as Tavin deflected the blow that would surely kill him and deliver one of his own, the older man crumpling to the ground.
Tavin kicked away the sword and placed his hand on his da’s chest. “He’s still breathing,” he said, relief on his face. “Go tae the keep, Moira.”
Moira did not question his words and headed to the keep, where she found her family doing the same. “Moira!” Fennella cried out, horror dawning on her face as she saw the blood that covered her sister. “Are ye hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Moira stated, placing Will’s sword on the table wearily. ’Tis not mine.”
Fennella’s clothing was also dotted with blood, as was Aleck’s. “Are ye?”
“No,” Fennella said, leaning against her husband. “Sorcha, Aileene, and the boys are upstairs. Duncan is out there somewhere still.”
Moira fell into the nearby chair and someone brought her a wet rag, allowing her to wipe some of the blood from her hands. “I dinnae know what has happened.”
“The other clans are coming,” Aleck stated, pressing a kiss into his wife’s hair. “I need tae be out there.”
Fennella clung to her husband a moment longer before she let him go, watching as he left the keep.
The women sat alone together, with guards posted at the doors for what seemed like hours before the doors open and Moira stood, breathing a sigh of relief as Will walked through the doors, looking no worse for wear than the rest of them. “Are ye hurt?” he asked, giving her a once-over.
“Nay,” she said. “Is it over?”
He gave her a short nod, his eyes haunted. “We have the traitors in the courtyard whenever ye are ready.”
Moira didn’t want to go out there. She didn’t want to see the carnage that had taken place, those that they lost and those that would be gone had they not been able to stop it before the clans got involved.
But she was laird of the keep and it was her duty. Standing, she gave him a look. “I’m ready.”