Chapter 20
Tavin hung his head as he knelt in the blood-stained courtyard, his hands tied roughly behind his back. His wounded shoulder ached fiercely but he was not about to show any weakness to the warriors and lairds that had gathered, all of them eyeing him with disdain.
His da was propped up on the wall next to him, still out cold from the blow that Tavin had given him.
On the other side, Graeme and James were kneeling in the dirt as well, both bloodied from the fight. Behind them were the other clansmen that had attacked the keep—those that had lived, that is.
When Will had tied his hands behind him, Tavin had not protested. He was part of this family and no matter what he had done to stop the battle, he could not deny the fact that he was a Stuart and therefore responsible for what had happened here tonight.
His family had nearly destroyed this clan and killed innocent people in the name of restoring the Stuart clan.
They had thought that by taking over one clan, it would bring them to the ranks of the greats, but now as they kneeled in the dirt, Tavin only felt remorse for what his family had done.
There was no honor in it and if he had to be part of the punishment, then so be it.
The keep’s doors opened, and Moira stepped out, rewarding him with the fact that she had remained unscathed after he had sent her to the keep.
Tavin straightened his shoulders as her eyes swept the courtyard, most of the bodies cleared away so that she would not see what had transpired.
“Mah lady,” one of the lairds stated, his fist against his chest. “We have captured the traitors.”
“I see,” she stated, her eyes falling on him. “Why is Tavin Stuart amongst the traitors?”
“Because,” her second-in-command stated with a sneer. “He is just as guilty as the rest.”
“I dinnae believe that,” she answered evenly. “He was the reason we were able tae save more lives than lose them. He saved mah life.”
“He’s a Stuart,” another stated. “Just like his da.”
Tavin felt his chest clench as he saw Moira straighten her shoulders, lifting her chin. “This is mah keep, mah battle tae fight. Release Tavin.”
He didn’t want her to treat him in any other manner. The lairds were right. He had been part of this in the beginning.
“Mah lady,” Will said, clearly not agreeing with her sentiment, “dinnae do this.”
She drew to her full height and Tavin hid his grin. “I am laird here. Without this man telling us about his da’s attack, we would not have won. He deserves that at least. Release him and let him go from here unscathed or I will consider it a personal insult.”
His jaw clenched but he nodded in Tavin’s direction and the rope was cut, relieving the pressure on his wounded shoulder. “See tae his wounds,” Moira said, not looking in his direction. “Give him a room in the keep if you must.”
“What about the others?” one of the lairds called out as Tavin rose to his feet unsteadily.
“The dungeons,” she said softly, turning to go back into the keep.
Tavin watched her leave, wanting to go after her and explain the entire lot to her. She deserved to hear it from his lips.
“Come,” the youngest sister stated, her eyes on him, watching him curiously. “We must see tae that shoulder.”
Tavin followed her into the keep, where members of the clan glared at him from their seats. He wanted to tell them that he had nothing to do with what happened, but kept his mouth shut, deciding it was best not to approach them now.
“Are ye the one that will marry mah sister?”
Tavin looked down at the youngest sister, giving her a kind smile. “I dinnae think she will have me now.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I wouldnae if ye continue tae smell like that. I heard her and Fennella talking. I believe she is in love with ye.”
While the news should excite him, Tavin knew that everything had changed since the battle they had just faced.
He was no longer in her good graces and doubted that he would ever be.
Why she hadn’t thrown him in the dungeon with the rest of his family was beyond him, but he was grateful all the same.
“I dinnae know,” he finally said. “But I do love yer sister.”
She nodded and took him to his room. “I thought as much. Here is yer room.” Tavin looked at the room under the stairs, cramped but blessedly with a bed.
The healer came in shortly after he was left to his own devices and tended to his shoulder before he was given clean clothes and a bowl of water to clean the blood off him.
Tavin did both quickly, deciding that he needed to not sit.
There were things to do, much more than he could imagine for the clan.
His da and the fires had caused damage that would take weeks to repair and if he were to show Moira that he was true in his honor, he needed to offer his assistance.
Will met him at the keep doors. “Where do ye think yer going? Running away?”
Tavin glared at him. “I am going tae help with the cleaning,” he stated, grinding his teeth. “I know ye dinnae care for me, but I do love her, and I will do anything tae make her smile again.”
Will took a step toward him, his fists clenched at his sides. “’Tis because of yer family that our clan mourns the losses tonight. I dinnae think we need yer help.”
“I’m not asking,” Tavin said in a deadly calm voice, tired of Will always giving him a hard time. “Nor will I beg. But I will get past ye.”
Will smirked. “I would like tae see ye try.”
“Will, let him by.”
They both turned to find Moira on the stairs, now dressed in a gown that was devoid of blood. “Mah lady,” Will began. “He is a prisoner.”
“Nay,” she stated, not looking at Tavin. “He’s not and ye know it. If he wants tae help, then let him. That’s his dead out there as well.”
Tavin swallowed at the harsh tone of her voice, moving toward her. “Moira.”
She held up her hand before he could get out another word. “I have no time tae listen to ye Tavin. My clan is in shambles and I have tae meet with the elders.”
Tavin opened his mouth then shut it, bowing to her. “Then I will endeavor tae find time in yer schedule lass.”
She clenched her jaw and he turned away, glaring at Will until he moved out of his way. Tavin had to have something to do right now or else he would be planting fists into Will’s face, and he doubted that Moira would care for him then.
After hours of back-breaking digging to bury the dead, Tavin moved back to the keep, bone-weary and unable to process what he had seen today.
While it was clear that the other lairds were not too keen on a Stuart helping clean up the mess that his clan had made, no one had objected to the extra pair of hands to bury the dead, or clean burned-out huts so they could be repaired.
After a while, Tavin found himself working alongside some of those clans that had snubbed him before, and together they had tried to set some of the things to rights.
Now his shoulder was aching and Tavin only wished to fall into bed and sleep for hours.
Moira was exiting another room when he crossed the great hall and for a moment, they stared at each other. “I see that ye made it through,” she stated after a few tense moments, wrapping her arms around her waist.
Acutely aware of the dirt on his clothing and his hands, Tavin did not try to reach for her. “Aye. They did not try to put me in a grave as well.”
“Good,” she answered, clearing her throat. “If ye will excuse me.”
He reached for her then, stopping her from walking away. “Moira, love. I need tae explain.”
She turned to him and he was struck by her beauty but also the pain in her eyes. “Explain what? How ye dinnae tell me who ye were? When were ye going tae do that? When we were at the altar?”
“Nay lass,” he said softly. “I dinnae want ye tae be ashamed of me because of mah name. I dinnae belong here, but I dinnae know how tae walk away from ye.”
Her eyes closed briefly. “I’m so hurt, Tavin. I cannae think straight from the pain that is in mah heart.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing in her scent. “Dinnae think about it now, love. I’m not going anywhere until ye tell me tae do so.”
She tore away from him and Tavin let her go this time, watching as she hurried away. As much as he wanted her, he wasn’t about to force her into anything. He owed her everything, including his life, and no amount of words were going to get her to make up her mind any quicker.
Blowing out a breath, Tavin walked to his room and shut the door, stripping off his dirtied clothing and climbing onto the bed. He was asleep before he could think of anything else.
The next morning, Tavin rose before anyone else and stole down to the dungeon, where his da and brothers were awaiting their fate. Graeme was awake when he walked in, pushing away from the wall, and coming up to the bars. “So, the traitor does pay a visit.”
“I dinnae want this,” Tavin started. “I dinnae want this for our family.”
“Yet ye told them we were attacking!” Graeme growled. “And struck our da when he tried to accomplish what he had been plotting for his entire bloody life! Ye are a traitor to yer own flesh and blood!”
Tavin drew in a breath. “I wanted the same as him but not at the expense of innocent lives.”
Graeme chuckled darkly. “What ye want is that woman above the stairs. She will never marry a Stuart. Ye have given yer family a death sentence because she satisfies yer cock.”
Tavin reached through the bars before his brother had time to react and yanked him against the cold metal.
“Dinnae talk about her like that! She is a good woman and if ye or da had given her a chance, then she would have helped our family. Instead ye have made some mighty enemies and I cannae help ye any longer.”
His brother spat on the ground near Tavin’s feet.
“Never wanted yer help anyway. Why do ye think we hid the plans from ye? Because ye are weak, that’s why!
Now look what ye have done tae us, tae yer own flesh and blood!
If these bars weren’t between us, I would run a sword through yer traitorous gut! ”
Tavin clenched his jaw, wanting to tell his brother how wrong he was. He had done what was right and not because he wanted to betray them.
It was because they were wrong in what they thought was right. Their plans had become addled by the need for greed, led by the man who was supposed to lead them in the right ways of a Scot. “I dinnae put ye there,” he said softly. “Ye did that on yer own.”
“Go on,” Graeme stated, grinning. “Put yerself in the lady’s bed. Deep down ye will always be a Stuart. Nothing can change that.”
“Nay,” Tavin admitted. “I cannae change who I am but I can change what the Stuarts do in the future. I can save the generations after we are all dead and gone.” He could bring the name of Stuart back to something to be proud of and his actions in saving the McPherson clan had started what would be their greatest triumph.
Graeme shook his head. “Yer a fool, Tavin Stuart. That is what ye have always been and what ye will always be.”
“Perhaps,” Tavin stated, his jaw clenched.
“But I am not the one who is behind those bars. May the lady have mercy on yer soul and that of James and Da.” Graeme growled but Tavin released his brother and started back up the stairs, his heart heavy.
He would cut ties with his family, with his own flesh and blood, for a better future.
Even if it was not with Moira.