Chapter 22
Tavin tried not to fidget as he walked into the great hall, feeling like a trussed-up chicken waiting to be served at its last meal.
Moira had insisted that he must look his best if he were to charm the elders into giving them their blessing on their marriage and since he would do anything for her, he had relented.
Still, he felt ridiculous. The breeks were far too tight, the shirt itchy on his bare skin. His hair was tied neatly away from his face and he felt naked without his sword at his side.
But he was alive and for that, he could wear the silly clothing a bit longer.
Moira was seated at the head of the table as he arrived and he winked at her, watching as her cheeks flushed in response.
He loved that lass and no matter what the elders told them today, his feelings for her would not change.
She saw through the names that his family had been called, to the man that had a heart that beat only for her, and he would spend a lifetime making it up to her.
It didn’t hurt that she liked his kisses as well.
“Tavin Stuart.”
Tavin stood tall as he stared down the elders of the clan, the men who would look to see if he were worthy of their lady’s hand.
He wasn’t. Moira was far too good for the likes of him. He had done things in his past, things that he wasn’t proud of, nor could he change who his sire was.
“Aye.”
“Ye stand before us because our lady has deemed ye worthy of her hand,” one of the elders started, a frown on his lips. “Why do ye think ye deserve tae rule over our clan?”
“’ Tis willnae be me ruling the clan,” he said in a loud, clear voice.
“Ye already have a ruler and a bloody fine one at that. I only wish tae be her partner in life, husband tae her, and father tae our bairns.” He didn’t need the title of laird.
Moira had earned her way into her people’s hearts and all he wanted to do was remain in hers.
There was murmur amongst the elders, but he kept his eyes on Moira, whose own eyes were glimmering with tears. She was the reason he was here and not with the rest of his family in the dungeons.
She was the reason that he was a better man.
One of the elders stood and approached him, his keen eyes meeting Tavin’s. “Aye, I see a warrior in ye Tavin Stuart. When I looked into the eyes of yer da and yer brothers, I saw nothing but malice and fear but ye...ye dinnae belong with them.”
Tavin held his breath, the words spoken striking him in his soul. He did not feel like he belonged with his family, but to hear someone who didn’t even know him say it was surprising.
“Will ye protect our lady and her clan with yer life?” the elder continued.
Tavin raised his fist to his chest. “Aye.”
“Will ye forever be known as a McPherson?”
“Aye.”
“Will ye vow tae give this clan sons and daughters for the future generations, while raising them in the ways of the McPhersons?”
Daughters with Moira’s laughing eyes and sons with her fighting spirit. “Aye.”
The elder laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Then we approve of yer marriage to our lady.”
Tavin loosened a breath as he lowered his fist, seeing Moira’s face wet with her tears. As much as he wanted to pull her close and kiss them away, they were in a room full of elders that would frown upon him touching their lady in such a manner.
So instead he dropped to his knee, raising his fist over his heart. “I give mah life tae serving ye mah lady.”
She inclined her head, her smile a promise of tomorrow. “Rise, Tavin Stuart, and take yer place at the table.”
She indicated the chair beside her. Tavin did as she asked and took the chair, feeling light in the head for what had just happened. He and Moira were betrothed in the eyes of the elders, but he would ask her privately this evening when it was just the two of them.
“There is still a matter to discuss,” the elder said as he returned to his seat. “That is of our prisoners.”
Tavin’s heart felt heavy in his chest as he thought of his da and brothers in the dungeon, awaiting their fate.
He did not want to watch them swing from the gallows, but that was not up to him to decide nor would he give any regard on the matter.
That was for Moira and her elders to decide their fate and he would support whatever they felt was just considering there were lives lost. What his family had done was unforgivable, and they were all but dead to him.
“What say ye lady?” the elder asked, his eyes on Moira.
Tavin noted that she didn’t meet his eyes as she stood, rising over her council.
“Laird Stuart and his sons planned on stealing our keep and calling it for their own. They killed our clansmen in an attempt tae absolve themselves of their own crimes against Scotland. Whatever misguided notions they had; it has cost them dearly.” She then drew in a breath.
“But I am tired of the killing. I dinnae think that the laird and his sons are of any threat to us. Their losses were too great. I say we show mercy on this day.”
“I say they hang,” one of the elders grumbled, though he did not get a response.
“I say we give them what would be the worst blow tae any Scot,” Moira said softly. “We ban them from their own country.”
Tavin drew in a swift breath. Scotland was in their blood, the very reason they rose in the morning. To never set foot on their native country again would destroy his da if he weren’t already.
It was the kiss of death.
The elders conversed and Moira moved to sit, her hand finding his under the table. He squeezed it, giving her a nod that he agreed with her punishment and that he would support her.
Finally, one of the elders stood, giving his lady a nod. “We agree with the punishment. Laird Stuart and his sons will be banished from Scotland, never to set foot on their native soil. If they do, they will face the gallows.”
“Agreed,” Moira stated. “Please bring them from the dungeons. I want them off mah land before dinner.”
Will rose and hurried to round up the prisoners while Moira and Tavin moved from the great hall to the courtyard, where the prisoners would be sent. Tavin stayed close to her and was surprised when she slipped her hand in his. “Are ye alright?” she whispered as they waited.
He squeezed her hand. “Aye lass. I’m fine. Thank ye for yer mercy.”
“I am just tired of the killing,” she sighed, the breeze ruffling her hair. “I wish for peace Tavin, for a lifetime of happiness.”
He wanted to wrap her in his arms but refrained. “Aye and ye shall have it from me, love.”
She did not let go of his hand when his da and brothers were led from the dungeon, anger evident in their expressions.
“Laird Stuart,” she said in a clear voice.
“You are hereby banished from Scotland from this day forward. Mah warriors will escort ye and yer sons tae the border in which ye will remain unless ye wish tae lose yer lives.”
His da glared at him, ignoring the woman doling out his punishment. “And what of ye, traitor?” he asked angrily. “Did ye warm her bed so that ye can escape the same fate?”
Tavin felt Moira’s gasp as Will rushed up, but Tavin was already making his way down the stairs, waving off the second-in-command. “I will spend a lifetime showing her that I am not ye,” he said softly, his voice edged in deadly steel. “Ye should be kissing her feet for the mercy she has shown ye.”
His da laughed hollowly, the chains rattling with the movement. “Mercy? I have lost everything! Mah land, mah clan, and even one of mah sons.”
Tavin didn’t feel sorry for his da. It was his own fault that he had lost all those things and more. “I cannae help ye any longer.”
His da spat at Tavin’s feet. “I would rather die than tae ask for yer help. Ye are dead tae me, Tavin Stuart, and not fit to carry the name!”
Tavin turned his back, taking his place next to Moira, keeping his emotions reined in. His da’s words did not hurt him any longer.
The prisoners were led away, and Moira turned toward him, sympathy in her expression. “Och Tavin, I am sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he stated, pressing his forehead to hers. “He has had a lifetime tae become a good man. Now he will rot in his guilt.”
She drew in a breath. “There is one matter left tae attend tae.”
Surprised, he pulled back. “What is that lass?”
“The matter of yer father’s title. I have written the other clans, giving mah vote tae who should be the rightful laird of the Stuart clan. It should be ye, Tavin.”
He couldn’t believe it. While he knew that the Stuart seat would remain empty now that both his father and two of his heirs had been banished, he hadn’t imagined he would be the one that would be considered.
“Moira...”
“Shh,” she said, a gentle smile on her lips. “Ye deserve it. Yer clan deserves a kind, fair ruler tae truly banish the name that has been attached to yer clan for generations. I believe ye are the one who can set them tae rights.”
His mind whirling, Tavin swallowed the emotion in his throat. “But that would mean that we would be rulers over two clans.”
Moira placed her hand on his chest, right over his heart. “And it will be up tae ye tae decide what ye would like tae do about it. Just know, I will not take it lightly tae be apart from ye longer than a few days.”
His grin was swift. “Nor I ye Moira.” He had spent far too much time apart from her already and now that he had found her, he never wanted to let her go.
“I will consider it.” His clan would need a leader to banish the evil his da had spewed all his life and show them that they were just as good of a clan as any others in all of Scotland.
They would need him and the weight on his shoulders started to return.
But this time, it was because he could do good amongst his people.
“Good,” she smiled, moving to turn away. Tavin clasped her hand in his and drew it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Moria, love, will ye marry me?”
Her mouth parted. “But that has already been decided.”
He moved to one knee, heedless of those around them. “Perhaps, but ’tis customary for the groom tae ask his bride.”
She smiled through her tears, the love she had for him radiating from her expression. “Aye, Tavin. I will marry ye!”
He grinned. “Are ye certain?”
“Quite certain.”
He rose, pressing a kiss to her temple. “And ye shall never doubt the fact that ye have chosen me.”
Moira leaned into him. No, she would not.
Tavin gathered her close, inhaling her scent. “I love ye, Moira McPherson.”
“I love ye too, Tavin Stuart.”