by Alisa Adams
There was a moment of utter silence between mother and daughter for a moment, then Maureen stepped forward and folded Tavia in her arms.
“Sshhh, my lovie,” she said soothingly. “I didnae mean tae upset ye an’ I am sorry if I did. I wis worried, that wis a’.”
Tavia nodded against her shoulder. “I am fine, Mammy,” she sighed, but silent tears were pouring down her cheeks. “And before you ask, we only kissed.”
Maureen sighed with relief, then stepped back, releasing Tavia from her grasp. Tavia sat down and Maureen went to make some soothing lavender tea.
“Then whit’s the matter, hen?” she asked, frowning. “Why are ye sae troubled?”
“Because I said no to him. I cannot marry him, Mammy,” she said heavily. “He is a laird. He owns a big castle and a fortune in land and money. I am a tradesman’s daughter—and proud to be one—but I can never fit into that society where people are judged by their clothes and jewels and houses. Anyway, I like the way we live. We are honest, hardworking people; we can hold our heads high, and I don’t aspire to any more than that. If I find a good man who is kind to me I will be very happy.” Maureen put the tea down beside her and she took a sip. “I fit in here.” Then she smiled at her mother and took her hand in her own. “This is just a fleeting thing, Mammy. I have had my head turned, that is all.”
“You said you loved him,” Maureen pointed out. “And he telt ye that he loved you an’ a’. That doesn't sound like a fleetin’ thing tae me.”
Tavia sighed. “We got carried away, Mammy,” she replied. “I have calmed down now and things are making more sense.” She squeezed Maureen’s hand. “Do not worry. I feel much better now that I have told you, and by the way, there will be no more French lessons!”
“I am very glad tae hear it!” Maureen said, breathing a sigh of relief. She was not convinced by anything Tavia said; the about-turn of her feelings, from being madly in love to being mildly infatuated, was much too sudden. Her daughter had either been seduced or almost seduced, and Maureen was going to find out the truth. Tavia finished her tea and went out to harvest some nettles. Maureen went in search of her husband.
When Maureen told Archie what had happened he was furious. “How dare he?” he thundered. “I have a good mind to go and thrash the living daylights out of him!” He sat, breathing like an enraged bull for a moment, while Maureen tried to calm him.
“Gie yersel’ peace, pet,” she said soothingly as she gathered him into her arms. He rested his head against her soft breasts for a moment then stood up so suddenly that his chair fell over. Maureen jumped back in fright.
“I will not!” he roared. “I will not have any peace till that...lecher apologizes to Tavvy!”
He threw on his cloak and began to stride up the hill to Blair Patterson’s castle, prepared to do battle for the honor of his daughter.
When he got to the entrance to the castle, he was exhausted and breathless from the steep climb uphill, but he was determined to see the Laird and nothing was going to stop him. He had arrived earlier than he had thought he would, because fury had lent wings to his feet. He could never in his life remember being so angry.
He was challenged by the guards at the gate and ordered to wait in the courtyard, since the Laird was busy in a meeting with several other lairds. He waited for an hour, sitting uncomfortably on the cold stone floor, but at last half a dozen prosperous-looking men came out of the castle, the last one being Laird Patterson himself.
Archie had a chance to observe him properly as Blair left his guests and walked towards him, smiling. He could see why Tavia was attracted to this tall, strapping man with his long hair and high-boned noble face. He would have turned the heads of far less vulnerable women than Tavvy, but she had been an easy catch. She was young, vulnerable, beautiful, and ripe for the picking. His stomach curdled, sour with anger.
Blair was apprehensive as he strode towards Archie, but a pleasant smile was firmly fixed on his face as he greeted him.
“Mister Donald!” he said expansively. He bowed and held out his hand but Archie ignored it.
Archie gave a stiff bow which somehow made the polite gesture disdainful. “M’Laird,” he grunted, “my apologies for the lack of notice, but if you could see me now I would be most grateful.”
“Of course!” Blair put out his good arm to usher Archie through the front entrance and into his office, where he pulled out a chair for him in front of the desk. “Whisky?” Blair asked politely.
“No thank you, M’Laird,” Archie replied evenly. He was trying desperately to keep his anger in check, since he did not want to lose face in front of this peacock of a man. “I think you know why I am here.”
Blair’s face darkened suddenly. “No, Mister Donald, I do not,” he replied firmly. “Enlighten me.”
Blue eyes stared into gray for a long minute, then Archie decided that staring-out was a game for children, not for mature men.
“Very well,” Archie’s voice was heavy with unspoken rage. “Tavia. You know my daughter came home in tears last night because of you?”
At the mention of her name, Blair’s whole face changed. His lips parted, his frown disappeared, and his expression softened into one of concern. “How is she?” he asked gently. “Is she still upset?”
“Yes, she is,” Archie growled. “Because of you. She is putting a brave face on but she is very, very upset! What do you think you are doing by asking a tender young teenage girl to be your bride? You know that you have no intention of marrying her!”
“Oh, but I do, Mister Donald,” he replied, his eyes shining. “I certainly do. I love your daughter to distraction.”
9
Man to Man
For a moment, Archie could say nothing. Whatever he had expected Blair to say, it was not this. He had been prepared to defend Tavia’s honor while Blair laughed in his face, but he could tell as he looked into the Laird’s eyes that the man was serious. He really did love Tavia.
“You look surprised,” Blair observed. “Why do you think so little of her? She is not only lovely, she is well-read, intelligent, and a wonderful artist. I love everything about her. I think I could make her happy. If you will give me the chance, Mister Donald, I will cherish her forever, and I can look after you too.”
“Financially?” Archie asked dangerously, his blue eyes glinting.
Blair did not see the danger, and nodded. “Yes,” he replied, smiling. “You need never worry about money ever again.”
As soon as he said it, Blair saw that he had made a grave mistake.
Archie thumped the desk with his fist and glared at Blair with naked
hatred. “How dare you?” he cried, his voice throbbing with anger. “Are you suggesting that I cannot provide for my family?”
“No Mister Donald—by no means!” Blair rushed to reassure him. “I meant that if there ever comes a time when you cannot work for any reason, there will be no need for you to despair. You are a highly respected man in this area and I would never want to change that. Forgive me for the implication.”
Archie took a minute to compose himself. “Thank you,” he replied. “Now I am going home. Do not come near Tavia again.”
“Tavia refused me herself,” Blair said heavily.
“She told us.”
“Did she tell you why?” Blair asked keenly.
“She said that she was from a working class background and liked it that way,” Archie replied. “She said she did not want to embarrass you, and try to live in a world where she knew she would never fit in.”
“I do not care about society, or class, or wealth,” he replied bitterly. “I would give it all up just to be with my Tavvy.”
He actually thinks he means it, Archie thought in disbelief.
“I doubt it, M’Laird,” Archie lifted up his arms, looked up at the vaulted roof, then gazed at the space all around him. “You would give all this up for a tradesman’s daughter? Please do not insult my intelligence! You might marry her
, but you would soon tire of her and begin to take mistresses. Men like you always do.”
Blair looked at Archie with narrowed eyes. “I will not defend myself against such a remark save to say that I would never do such a thing, but you do not think much of your daughter, Mister Donald. I am asking you one more time. Please give me your blessing.”
Archie took a deep breath. “M’Laird, are you hard of hearing?” he asked patiently. “Tavvy has refused you. I have refused you. May I write it down for you?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Blair sighed.
He looks beaten, Archie thought with satisfaction, before standing up. “I trust we understand each other now, M’Laird. Goodbye.” Archie made a little bow and strode out of the castle. He felt proud and triumphant. He had stood up against the Laird and won. Tavvy was safe again.
Suddenly, all the fight went out of Blair. He felt utterly defeated. Perhaps tomorrow would be better, but for today? Well, there was always more whisky.
He was on his fifth glass and beginning to feel a little better when the idea of the ceilidh came into the hazy fog of his mind. It was the beginning of Advent, not long till Christmas, and then Hogmanay and New Year. Since it would soon be time to eat, drink, and be merry, he decided that he would do all three, and damn Tavia! There were plenty of pretty noble ladies and ordinary village girls—Tavia Donald was just another one of them.
In the Highlands, Christmas was very much the poor relation to New Year when it came to celebrating. Christmas was celebrated reverently and quietly with a touch of merriment, but the New Year celebrations were riotous.
Blair had thrown the invitation open to everyone in the village of Auchnasaig. It only contained about three hundred people, but Blair was not blind to the fact that a few hundred more friends and relatives would be invited and squeezed in somehow. The castle was huge, but only a small part would be open to visitors. It was the event of the year, and everyone from the most elevated nobleman down to the beggar who plied his trade outside the church would be there.
Blair and Tavia were both being tortured in their own private hell, each trying not to think about the other. Blair was both hoping and not hoping that Tavia would come, and Tavia was still dithering over her decision.
Eventually Bridget made up her mind for her. “Mistress Donald, if that face wis any longer yer chin wid be on the flair!” she said dramatically. “I knaw the mighty Laird Blair Patterson the Younger will be there, but ye will see him roon’ the village an’ a’ ower the place so ye might as well get used tae it!”
Tavia laughed. It was hard to be unhappy around Bridget. “I will come,” she said, smiling, “but I am leaving if he tries to dance with me, Bridget.”
“Tavvy”—Bridget took her by the shoulders—“ye’re the bonniest lass in the hale village. Lads’ll be fightin’ ower who dances wi’ ye first. He will hae tae get tae the back o’ the queue!”
Tavia burst into a fit of helpless giggles. If Bridget were there, maybe the ceilidh would be fun after all.
Blair spent Christmas at the home of Laird Angus Graham and his wife, the Lady Maisie Graham. They had two young teenage daughters: Kirsty, who was thirteen and yet a little too young to marry, and Alison, who was eighteen and just right. Blair had a suspicion that the Grahams had invited them because they wanted to have a look at a potential husband for Alison.
It was obvious that Alison was smitten with Blair the first time she looked at him. She was not a beautiful girl, but she had soulful deep brown eyes and shining raven-black hair. Blair conversed politely with her and she hung on every word he said, however, at the end of the evening he kissed her hand and left their castle without a backward glance.
He was wallowing in self-pity and he knew it, but despite himself he was looking forward to the ceilidh.
On the night of the 31st of December in the Year of our Lord 1410, a few hundred people were squashed shoulder to shoulder in the Great Hall of the castle, and two of them were trying desperately to ignore each other.
Tavia and Bridget were being partnered by local boys, but Tavia could see that Blair was dancing with a petite young aristocratic lady with red hair. She tried not to look at him but the more she tried the harder he became to avoid.
When the dance was finished Tavia gratefully accepted a glass of ale from her partner, Rob Grant, whom she knew had had his eye on her for a long while. He was the son of the wealthiest fisherman in the village, Jamie Grant, who owned a fleet of five fishing boats, and Tavia knew, although nothing had been said, that her parents would be very happy if Rob had sat his cap at their daughter.
He had always been described as “a fine figure of a man” but although he was as tall as Blair, Tavia could already see a slight thickening around his waistline. He was as dark as Tavia was fair, had very dark brown hair, deep brown eyes, and features that were pleasant rather than handsome.
Could she see a future with him? She had known and liked him all her life, but she had never thought of him in those terms. However, they were of the same social stratum, and she thought they might rub along quite nicely together, even if there were no passion.
They were chatting amiably about their respective families, and had unwittingly wandered closer to the outside entrance. It was bitterly cold; Tavia shivered and hugged herself.
“It’s freezing, Rob,” she observed. “Let us go back inside.”
“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?” Rob asked, his voice soft. He caressed her cheek with his knuckles and smiled at her.
“Thank you Rob, but I really am frozen—” the rest of her sentence was cut off as his lips came down on hers so hard that her head was forced back painfully. She gave a little squeal, and her heart was hammering with terror. He was so much bigger than she was, and his arms were like steel bands. One was wrapped around her waist, forcing her against him, and the other was holding the back of her head to stop her screaming as he pressed her lips so hard against her teeth that her lips were starting to bleed.
He is going to defile me, she thought desperately. She was hitting him, punching his shoulders with all her feeble might, but was no match for his strength. She fought on, though. She would not give in, no matter what he did to her.
Then, in a flash, it was all over. The brutal mouth was ripped away from hers and she heard a growl like an enraged beast and a scream of fright as the pressure on her body disappeared.
Tentatively, she opened her eyes to see Rob lying on the floor straddled by Blair, who was punching him mercilessly in the stomach, putting every ounce of his strength into every blow.
Tavia was scared for a moment. She had no idea Blair was so strong or that he could be so brutal.
Rob was squeaking for mercy, since he had no breath to scream, but Blair solved that problem by starting on his face, which he pummeled into a bloody pulp before standing up and giving Rob a final kick. Then he pulled him upright and held him so that they were nose to nose.
“Now, perhaps you will think twice before you do such a thing again!” he hissed. “You will never again set foot on my property, and if I hear your name associated with the slightest misdemeanor against women I will personally come and deal with you. After that, I promise you will never father children! Now get off my land and stay out of my way!” He threw Rob back onto the floor and turned to Tavia while Rob’s friends and two of his guards took him away.
Fortunately the incident had taken place in the very quietest and darkest part of the long corridor, so no one else had witnessed it.
As soon as they were gone Blair rushed to her and gathered her into his arms.
His expression changed completely. To Tavia’s surprise, it was an expression of concern and fear.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked urgently. “Did he—touch you?”
“No, Blair, I am fine,” she replied, sighing. “My lips are a little bruised but I am none the worse other than that, except for being a little shaken up.”
She said my name, he t
hought in wonder. He looked at her smile and at that moment he knew she loved him.
10
Love Letters
Tavia put her fingertips on a cut on his cheek, then kissed it. “Thank you,” she said softly, and felt saddened as she took in the cut on his chin and the abrasions on his knuckles, which had been his main offensive weapon against Rob. The skin had been almost completely scraped off, and the flesh underneath was bloody.
“We will need to clean this up,” Tavia announced firmly. “Thank goodness your arm has nearly healed otherwise you might have been crippled for a time. I left some salve with me last time I was here. Let us go and heal you.”
“I think I deserve a reward for saving you,” he murmured.
“I think you do too,” she smiled and raised her lips to his. They were still sore, but she hardly noticed. Being in Blair’s arms again was heaven on Earth, and she knew that somehow they would have to find a way of being together; it could not be otherwise. “Now, do you have any wine?”
“Yes, I'll bring you the finest!” he replied proudly.
“Oh, dear,” Tavia said ruefully, “I think you should get me a bottle of the worst wine, because I am going to wash your hands with it.”
He looked at her in disbelief. “What a waste!” he said, scandalized. “I have a few corked bottles—will they do?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Your cuts will not care.”
He ordered the wine then took her in his arms again, inhaling her scent. “God, Tavia, you have no idea how much I have missed you,” he breathed. “I nearly went mad.”
She could not speak, because her eyes were full of joyful tears, and when their lips met and she heard his moan of satisfaction, she felt at home. Here in his embrace was where she belonged: sheltered, cherished, and protected from all harm.
When he closed his arms around her and felt her soft breasts against his chest, his strong man’s body became weak because of her nearness. His will had gone; at this moment he would do anything for her. Every one of his nerves was sensitive to her touch and smell, and there was nowhere else he wanted to be.
