by Alisa Adams
My Tavvy,
* * *
You have no idea how much I am missing you. This trip is tedious and all the people I have met so far, although pleasant and friendly, are very boring. I think I am probably feeling sorry for myself. Inverness is a beautiful place and one day I hope we can visit it together. I must sleep now, for tomorrow will be as tiring as today, but it is one day closer to the time that I see you again. I love you always.
* * *
Your Blair
* * *
When Tavia received the letter she was beside herself with happiness, and immediately sat down to write back to him.
* * *
My Darling Blair,
* * *
It seems like months since I last saw you. I have been missing you so much it is like an ache in my heart. Next time you go away please take me with you, for I cannot stand being without you. I must go now, for I am preparing medication, but I will think of you every minute till you get back.
* * *
All my love,
Tavvy
* * *
She stood up and handed the letter to the messenger, who bowed and left straightaway. Then she turned to go back inside, but froze in shock.
Rob Grant and two of his friends were standing, not twenty feet away from her, and openly staring at her. He looked dreadful; both his eyes were purple and nearly swollen shut. His lips were cut in several places and his face was covered with dark blue bruises. He was limping on his left foot and walking with a cane, and his gait suggested that his stomach was paining him badly. Despite herself, Tavia felt desperately sorry for him, and on the spur of the moment she grabbed a flask of milk of the poppy from the shelf, went over to him, and held it out to him.
“I am sorry the Laird hurt you,” she said gently. “This will help with the pain.”
He was still gazing at her, his dark eyes burning with malice. He took the flask but then suddenly dashed it onto the hard earth of the road. “I want nothing from you,” he said wrathfully.
12
New Faces
Blair made it through the next day somehow. He still had the ceilidh to endure, however, he consoled himself with the fact that every day that passed was a day closer to Tavia. He put on his best kilt with a snow-white linen shirt underneath, and fastened the plaid at the shoulder with a huge silver brooch studded with a Cairngorm stone, with the clan motto underneath: Huc Tendimus Omnes, meaning “We All Strive for This.” He added a pair of soft leather boots and a black velvet jacket and he was ready.
He decided to stay for as long as he felt necessary, and would leave as soon as possible without being rude. Everyone knew, or had guessed, that he had a sweetheart—especially women, who seemed to have another sense about these things. However, it did not stop them flirting with him, and he had to endure the advances of at least a dozen young hopefuls, all of whom regarded him as the answer to a maiden’s prayer. After all, who would not want to be seen with the dangerously handsome Laird Patterson the Younger?
He had been at the ceilidh for two hours, had eaten and drunk his fill, and was just about to make his excuses and go since he felt that he had suffered enough...when he saw her. He blinked. There was a woman standing across the hall from him who bore a striking resemblance to Tavia, so much so that he reasoned she must be a close relative. She had the same full mouth and arched eyebrows, and the same blonde wavy hair, although it was not quite as long as hers.
A tall redheaded man who was obviously her husband had his arm around her shoulders, and she was laughing at something he had just said. Looking at them, he felt a little envious. They were obviously very much in love, and when the man standing in front of her moved, he could see evidence of the fruit of that love. The woman was far advanced in pregnancy.
It would have been very rude to walk straight up to the couple without an official introduction from a mutual friend or the host. He could not see the host anywhere, and did not know who their friends were, so he used a different approach. He walked up beside the couple, who were standing by the buffet table, and he casually sidled up almost to the man’s elbow and pretended to nudge his elbow clumsily while stretching across the table for food. The other man’s wine fell out of his hand; he looked around at Blair, annoyed.
“Forgive me, sir,” Blair gave him a slight bow. “How very clumsy of me. Let me get you another glass.” He went to fill a glass from a carafe on the table.
“My apologies once again,” Blair said penitently. “I am a little the worse for wear, if you understand me!”
The young woman gave a peal of laughter. “We have all been there, sir!” she said warmly. “Give yourself peace. I am Catriona Weir and this is my husband Alan. And you are?” She looked at him inquiringly, smiling.
Her eyes are the same color as Tavvy’s, Blair thought as he smiled back. “I am Laird Blair Patterson the Younger, Mistress.” He bowed and kissed her proffered hand. He shook Alan’s hand. “And you, Mister Weir.”
“Do you not think these things are exceptionally dull, M’Laird?” Catriona asked, casting her eyes heavenward. “We are only going to stay as long as politeness demands.” She gave him a mischievous smile, an expression that was just like Tavia’s.
“I totally agree with you,” Blair laughed, sipping his wine.
“We have a good excuse.” Alan grinned, patting Catriona’s bulging tummy. “Ladies with child cannot bear too much standing.”
“Or sitting, or lying down!” Catriona grumbled. “Everything is a pain! I would make you take it from me if I could!”
Alan smiled. “And I would bear it willingly, my love!”
“No you would not!” She giggled, and the sound was just like Tavia’s laugh. “You would not last a week! Provider and protector, that is your role, Husband.”
“I like it that way,” Alan said thankfully.
Blair thought what an enchanting, well-matched couple they were, but he had to try not to stare at Catriona, who was so like Tavia it was uncanny. Her face was slightly longer, her eyes a trifle further apart, and her nose a little broader, but otherwise she was almost identical.
He was daydreaming when suddenly Catriona spoke.“Are you here with a lady?” she asked.
“No,” Blair replied sadly. “She cannot be here tonight.”
Catriona immediately looked sympathetic. “Is she sick?”
Blair had no intention of lying about Tavia’s status. He was not ashamed that he had broken with convention and crossed the artificial class barrier he so despised. “No, she is working,” he replied, somewhat defiantly. He was prepared for condescension, but Catriona was fascinated.
“What does she do?” she asked.
“She is an apothecary,” he answered, surprised by her interest.
Catriona clapped her hands and turned to Alan, who smiled at her indulgently. “My wife has always been fascinated by such things,” he laughed. “She has a very enquiring mind and she loves getting her hands dirty, don’t you, my love?”
“Indeed I do!” she answered with a mischievous smile. “I must meet your sweetheart. What is her name?”
“Tavia, but everyone calls her Tavvy.” He smiled. “Strangely enough, she looks a lot like you.”
“Lucky woman,” Alan remarked, and kissed his wife’s cheek affectionately. She giggled and flapped a hand at him.
“Do you think we might be related?” she asked, suddenly serious. “I come from a very large family. There could be a cousin or two out there about whom I know nothing.” Her voice and face were earnest.
“This is true,” Alan confirmed. “There are so many of them.”
Blair shrugged. “You could be,” he said thoughtfully, “but Tavvy is adopted.” He did not tell them the circumstances of her adoption in case it raised hopes. “Or perhaps it is just one of those strange coincidences that happens sometimes.”
“It may be,” Catriona mused. “But I would love to meet someone who looks just like me. Is she friendly?”
Catriona put her hand on his arm. “And you are very much in love,” she breathed, smiling at him. Suddenly she screwed up her face and gasped, putting her hands on her belly. Instinctively, Alan put a protective arm around her.
“What is amiss, my love?” he asked anxiously.
“The baby has his boots on again!” she grumbled. “I am going to have stern words to say to this child when it is born—this is no way to treat your mother!”
“We must go,” Alan said. “Blair, it would be good to meet you again. I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about. Let us meet tomorrow evening if it is convenient for you.”
“Indeed it is,” Blair replied, shaking the other man’s hand. “Is it well with you, Mistress?” he asked Catriona, concerned.
“Yes, thank you, M’Laird,” she replied, slightly breathless. “Tis quite normal at this time. There are only a few weeks to go, and the baby is practicing how to torture me when he is born. Little beggar!” She laughed.
They said goodbye again and left, then Blair went back to his lodgings and lay on his bed, troubled.
The sight of the woman who looked so like Tavia had unsettled him, because he knew that she would love to have known who her family was and where they came from. Sometimes he saw her gazing into the distance with a faraway look in her eyes and knew she was thinking about them, wondering who they were and where she came from. Did she look like them? Had any of them survived? And if they had, were they wondering about her?
He hoped this woman was related to her, and could provide a few answers to the questions that Tavia had been asking herself all her life.
Only six more days before he saw her again. He hugged his pillow, pretending it was Tavia, then he laughed at himself for his desperation. Oh, Blair, you are truly mad for this woman.
He imagined himself leaping off his horse when he got back, marching into the apothecary’s shop, and carrying her back to the castle chapel, where they would be married by Father O’Dowd in a matter of moments. Then he would carry her into his bedroom, she would offer herself to him, and they would come together in a blissful frenzy.
He sighed as he lay thinking about the consummation of their marriage, and wondered if she would hear his thoughts if he concentrated hard enough. Then once again he told himself off for being a fool, but he emptied his mind of all the distractions of the day and tried anyway.
The day after her encounter with Rob, Tavia saw one of his friends, Calum Rutherford, strolling past the shop, apparently casually. However, when he drew level with the shop he stopped, folded his arms, and stared across at her. Tavia got on with her work, trying to look unconcerned, but when Maureen came in a few minutes later she spotted him straight away.
“Whit’s yon big lump daein’ there?” she asked angrily. “He’ll drive awa’ a’ oor business. Let me tell him where tae go!”
Tavia panicked. “No Mammy!” she cried, catching Maureen’s arm. “He is one of Rob’s friends. I think he is trying to intimidate me but he will not succeed.” Her voice was grim and determined.
Maureen glared at him for a moment then went inside the house and came back with Archie.
He took one look at Calum then went to stir up the coals in the fire with the poker. He did this for some minutes until the tip of the instrument was glowing red, then he went outside, smiling, to greet Calum. He extended his hand to shake Calum’s in a friendly manner, but the other was still holding the poker in a tight grip.
“How are you, Calum?” he asked, smiling broadly. The red hot tip of the poker was at shoulder-height, and Calum was eyeing it with obvious trepidation.
“Weel, Archie,” he replied. “Yersel?” He was now backing away, but Archie was advancing, still grinning pleasantly.
“I see you are looking at the shop.” Archie remarked. “Is there anything I can get for you? Some lads do not like talking about ‘men’s problems’ in front of women. We need to keep it among ourselves, eh?” He gave Calum a conspiratorial wink and a playful nudge in the ribs. The poker shook in his hand and missed Calum’s nose by two inches. He squealed and jumped backwards. Archie looked at the poker as if shocked to see it. “Sorry, Calum!” he cried. “I must have forgotten I had this in my hand. Let me put it back.” He turned to go back into the shop but when he had replaced the implement in the fire, Maureen and Tavia began to laugh.
Tavia stepped outside and watched Calum walk away with his friends. One of them glanced back at her, and she was surprised to see that he looked scared. From that moment on she felt that she was being watched, and she knew the feeling would not go away until Blair came back. He would protect her; he would always protect her.
13
Tavia’s Double
Tavia did not tell Blair about Rob’s threats in her letter, since she did not want to worry him or distract him from his work. She and Maureen had thought the threats from Rob and his friends were over since there was no sign of any of them the next day, but the day after that they resumed their torture in a different way.
When she went out to pick lavender the next morning, Tavia discovered that the bush she was going to harvest had been trampled and hacked almost to pieces. She looked around her to see who had done it, but could see no one; she could guess the culprit, though. Rob Grant was excellent at intimidating defenseless women, but not armed men, so he was doing it in this loathsome, cowardly way, not threatening her, but the livelihood and that of her family.
I cannot wait until Blair comes back, she thought. Only three more days.
When Archie saw the damage he turned crimson with rage. “What is the purpose of this?” he raged. “What does he hope to achieve?”
Tavia shrugged, looking down at the pathetic little bush that was still giving off its fresh, healing fragrance. “I do not know, Paw,” she said sadly. “But he cannot keep it up forever. He has been very clever, though, since we have no proof that it was he who did this. Talking in the street is not a crime, and neither is breaking a flask. This might be, but no one saw anything. But I am sure he will give it up after a while.” She was trying to sound more hopeful than she felt. A confrontation was coming; she could feel it in her bones, that an unseen, relentless presence was still watching her.
The following evening Blair met the Weirs in his lodgings, a pleasant suite of rooms he had rented for the fortnight he was staying in Inverness.
He greeted them warmly, and as soon as they had sat down on a comfortable couch, he ordered a footstool for Catriona’s feet to rest on and a soft cushion for her back.
“How thoughtful!” Catriona said delightedly.
“Indeed,” Alan agreed. “And you are unattached, too! I am most impressed.”
Blair laughed. “I enquired amongst all the women I met in the course of the day,” he said, “and they all said the same thing: take care of a lady’s feet and back and she will love you for it!”
Catriona giggled. “Are you listening to this wise man, Alan? Are you going to start doing that for me?”
“I am sure that is all very nice,”Alan replied with a mock know-it-all air, “but why should I bother with all that when you love me anyway?”
She gave him a playful slap and they laughed at each other. Blair watched enviously, thinking how wonderful it would be to have a relationship like theirs. This was what he wanted for Tavia and himself.
They chatted inconsequentially for a while, and Blair found out that they had another child, a boy of five called Camden.
“Do you have any children, M’Laird?” Catriona asked.
“Please call me Blair,” he said, smiling at her and thinking that she was one of those fortunate women who bloomed when they were pregnant. “Children? Not that I know of!”
Catriona pretended to be scandalized. “You are so wicked!” She giggled and once again the sound reminded Blair of Tavia’s tinkling laugh.
Alan raised a glass to him and
winked, then Blair looked at Catriona again. He decided that it was time he heard her story.
“I do think there is a remarkable resemblance between you and my sweetheart,” he observed. “Perhaps you have a common ancestor.”
“Perhaps.” Catriona shrugged. “I am afraid I know little about my family history. I prefer to deal with the present and”—she patted her swollen belly—“the future.”
“You said you have a big family,” Blair pointed out. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
For the first time since he had met her, Blair saw a sad expression cross Catriona’s face. “I have four sisters and three brothers,” she answered, “or should I say I HAD four sisters. One...well, we presume that Gavina is dead, but we do not know for sure.”
“What happened?” Blair asked.
Catriona’s eyes filled with tears, and Alan put his arms around her.
Blair felt wretched. “Please, if it upsets you, I would rather not know,” he said gently.
“Shall I tell him?” Alan asked his wife.
She nodded. “I am s-sorry,” she choked.
Alan hugged her before he spoke. “Gavina was the eldest of Catriona’s sisters—the eldest of all the children, and there was big age gap between her and Catriona.” he told Blair. “And she was sixteen when she married Duncan, a much older widower. He was used to being the master of his domain, and he had a forceful personality although he never hurt her, but she always obeyed him.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “He wanted to go and see his family in Stromness in the Orkney isles, but Catriona’s father told them that the weather was usually stormy and warned them not to go.”
