Page 35 of Under the Laird’s Promise

"Let them wonder." She moved past him toward the door, pausing at the threshold as if she was about to say something. Then she trailed off, then simply left.

Tavish remained at the window, watching her cross the courtyard below, and realized with perfect clarity that the line between pretense and truth had already disappeared.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Tavish arrived at the solar and found standing by the window.

Ch"Ye're late," she said without turning. She faced him, all business. "The monthly gathering starts at midday. That gives us three hours tae make sure ye ken our traditions."

He leaned against the doorframe. "That's harsh. I'm nae completely hopeless."

"Ye called Finlay 'sir' yesterday instead of using his proper title."

"He didn't seem tae mind."

"He minded. He just didn't say so because ye're me betrothed and he's being polite." She laughed. "Now close the door. We've work tae dae."

Tavish obeyed, the snick of the latch feeling far too intimate for the conversation they were about to have.

"Right then." Maighread moved tae the center of the room. "At the gathering, there's a betrothal tradition ye'll need tae ken. The handfasting dance."

"Handfasting dance?"

"Aye. It's performed by newly betrothed couples before the clan. We'll be bound taegether with a ceremonial cord while dancing three circles around the bonfire." She demonstrated the footwork, her movements graceful despite the confined space. "It symbolizes our unity and commitment before the clan."

"Sounds simple enough."

"It is, except the steps must be perfectly synchronized or it's considered an ill omen fer the marriage." She gestured for him to join her. "We need tae practice until we can dae it without thinking."

Tavish stepped forward and attempted to mirror her movements, but his timing was off, feet tangling with hers.

Maighread's giggled. "That was appalling. Try again," she said, stepping back.

He bowed, this time getting the form mostly right, though his movements still held a touch of self-consciousness.

"Better." She nodded. They practiced for another quarter of an hour, until she seemed satisfied.

"Now, seating arrangements. At the gathering, ye'll be beside me at the High Table. Ye cannae drink until the toast is given."

"Aye. I ken." He studied her face. "Ye're worried about this."

"Every eye will be watching us. One wrong move could undermine everything we've built."

"Then we'll be careful." He caught her hand as she reached fer the parchment on the table. "Maighread. We'll manage this taegether. I promise."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Ye’re right. I'm just… nervous."

"I ken. But ye've prepared me well." He squeezed her hand.

She pulled her hand free, pacing to the window. "Dougal and his faction are watching fer any excuse tae question this match. One mistake, one slip, and they'll use it tae undermine us."

"Then we dinnae slip." He came up behind her, close enough that his chest nearly brushed her back. "We walk in there taegether, confident and united. We smile at the right people, say the right things, and make it clear we're a team. That's what matters. Nae whether I remember Councilor Whatever's third cousin's name."

She turned, and suddenly they were closer than either had intended. Her breath caught, grey eyes wide.

"Ye make it sound easy," she whispered.

"It is easy. When ye stop overthinking." His hand rose, almost touching her cheek, before he forced it back down. "When ye trust that I've got yer back, same as ye have mine."