Page 38 of Under the Laird’s Promise

Even though she was not. Even though this was all performance.

"Ye look bonnie," he said when she reached him.

"Thank ye." She circled him, assessing. "Yer cloak's crooked."

"Is it?"

"Aye." She stepped close, hands busy adjusting the fabric across his shoulders. Her scent wrapped around him, lavender and something uniquely her. "There. Better."

"Much better." He caught one of her hands, holding it against his chest where she could feel his heart hammering. "Ready fer this?"

"Nae even slightly." But she smiled, quick and genuine. "Let's go anyway."

They walked tae the outer grounds side by side, close enough that their arms brushed with every step. The gathering had already begun tae form, tables laden with food, fires burning, people milling about in groups.

The priest spotted them first, raising his hand in blessing. Tavish bowed—properly this time—and Maighread curtsied.

"Me lady. Master MacBain." The old man's eyes twinkled. "A joy tae see ye both looking so well. And taegether, as it should be."

"Thank ye, Father Brennan." Maighread's voice carried just enough warmth. "Yer blessing means everything."

They moved through the crowd methodically. Finlay first, who clasped Tavish's arm with surprising strength. "MacBain. Good tae have ye here."

"Councilor. The honor's mine."

Dougal next, who offered grudging acknowledgment. "Me lady. MacBain."

"Councilor Dougal." Tavish kept his voice neutral, his hand steady on Maighread's back.

More greetings followed, each one a test he navigated with Maighread's subtle guidance. A touch to his arm meant move on. Pressure meant stay and engage. Her hand slipping intae his meant present a united front.

They eventually headed to the High Table and sat, Maighread on his right, her father's empty seat on her other side. Angus had been too ill tae attend, leaving them as the primary representatives of the MacEwan line.

The feast began with a toast tae the clan's prosperity. Tavish waited until Maighread lifted her cup before touching his own, their eyes meeting over the rim as they drank.

"So far so good," she murmured.

"Told ye I could manage."

"Dinnae get cocky. The day's just started."

Food appeared, trenchers piled high with roasted meat and root vegetables. Music started, fiddles and drums creating a cheerful din. Children ran between the tables, laughing and playing games that had probably existed since before either of them were born.

Tavish ate when Maighread ate. Drank when she drank. Smiled when she smiled. It was easier than he'd expected, following her lead. Natural, even.

"Archery's starting," she said, nodding toward the field where targets had been set up. "Ye should participate."

"Want tae watch me show off?"

"Want tae watch ye blend in." But amusement flickered across her face. "Though if ye happen tae impress everyone, I wouldnae complain."

He stood, offering his hand. "Come watch then. Be me good luck charm."

"That's nae how luck works."

"Humor me."

She took his hand, and they walked tae the archery field together. Other men had already gathered, testing bows and arguing good-naturedly about technique.