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sympathies when Saraid passed. As the young woman who showed up at his door in the dark of night to propose marriage to him.
    And now, now as a woman betrothed to another man.
    ‘Tavis? Are you listening?’ Duncan’s low voice broke into his thoughts and his grasp on his arm shook him from his memories.
    ‘I am, Duncan.’ He spoke the words, though not certain they were correct.
    He stepped back out of the way now as some of
Ciara’s friends approached. Gathering around her, they laughed about some matter before tugging her away, but she pulled free and walked to where he stood. She leaned in close and he smelled the scent of heather in her hair.
    ‘No matter what happens, Tavis, I will never forget how much you’ve done for me. I am and shall always be your friend.’
    The kiss on his cheek surprised him. Words were hard to come by just then and harder to say. He forced them out at a whisper so they remained between them.
    ‘And I am yours, Ciara.’
    Tears filled her dark-brown eyes as he spoke and he watched as she tried to blink them away. He would never know what pushed him nearer or what made him wrap her in his arms and hold her close. ‘Be well. Be happy,’ he whispered as he hugged her for a few moments and then let her go.
    He’d barely released her when her friends grabbed her and led her to the open space between the tables. The music began and they formed a circle with Ciara at its centre. Laughing and cheering, they danced—celebrating Ciara’s betrothal and, whether they realised it or not, the end of their own childhoods.
    Others joined in—wee ones, mothers, fathers, kin of all ages—for they all shared the joy of this betrothal. Tavis threw off his dark feelings and smiled, clapping to the tune as more and more joined in. Then, when one of the clan held out her hand to him, he let some of his past go for a moment and joined in.
    They circled and moved back and forth, each of the couples passing the others in a pattern that continued as long as the music played. The players stopped for a brief pause before beginning anew and, to his surprise, another of the women stepped forwards to claim him for the next dance. He laughed as he had not in a long time and, when the dance finished, he danced another and another until the feast was done and everyone began leaving the hall.
    For the first time since Saraid’s death, he’d stepped into the middle of the clan instead of standing at the side watching. As he turned to say farewell to someone who spoke his name, he noticed that Ciara was gone.
    Disappointed in some way he could not name, he drank down the last of his ale and walked through the keep and out to the yard. Since many of those who lived in the village had attended, the gates were still open to allow them to leave. Waving to several of the men who reported to him, Tavis made his way to the path that led to his cottage.
    As he saw the outline of it in the bright light of the growing moon, the same stabbing pain flashed through his heart and soul. He never left a fire burning. He never came home to anyone waiting for him. He was alone as he always was, in spite of this night’s revelries when he’d allowed himself to enter back into the life of the clan for a few scant moments.
    Tavis moved around the croft out of habit, needing not lamp or fire to guide his way while trying to avoid thinking too deeply on the matter. Soon, he lay on his pallet, thinking about his plans for the next few days, trying to find sleep. Instead thoughts and memories jumbled inside his mind and would not allow him to find his rest. Problems and their solutions continued for hours, but the one he thought most about was her.
    Ciara.
    Part of him was pleased that she had grown out of her silly notions about marrying him. It was a sign that she was more sensible now than a year ago when she had turned down several marriage offers and had made one of her own. It gladdened his heart to know she was contented in this