Beloved Lies, Book 2

by Marti Talbott

  Lucy stared after him and then mumbled, “I truly hate loving you.”

  ONCE MORE, BLAIR SETTLED into her bed, opened the book, and began to read.

  MacGreagor Glen

  Fergus Kennedy had just finished his story when a knock on the door interrupted the men in the Great Hall.

  “Are you not hungry?” Isabell asked when one of the boys opened the door.

  “Indeed we are,” Donnan answered. He stood, let his guests and the others leave the room and once everyone was gone, he wrapped his arms around his wife. “Do you know how well I love you?”

  She pulled back to look in his eyes. “Husband, what is amiss?”

  “Nothin’ is amiss. I was just now reminded to tell you more often.”

  She smiled and went back into his arms. “I love you too.”

  Together, they walked through the foyer, across the inner courtyard and then stopped to watch the festivities from the top step.

  “All is not as well as we hoped,” she whispered.

  “You are troubled? What is it?”

  “I saw somethin’ I dinna care to see.”

  “What?”

  “Annella smiled at Tavis Kennedy.”

  He tried to see what she was talking about, but Annella was helping prepare the meal and did not seem to be paying attention to anyone in particular. “Does she not always smile at everyone?”

  “Not like that. Some say they sit together in the market and Annella knows not if anyone else is there.”

  “She is smitten with Tavis Kennedy?”

  “‘Tis what I hear.”

  “I see. Does Cullen know?” Donnan asked.

  “’Tis doubtful for he is being his same self.”

  “Which is?”

  “Before we married, we were together constantly. Just now, he goes off with Flannagan to try out a new futeball.”

  “Instead of being with the lass he loves?”

  Isabell nodded. “Aye.”

  “Should I talk to him?”

  “I fear ‘tis too late. Even if ‘tis not, ‘tis not our affair.” She kissed his lips, took his hand, and started down the steps. “Come, we have guests to tend.”

  MOST HAD GATHERED IN the courtyard to eat by the time Cullen finally went to be with Annella. She smiled, but it was not the ‘happy to see him’ smile she normally expressed, and he noticed. Like most men, he dismissed it as being the kind of off day all lasses suffered. He devoured his meal and as soon as he was finished, off he went to be with Flannagan again.

  If Annella knew anyone other than Tavis Kennedy was watching, she did not let on. Flannagan’s wife came to voice the same complaint and they commiserated until Lillian left to tend to her small children. The courtyard was filled with storytelling, gossip, and laughter, yet she heard none of it. As hard as she tried, she could not keep from glancing at Tavis, and he always seemed to be looking at her.

  That’s when it happened.

  “GRAHAMS!” someone shouted.

  An empty bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, Annella froze. Certain she had caused a clan war after all; she stared unmoving at the far end of the glen and when Tavis came to stand next to her, she did not even notice.

  Isabell noticed. She nudged her husband, and nodded toward the young couple. Donnan saw it for himself and then looked for his brother. Instead of coming to protect the woman he loved, Cullen still stood next to his best friend watching the Grahams enter the glen. Disgusted, Donnan shook his head.

  Every mouth dropped and every head turned to look at the far end of the glen. The men waited to see if they needed to run for their weapons while the women held their breaths. Yet, it wasn’t long before they all rested easier. Instead of warriors, Laird Graham was attended by two women and only four guards. A collective sigh of relief could be heard all over the village.

  “What does he want?” Laird Kennedy asked.

  Laird MacGreagor was pretty sure he knew, but said nothing.

  The second he saw Moyra, Berry’s eyes grew exceedingly large. Hoping no one would notice, he quietly started down one of the cottage paths.

  “Berry?” Donnan shouted.

  Berry stopped, and slowly turned around. “Aye?”

  “Perhaps you might see what Jamie is up to.”

  Berry was relieved. Jamie and his friends, together with a guard to keep watch for a rabid animal, went to play beside the loch which was well away from the village. He nodded, quickly went around the back of a cottage, and then walked behind the castle so he could avoid the courtyard altogether. He peeked around the far corner of the north tower, waited until the Grahams had dismounted and then quickly made his way to the loch. Once there, he dared to look back and thankfully, Moyra had not seen him – not that he could tell anyway.

  “You are welcome here,” said Donnan as soon as Laird Graham halted his horse near the outside of the courtyard. MacGreagor men helped the women down, and the instant her feet hit the ground, Moyra loudly announced, “I have come to choose a MacGreagor husband!”

  Gaping mouths quickly closed and the eyebrows of several unmarried men shot up. It was all Donnan could do to keep from laughing. Laird Graham, he noticed looked even older in the sunlight than he had in the darkness of the Graham’s Great Hall. At least he wore leggings that were not split. “You already know Laird Kennedy,” Donnan said in way of introduction. “This is his wife, and beside her is my wife, Isabell.”

  Graham nodded. “This be my daughter Moyra, and her sister Fenella who is not yet old enough to marry.”

  The youngest Graham daughter looked greatly relieved. “Thank you, father,”

  Donnan watched as Moyra, he suspected, looked all around for Berry, and did not see him, so began to look over the other men. Most were already beginning to ease out of sight. “We offer a bowl of ham and bread, if ‘tis any left. We dinna expect you.”

  “Then you should not have told Moyra about the feast,” Graham said.

  Donnan knew not what he was talking about, but chose to ignore the comment. “Are you not hungry, lad?”

  “I shall have a bite or two whilst I look for a wife. That one,” he said pointing at a woman behind the table, “is pleasin’ enough.”

  “That one is the mother of six and you best not rile her husband,” said Donnan.

  Graham looked her over again anyway and then shrugged. “So many handsome lasses.”

  “Most are already married,” Isabell pointed out.

  “I feared as much. What about that one?” He asked, pointing to Lillian.

  “Quite married and happily so,” Donnan answered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laird Kennedy usher his daughters into the castle.

  Graham dismissed Lillian too. “I shall wait then, until you line them up for me.”

  “I dinna promise a husband for your daughter or a wife for you,” Donnan reminded him, “and I shall not line them up. They are not cows for the barterin’.”

  “Cows? Of course not.” Graham wrinkled his brow. “Then how shall I know which is married and which is not?”

  “Perhaps you might simply ask them,” Isabell suggested, “though some might be easily frightened off.”

  “I dinna mean to frighten them,” Graham argued. “I mean to choose one the way I chose my other wives. They agreed easily enough.”

  “Aye,” said Isabell, “but these are MacGreagors. They prefer to be persuaded.”

  Graham scratched his forehead. “Persuaded? Persuadin’ shall take too long.”

  “Did you not tell me the other wives hated you?” Donnan asked.

  “Aye.”

  “Perhaps gently persuadin’ a lass into acceptin’ you shall prevent her hatin’ you later.”

  Graham was not at all happy with that idea, but when one of the women handed him a bowl of food, he accepted it, looked the woman up and down, and then began to eat.

  OF GRAHAM’S TWO DAUGHTERS, the youngest was by far the more handsome and it would not be long before a husband came her w
ay. Just turning twelve, however, she could not have been less interested. She graciously accepted the bowl of food Isabell handed her.

  Isabell was thoroughly enjoying the site, for an aggressive woman such as Moyra was not something most MacGreagor men had ever seen. Undeterred, Moyra approached one lad and then the next, until she encountered a wife who glared when she came too close to her husband. Moyra slowly backed away. Even then, she was not dissuaded, and headed into the glen where Cullen and Flannagan were gawking.

  “Where might the one called Berry be?” Fenella asked.

  Isabell looked all around, but did not see him. “I know not where he is.”

  “My sister fancies him.”

  “She is familiar with Berry?”

  “As familiar as Berry would let her be when he and Laird MacGreagor came to give over the colts.”

  “I see.”

  “Moyra is father’s favorite. He lets her have all that she wants, and she wants Berry.”

  “You dinna like your sister?” Isabell asked.

  “I tolerate her well enough until she screams.”

  “She screams?”

  “Aye, when she dinna get her way. Father says if she marries a MacGreagor, she shall have to live here, but I doubt that will happen. More likely, he shall have to live with us.”

  “I cannae imagine a MacGreagor lad shall agree to that.”

  “Then father shall have to bribe him to do it.”

  Isabell smiled. She knew a thing or two about MacGreagor men and this was going to be fun to watch. First, she spotted two men hiding behind a cottage while keeping a close eye on where Moyra was headed next. Others were brave enough to stand still and let her approach, and soon it appeared Moyra was running out of prospects. By then, Isabell’s young daughters wanted her attention, so she went to put them down for a nap.

  WITH THE EATING DONE and everything put away, Donnan said to the two lairds, shall we not see which of us has the better archers?

  “Is that not what we came for?” Laird Kennedy asked.

  Laird Graham protested, “I heard nothin’ of archery.”

  “Perhaps I failed to mention it to your daughter,” Donnan said.

  “Apparently so,” Graham grumbled. He looked around, spotted his guards and asked. “My four against four of yours?”

  “Three,” said Kennedy.

  “I agree,” Donnan said.

  “What prize have you to offer?” Graham wanted to know.

  “Are you not content just to say your lads beat the Kennedy and MacGreagor archers?” Donnan asked.

  “Hardly seems worth it. Perhaps...” Graham began.

  Donnan was immediately suspicious. “Perhaps what?”

  “If my lads win, you shall give me the Kennedy or the MacGreagor wife of my choosin’.”

  Kennedy stroked his beard. “Nay, we need all our lasses.”

  “As do we,” said Donnan.

  Graham shrugged. “Very well, as I have no choice, I shall try my hand at persuadin’.”

  When Donnan announced it was time, word of the archery challenge spread quickly. The clan and their guests began to assemble on the side of the glen that still had grass. In a festive mood, the children played tag, hiding behind this parent or that, while the dogs chased the cats. Guards still watched for rabid animals, and since the Grahams had not brought their longbows, it was agreed that all the men would shoot using the same bow.

  A sawed-off log protruded some five feet out of the ground. In the top, an old shield was tightly wedged into a split in the log, holding it upright. Little was left of the ferocious red lion painted on the front for in several places the steel tipped arrows had pierced it and flown straight through.

  “We are in need of a new target,” Flannagan muttered. He stood between his wife and Cullen.

  “You mean before the king discovers we shoot at the lion, Scotland’s symbol of honor and courage?” Cullen asked.

  Flannagan looked genuinely surprised. “Is that what that means?”

  Cullen rolled his eyes.

  Flannagan held a seven foot longbow that was a good foot taller than he, and looked around. Even though all men were required to have regular bows and arrows constantly at the ready, he saw no others holding longbows and became a little alarmed. “I alone challenge them?”

  “Nay, I must shoot as well,” said Cullen.

  “You have no bow?”

  “Donnan said we are all to use yours.”

  “Mine?” He slowly began to smile, handed the bow to Cullen, and then put his arm around his wife. “You first.”

  Dressed in ordinary long pants suitable for working and playing futeball, the men wore long sleeves with leather pads strapped around their forearms to protect against the backlash of the bowstring.

  Ready to begin, Donnan held up his hand to quiet everyone. “The lads shall shoot only once. A MacGreagor, then a Kennedy and then a Graham until three from each clan has shot. “Flannagan, you are first.”

  Flannagan looked positively stupefied. “Me? Why must it always be me?”

  Donnan frowned, took the longbow away from Cullen, handed it to Flannagan and then gave him a playful shove until he was lined up with the target.

  With no easy avenue of escape, Flannagan raised his bow, placed the arrow on the top of the handle and...” he slowly lowered both and looked back. “What do we get if we win?”

  “You get to say you won,” Donnan answered.

  Flannagan began to pout. “When I win, I shall have a crown for my reward.”

  “A jester’s crown?” Donnan asked. “Shall you shoot or not?”

  “Have I a choice?” Flannagan whispered as he prepared to shoot again. This time, he squinted, lined up his arrow with the center of the target, and then paused. “Wait!” Flannagan shouted.

  Donnan huffed. “Wait for what?”

  “I’ve a question?”

  “Go on, what is it?

  “Can we not simply refuse to fight? Others have done it without sufferin’ harsh punishment.”

  “Others are not wise enough to know, that if we dinna fight we shall soon become English.”

  That made some openly laugh while others nodded in agreement.

  Flannagan was about to begin again when he looked back at Cullen, laid the bow and arrow on the grass, and then walked to his friend. With both hands, he took hold of Cullen’s shoulders and made him move one foot, and then another foot. away from his exceedingly handsome wife.

  This time, everyone laughed.

  “Who can you trust if not me?” Cullen asked aloud.

  Flannagan rubbed his chin, thought about that, and then moved Cullen back where he found him. He took his wife’s hand and put it in Cullen’s. “So as you can catch her when I win and she faints dead away.” Amid the chuckles, he hurried back, picked up his bow, loaded an arrow, and then laid his bow down again. This time, he ran to Lillian, kissed his wife full on the mouth for good luck, and ran back. He raised his longbow, drew back the string, and let loose his feathered arrow. It sailed through the air at a speed far too fast for the eye to see, hit the target square in the middle and exited out the hole already pierced all the way through.

  Pleased with himself, Flannagan squared his shoulders and handed the longbow to the Kennedy. “Beat that, if you can.”

  To the cheers and encouragement of the crowd, the Kennedy took a turn and did almost as well. Next, the Graham shot. His arrow struck the outside rim of the target, but he was thrilled. “Tis the best I ever done,” he shouted.

  Craig MacGreagor took a turn, but when it was time for the second Kennedy to shoot, he clearly did not have confidence in his skill. Nevertheless, he let his arrow sail through the air and just as quickly said, “Did you feel that?”

  “What?” several in the crowd asked.

  “I swear, ‘twas a sudden burst of wind.” When he looked, his arrow lay on the ground right in front of the target.

  “Another clown,” Laird Kennedy whispered to Donna
n. “Yet, what would we do without them?”

  “Agreed.” Donnan noticed something else as well. His brother was having a good time, but Annella was not with him and Cullen did not seem to notice. It made him sad, for he knew Cullen loved her. He thought again about talking to his brother, but perhaps Isabell was right – it was not their affair.

  When the challenge was over, the three lairds agreed that there was no clear winner for each team shot about the same, with one accomplished and two not. Laird Graham was not pleased, but no one cared. In the crowd, Moyra Graham tried to pet one man and then another, both of which quickly moved away from her. As soon as the crowd began to disperse, Laird Graham went from woman to woman, asking if she were married. The disappointment in his expression indicated he was having no more luck than his daughter.

  Young Fenella simply watched, and more often than not rolled her eyes at her father and sister’s nonsense.

  Now that the archery contest was over, Flannagan suggested they match their skills at futeball. The women moaned, while the younger boys applauded and tried to get on a team. They were soundly sent away. Not one of the elders were brave enough to get anywhere near a game – even to settle disputes. The ball was made of leftover yarn stuffed in a pig bladder and no matter how well it was sewn together; it bounced erratically.

  Donnan just shook his head. Apparently, Flannagan and Cullen had it all planned out in advance, for someone had drawn a line in the dirt on both ends of the field. He looked up, but unfortunately it did not look like rain. Rain was likely the only thing that would stop them – and maybe not even then. When Isabell came, he put his arm around her. There was nothing more to do but watch.

  A futeball game always started out friendly. Whether they stayed that way or not was another matter. For this game, Cullen and Flannagan played on opposing teams. The men lined up opposite each other, Flannagan hiked the ball between his legs, and when a Kennedy caught it, he kicked it high in the air. Attempting to catch it as it sailed toward the forest, Gordan ran right into a tree and nearly knocked himself out.