Tangled (Handfasting)

by St. John, Becca

"My mother needs me," Maggie argued.

  "And so do the Highlands, lass, so do we and all the other clans allied with the Bold."

  "I'm only going home."

  Ealasaid's eyes narrowed, her head tilted to the side. "Home, lass? Is this not home for you now?"

  It was far harder than she expected, for this was a home, of sorts. And she did love the people. That was the problem, she loved them too much.

  "I mean the home of my parents, where I was raised."

  "Well, there's something I think you should be taking, then."

  "What is that?"

  Ealasaid offered a head scarf of MacKay. Maggie's hands flew to her uncovered head.

  "As I thought." Ealasaid nodded succinctly. "There was talk of a wee spot of blood in the hay. We all waited, thinking you'd want the Bold here, with you, before you faced us all with the fact. But I'm thinking you're not true to your own actions."

  "No, it's not like that. He made me a promise and he broke it, straight away, he broke it!"

  "What did he promise?"

  Maggie shook her head. Talorc would understand, but she wasn't certain anyone else would. Even she knew the impossibility of her request. That was the worst of it. She knew he had to go, he had to fight. She just wasn't prepared to face the consequences.

  "I have to go." She wanted to give Ealasaid a hug, unsure if it would be well received.

  But she wasn't so chicken as that. Without warning she hurried over, wrapped her arms around Ealasaid and squeezed. The great woman squeezed her back.

  "You let them know you’re married, child."

  "I'm not. A year's time has not passed."

  Ealasaid pushed away. "You let everyone know you're one, and the Laird may not like your going, but he will accept it."

  Maggie turned away.

  "The kerchief does more than say a lass is married. It says she's a woman now, no longer a maiden. You're not a maiden anymore." She handed out the kerchief. Maggie looked over her shoulder at it and pivoted. She did not want to take the cloth.

  Ealasaid urged it on her. Maggie had no choice but as soon as it was in her hand, she pushed it between the folds of her packet.

  "What if he comes back injured? How will you be feeling to be gone?"

  Maggie's head snapped up. "How would I feel, to have him return across the back of a saddle?"

  "He'll not be killed. He's the Bold."

  "Kings have been killed, slaughtered. He's no better than that."

  "He'll be back."

  "Oh, aye, I don't doubt that," Maggie snapped, "It's how he'll be coming back that's the worry, and the crux of his promise, and well he knows that."

  Ealasaid frowned. "You take good care of that mother of yours and hurry back here. Or know that the Laird will be there to fetch you."

  Deep inside, Maggie already knew that. But he would have to wait until spring. He might travel in the snow, but he'd not expect it of Maggie. He would have to stay with his clan.

  Her brothers were here.

  Her mother could truly be ill.

  "Ealasaid, will you be the one to tell Talorc why I had to leave," he could have been injured. "Will you tell him . . ."

  "That he broke a promise?"

  Maggie couldn't answer that. She just couldn't. Her brothers were waiting and her tears threatened to fall. She choked back a sob.

  "Tell him I'm gone."

  Excerpt

  THE HANDFASTING

  BOOK 3

  TORN

  Torn©2009Martha E Ferris

  All rights reserved

  Cover Art © 2012 Kelli Ann Morgan / Inspire Creative Services

  www.inspiredcreativeservcies.com

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, persons or clans is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPTER 1 – HOME AGAIN

  Home again.

  Maggie expected it to be the same. She expected to step straight back into life as it had been.

  She was a fool.

  The ride should have forewarned. Rather than teasing affection, her brothers treated her with the wariness of large men in a room full of breakable objects. There was a hint of distrust.

  "Ma read your missive and took straight to her bed." Nigel admitted.

  "To her bed?" Fiona MacBede never fell ill enough to be off her feet.

  "To her bed." Feargus the younger barked. His scowl meant someone would pay. There was no one, except perhaps her father, who would be more protective of Fiona MacBede than her sons.

  Maggie shrunk deeper into her great plaid.

  "You seem well enough." Feargus continued.

  "Aye." But she wasn't, not with the mischief she had played. She felt small. Very small indeed.

  She must have sounded so.

  "Don't doubt yourself, Maggie. No matter what they may have said, or done, you’re a fine lass. The best for the best."

  Her brothers blamed Talorc for the offense against their sister, the worry to her mother.

  What had Maggie done?

  "We thought The Bold was the man. But even we can be wrong."

  Maggie's groan was stolen by an eerie moan of wind. An ominous sound coupled with a dark silver sky and a landscape of brittle heather. The heather was fast turned to white.

  Snow had come.

  They battled against it the whole of their return to the MacBede Keep. Shoulders hunched, head bowed. Maggie could only see white. It blew against them, blocked site of their trail, the sun. It froze Maggie's heart from thoughts of Talorc and the MacKays. She didn't know how her brothers knew where they were or where they were going, but they continued on. In the worst of it they traveled through two nights, Maggie tied to the horse so when she dozed, she'd not lose her seat.

  "We'll get you home, lass. We'll get you back to the safety of our people. Ma will be that glad to see you."

  They reached the MacBede gates before Maggie realized where they were. One moment her head was bowed with weariness, the next she lifted her eyes to see the most beautiful sight she could ever imagine.

  Home.

  She was home again and this time she would relish it in the way one does when they know they have to leave again. And she would leave. She had come to understand that much. If the Bold would take her, she would go back to him.

  But not yet.

  There was the whole of the winter to get her fill of kin, to listen to her mother's advice, to be a MacBede. Come spring, she would be off again, to the Laird MacKay, to be a wife.

  If he waited.

  If he didn't . . . there was a chance of that, she had to be honest enough to admit. Talorc was a man of action, quick, impulsive action. He wasn't one to take time, assess his situation. Maggie could understand that. She was known to be just as impulsive and she knew the flavor of regret over thoughtless action.

  Talorc had married her, within a few hours of meeting. The truth was, given time, disappointment was known to taint hasty decisions.

  He didn't love her.

  The curiosity of desire had been fed.

  Seonaid could press her interest.

  He would have the whole of the winter to think that out. And if he chose to leave her with the MacBedes it would be better to learn of it within the bosom of her own family, then held fast to the MacKay keep.

  But this, now, was her homecoming. She refused to think of Talorc or the MacKays and dampen the joy of it. There would be time enough to rethink actions in the winter to come.

  Bone cold, aching from sitting astride for days, hungry for nothing more than the warmth of her own bed and a hot broth, she was hit with a jolt of energy. Rag doll limp outside the gate she felt grand with the crossing of it, raised her hand with exuberance to wave and shout "hallo" to all those around.

  Silence stunted her gesture.

  Despite the snow, the courtyard was full. All those who would have waved back and called out now stood taciturn and stoic, with the same wary watchfulness that Maggie's brothers held along their journey.


  Maggie's newfound energy leached from her as quickly as it had come. She had no heart to prod for fun. No exuberance to challenge their stoicism. That was for them to do for her. But they didn't.

  She bowed her head, shameful of the problems she had caused.

  "Head-up lass, you've done naught wrong." Feargus growled beside her.

  "You don't know, Feargus." His head snapped around, wariness replaced with accusation. Feargus had gone to his sister's rescue. If there was no need for rescue, Feargus would be shamed to the core.

  His look burned. Maggie felt significant as ash.

  Och, Talorc, what have I done?

  But even as she thought it, she realized it was not her fault. They, both Bold and her family, had put her to this. They had pushed her, and pushed her to accept things before she was ready.

  Did they want her to be a MacKay? Fine and dandy for them. She knew those in power married strangers, but at least they were prepared from the cradle. Her own gave her no more than one night, one torturous night, to adjust, accept and consider life without those she loved and held dear.

  She thought of Ealasaid, and Deidre, Lizbeth, Mary and Eba.

  So the MacKays had good people too.

  She thought of Seonaid.

  And they had troublesome women as well.

  There were all sorts to a community. Maggie could accept that, if only she had been better prepared, given some warning, time enough to shore up her foundations.

  Head held high she urged her mount a step before her brothers.

  Feargus was right, she had naught to be sorry about. But he did. As did her ma and her da and Bold, trickster that he was. She would not feel guilty for wanting to be home with her own.

  Except it didn't feel much like home.

  Her father reached up, to lift her off the horse. He had not done such a thing since she was a mere child, her head no higher than his stomach. Nor had he ever hugged her with such fierce power.

  She didna' know if the tears sprang from the pressure of his hold, or the sudden bout of homesickness that had her hugging him back with the same emotional desperation. Reluctantly, he let her go to her mother's embrace.

  "Och, Maggie," finally her mother released her, to lean back and assess, her fingers gripped tight to Maggie's arms. "You've had a birthday since you've been gone." With the words, Fiona's eyes filled to brimming.

  Maggie's own salty tears streamed down her cheeks. "Aye, I'm a woman now." The quiet of the courtyard hadn't lasted long. With Maggie's words it landed once again, like a heavy mallet.

  "A woman now?" Fiona's gaze shifted over Maggie.

  I can make it all come together, Maggie. That's when we explode with pleasure, fly to heaven and back. That's when you know what it means to be a woman. Talorc's words of passion.

  Maggie blushed furiously. That was not what she meant to say, yet it was what they had all heard.

  "I'm twenty, now," she defended. "No longer a child."

  "Oh." Her mother sighed. "No, not a child any longer." And seemed saddened by the fact. "But let's get you in by the fire, warm you up."

  Fiona looked back at her two sons. "You as well, someone can take the mounts. You've done a fine job of returning our Maggie to us, time to warm yourselves and have a proper meal."

  Her brothers were huddled together with her da. Probably speaking of their reception at the MacKays, which was no reception, because they wouldna' leave their mounts. They as good as proclaimed war. Talorc would not be pleased.

  She let her mother lead her into Maggie's own chamber, where a tub already stood, filled with steaming water.

  "Mother, you don't know how good that looks."

  "It was a hard journey?"

  "Terrible with the snow and all."

  "He won't be able to come this way for a good long time." Fiona kept her back to Maggie, as she moved drying sheets closer to the fire. Maggie couldn't respond. As determined as she was to go home, she now wished Talorc close at hand.

  She eased her damp plaid from her shoulders, from around her waist. "Were you truly sick?"

  "Aye," Fiona crossed to Maggie to help with the fastening of her gown. "I'd been fretting ever since you left and when your letter arrived, well, I was beyond fretting."

  "My words made you ill?"

  "Sick of heart, child, sick of heart." Fiona wrapped her arms around her daughter. "You don't know how hard it is to send a child off. Grown or no, children of their own or no, you never stop worrying about them. And when you've played a hand at sending them out against their own will," a gentle mother's touch traced Maggie's cheek. "Can you forgive me? I truly thought it was for the best."

  Tears kept Maggie from answering. Not great gulping sobs but quiet tears of anguish. Never, in her whole lifetime, had she ever hurt her mother, and now she had done so with a vengeance. The worst of it was, Fiona had been right. Talorc was a good man in many ways. If he just wouldn't force Maggie's hand so much when she was powerless to stop him.

  He was a danger to her. Not in the way her family was thinking, but he was a danger. Maggie would have to put their ideas to rights, later, after she was warm, fed and rested.

  Fortunately, Fiona didn't seem to need answers. She helped Maggie into the tub as Sibeal, Feargus the younger's wife, came into the room with a tray full of steaming mugs and haggis straight from the stoves. The smell of it, the warmth of the water, the comfort of her family enveloped Maggie.

  "I'll be staying with you tonight, Maggie. We all know how you don't like the darkness." Sibeal offered.

  "Did you tell him about that?" Fiona asked. "Did he know you don't like to be alone in the night?"

  "He knew." Maggie reassured her ma. "But I'm too old to be fretting about such things, now."

  "Tsk," Fiona disapproved. "He left you alone. These warring men just canna' understand we all have our fears."

  "And we need to learn how to face them."

  Sibeal pulled a chair near the tub, broke off a bit of haggis and put it to Maggie's mouth, to feed her as if she were a babe. "Was it that bad? That you had to face fears like that?"

  "No," Maggie pulled away from Sibeal's offer, and reached up to take it herself.

  "Well," Fiona shot out, "Your father and brothers would not let you be harmed in battle! And that's the truth of it!"

  Reparations could not wait until she had her wits about her. She had deliberately distorted the truth, had exaggerated the distortions, but who would have thought her family would take it as gospel? She was known to be dramatic. There was no choice among a family of boisterous older brothers, and a clan that was no different. She knew to come in loud and grand or be ignored. Of all the times for them to take her on her word, they would have to start now.

  There was naught she could do, but defend those she had slandered. "It wasna' the MacKay's fault. I broke through the protection when a man was felled. You know how I can be."

  "He should have known."

  Maggie forgot how stubborn her people could be, once they took a side.

  "We all thought the Gunns had gone, turn tailed and fled. They had been gone that long. But you know the Gunns are a sneaky lot. I'm just that grateful that I'm free of them. Talorc thought they were set on capture and against that he did a fine job."

  Fiona fussed over Maggie's forehead. "There's still a lump, lass. He should have taken the blow."

  "I'm fairing well, ma."

  "You'll fair better, now that you're home."

  "Aye, ma, I'll fair better."

 

 

 
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