by Ashley York
An imp of a child with long, curly, brown hair limped out of the darkness, her dirty face bright with a smile for the big man. “I’ve missed ye.”
Probably no more than four years old, she clamped onto Malcolm’s tree-like limbs, her eyes closing in pleasure.
“I told ye not to come out. Did ye not hear my call?”
The girl smiled up at the huge man. “Aye. I heard ye. I just dinna believe ye.”
Malcolm’s eyes widened in warning and he glanced at Tisa. The girl did the same, her smile vanishing. “Oh.” She turned to limp back into the darkness.
“Wait!”
Tisa reached toward the girl who continued into the dark of the forest.
“Dunna leave.” She turned on Malcolm. “Tell her not to go.”
“But she should not be seen. If Aodh hears of the outcasts coming into the village, he sends his men out after them.”
Tisa gasped. “For what purpose?”
“Methinks ye already ken.”
“He would hurt his own people?” Tisa turned to where the girl went. “Please. Come back. I will tell no one.”
“Mistress, ye canna be in this position. Aodh has great contempt for these people. Even more than his contempt for his son.”
Her jaw dropped. Darragh knew his father’s contempt? She’d seen glimpses of disapproval, but contempt? How cruel.
“Please, tell her she may come to me. I wish to meet her, learn her name. Please.”
Malcolm’s eyes stayed on her as if to give her a chance to change her mind. She would not. He called again but it was the call of the long-eared owl. Several shadows could barely be distinguished from the darkness as they moved toward Tisa.
Three children. Along with the girl were two older boys. The eldest had a filthy cloth wrapped about his hand. They were reed thin with sallow complexions.
Tisa tried to reassure them with her smile. “Hello.”
Their wariness remained sharp. They waited for Malcolm.
“Tell them they are safe with me,” Tisa said in her most demanding tone.
“Are they?” Malcolm’s response gave her pause.
“I would never tell my father-in-law about them. Ye said it yerself. He belittles my own husband. I have no loyalty to him.”
“He belittles yer husband with just cause.”
Tisa’s eyes widened. “Nae! There is no just cause. Darragh is a gentle, loving man. Ye will not speak so of him.”
Malcolm lowered his gaze. “Forgive me, mistress.”
She glanced at the three children. “And these children dunna deserve to be cast out.” She hunkered down beside the children. “My name is Tisa.”
“But ye canna call her that.” Malcolm’s firm orders riled her.
“Why not?” Tisa stood and turned on him with her anger. “If I am here among them in secret, why can they not call me by my given name?”
Malcolm rolled his eyes. “As ye wish, mistress.”
The brown-haired girl pulled on her hand. Tisa went to one knee.
“My name is Aednat.”
“Ah, little fire.” Tisa took a curl between her fingers. “But yer hair is not like a fire.”
Aednat’s face widened into a smile, her eyes creased into tiny crescents. “My momma named me fire because of my strong spirit.”
Tisa glanced at Malcolm for clarification but he averted his gaze.
Tisa asked, “Oh ho! A strong spirit?”
“Aye. One foot is not right and as a baby, I kicked the smaller one even harder than the first, as if to make it right by my spirit alone. Like I had a little fire lit in me.”
The tears swelled but Tisa shook them away and faced the other two. “And yer names?”
“Will.” The taller boy pointed to himself. “And Cad.”
“Are ye the same family?”
Will stepped closer, “Yea. Now we are.”
Tisa reached for Will’s wrapped hand but he pulled it away to hide it behind his back.
“I will not hurt ye, Will. I swear it.”
Will glanced toward Malcolm before putting his bandaged arm toward her. Tisa smelled the diseased flesh before it was completely uncovered. The hand had been hacked off and puss oozed from the wound.
“How did this happen?”
“I was caught stealing eggs.” Will looked straight ahead, his jaw tight.
“Does this pain ye?” Tisa pushed at the swollen skin.
The boy refused to flinch. “Not overmuch.”
If she could get it cleaned off, she may be able to save the arm which showed no sign of discoloration yet.
“Is there some water nearby?”
She followed the line of children as they went deeper into the darkness of the thick forest. They stopped alongside a bubbling spring.
“The Meic Lochlainn was so angry his eyes nearly popped out of his head,” Aednat explained with great enthusiasm. “He could barely form words and then he was ordering his guard to seize Will.”
“Enough, Aednat. She does not wish to be told all the details.” Will sounded old beyond his years.
Tisa knelt beside the boy with a firm hand as she dribbled water onto the wound. Will hissed between his teeth. “It needs to be kept out of the dirt.”
“They like to hunt for nests so he tries to climb the trees and then he gets it dirty—”
“Hush!” Will frowned at the little girl.
Aednat’s eyes widened, her bottom lip trembling.
“I have a salve that will help this heal.” A clean, thick linen was put in her face. She turned to Malcolm. “My thanks. Can I get the salve?”
“I can bring it to them.”
Tisa preferred to apply it herself. “Mayhap I can come back—”
“Nae.” Malcolm’s face was unreadable.
Tisa faced the three children then smiled. She carefully wrapped Will’s arm so that the wound was well protected. “I will be back again. Shall I bring sweets?”
“Oh yea!” Aednat exclaimed.
Tisa caught Will and Cad’s quickly exchanged glances although they offered a more reserved interest.
“Good.” Tisa stood up.
The mavis evening song came to them. All three faces clouded with fear. Malcolm hurried them into the woods then grabbed Tisa’s hand, pulling her toward the road.
“What is amiss?” Tisa asked.
“Soldiers are about.”
“Where? In the woods?”
“Aye. Mayhap ‘tis nothing. Mayhap ‘tis in pursuit of them.”
Tisa’s anger grew at the unjustness of the situation. “Aodh condemns them to live in the wild like animals and then hunts them down when it suits his purposes? Nae. This is not right.”
Malcolm directed her back to the path. “And ye can say nothing about it.”
She came to a halt. “What?”
“Aye. Ye promised or I’d not have allowed them to meet ye.”
“But how can I do anything to help them if we act like they dunna exist?”
He took on the expression of a father explaining to a small child. “‘Tis the way of it. If ye confront the very man who exiles them, ye will cause them more trouble.”
Tisa harrumphed and pushed past the man to join up with the central path through the village. She hesitated but a moment. Surely she could discern where the meal was taking place on her own. Malcolm came up behind her, lifting her into his arms without a word.
“What. Are. Ye. Doing?” She slapped at his shoulder.
The beast refused to respond.
Tisa continued to slap and punch his chest. The man’s grip never lessened. The sound of sloshing water made her quit her assault. Without so much as a pause, the man walked into a huge puddle that went from one side of the road to the other. There was no other way to pass than to go through it. She glanced at his face. He kept his eyes straight ahead. A stone visage.
He placed her on the dry ground in front of the opening to the longhouse. The sounds of talking and music carried to them. Malco
lm looked down at her, his face tight.
“Forgive my impatience and...abuse of ye,” she said.
“Yer abuse was less significant than a fly.”
She raised one brow and puckered her lips. “Not exactly what I wished to hear.”
Tisa glanced about but saw no one around.
“Thank ye for trusting me. I would like to help if I may.”
“Ye think on it.” He gestured her through the door.
The smoke hung thick across the room. A large central hearth burned with dancing flames, giving off much heat. The smell of roasting meat tantalized Tisa’s stomach but Darragh was nowhere.
“There.” Malcolm pointed to the main table as if able to read her mind.
The cloth-covered table was raised higher and faced toward the other trestles that ran along the room. The place of honor. One couple she did not recognize sat at the far end, with perhaps enough room for six more although only five large, shiny drinking vessels were visible. Gold? And trimmed with precious jewels. Surely they were celebratory cups. Trepidation ran like a mouse along her spine. Malcolm gave her a gentle shove. She turned around to glare at him before sitting a distance from the unsmiling couple. Meeting others from the village did not seem like a good idea at present. Not when they narrowed their eyes at her and whispered behind their hands.
Malcolm stood alongside her then signaled to the man standing at attention across the far wall. He stood beside another she hadn’t noticed. Mayhap that was the way Malcolm had planned on bringing her in rather than through the flooded road. The man, no doubt the cook, nodded and the rest of the room grew quiet. All eyes were on her. The woman who had retrieved the bedding cloth sat at the first table to her right but showed no sign of recognition. Two girls, perhaps eight and ten, approached and filled the cups with mead. A red-haired lass smiled sheepishly at her.
“My thanks,” Tisa said.
Several younger, hale and hearty children processed in with trays overflowing with steaming meats, vegetables, and breads. They headed to her table. Tisa’s stomach growled, her throat far too tight to eat. Malcolm stopped the server before he could present his offerings to her.
Tisa thoughts whirled. She could think of no reason for him to do this except to act in her husband’s stead. That was not proper. Her stomach clenched tighter in anticipation of offending at her refusal to accept but she didn’t understand the rules of this clan. She did not want to belittle Darragh in any way.
Loud voices preceded Aodh, Darragh, and Ronan before they entered the longhouse. She breathed more easily. But at the sight of her, Aodh’s face brightened and he hitched up his belt. He settled on the long, hard bench between her and the other couple. Nodding their way, he faced front. A smug smile of satisfaction.
“Daughter.”
Tisa cringed at the endearment. Did she have to respond in kind?
“Aodh.”
He turned on her, his brows nearly touching his hairline. “Ye will address me properly, Daughter.”
Darragh had stopped to speak to Breandan but turned at his father’s outraged exclamation. Had Breandan been with Darragh this whole time? Ignoring the orders she had given him?
She glanced back at Aodh. There was no help for it. “Father.”
He tipped his chin and his smile returned. Satisfied.
Darragh’s face wore a mask of suspicion as he approached. He gestured Ronan to go before him. The man sat on the closer side of Tisa. Flanked by both of these overbearing men, this was not a meal Tisa would be able to participate in. Her husband sat next to Ronan without even a frown of disapproval on his face at being usurped from his rightful place beside her.
Aodh stood, lifted his bejeweled cup, and addressed the group.
“My loyal kinsmen, ‘tis a day for great celebration. Yer tanist, my son, Darragh, has taken a bride.” The gasps and mumbled words spread over the group. “Silence! Darragh has taken this lovely lady to wife. Tisa, I make known to ye yer new kinsmen.”
Tisa gulped. Her face tight with fear, she smiled then nodded to the group. Cold eyes stared back despite the ear-deafening applause. Aodh sat, his thigh rubbing against hers, and accepted the platter Malcolm offered. His mouth glistening with grease from the food he had eaten.
“‘Tis safe,” Malcolm announced.
It took but a moment for Tisa to realize Malcolm was the food tester. Did Aodh fear his own people may poison him? Aodh held a piece of dripping goose toward her mouth. She had no choice but to accept it. His arrogant look rubbed against her last raw nerve. His hand sliding up her thigh at the same time nearly made her choke.
Tisa held her hand up before he could repeat the action.
“Darragh?”
Her husband’s blank expression when he turned to her made her want to shake him. His gaze had been on Breandan. She grabbed at the food presented and offered the most heavily laden trencher from the stiffest upper crust, no doubt intended for Aodh, to her husband. The movement required her to lean and pass her arm in front of Ronan who decided at the same instant to reach for his mug. His hand moved open palmed along her breasts. He smiled without looking directly at her.
Tisa fumed at the violation. Her husband must have sensed something because, although he paid no heed to anything about his wife, he became aware of her anger.
“My thanks, wife.” It sounded more like a question.
She fisted her hand for fear she may actually let loose her open palm on the man. “Would ye not care to sit beside me?”
“I do so enjoy yer company, Daughter,” Aodh said, his voice sweet as honey on the comb.
“As do I.” Ronan had the audacity to wink at her.
She glared at her husband. He appeared totally oblivious.
“Now?”
Darragh cleared his throat and faced the islander. “Mayhap ye could allow me to sit beside my wife.”
“Darragh! Dunna offend our guest.” Aodh’s voice called more attention to the table.
Tisa tightened her jaw. All the eyes upon her were the eyes of censure. There was a problem with their chieftain and they laid the blame on her. Not knowing the custom of this place, she struggled with the best way to get out from between these two lechers.
Ronan glanced at Aodh. She had the sudden feeling they had conspired to push Darragh away from her and him none the wiser.
“Please.” Tisa stood behind the bench and gestured to Ronan. “Would ye not prefer the seat of honor beside Aodh?”
There was no way for him to refuse without giving offense at her offer.
Ronan heaved a sigh. “Aye. I would.” He stood alongside her. Peering down, his gaze traveled lower while his hand traced along her hip. “This time.”
Darragh stood as well. He gestured for her to take his seat and put himself between her and Ronan. The apology she read on his face convinced her that he had seen the intimate gesture. She closed her eyes and prayed it was so. Appearing needy was the last thing she wanted. Darragh had no need of her at all. It was only in what she could offer him that he would see the benefits to being protective of her.
The rest of the meal progressed without incident while the mead flowed generously. Voices in the hall rose. Darragh took to his role as the dutiful husband, keeping his voice low as he spoke to his wife, pointing out who was who from his village. The rude couple at the far end of the table was simply referred to as Aodh’s brother-in-law and his wife. Her nervousness eased a little despite Darragh also finding every reason he could to glance Breandan’s way.
Breandan totally enjoyed the attention and flirted shamelessly with the man on his left who, like Darragh, seemed to enjoy his effeminate ways. She sensed her husband’s increasing tension at the blatant attempt to make him jealous.
Ronan and Aodh spoke between themselves. Occasionally Darragh joined in their discussion.
“Will Leofrid arrive tomorrow?”
“Methinks he may not arrive for a few days more,” Ronan slurred his words. He had been the most appreciative
of the generous amount of libations.
Aodh took a long draw on his mead and gestured for more. “Good. And then we will finalize our plans.”
“How much planning must we do, Father?” Darragh’s voice took on that whining quality. “I would like to have some time to myself.”
Tisa was certain her husband was about to turn again toward Breandan. With both Aodh and Ronan watching him, she kicked him in the shin before he followed through. The long coverings on the table hid the gesture.
Darragh jumped slightly, glanced at her, then finally smiled. A tight smile. Breandan’s ploys were quite effective. Darragh was strung tight as a bow. She moved in to kiss him on the lips in the hope of hiding his obvious irritation with her.
First stiff and unresponsive, Darragh adjusted himself to turn toward her and kiss her more deeply. His hand snaked around her waist and he pressed her up against him. The movement startled her into breaking the kiss and pulling away from him.
He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“I believe this meal is done,” Darragh said without turning away. His eyes locked on to hers, he stood and reached his hand toward her. “Come, wife. Methinks we should spend some time alone.”
Tisa dared not breathe. The room was silent. They again had everyone’s attention.
When she began to stand from the bench, Ronan grabbed her other arm. His fingers pinched into her flesh. “Stay!”
The strength of his hold caused a ripple of fear in the pit of her stomach, radiating to all her extremities. She yanked against him. If this man chose not to release her, she doubted anyone could make him do it.
“Unhand my wife!” All whining gone from Darragh’s voice, he used a formidable tone that brooked no interference.
Murmurings drifted to her from the onlookers.
Ronan’s look of obvious contempt did not bother Darragh.
“Release my daughter.” Aodh spoke as if Ronan was simply irritating, as if he’d only asked for the last piece of meat rather than assaulting his son’s wife. “Let them be off.”
Ronan dropped his gaze to her and pulled her hand toward his mouth. As if just noticing her clenched fist, he looked up at her with an expression of surprise. Surprise that she would not be welcoming his attention? He used his other hand to flatten her palm open. Despite the dread bubbling through her, she did not resist.
