“Aye.”
“Ingrid said this? Was she alone?”
He scrunched his shoulders and tried to undo the ties of his braies.
“Here,” Seonaid freed his hands so she could finish the task before he was all in knots. “Did Ingrid put you in the loft?”
“Aye.” He wiggled out of his wet breeches. “told me to wait until you were home. Said you wouldn’t be long but you were long and I’m hungry.”
She wasn’t long, at least not as long as Ingrid would have expected.
“When did she do this?”
“Before I could finish my porridge.” He grumbled through the cloth as Seonaid pulled the wet Tunic over his head.
In the morning? Ingrid knew Seonaid was seeing to the sheep, that she wasn’t expected until near dark.
“Did you hear anyone else?”
He shook his head as she lead him, naked over to the fire place. It was cold, but not so cold that it had been put out before the girl left. It had been allowed to burn itself down.
She stared at a glint of hot ash and felt her own anger spark. One spit of the fire would have ignited the rushes on the floor. One snap, and Diean would have been trapped in the loft. She banked her own fury, to focus on getting him out of there and tracking Ingrid.
She’d dressed him in fresh tunic and braies with wool chausses like a grown man. Clothes Deidre made for him. Clothes that matched the Bold’s. She hated putting her boy in them, though he took great delight in feeling so grown-up.
“Do you want to go to Glen Toric with me?” She’d asked, knowing the answer, knowing he always wanted to go up to the castle.
“Will the Bold be there?”
“No, not just now. He’s off to find his handfasted.”
The lad loved the Bold, loved the excitement of Glen Toric. As much as he thrilled to the infrequent visits she hated them. Hated the way everyone looked at him, guessing who is father might be.
Oddly enough, everyone thought it was The Bold. No one realized the lad looked just like the man who seeded her belly. The dea too horrific for them. Still she she tried her best to hide him away.
“Will Paraig be there?”
That startled her. “Paraig?”
He nodded.
“Aye, I believe Paraig will be there.” She told him as she wrapped him in his cloak and got them both out of there before anyone could come find them.
*****************************************
Frozen between fury and despair, Maggie's lungs shut down. Her lips immobile, her body rigid. Her eyes the only part of her to shift, narrow, as she watched him walk away.
The great hulking clod. He had his nerve, to tell her where she would be when. To decide whether or not she could have her own babe.
"I'm the one getting sick. I'm the one keeping the child."
He did not turn around.
"Don't you dare walk away from me!" She shouted.
He called over his shoulder. "Be ready to leave on the morrow."
"Who the bloody hell do you think you are? You have no right to take my child. You won't succeed."
Taut fury, barely leashed, Talorc turned. Maggie's blood chilled.
Her entire life had been spent in the world of warriors, but never once had she been the focus of their violence, all the more potent for being leashed. The tremble of his body proved restraint a fragile barrier. Maggie willed him to keep a distance as her mind raced, a frantic search for a way to deflate his fury. Then she looked to his eyes and realized it was not anger that swirled around her. It was not fury that he kept at bay.
It was despair.
She had broken his heart.
Cautious, against an eruption of emotion, she rose, took a step forward. Talorc didn't move. She took another step, and then another and another until she stood close enough that the fog of her breath touched him. But still, other than to turn his head away, he remained immobile. She jammed her finger in his chest.
"You're not a man of your word."
A muscles twitched at the side of his jaw. She had enough brothers to know it for the warning it was. "You don't want the babe."
"You are like all the rest. A foolish, stupid man." She pivoted, to pace, but he grabbed her arm, whirled her back to face him. He wanted to blast her with anger. She cut in first. "You think you are smart enough to tell me how I feel. What I want." Pushed beyond caution, she taunted. “You know nothing. You're as thick as the rest of them. Thick as two short planks." Disgusted, she pulled free, twirled on her heel, went back to Ian's grave.
He caught her by her collar. She turned and bit him. With a yelp he let go.
"That will teach you to stop me when I mean to go."
"Aye, and you left me when my back was turned."
"My mother was ill."
"Ill over a letter you wrote."
She hadn't expected him to know that. Nor had she expected his expressive eyes to be as barren as the winter's trees.
"Do you know what it was like for me? Do you have any idea?"
"Maggie," He raised hands, in appeal, then dropped them, listless to his sides. "There's no point in going on with this. You didn't want the handfasting, you don't want to be my wife and you don't want the child. Leave it, leave me be."
He turned away, his shoulders rounded, mirroring the way he pulled into himself.
Let him go she thought, but was beyond holding in the last words. "Ealasaid tried to stop me from going, but it was you who could have. If you'd been there.
"But no, you were off to leave me halfway to marriage and not quite there." She swiped at her eyes, afraid that crying would keep her from talking and she didn't know any other way to stop him. "It's not an easy place for a lass to be."
At least he stopped, though he would only look at her over his shoulder. "You could have told them we were one, Maggie. You could have worn my plaid, a kertch upon your head."
"Oh aye, wouldn't that have been grand. Announce to the whole world what we'd been about. Nothing to be shy about there, is there? Especially doing so on my own, with the risk you might not be coming back!"
Finally, he turned. "I came back to find my wife had deserted me." Anger. She could use his anger, better than his defeat.
"I came home to see my clan."
"So, to your mind, you're still a MacBede? Is that how you can hate a poor defensive babe that's not even born?"
"Don't be picturing thoughts in my head that aren't there."
He looked toward the horizon, distorted now by the gloom of dusk. Maggie watched him, the way the wind teased at his hair, the strong angles of his face. His throat worked, as though to swallow unwanted tears, and suddenly Maggie knew how deeply she had hurt him.
"I want this child, Bold."
He flashed a glance, but it was gone as quick as it flickered toward her. "Then it's just me you don’t want." It was not a question.
"Don't want you?" She raised her hands in argument, then slapped them down in anger. He never, ever listened to her. She moved over, to stand in the path of his vision. "You want to know how much I don't want you?"
She was planted in front of him and he still refused to meet her eyes. "Is it because of Seonaid's lad? It's not mine, you know. I don't care what games she plays, it isn't mine. She never even says it is, just let’s people think so."
Maggie brushed that aside. "I never knew she had a child. But I do know, if you tell me Seonaid has nothing to do with us, then she has nothing to do with us. I trust your word over her."
"You do?"
"Aye. You may be a fool in thinking you know what's best for me. But I don't doubt your honesty."
He mulled that over. "So what do you think is best for you?"
Her first victory with the man. "It's best for me to tell you how much I don't want you." His eyes twitched but he stood firm. She couldn't help but smile.
Life as he knew it was over. Dead and buried and so she let him know. "I wed thee, Talorc the Bold, with no 'wills' about it. Forever more this means."
The impact of her own words, hit her. She had not expected that. Tears came to her eyes. "That's how much I don't want you." She sniffed back a sob, horrified.
Talorc stood stricken, his jaw dropped, eyes wide, but she couldn't stop. "Care or not, Bold, I'm bound to you now, for as long as we both shall live."
"Wait."
"It's too late." She hung her head, realizing that she had pushed him too far this last time. He no longer wanted her, but her impetuous self trapped them both. "What's been said has been said and can't be taken back. You've been storming over my wants long enough, it is my turn to sweep over yours." She lifted her chin. She would not be sorry. She would not be humiliated. "You started this. I have a right to finish it."
He grabbed her by the shoulders, his jaw clenched so tight he hissed. "Just wait." Then he shouted over his shoulder. "William, Bruce, get a MacBede and come, and be quick about it."
"No." Maggie tried to jerk free, but he held fast. "You'll not be sending me away from you. Just try it, and you'll find me returning before you can blink."
She half expected him to lift her up and carry her to the keep, he was that impatient. "What changed your mind, Maggie? Just inside you were screaming like the devil was on your heels and now, now you're changing to sweet songs? What changed you?"
A sharp jerk of her shoulders and she pulled free, turned away, rather than face her shame. Breath quick and shallow she asked, "Could you not see, could you not tell how hungry I was for the sight of you?"
His hands gripped her shoulders. "You fled from me." She tried to twist free but he wouldn't let her go. "Tell me why, Maggie. Why did you run screaming as if hell was at your heel?"
Och, but she hated the tears, swiped at them. "Why can't you let me go, let me have a cry in peace? Why does everything have to be said in front of a crowd? Why do you tell all of them, before you even tell me?" He held her arms, so she couldn't even brush the salty wet of her cheeks. Turned her, as he pulled her against him, raised a knuckle and brushed at her tears. She mumbled against his chest.
"First it's the wooing, the handfasting, then it's what we did in the barn . . ." she couldn't talk over the embarrassment of that, it choked her.
"It was beautiful, Maggie."
She hiccupped. "Just like two dogs in the yard."
"No," he rocked them back and forth, "No, like a man and woman bonded in the flesh."
But she wasn't finished with his injustices. "The babe, Talorc? How could you tell everyone I was with child before I even knew?" She pushed far enough away to look up into his eyes. "You think that's not wrong?" She pounded at his chest, her face scrunched up with the crying. "Why do you always have to see me weak and foolish when what you need is a woman who's strong and inspired?"
He cupped her face in his great powerful hands and stilled her. "What I need is you, no one else, just you." He pulled her close again, held her so tight she could barely breathe. She told him so. He loosened his hold, looked down at her, his eyes no longer bleak with despair, but hard and serious.
She had to ask, to understand, "You didn't want my words of wedding you. You told me to stop."
"I told you to wait."
"It's too late for that. The words were said."
"Why, Maggie? Are you saying you want me or is it for the babe?"
She should give up on him. Should leave him to his misery if he couldn't tell what she was feeling. But she couldn't do that. His hold was too strong. She admitted as much. "I wanted you before I even knew about the child."
"You left."
"To see my family once more, because I knew, after this, my home would be at Glen Toric."
His eyes held her, though he did not say a word.
“Talorc, do you not ken what I am saying?” she asked.
Finally, he spoke, though it only proved how thick he was. "Do I have your heart?"
"Och, you great oaf! You've had my heart forever."
He smiled. She slapped at him, with as little consequence as the brush of a horses tail. He laughed. "You hid it well."
"Oh aye," she retorted, "like when we were in the barn. I hid it verrrry well!" Brazen was the only word for it. She ducked her head, to hide her own awkwardness.
"Och Maggie." This time, when he pulled her close, it was a tender hold. "I thought you didn't want me. I love you so much, and I thought you didn't want me."
"You promised you wouldn't leave, you promised me forever. I'm holding you at your word."
Shouts, the thunder of running feet, came from below.
"Bold!"
"Maggie!"
“Don’t you hurt her now!”
Maggie peaked around Talorc's broad chest to see William and Bruce hurrying up the hillside, Maggie's family and clan in tow.
She sniffled, shoved at him. "Let me go."
"I don't think so."
"People are coming and my eyes are all red."
"You look beautiful."
"Talorc, when are you going to learn, I mean what I say?"
His smile was wide as he shook his head. She butted him, her forehead to his chin. Not as effective as the bridge of his nose, but enough that he released her. She tried to scramble away, he caught her, lifted her up over his shoulder.
"I'll never forgive you for this, Bold. Do you hear me? I'll never forgive . . ."
"What is it Bold?" William was there first, with her brother, Feargus the younger, both out of breath with the rush. The others weren't far behind.
"Tell them what you said, Maggie, admit it before witnesses."
She closed her eyes, and swallowed. "Can you keep nothing between the two of us?"
"Not this." He let her slide off his shoulder and down his body. When she stood he took her right hand in his right hand. Her left in his left.
In this, he was right. Witnesses gave it strength. If only he would prepare her for what he meant to accomplish.
"You move too fast for me, Bold."
"You'd outdistance me if I didn't."
"Oh, Maggie," Fiona gasped. Maggie could hear the tremor of her mother's words but it was no time for mothers and daughters. It was the time for a woman with her man.
She looked down at the clasp of her hands to Talorc's. Her nose twitched with an itch so she lifted their joined fists to rub it. Talorc tugged them down. She looked at him, at the great huge warrior who stood before her and took a deep breath. "I wed thee, Talorc the Bold, the bane of my life, for as long as we both shall live."
To him alone, the words had been a simple gesture. With all her people around, the significance closed her throat to any more words.
Her life would never be the same, was set on a different course than she would have chosen. A course she was proving to hold to just as stubbornly as the one she had dreamt of.
Talorc squeezed her hands. "And I Talorc MacKay wed thee, Maggie MacBede, delight of my life, for as long as we both shall live."
Everyone cheered as Maggie glared at her husband. He laughed, grabbed her into another bear hug. "I know you wanted it just between the two of us Maggie, but I wanted witnesses. I want the world to know."
"Maggie," Feargus broke in, as quiet as a man could be with a voice more used to bellowing. "Why did you scream like that when you learned of the babe?"
She burrowed closer into Talorc's hold. If he wanted to take charge, she would let him.
"Ah Feargus, a woman's a delicate thing."
"That yell wasna' delicate." Bruce had the gall to murmur.
"Bruce," Talorc admonished, "Give her a care. One minute her family thinks she's an innocent maiden. Next, they don't know for sure she's married but they do know she's with child. And they know this before she even has a clue to why she's feeling like she's feeling."
She shoved far enough away to stay in the comfort of his arms, but still able to look at him. "I should know before you."
"You will next time." He leaned down, hooked her behind her knees and lifted her up. "But for now, you've had too much excitement. I'm thinki
ng you need to lie down."
"She's been in bed all day," Jamie complained.
"Aye, well, I'll just have to stay with her, and make certain she's not failing." Talorc announced, to ribald cheers as he headed for the keep.
"You forgot a vow!" Someone shouted.
She felt him pivot, and then drop her legs, so her body lowered against his.
"Aye, we forgot a vow." He took her hands again, and as soon as everyone was near he told her, "With my body, I thee worship."
She ducked, to hide the blush that crept up her neck, to her face.
"Maggie, have you nothing to say to me?"
She looked up at him, through her lashes. Stood on her tip toes and put her mouth to his ear. "With my body I thee worship."
He laughed, a great bellowing thing, and lifted her back in his arms. "Well then, you best come prove it." The crowd roared their approval.
"You have no spine for secrets, Bold." Bold merely chuckled. "That's how I know, if Seonaid has a son, it's not yours."
He stopped, to look at her. "They were at Glen Toric when I arrived."
"She's never there, if you're not."
She watched him, but could make no sense of his frown. When he did speak, it was as if pulled from deeper thoughts. "The child is not mine. I never had her, never once."
"But she wants people to think it is."
She felt the jar of his breath, as if he needed extra air to bolster his words. "I don't know what she's about. We were close, friends mind you, no more, everyone thinks it has to be mine."
"But it isn’t."
"No."
"And as Laird, it would be your responsibility to see that the man come forward, to own up to his own kin."
"True."
"And as you don't, it makes you more suspect."
He grunted.
"You know who it is." It wasn’t a question.
"Aye, but it’s not my place to be telling."
"He’s married." Again, it was not a question.
He grunted again.
She continued. "Could be trouble if he had a wife when the bairn was conceived."
"If a man seasoned the broth, he can drink it, bitter or no. But there’s more to it than that. More that is owed to Seonaid than to reveal the father."
Torn (The Handfasting) Page 4
