Read The Handfasting Online

Authors: Becca St. John

The Handfasting (24 page)

"Go
away.” Talorc shouted, and laughed.

"Bold,
you have to come. The Gunns have come out of hiding on our land. Jesse’s place
is burning."

In
the space of a breath, Maggie was on her own, in the hay. Even before he had
his clothes to rights Talorc barked, "We'll ride to fight. Call the men to
arms!"

"You're
leaving?" He had promised, only moments before, crucial moments before,
that he would stay by her side.

He
looked at her as if she were crazy. "You expect me to stay when the Gunns
are riding against our own?"

Of
course he was leaving, he would always be going. "You promised.” She
accused, even as she realized the impossibility of it. Passion had clouded her
thoughts, made her believe the unbelievable. Of course he would go, had to go. She
would think less of him if he didn’t.

He
was a fighting man; therefore, he would leave.

"I'm
not leaving you.” He claimed, as he headed toward the door.

She
knew that. But if he wasn’t here, and her brothers came back, who would keep
her from going? She hadn’t meant to say it out loud but she did. "You
pushed me too far, Bold. I wasn’t ready and now you’ll be gone."

He
stopped, looked back at her. "The Gunns are on our land. If I don't ride,
then who will keep us safe? Who will protect you?"

"My
father stopped following the battles.” It was a foolish argument, but she was
desperate. “You could as well. Send your men."

"You'd
have me do that? Ask others to do what I would not?"

Only
this once, she thought but said. "You promised."

He
moved closer, knelt down to listen, acknowledge her complaint. "I promised
not to leave you Maggie, but where does that stop? I can't be by your side
every moment, nor would you want that. I must do what I must do. Never doubt, I
will always be your husband. I'll not leave you for another, or to
another."

To
him, she was his. She was his, and he was his, which left her with nothing. No
power, no strength, no say. He could come and go at will, while she was left to
follow his instructions.

Like
hell.

"You're
leaving, then.” It was all she could think to say. It was a fact to be
acknowledged.

"Aye,
I'm going to do the work of a man. And you can trust I will hunger to be back
to you. You are in me," he clasped his fist at his chest, "Here,
Maggie, you hold my heart, my future."

"And
you hold mine through trickery. That's how you got me here, and that's how you
mean to keep me.”

He
held her still, his hands a heavy weight on her shoulders.

The
door rattled, "Bold," it was William, "We need horses and yours
is in the barn . . . Oh shite!  There goes Seonaid!  Can't anybody keep her
here when we're off to fight?"

Talorc's
hands tightened their hold.

"Go!"
she shoved him off, rose herself, straightening her clothes. "And I'll be
going to.” She stormed past him. He grabbed her arm, spun her back to him.

"You'll
be going nowhere."

"Don’t
push me, Laird." she shot back. "I'll be going to the keep, to
prepare the hall, for those who'll want to stay when the Gunns are in their
world."

"You'll
stay at Glen Toric.” It was an order.

"I'll
be leaving the barn," she hedged, "Or they won't be able to saddle
your mount."

He
flushed, or she thought he did, despite the meager light. She left him to it,
to his horse, to his battles, to his leaving her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 11 – LEAVING

 

It
had taken more than a fortnight, but her brothers had come. And it wasn't Jamie
or Douglas but her oldest brother, Feargus the younger, and Nigel. Serious
business, if her mother had sent those two.

Maggie
waited at the top of the keep steps. She didn't run down to jump into their
arms, to be tossed about like a caber. It would not be fitting, when they rode
so tall and straight and somber. As acting Lady of Glen Toric, she would match
their stoicism.

They
did not dismount.

Maggie
frowned. Men had moved in to take their reins, to hold their mounts and take
them off to the stables, but her brothers refused the act of hospitality.

A
grave insult.

"Our
mother’s ailing, Maggie. She's asking for you."

Maggie
would have toppled, if Una hadn't been so close beside her, eager for anything
new to gossip about.

Was
her mother truly ill, or was this in response to her letter?

She
must be ailing, for her brothers to be so stern, to refuse the friendly help
offered by the MacKays. Still, Maggie could not believe it. "Ill?”  

"Aye,
and asking for you.” Nigel answered.

"You'll
come in and warm yourselves, while I prepare . . ."

"You'll
come now, Maggie. There's no’ much time before the snows come."

She
looked up, only to see what she had noted first thing this morning. The day was
gray and heavy. Snow for certain and no light sprinkling at that. No matter how
fast she moved, they'd still be caught in it.

"I'll
get my great plaid. Rest your horses, feed them, while mine is saddled. I'll
have food sent out to you.” She nodded to Domnall, to take care of these tasks,
then turned to flee indoors.

"Maggie!"
Feargus stopped her. "Where's the Bold. He should have been out here to
greet us."

There
was challenge in his tone. If they had come because her mother was truly ill,
they would be somber, but not picking for a fight. Right now, they looked to
make trouble.

"The
Gunns are on MacKay land, to the east and south. They were burning the cottages.
He's ridden out to stop them."

"You're
not wearing a kerchief?"

Guiltily,
her hand went to her head. She dared not look to a single face, embarrassed
that someone, anyone, might know what happened in the barn. It was no great
secret that they were in there long enough for any manner of mischief.

And
mischief did happen.

But
she'd not stand alone for all to know. If Talorc had stayed, she would have had
him there with the admission. But he hadn't. He left her. She'd not want the
world to know what a fool she had been.

"I'm
free to leave.” She lied and wondered if anyone would contradict her. The
MacKays who stood near, shifted, turned away from her gaze, but didn't say
anything.

Her
brothers nodded, and, finally dismounted.

"You
have time for a warm toddy, anyway.” She told them, and left to prepare herself
for traveling, her heart sinking with worry over her ma, with concern at the
coldness of her brothers, and the overwhelming ache that she was leaving
Talorc.

For
the winter, anyway.

The
snow that threatened was no meager danger. It would be heavy, deep, she could
feel it in her bones. He'd have trouble enough returning from his battles, let
alone trying to follow her.

There
was the whole of the winter to sort out just how she felt, and assure her people
that there was no need for revenge against the Bold. Which there would be, if
Feargus and Nigel's hostility was any indication.

It
only took a few moments to gather her meager possessions. The pieces that were
part of her dowry had yet to be sent to Glen Toric. That would wait until she were
 truly wed, if she ever were truly wed.

Which
she wasn't, or at least, she didn't think she was. There was the year and a day
to consider, and Maggie knew of enough women who had bedded without a wedding. Certainly,
this was no different than another woman whose passion ran deeper than sense.

It
would not be the first time that Maggie had acted the fool. At least it had
only been the once. A person couldn't be with child from one mating. If that
were the case, there would be far more children about.

"Oh,
lass.” Ealasaid patted the small bundle that Maggie would take with her,
"you've barely settled in, and now I fear you won't make it back until
spring."

"The
weather could clear," They both knew it was not likely.

"You've
been such a dear. The whole clan was hoping . . . " the older woman looked
away, toward the bed. Her sheen of tears changed to the dull of grimness. "The
Laird will not like this. I can promise you that."

"My
mother needs me."

"Aye,
your mother needs you.” There was no conviction in Ealasaid's words.

"She's
never needed me before."

"Your
brothers were loath to step on MacKay land."

"It's
the snow. They're that worried that we'll be lost in it."

Ealasaid
frowned. "You're not telling the whole of it, lass, but I don't think I'm
the one who will get you to tell it. The one who could is not here."

"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."

 

Dedication

To my daughters for all
their differences, similarities and joys. You make me smile, you keep me young,
you give me a reason for being. I love you.

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