The Handfasting (28 page)

And
she had wanted to adjust to what leaving her first home meant.

They
had more than a few differences to work on. Things had to be settled between
them before spring, when, as she had come to understand, they would be united.
Husband and wife.

In
the spring.

She
thought there was time to work at who they were together, before finalizing
their commitment.

Then
came his announcement. The gall of it, that he should tell the world of their
private affairs. Tell them all what they had been about in the barn. Personal
enough, but then he tells them she carries a bairn, before she had an inkling.

He
lets them know before she knows, when it's her body doing the carrying. The
shock of it, especially now, when so fragile, and knowing it was a boy child,
like in her dream. Another man to steal her heart and risk it as easily as her
da, her brothers.

Alright,
so she had been bred to marry a man like Talorc. And he was the man for her.
She no longer had a doubt, knew she would never find another, after being with
him. But she would not allow him to command her life or push her faster than
her emotions could grasp.

"You
can stop your tears."

Maggie
spun around to face Talorc, his eyes colder than the stone of Ian's grave,
voice sharper and harder than the frozen ground. She'd never heard him like
this before.

"We've
made a baby, Bold.” But the magic of it was lost in her words, which faltered
over his icy glare.

What
was wrong with him?

"Aye,
we've made a babe.” He wouldn't look at her, not really, he looked at her
belly, he looked at the stone before the grave, he even looked at her nose, she
was sure of that. But he wouldn't look at her eyes.

"Why
are you angry with me?"

His
nostrils flared. His fists, held rigid at his side, bunched and flexed. Would
he strike her? Never.

"I'm
taking you back to Glen Toric, to make sure you don't do any harm to the child.
When it's born, you'll be brought back here. Alone."

She
couldn't breathe. Why was he doing this? Why had he turned so cruel?

The
whole of her body started to shake. "You'll not have my child."

He
turned away and spit. "Not your child. My child. You let your family, your
whole clan, see well enough how you felt about that."

"What
are you saying?"

"You
said it yourself. Screamed it, like a banshee."

She
remembered now, the look on his face. He did not understand her fury, and took
it upon himself to choose assumptions. Well, he could just swallow those
thoughts.

She
stood. "You tell the world things about me, private personal things,
before you even speak with me.” She closed her eyes. Even to her, the argument
sounded weak, did not warrant the fury she spilled in the hall.

"I
thought you were a better woman, Maggie MacBede. I didn't think you would be so
greedy for my touch and hate me at the same time. Nor did I ever dream your
hatred would carry over to a harmless babe. I never thought you were so . .
."

He
looked away.

He
believed she didn't want him. He imagined she didn't want the babe. Stunned,
she waited to hear just what he thought of her. How wrong he could be.

"Rest
assured, you'll be free to go for one of those puny weak men you want, without
burden of my child. I'd not have you near it. It's bad enough that you have to
carry the wee one for months. I can only hope the MacKays will make-up for
that."

He
spun around and left her to the frozen ground . . .

to
a frozen heart . . .

to
a life that appeared as dead as her beloved brother.

CHAPTER 3 – BROKEN

Wind
whipped through Seonaid’s hair, a banner of dark tendrils in her wake. Sitting
straight in the crux of her lap, his face alive with excitement, her son,
Deian, rode before her on the grand gelding.

Ingrid
was gone. Again. But this time she left Deian on his own. A wee child, barely
five years, and she left him alone. For certain, Ingrid held no love for
Seonaid, but they had an arrangement. They managed without a man out here on
the edges of MacKay land. They helped each other with chores, took turns
watching both Deidre’s Eba and Seonaid’s own young Deian. Without family or
protection Seonaid, Deidre and Deidre’s sister, Ingrid, needed each other. Power
in numbers.

Dear
Lord, please don’t let Ingrid fall prey to the swine who has been stealing
young girls, the same who took Ysenda.

Desperate
to get to Glen Toric, Seonaid pushed their mount, goaded by the swell of fear
from the moment she walked through the cottage door and felt a heavy,
foreboding. It was too quiet, ominously so. Afraid to call, afraid to draw
attention, she searched silently, despite the rushes below her feet.

She
moved through three small rooms before a small sound, just enough to tell her
she wasn’t alone came from above, in the loft. She stood for an eternity at the
foot of the ladder, looking up, waiting for something to happen, anything, so
she wouldn’t have to climb up there, vulnerable.

The
thought of Deian forced her to move, one foot up a rung, then another and
another, all the while knowing whoever was there would see the top of her head
before she could see anything. Still, she climbed, her head cocked defensively,
stopped, just before the top. Holding her breath, propelled with worry for her
boy, she pushed straight up. A set of dark eyes peered at her from beneath the
bed.

“Deian!”
She whispered, and hauled herself up onto the floor to pull him out, hug him
close, rocking, comforting him, comforting herself.

He
wasn’t allowed in the loft. That’s where the sisters slept and the drop was too
dangerous for a wee tyke. “What are you doing up here?”

Squirming,
he pushed away. “Can we go down now?” he asked. “I need to piss.” He wailed,
his tunic growing wet even as he wailed.

“Oh,
aye, we can go down.” She promised, not mentioning the mistake, not pressing
for answers. “You just let me start.” She lowered herself onto the ladder and
opened an arm, hunched her body, so he could climb between her feet and her
shoulders.

“I
was good.” He sniffled. “I tried hard to wait.”

“Aye,
you did lad.” She comforted. “How long did you wait.”

“A
long, long time.”

“Och,
no,” she helped him jump the last few rungs, “so long, too long I’m thinking.”
She wanted him safe, but she also wanted him comfortable.

She
looked down at the sorrowful bow of his head.

“She
promised me you would be quick.” He sniffled.

“Me,
now?”

“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 hadn’t
expected until near dark.

“Did
you hear anyone else?”

He
shook his head, as she led him, naked, over to the fireplace. 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 idea too horrific for them. Still she
tried her best to hide him away.

“Will
Padraig be there?”

That
startled her. “Padraig?”

He
nodded.

“Aye,
I believe Padraig 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
muscle 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 kerchief
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 defenseless
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 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 only to slap 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 yet 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 lets 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 horse’s
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.