Bold (The Handfasting) (15 page)

Many
of their group walked.  Talorc refused to let Maggie join them.  She wouldn’t
forgive him for the pain of it, riding, when she was not accustomed to such
things.

Strong
boned and buxom, Diedre, rode up and reached over, giving Maggie’s arm a comforting
pat.  “Don’t fret now lass, the time will fly.”

Diedre,
a MacKay companion for Maggie.  A woman who convinced the Bold that Maggie
would need one for the ride. Female companionship in the likes of the MacBede’s
Muireall, the widow.  Proof the women
at Glen Toric would not be so different to back home.
 Thoughtful of the Bold.  Generous of Diedre, for
they were in a troop of men. She rather suspected that was Diedre’s reason for
joining the adventure.

As
for Maggie?  She was more than used to the company of men, especially
warriors.  Probably more comfortable with them than women.

Still,
she appreciated the gesture especially as the woman did not hover but left
Maggie to herself often enough.

Open
and friendly one minute, too close another before Deidre would go off, flirting
with the men as widows were wont to do, sneaking off with one or another.
Plenty of men on this ride and only two women. 
Muireall would have liked those odds herself.

“The
Bold may be a great man, but he’s also a man.  Can’t be around one without some
ill feeling festering,” Diedre claimed, an old mother hen even thought they
were of an age.  “Best to get bad thoughts out of a body or they sour the soul.”

Off
with someone the night before, Maggie didn’t have to wonder about the smile the
woman wore.

 “Sore?” 
Diedre asked.

Maggie
mumbled not as comfortable with complaining aloud as Diedre. “Aye.  Don’t know
why he won’t let me walk.” 

“He’s
the Laird.  He’s used to telling others what to do.”

“And
they all listen.”

Diedre
nodded.  “Of course.  Like lambs and a shepherd.”

“Lambs
are slaughtered.”  Maggie countered and they both laughed.  Only it wasn’t
funny.  She was being led as though she had no will of her own. 

What
had happened to her dignity, to her self-respect?  Who was he to tell her she
couldn’t walk, when riding for days was not natural.  She may not be able to
walk, if she didn’t get down off this beast soon.

Still,
she kept the litany to herself, decided to deal with the issue her own way. She
halted her horse on the downward slope, lifted her leg gingerly over its neck
and slowly eased off. 

 “Are
you needen’ to freshen up?”  Diedre frowned.  They had only just remounted from
a short break.  “It would be better if we wait until we reach the bottom of the
hill.  There’s a wee stream down there.  See?”  And she pointed.

Maggie
had seen it, a thin thread winding through the valley floor.  “Aye.”  It took a
few moments to straighten her legs against aches in places she didn’t know a
body could ache.

William
rode up.  “Is there a problem?”

“No.” 
Maggie handed him her reins before he could refuse them.  “I’d rather walk, if
you don’t mind.”

“The
Bold says you’re to ride.”

“He
can do as he pleases.  I will do as I please.”

She
didn’t want to argue, she didn’t want to be persuaded, or treated like a
recalcitrant child.  She just wanted to walk, so she turned away and strode
down the hillside taking a path with large boulders, difficult for a horse to
follow.

“Wait!” 
Diedre called, but Maggie kept moving as sounds of the other woman closed in on
her.

“You
needn’t run from me.”  Diedre huffed, out of breath.  “If you ask me, he’s too
high handed by half with you.”

“He
is that.”  Maggie snapped.

“The
man just up and took you from your home.”

 “He
did that.”  Maggie lifted her chin.  “Just pulled me from my home, my people,
what I wanted and then makes me ride that bloody . . .”

Diedre
put a hand on her arm.  “He has his reasons, I’m sure.  And he’s a handsome
man, no?”

“I’m
not blind.”

“And
you feel something for him?”

Maggie
pulled away, looked at the mountains, honest enough to keep silent rather than
admit the truth.  Aye, she felt something for him but it was such a muddled
mess there was no explaining it.

“You’re
set on leaving him, are you?”

Was
that an insult to his people?  She didn’t mean it as such.  “I didn’t want to
leave my own.”

“No.” 
Diedre sat on a boulder.  Maggie turned to see her motioning someone away. 
Another glance confirmed it was the Bold. 

Diedre
continued.  “You didna’ want to leave your home, but you can go back.  Just
keep that in mind.  You can have yourself a fine adventure and then go back. 
We’re not so bad, you see.  You’ll like the folks of Glen Toric.”

“My
brothers say the keep is built on caves.”

Diedre
smiled and nodded.  “Aye, scary if you ask me.  But they’re down there,
underneath us, dark and full of the echoes of whatever creatures are hiding in
there.”

Maggie
shivered, pulled her plaid closer around her.  “I’ve never been in a cave, but
I don’t much care for the dark.”

“Hmn,”
the other woman considered that.  “The men are waiting for us.”

“Then
let’s move on down, so they can move as well.”

“I
think the Bold is going to join us.”

Maggie
looked, and sure enough, the man was finding his way between the rocks.  Agile
for such a big man.  She would give him that much.   He was just too good at
everything.  He was a fool if he thought they were a match.  Foolish and
impetuous was what she was, a far cry from good at everything.

Her
biggest fear was that she would be foolish and impetuous with him.

“He’s
a fine warrior, Maggie.  I know you’re afraid he will be killed, but he’s lived
to now.”

“Aye,
until now.”

“My
husband, bless his soul, was a warrior.”

Talorc
gained on them.  Hoping for a few more moments on foot, Maggie grabbed Diedre’s
arm and aimed them both further down the hillside.

They
were of an age, yet Diedre had already been married, birthed a child and been
abandoned as a widow.  That was the problem with warriors, they did things like
that.  Maggie kept silent.  The woman didn’t need reminding of what was.

“You
may have the right of things. I don’t think I would marry another warrior. 
It’s too much of a worry.  Waiting for days, weeks when they go out for the
fight.  It eats at a body.”

“Aye.” 
Maggie nodded, glad she had Diedre, that the Bold had thought to bring her.

Diedre
stopped, pulled Maggie around so they spoke face to face, eye to eye.  “Just
don’t let him near.  Stick with the women folk and don’t let him near.  Then
you can have a high time with us, and return home to anyone you want.”

Wise
words, only she didn’t know if she wanted to hear them.  Contrary, that’s what
she was.  One minute enjoying the man’s company, the next, angry that he took
all her choices away from her.

“You
would help me?”

“Aye.” 
Diedre nodded, but didn’t have a chance to say more, for the Bold had reached
them.

Maggie
fought to hold to Diedre’s idea through days of travel, despite the aches of
the forced ride she was drawn to the Bold.  Though she kept her tongue sharp,
whenever he was near, she hungered for those moments.  Feared he would
acknowledge her hardness and leave her be.

 “Are
you enjoying Diedre’s company, lass?’ A shiver of awareness shot through her as
the Bold pulled alongside of her.

 “Aye,
I believe we will get on.”

“Good.” 
He nodded. 

Her
people were not ones for aimless chat.  She had been relieved to see that
neither were Talorc or his men.

After
a time he took her arm, signaled to stop and be quiet. 

They
had just breached a small rise that looked over a narrow valley.  Below, a herd
of deer grazed along a stream that cut through one side of the flat land.

“See
them.”  The warmth of his hand intoxicated.  She pulled free only to have him
lean in, one hand braced behind her on the horse’s rump, the other pointing.  Diverted
by the strength of his hand, the sinewy strength in his arm, she failed to see
what he was showing her.

“See
him?”  He jolted her to look where he pointed.  “That’s Bruce, moving in.” 

She
sucked in her breath, surprised.  Below them, blending in with the heather and
the rock, a hunter crouched, edging ever closer to the herd, so much a part of
the land that it was hard to place him.

She
held her breath, as though even that small sound could be heard, and watched,
waited, wondering how the Bold could tell, from this distance, who was who. 

“He’s
down wind, so the deer can’t smell him.” His explanation brushed her ear.

She
focused, hard, on the man, Bruce, down on his belly creeping closer still.  One
of the creatures lifted its head, ears twitching, nose to the wind.  The hunter
stilled.

“He’s
close enough now.” 

Aye,
Bruce was close to the deer but so was the Bold to her.  The heat of his body,
the brush of his breath drew her away from the action below.  She looked at
him, her handfasted.

He
didn’t acknowledge her gaze, kept his on the action below so she took her time,
considered just what it was that pulled at her senses.  Why was he so different
from the other men she knew?

The
compulsion to trace the scar that ran along his cheek, to touch the crinkles
that radiated from his eyes had her hand poised between the two of them, as
though some magic controlled her better judgment.  The dark tan of his skin,
common enough among any who spent their days out of doors, fascinated.

“You’re
going to miss it if you keep looking at me.”  He said without once shifting his
gaze away from Bruce.

Maggie
snapped back just in time to see Bruce’s fluid adjustment from crouching to
standing, aiming and shooting.  He downed the animal in one shot as all the
other game fled.

“No
need for more.  That will keep us for the journey.”  Talorc told her and heeled
his mount forward.

She
urged her ride to catch up, confused by her compulsion yet not ready to fight
it.  “How did you know who that was down there?”

“I
can recognize my men, how each moves.”  He looked to her.  “As I do with you.”

 She
snorted, “A stiff and bowlegged lass.  Enchanting.”

“Oh
girl, what I see you can be verrrry proud of.”  He teased.

With
her best glare she changed the subject.  “You knew the deer were there but
didn’t go to hunt.”

“Couldn’t
have shown you if I was down there.”

His
thoughtfulness defeated her. “You knew I would want to see it.”

“Aye.” 

 “I’ve
never hunted.”

“And
you’ve always wanted to, no doubt.  I’ll be teaching you then.”  Finally he
stopped, turned and looked at her.  She refused to look away, put her chin up
defiant against her own reluctance.

“I
would like that.”

He
was studying her as closely as she had studied him.  She fought the urge to
squirm. 

“No
doubt, you’ll be good at it.”  He stated.

He
couldn’t know that but in her defense she admitted, “I can tickle fish better
than my brothers.”

His
chuckle echoed through her, rattling the foundation of her resistance.  Over
and over she tried to remember Diedre’s words.

Just don’t let him near.  Stick with the women folk and don’t let him
near.  Then you can have a high time with us, and return home to anyone you
want

By
the next day her resistance was firmly back in place. 

Talorc
looked to the sky. Clear and bright and cold enough to freeze the ground.  A
relief after the wet, muddy journey of neither snow nor rain but a muddled mix
of both that slapped their faces and melted on the ground. 

Soon,
the sun would set.  By mid-day tomorrow they would reach Glen Toric. He planned
it that way, so the sun would be high in the sky, shining down on his home in
its most magnificent glory just as they rode up to it.

 Despite
the chill they took time this afternoon to bathe in the loch below, wash away the
long muddy ride before trekking up to this camp, an outcropping of stone off
the edge of the woods. 

From
the higher vantage point, aided by a bright moon, the tall square keep of Glen
Toric could be seen, the substantial wings flaring out and back from its
sides.  The long narrow climb up to it proof of the safety it offered.  Not
fancy but strong, and sturdy and easily defended. Large enough to hold all she
needed. Much like him.