Tangled (Handfasting) (16 page)

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."

THE HANDFASTING

BOOK 3

TORN

Torn©2009Martha E
Ferris

All rights reserved

Cover Art © 2012
Kelli Ann Morgan / Inspire Creative Services

www.inspiredcreativeservcies.com

This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to actual
events, persons or clans is entirely coincidental.

Home
again.

Maggie
expected it to be the same.  She expected to step straight back into life as it
had been.

She
was a fool.

The
ride should have forewarned.  Rather than teasing affection, her brothers
treated her with the wariness of large men in a room full of breakable
objects.  There was a hint of distrust.

"Ma
read your missive and took straight to her bed."  Nigel admitted.

"To
her bed?"  Fiona MacBede never fell ill enough to be off her feet.

"To
her bed."  Feargus the younger barked.  His scowl meant someone would
pay.  There was no one, except perhaps her father, who would be more protective
of Fiona MacBede than her sons. 

Maggie
shrunk deeper into her great plaid.

"You
seem well enough." Feargus continued.

"Aye." 
But she wasn't, not with the mischief she had played.  She felt small.  Very
small indeed.

She
must have sounded so.

"Don't
doubt yourself, Maggie.  No matter what they may have said, or done, you’re a
fine lass.  The best for the best."

Her
brothers blamed Talorc for the offense against their sister, the worry to her
mother.   

What
had Maggie done?

"We
thought The Bold was the man.  But even we can be wrong."

Maggie's
groan was stolen by an eerie moan of wind.  An ominous sound coupled with a
dark silver sky and a landscape of brittle heather.  The heather was fast
turned to white. 

Snow
had come. 

They
battled against it the whole of their return to the MacBede Keep.  Shoulders
hunched, head bowed.  Maggie could only see white. It blew against them,
blocked site of their trail, the sun.  It froze Maggie's heart from thoughts of
Talorc and the MacKays.  She didn't know how her brothers knew where they were
or where they were going, but they continued on.  In the worst of it they
traveled through two nights, Maggie tied to the horse so when she dozed, she'd
not lose her seat.

"We'll
get you home, lass.  We'll get you back to the safety of our people.  Ma will
be that glad to see you." 

They
reached the MacBede gates before Maggie realized where they were.  One moment
her head was bowed with weariness, the next she lifted her eyes to see the most
beautiful sight she could ever imagine.

Home.

She
was home again and this time she would relish it in the way one does when they
know they have to leave again.  And she would leave.  She had come to
understand that much.  If the Bold would take her, she would go back to him.

But
not yet. 

There
was the whole of the winter to get her fill of kin, to listen to her mother's
advice, to be a MacBede.  Come spring, she would be off again, to the Laird
MacKay, to be a wife.

If
he waited.

If
he didn't . . . there was a chance of that, she had to be honest enough to
admit.  Talorc was a man of action, quick, impulsive action.  He wasn't one to
take time, assess his situation.  Maggie could understand that.  She was known
to be just as impulsive and she knew the flavor of regret over thoughtless
action. 

Talorc
had married her, within a few hours of meeting.  The truth was, given time,
disappointment was known to taint hasty decisions. 

He
didn't love her.

The
curiosity of desire had been fed.

Seonaid
could press her interest.

He
would have the whole of the winter to think that out.  And if he chose to leave
her with the MacBedes it would be better to learn of it within the bosom of her
own family, then held fast to the MacKay keep.

But
this, now, was her homecoming.  She refused to think of Talorc or the MacKays
and dampen the joy of it.  There would be time enough to rethink actions in the
winter to come. 

Bone
cold, aching from sitting astride for days, hungry for nothing more than the
warmth of her own bed and a hot broth, she was hit with a jolt of energy.  Rag
doll limp outside the gate she felt grand with the crossing of it, raised her
hand with exuberance to wave and shout "hallo" to all those around. 

Silence
stunted her gesture.

Despite
the snow, the courtyard was full.  All those who would have waved back and
called out now stood taciturn and stoic, with the same wary watchfulness that
Maggie's brothers held along their journey.

Maggie's
newfound energy leached from her as quickly as it had come.  She had no heart
to prod for fun.  No exuberance to challenge their stoicism.  That was for them
to do for her.  But they didn't.

She
bowed her head, shameful of the problems she had caused. 

"Head-up
lass, you've done naught wrong." Feargus growled beside her.

"You
don't know, Feargus." His head snapped around, wariness replaced with
accusation.  Feargus had gone to his sister's rescue.  If there was no need for
rescue, Feargus would be shamed to the core.

His
look burned.  Maggie felt significant as ash.

Och,
Talorc, what have I done?

But
even as she thought it, she realized it was not her fault.  They, both Bold and
her family, had put her to this.  They had pushed her, and pushed her to accept
things before she was ready.

Did
they want her to be a MacKay?  Fine and dandy for them.  She knew those in
power married strangers, but at least they were prepared from the cradle.  Her
own gave her no more than one night, one torturous night, to adjust, accept and
consider life without those she loved and held dear.

She
thought of Ealasaid, and Deidre, Lizbeth, Mary and Eba.

So
the MacKays had good people too.

She
thought of Seonaid.

And
they had troublesome women as well.

There
were all sorts to a community.  Maggie could accept that, if only she had been
better prepared, given some warning, time enough to shore up her foundations.

Head
held high she urged her mount a step before her brothers. 

Feargus
was right, she had naught to be sorry about.  But he did.  As did her ma and
her da and Bold, trickster that he was.  She would not feel guilty for wanting
to be home with her own.

Except
it didn't feel much like home.

Her
father reached up, to lift her off the horse.  He had not done such a thing
since she was a mere child, her head no higher than his stomach.  Nor had he
ever hugged her with such fierce power. 

She
didna' know if the tears sprang from the pressure of his hold, or the sudden
bout of homesickness that had her hugging him back with the same emotional
desperation.  Reluctantly, he let her go to her mother's embrace.

"Och,
Maggie," finally her mother released her, to lean back and assess, her
fingers gripped tight to Maggie's arms.  "You've had a birthday since
you've been gone."  With the words, Fiona's eyes filled to brimming. 

Maggie's
own salty tears streamed down her cheeks.  "Aye, I'm a woman now." 
The quiet of the courtyard hadn't lasted long.  With Maggie's words it landed
once again, like a heavy mallet. 

"A
woman now?"  Fiona's gaze shifted over Maggie.

I can make it all come together, Maggie.  That's when we explode with
pleasure, fly to heaven and back.  That's when you know what it means to be a
woman.
  Talorc's words of
passion. 

Maggie
blushed furiously.  That was not what she meant to say, yet it was what they
had all heard.

"I'm
twenty, now," she defended.  "No longer a child."

"Oh."
Her mother sighed.  "No, not a child any longer."  And seemed
saddened by the fact.  "But let's get you in by the fire, warm you
up." 

Fiona
looked back at her two sons.  "You as well, someone can take the mounts. 
You've done a fine job of returning our Maggie to us, time to warm yourselves
and have a proper meal."

Her
brothers were huddled together with her da.  Probably speaking of their
reception at the MacKays, which was no reception, because they wouldna' leave
their mounts.  They as good as proclaimed war.  Talorc would not be pleased.

She
let her mother lead her into Maggie's own chamber, where a tub already stood,
filled with steaming water.

"Mother,
you don't know how good that looks."

"It
was a hard journey?"

"Terrible
with the snow and all."

"He
won't be able to come this way for a good long time."  Fiona kept her back
to Maggie, as she moved drying sheets closer to the fire.  Maggie couldn't
respond.  As determined as she was to go home, she now wished Talorc close at
hand.

She
eased her damp plaid from her shoulders, from around her waist.  "Were you
truly sick?"

"Aye,"
Fiona crossed to Maggie to help with the fastening of her gown.  "I'd been
fretting ever since you left and when your letter arrived, well, I was beyond
fretting."

"My
words made you ill?"

"Sick
of heart, child, sick of heart."  Fiona wrapped her arms around her
daughter.  "You don't know how hard it is to send a child off.  Grown or
no, children of their own or no, you never stop worrying about them.  And when
you've played a hand at sending them out against their own will," a gentle
mother's touch traced Maggie's cheek.  "Can you forgive me?  I truly
thought it was for the best."

Tears
kept Maggie from answering.  Not great gulping sobs but quiet tears of
anguish.  Never, in her whole lifetime, had she ever hurt her mother, and now
she had done so with a vengeance.  The worst of it was, Fiona had been right. 
Talorc was a good man in many ways.  If he just wouldn't force Maggie's hand so
much when she was powerless to stop him.

He
was a danger to her.  Not in the way her family was thinking, but he was a
danger.  Maggie would have to put their ideas to rights, later, after she was
warm, fed and rested.

Fortunately,
Fiona didn't seem to need answers.  She helped Maggie into the tub as Sibeal,
Feargus the younger's wife, came into the room with a tray full of steaming
mugs and haggis straight from the stoves.  The smell of it, the warmth of the
water, the comfort of her family enveloped Maggie.