Bold (The Handfasting) (13 page)

“You've
nothing to fear with me.” 

"It's
not the fear that frets me."

Gentling
himself, Talorc stroked her back, fought his need to have her closer. 
"We're handfasted, no need to feel shame."

Face
still pressed to his collar, she shook her head. 

He
cupped her chin, tilted her face to his, to see the thoughts written there. 
“Maggie, what do you know of what's between us?” Before the words could be
asked, Maggie jerked from his hold, indignant, proud.  She looked straight at
him and he had his answer. 

She
would not shy from what she felt, but she'd never felt it before.  “Ah, lass,”
his words a smile, “You have old knowledge, but it’s all too new to you. 
Confuses a body.  We need to catch-up your learning to your knowing.”

 “Old
knowledge?”  She frowned, the haze lifting from her eyes before Talorc wanted
it to.

“Maggie,”
he distracted her with a caress to her ear.  She sucked in a breath as the soft
roundness of her breast lifted.

“Don’t.” 
She ordered, but there was no weight to her words.

“Because
you don’t like it, or because you want more?”  She turned away, and he knew it
was better that than to lie.  “You love my touch Maggie.  That’s what has
changed you.” 

“But
I hate you.”

“No
you don’t Maggie.  You wouldn’t crave this if you truly hated me.” 

Finally,
their lips met, though it was not much of a kiss, more a gentle brushing of
lips.  A tease, soft enough to ease her fears.  She allowed it, allowed the
gentle pressure that grew from that first touch, accepted the gentle brush of
his tongue along the seam of her mouth.

As
if she knew what he wanted, her lips parted, provoking him to take more.   He
eased his tongue between her lips, which, in turn, created more hunger.  She
returned his desire, participated in the tasting.  It was the hunger of a
powerful man, met by his equal.  No matter the turmoil it caused, she was
honest in her response.  The thrill coursed through his veins.   He devoured
her, she demanded of him and fire raged.

He
wanted her here, now, in this field, below where his men on foot marched, near
enough to the keep that any could come upon them.  Rather than tame, the
thought incited.  To show-off her abundant softness, the wild passion focused
on him, had him rolling her to the ground, pinning her beneath him, her hands held
tight above their heads.

"You
are mine!" he pressed against her, widened his leg to urge hers apart
until she cradled him.

"Oh
aye," she allowed, "For a year and a day."  She pulled his head
to hers.

He
allowed it, long enough to know she was saturated with wanting.  He risked
lifting up to look down on her, at the lush rise of her breast, at lips swollen
from his kisses, cheeks flushed from desire.  "You don't shy from this,
yet still expect to leave me?"

"Imprisoned
by handfast, I will reap whatever rewards I can."  Hands bound by his, she
arched her back.

He
didn't understand her willingness.  The hunger, aye, for it was that strong
between them.  But that she would risk, even incite, mating, he could not
comprehend.  Not when she wanted her freedom so fiercely.  But the Bold was not
named so for missed opportunities. 

One
hand still holding hers, he used the other to tease with a gentle stroking,
along the side of her body, barely brushing the side swell of her breast. 

"You
are so bloody luscious," he gave in, filled his hand with her, molded,
squeezed as he lowered his head to suckle.  He couldn't resist any more, freed
her hands to fill both his with her softness.  "You make me hurt, ache
with wanting you.  Since the first moment I saw you, my blood has risen so high
I fear I’ll burst.  Ease me, Maggie girl, ease my pain."

She
made it more insistent, urging the heat in him to rise even higher.  She pulled
his head to hers, kissing him with a full mouth.  Her hips rose to his, circled
impatiently as he thrust against her.

Too
much cloth between them, Talorc thought of his knife, to slice it away, to give
him access to her breasts as he wadded her skirt in his hand, lifting it
higher, higher.  He wanted to see her legs, her hips, raised himself to do so
but stopped.

"I'll
not have you caught like this," he thought out loud.  "We've barely
made our pledge, left your home and already I'm ravishing you.  Your clansmen
will certainly see the change in you then."

Her
eyes met his, so fierce, so wanton he was surprised by her words.  “This is not
how they see me as different, Laird MacKay.” 

She
was battling him with words when he was still battling his body.  Trying to
calm it.

She
continued.  “What they think is that I am more than I am.”

“Aren’t
you proving that as we speak?”  He asked, fighting for breath, fighting to tame
the wildness in his veins.  It didn’t help that she arched her back, squiggled
her hips trying to pull from beneath him.  He wasn’t ready to let her go. 
"They know you, Maggie.  They’ve always known you, they just didn’t
recognize you as I do."

She
snorted.  “Know me or no, you dinna' get my kin last night.” 

“You
said you would handfast, you gave your word.”

She
lashed out.  “Oh, aye, I had no choice.  You wouldn’t listen, would you?  You
had to keep going.” She shoved him aside, freed herself of his hold.  “Like a
boulder down a mountain, you are.  But I told you, over and over.  Know me or
no, I don’t want you.”

“You
don’t know what you want.”

"Ach!" 
Maggie rose, twitched her plaid straight with trembling hand. “I do know what I
want!”  She railed.  “That's how little you know me because I have always known
what I wanted.  I want my home, I want my family, I want a simple life without
all the complications of a man like you. 

"I
don’t want to fight to be heard, fight to be listened to, fight to be believed
or to have my way.”

“You
want to be in control.”  Talorc nodded, he understood the desire, not that he
was going to let her have her own way. 

He
stood, towered over her.

“Aye,
I want control of my life, no one else’s, just mine.”  She dragged her hair
from her face.  “Is that so much to ask for?”

Talorc
shook his head, caught a stray lock of her hair with his finger and tried to
push it behind her ear.  She slapped his hand away.

 Her
sigh was weary and old as the mountains. “Lord knows, you're a fine enough
looking man, and you have an uncanny way with a woman's body," she
granted, "There are plenty of women who would want you.  Why does it have
to be me?  Why, when you are nothing like what I want?"

Frustrated,
and knowing there was no hope for it, Talorc snorted, “I’m not scrawny enough
for your tastes?  Is that it?  You won’t be able to rule me as you might a
lesser man.”

“Hah.” 
She snuffed, rose to his bait.  “Of course you would think that just because a
man is of lesser build he would be a lesser man.”

“He’d
not be able to protect you as I would.”

“I
have brothers enough for that.  And I know how they are, how they try to
bombard my wishes for their own.  I've known you less than a day and already
you ignore my wants, my cares.”

Talorc
smiled, “Every man will try to have his way, in his own kind.  Don’t
underestimate a male’s hunger for control, just because he’s closer in height
to you.”

She
looked as sorrowful as a wee lamb tangled in the bracken.  He had torn her from
her home, her family, but he had a home and family to offer her.  With time,
she would understand that.  “It is a brave thing you do lass, leaving
everything that's familiar to you.  I mean to make it up to you, to prove that
it will be worth the pain you are feeling now.”

She
turned to him, trails of tears long since dried, lined the length of her face. 
"The only comfort I have to that pain is knowing I will be home this time next
year.  My ma promised me, if I don’t give you my heart, then we would not be
wed.  And that, you can be sure, will be easy.”

Startled,
he moved, to better see her.  She was a lusty lass for one who wanted to walk
away from a handfast.  This explained that.  “Is this what she told you?”

“Aye,”
her eyes narrowed, “is that not the truth of it?”

"Oh,
aye," he mumbled, certain her heart would rule her body.  She just didn't
know that.  But he was coming to understand her openness to his touches.  She
didn't fear their passion because she didn't consider it a threat to her
singleness. 

Now
that he had her attention, Talorc wasn’t certain he wanted it.  She didn’t know
that should she share her body with him, should they mate, they’d be wed.  The
chance of a child was enough to bind the least likely of couples. 

The
attraction was strong.  The past moments were proof of that.  It wouldn't be
long before he slid between her thighs, no cloth to bar him, and slid into the
core of her, toppling their handfasting into marriage.

They
belonged together.  Their passion was his strongest weapon against her denial
of their bond.  Her mother would know that.  She had played his hand for him. 

Intriguing.

“Do
you not think you could give me your heart?”

Maggie
was still fighting to right her plaid, the MacBede cloth.  Not so different
from his own.  Not really, but the colors were off, dyed by plants grown in a
different soil and the MacBedes had a thin orange line that couldn't be found
on the MacKay cloth.  Talorc frowned, he’d not noticed, others would.  It would
make her a stranger, a visitor, to them until the day she wore his colors.  He
wanted that change soon.

“My
heart was ripped apart with my brother's death.  You know well enough that a
scar can cause lasting damage.”

“I’ve
patience enough.” 

She
snorted.  “Patience?  Is that why you said your vows as you did?  Is that why
you bound yourself to me, this day?  ‘I take thee, Maggie . . .’” she
mimicked.  “Not ‘I will take thee,' at a future date.  No, you say, 'I take
thee.’  You commit yourself to now.  Why would you do that MacKay, why would
you pledge yourself for life when you knew I would not match those words?  Why
would you put that upon me, if you have the patience you speak of?”

“I
trust in what the future will bring.”

“You
think you know me better than I know myself?”

“Aye,
I do.”  He stalled her sputtering denial with a gentle finger to her lips. 
“I’ve seen more of the world than you, Maggie.  I know what is out there, I’ve
been married before.  Between us, there is more than the best of marriages
have.  You just need to learn of it.”

She
stood, courageous and straight.  It reminded him of their vows, their
handfasting.  She had been brave then, yet so vulnerable at the same time.  She
had kept her head high, her sight on whatever wall was before her.  She didn't
look to the people, would not look at him.  If she had, would the joy in all
the smiles have softened her heart?

He
had watched her then, from where he spoke with her father.  Dowry, land and furnishings,
handed over with a pledge, simple transactions. 

She
had not come so willingly. 

The
ladies had to surround her, one lamb to be shepherded to his side.  He had
lifted her hand, placed it upon his arm.  She barely allowed it to rest there,
barely touched him.  By the time he had led Maggie to the top of the entrance
stairs, every available MacBede had been below, in the courtyard, to witness
the joining.

She
had not wanted to be there, continued to refuse to look at him, or the people
below.  He was the one to take her right hand in his right hand, her left in
his, their hands bound in an unbreakable pattern of forever.  His had been sure
and warm, hers trembling and cold.

When
he married Anabel, she had trembled as well, though there’d been a shy smile
upon her lips.  Not so with Maggie.  Stoic, brave Maggie.  He’d have to bring
that smile to her lips and when he did, he doubted it would be shy.

“I
suppose ‘tis time we were off.”  Maggie sighed, bringing him back to the
present.

“You
spoke your vows loud and true, Maggie, I’m thanking you for that.”

“I
said I’d handfast with you.  I’d not go back on my word.”

“The
whole of the courtyard heard you.”

“’Tis
what they were there for.”

“They’re
dreaming of happy endings.”

“They’re
allowed their dreams.  It’s reality that I must face.”

“I’ll
give you a dream, if you’ll let me.”  He’d caught her wary attention again.

“And
what do you mean by that.”

“We
can have a happy ending.”

Her
hair shifted, a silken mass upon her shoulders, as she shook her head.  “Nay,
life is not a happy thing.  Don’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“Trust
me, Maggie.  Trust me to do what's right for you.”