The Handfasting (30 page)

He
groaned, hard and loud. "Did I wound you?" she teased. He hitched her
up his body.

"Aye,
you wound me to the core and I want revenge!” He lifted her hips and plunged
deep into her softness. As he sheathed himself, he pressed the heel of his hand
against their joining. Maggie could no more hold back the moan that came from
the depths of her, than she could stop the convulsive rhythm of their union,
her desperate reaches to match his thrusts, until her cry mingled with his
hoarse shout, his shudder of release toppling her pulse of the same. She landed
hard upon him, the fierce beating of their hearts against each other’s chest.
Her hair fell like a silken wave around them both.

He
caressed her derriere, eased them both to their sides, still tangled, still
one.

When
he spoke, his words were no more than a series of pants. "Tell me, wife.
Tell me what you dreamed."

But,
like so many dreams, it had dissolved with only a few reminders. She frowned.
"The babe, Talorc, it's not young Ian. Not yet.” And she let sleep claim
her to a night of restless darkness.

Talorc
left William and Padraig to stand by the door of the low sod building, while he
waded into the stream, to fetch a bucket of water. The river was frigid, would
have iced, if the current hadn't kept it moving too fast to form any covering.
He welcomed the way it numbed to his knees, for it sent a shock of alertness to
his senses.

He
turned back to find both of his men had shed their clothes, ready for the
steam. Talorc reached them, handed over the bucket so they could go in before
him. He rid himself of his own garments, and ducked under the low lintel.

William
ladled water onto fiery rocks mounded on top of coals nestled in a small
depression in the middle of the dirt floor. Around it there were low benches,
with slightly taller ones behind those. Talorc grabbed the sheet he had left
there, and wrapped it around his middle, so he wouldn't burn his backside when
he sat.

He
breathed in deeply, of the steam, of the mint that had been added to the fire
and felt every passage in his head clear. "Aye, this is what I needed.” He
adjusted the sheet so he could lie back upon the bench. "But where is
Aed?"

William,
happy with the amount of water he had put to hot rock, finally sat down
himself. "He's with your lady wife. Seems she had a dream of sorts, wanted
to ask him about it."

Talorc
grunted. He didn't like her with the storyteller, their heads close together in
discussion. Not that he didn't trust Maggie, despite her peculiar caring for
puny men. He couldn't deny her dream last night, or the way it terrified her,
had her grabbing at her belly.

He
shook it off. A dream was merely a dream. There were other, real problems, to
sort through.

Padraig
doused himself with a ladle of the frigid water, until it dripped from his
hair, to his nose, down his massive beard. Like a dog straight out of the loch,
he shook it off. Talorc lifted his forearm over his eyes, to protect himself
from the slash of water.

"You've
watched all the boundaries?"

"Aye.
Winter or no, there’s been activity.”

"Any
sign of one of ours meeting them?"

William
no longer smiled. “Ours and theirs cross each other. But no sign that they stop
to chat.”

"What
did you learn from Old Micheil,” Padraig asked, “when you were closed up with
him all day yesterday?"

"Says
the same as you, there are comings and goings out east.” Talorc ran a hand down
his face. “He's too close to the Gunn border for my comfort, but he’s too
stubborn to stay at the keep for longer than a report."

"There
are others closer to the border."

"Aye,
Seonaid is out there. She claims it's quiet like, but then she's a woman, and
not trained to look for problems."

“Tracks
skirt her, but don’t go near.”

"She's
the one you have to move closer to the keep, Laird.” Padraig argued, “A woman
and child on their own . . . it's not good."

Talorc
doused himself with the frigid water, felt his muscles bunch with the shock of
it. He knew the truth of what Padraig said, but it was not that easy. "She
doesn't want to come.” And my relationship with Maggie is just that new, just
that fragile, he thought. It was no secret that Talorc didn't want the other
woman near enough to cause a problem. "I tried to get her to join up with
Nail’s people, but she doesn't want to move. Says it was her father's croft,
and it's rightfully hers.”

“As
if we would take it from her.” William grumbled.

"She
needs to marry.” Padraig kept to the woman like a dog to a bone. "That
would keep her boy safe."

Talorc
looked at William and they both laughed. It was not a humorous sound. Neither
explained their reaction, but William did offer, "Her cousin Roger and his
family live close."

"And
what has he said?"

"Signs
of too many intruders.” The burly man looked at Talorc, “He thought we had gone
that way, when we went to fight the Gunns. He was that shocked when he heard we
hadn't. He's thinking of moving his family closer in to the keep. Maybe they
can convince Seonaid to move with them.”

"You
think?” Padraig brightened.

"No.”
Talorc shook his head and frowned at Padraig. Seonaid was too independent, too
eccentric to fit in with those at the keep. That's why she liked to stay by
herself. As for the rest of it, Talorc was beyond thinking. He'd thought and
thought, and all he did was bite the tail of an idea, only to find he was right
back where he started.

“You
have to move her to the keep, Laird.”

So
that was the way of it. “She’s gotten to you, then? As if you don’t know
better.”

Padraig
kept his eyes on the fire. “Maybe she would marry me.”

William
barked with laughter. “She’ll not marry any but the Bold, and well you know
it.”

“I
visit with her, when I watch the land. She’s no’ so cold.”

Both
Talorc and William shot Padraig a look. It was William who asked, “Does she
know when to expect you?”

“Great
Gods!” Padraig bellowed, “I’m not green you know. What I do, how I do it, and
when I do it is for my mind. Woman or no, sweet or no, I keep my actions to
myself, without sign of order.” He scowled at Talorc. "Do you see any one
as the betrayer, Bold?"

He
shook his head.

"Beathag?”
William asked, but Talorc was quick to shake his head against that one.

"I
thought it, it made sense. She still thinks I murdered her poor lass, but she's
not the one."

Padraig
argued. "Why? Why do you say she's not?"

Talorc
drew in a deep breath of the minty air, as William poured more water on the
rocks. "Remember when we rode out, to chase the Gunns off our
borders?"

They
both nodded.

"Well,
I told Conegell to keep a watch on her, then I had Brock mention, in front of
Una, that we missed the southeastern crag when there were problems there."

"So
you think Una's the one?"

"No,
but she can't keep a secret in her head, and as her Conegell was always near
Beathag, Una tends to find reason to be around Beathag."

"Una
told Beathag."

"Aye,
and Conegell, good man that he was, faced me with the truth of it."

"Could
you imagine having to be owning up for your wife's blabbing?"

"Well,
if he has a fault, it's in his silence."

"So
what happened?"

 Talorc
couldn't quite make heads of it. "Beathag went to my Maggie, and told her
she knew we had a weakness by the southeastern cragg, and with Gunns about, it
should be sorted out. Maggie sent men over there straight away."

"Do
you think she knew she was being watched?"

"No,
Una didn't know that much."

Both
of the other men grunted in understanding.

Aed
popped his head in the door. "Room for another," he smiled broadly.
Talorc motioned him in.

"Your
wife is a lovely woman, Bold.” Aed had too much energy for someone thick in the
heat of steam. Talorc frowned. Aed, oblivious of the animosity, settled himself
on the bench and continued. “Very brave, what with the dreams she has and
all."

Talorc
grunted. It was enough that he thought Maggie lovely, better than lovely,
beautiful and spirited and feisty as a Sidhe. He didn't want other men to take
such notice. He looked at Aed’s bony protrusions. All skin and bone and no meat.
What did Maggie see in such men?

"Did
she tell you of her dream last night?”

"Aye,
she did. I think it means the boy is not ready to come over yet."

"She
said he couldn't.” Talorc admitted. His worst fear, his worst nightmare, was
that the boy child was meant to be someone else's. Which meant he couldn't come
over, because his true father had yet to mate with his mother.

"Aye,"
Aed settled his skinny butt on the bench, his arms and legs like thin tree
branches, making Talorc wonder if a man like that could father a son to Maggie.

He
stood, abruptly, and wondered why he was standing.

Aed
didn’t stop his rambling. "The boy can't come yet, because you're to have
a lass. That's what it all looks like to me, Bold. Can't have a lad when it's
meant to be a lass."

"A
lass?” Talorc sat down hard. "You're telling me the dream means she's to
have a lassie? A wee little girl?"

"Sounds
like that to me, but you can't be certain with these things. Not if you don't
remember them clear from waking.” Aed shook his head with frustration,
"She said she got distracted by the night, and forgot much of her dream.
What, do I ask you, can so distract that one forgets the importance of dreams?”
The storyteller shook his head, as if the world did not make sense.

The
shelter grew quiet, an uneasy silence. Aed looked up, confused. Padraig and
William coughed. For Maggie's sake, Talorc kept his mouth shut. She was a mite
shy about some things.

He
changed the direction of his thoughts. "She spoke of water, her brother Ian."

Aed
perked up and smiled. "Makes sense, doesn't it? Her brother is on the
other side. She would have to go out in the water to get near enough to hear
him."

"Aye,"
Talorc nodded slowly, but as the thoughts rushed in, his head bobbed with more
earnestness. He slapped Aed on the shoulder, hard enough to pitch him toward
the stones. "Sorry, man," Talorc righted him, brushed at the ash on
his arm, "Sorry.” Aed was puny, but smart.

A
lass.

Talorc
let out a bellow of laughter. A sweet lass, just like her mother . . . well,
more tart then sweet.

She
would enchant him.

He
had been troubled about Maggie's dream, but with the ease he felt more open to
listening.

“Aed,”
definitely more amicable, “I was thinking, mayhap in your stories, in our
history, you know of any who might just hold bad feelings for his people.”

Aed
screwed up his face as he thought. He had a repertoire of stories that outlined
the history of the clan. Legends of warriors who had fought under Talorc's own
father and before. Accounts of lovers and loves crossed. He was even bold
enough to tell the story of Seonaid and her boy, despite the frowns that Talorc
threw his way.

Maggie
said she would find out who the father of Seonaid's child was, but so far she
had only drawn more questions. It was best that way. Seonaid, for the few
moments she had been here, refused to talk to Maggie. Diedre, on the other
hand, was not shy of speaking about the two. About how Seonaid and the Bold
were such close friends. Of how he had saved her once, when a Gunn snuck up to
her farm. Of how he always traveled to the woman’s farm, even if it was out of
his way. And how he talked to her about everything.

It
had all been true. Talorc had done that and more for all his people. He checked
on all those who lived in remote areas. It was part of who he was as laird. As
for talking, well, Talorc knew what he could talk about and what it was best
not to speak of.

"Come
on, Laird, Aed's about talked out.” Padraig and William led the way out of the
sweating room, into the early gloom of the afternoon and down to the stream.

Talorc
joined them in their roars, as the cold water washed over steam dampened skin.

"Oh,
Aye.” William shouted, as he sloughed water over his face, his head,
"Firms a man up."

          Padraig
laughed. “And shrivels his privates.”

"Speak
for yourself.” Talorc charged, as he sloshed from the water, his back to the
others.

The
sweat had eased his muscles, cleared his head but couldn't wipe away the worry
that someone, out there in his clan, caused trouble. The stories hadn’t helped.
There wasn't much he could do about it now. Maybe it would be his turn to dream
up answers in the night.