Torn (The Handfasting) (14 page)

“Never.” 
She sneered.

“Oh,
aye, or your Eba will be banned with you.”

“Banned?”

"You
turned to renegade, you will go to the renegades. Word will be sent to the
Gunns and together we will run you all to earth for the vermin you are. United
we will hunt you, track you until you all pay the price for what you did to our
clan and those we protect. "

With
Talorc's pronouncement the ground shook as people stamped their feet and
clapped their hands to a beat of exile, their shouts weaving a tune through the
drumming.

"Come,
lass," Feargus pulled Maggie toward the keep.

Maggie
tried to twist around, to see her husband. "I should be by his side."

"Later
love," Fiona crooned as she had when Maggie was a child. But Maggie was no
longer a child. She was a woman. She had been wed.

"Bold." 
She called, but her voice was a meager thing, next to the noise of the crowd.

"Maggie,"
Feargus took her by the shoulder. "You’ll be coming home with us."

"I'm
a married woman."

"He's
allowed it's not so."

"We
said our vows. We've promised."

"No
man nor woman is held to vows made under force, and not from the heart."

She
had known this, she had known they were going to play this game. She could not
fight it with her family.

"We
will wait until he returns from fighting the renegades."  She said and
watched as her father caught her mother's eye. They wouldn't wait. They would
take her before she could confront him.

And
suddenly she understood just how Deidre felt to be wed with no husband to claim
her.

Seonaid
stood on the battlements, looking out over the land she’d called home the whole
of her life. 

She
had not ridden out with the men.  Her son was here.  Her brother’s son.  The
clan now knew of her humiliation, her family’s shame. The evil that ran in Lochlan’s
blood.  The same blood that ran in her viens.

Every
day she feared that evil, that it would rise to consume her. She watched young
Deian, for some sign, but all she saw was a playful lad with a huge heart.  Had
Lochlan ever been like that? Something besides a clever bully?   

Early
on she sought ways to focus anger, fear so it would not turn on those she
loved.  She donned men’s clothes, she learned to fight as a man learned to
fight.  She fought against the softness in herself, the vulnerable.  

No
more.  She was tired. Deep inside tired and somehow the revelations allowed her
to sink into that depth, to stop fighting, to stop bracing herself with secrets.

She
had to think of Deian.

 “You’re
wearing a bliaut.” Paraig’s deep voice flowed over her as soft as a breeze,
making it worth it to have on the garb of a woman.

“Aye.”
Men’s clothes had been a shield, given her a sense of power.  A futile
gesture.  She had no power.

“It
becomes you.”

She
turned to him then, grateful as she always was to this man.  “Thank you.”

He
flushed, shrugged, concentrated on the view she had been looking at.  “It’s
land worth fighting for.”

“Aye,”
she didn’t know what else to say to him, knew better than to speak the truths
she felt.  That she hungered for him, cared for him.  “Impossible.”  She
admitted and put a hand to her lips as though she could stop the words that
already slipped out.

“What’s
impossible?”  He asked.

She
shook her head, then thought to confide in him.  “I will be leaving on the
morrow, with Deian.  We are going to a place in the west, were a society of
women healers live.”

“You’re
what?”  Quiet, harsh, he faced her.

“If
they’ll have me,” She continued. “and Deian.  I’m no healer but I can help
protect them.  And though he’s a male, Deian is young, they should not mind.”

He
took her shoulders.  “There’s no reason for you to leave.”

Stunned,
she stared at him.  “Have you lost your senses, man?  I bore my brother’s
child!  I’ll never live past that.  Worse yet, Deian will never be able to live
past that.”

“You
could marry me.” 

You could marry me.
  She
would never forget his offer, the harsh hope in his voice.

But
she could not marry him.  She could never marry anyone.  Oh, but that he asked,
a mere four words she would cling to for the rest of her life.

Sadly,
she shook her head.  “No,” she huffed out on a weary sigh, “I canna’ marry
you.”  She touched his cheek.  “But I’m that grateful that you asked.”  And she
walked away.

****************************************

Talorc
held his face to the wind as the day threatened with a hint of pink against the
deep gray of night.

He
willed the day to hurry on its way. He willed it never to come.

She
would be leaving with first light.

He
had tried to stay away, but the renegades had no strength in direct combat.  Their
power had been in malicious whispers, building hidden fears. Their games had
been lost when the Gunns joined the MacKays to oust the trouble makers.

It
hadn’t taken long and so he rode back to Glen Toric to see once more, his one
vulnerable spot.

Maggie.

Feelings,
crammed deep, so they wouldn't interfere with his thoughts, now rushed to the
surface.

It
was true. Maggie had doubled his strength, his power. Even in the end, she was
the one, not him, who sorted out and found the answers to the evil played
against them.

They
had vowed forever. He would live true to that vow, but never would he ask the
same of her. She deserved a man who could protect her.

The
deep gray softened with light. Talorc looked toward the windows of his chamber,
where he knew his Maggie would be preparing to leave his bed.

He
doubted he could ever sleep there again.

Perverse
hunger had him willing someone, anyone, to pull open the shutters so he could
get a glimpse of her, from here, on the far side of the battlements. Where no
one would expect to find him.

The
shutters flew open with a crash he could hear from across the courtyard, and he
got his glimpse. It was her, wild mane caught in a wind that howled as fiercely
as he wanted to howl himself.

"Bold!"
her voice rang through the air, to waken the worst slug-a-bed.

His
heart thrilled at the sight of her hefting air into her lungs. She was riled,
just the way he loved her to be. It warmed his blood, had it pumping hard in
response. "Bold!  I know you’re here, somewhere. I feel it in my
bones."

Fiona
came up behind Maggie to urge her back in the room, but Maggie shrugged her off.

And
she was right. Her instincts spot on target. He was here, playing the coward to
her courageous heart.

"I'm
here, Maggie."  He shouted, refusing to portray himself, as he saw it. Better
she remember his strength.

"You're
set on sending me away?"

How
could she ask that?  He had robbed her from her home, her family and failed his
most basic responsibility to her. He had failed to protect her.

"Now
that the babe is gone, you have no use for me?"

"Don't
be foolish, Maggie." he shouted back, but without force for suddenly he realized
this was not a private conversation. They were shouting across a courtyard that
was filling with each word.

"Do
you think I can't carry another?  Or is it that you don't want to try for
one?"

"Maggie." 
He warned, but she would not be stopped.

"Tell
me Bold, just how many times have you been injured?"

He
snorted and headed for the stairs to the courtyard.

She
leaned further out the window, "How many?"

"I'm
a man, Maggie, a warrior. It's my job to be wounded, to defend you." 
Which he had failed to do three times.

"And
I'm a warrior's wife, but I'm beginning to wonder if you're a man or not."

Talorc's
head shot up, his jaw dropped. Even the birds stopped singing to the dawn with
that one.

Maggie
leaned so far out the window, Talorc was certain the only thing that kept her
from falling straight out was the hold her mother had on her skirts. Try as
Fiona did, to pull Maggie back, to hush her, his wife could not be stopped.

"They
call you the Bold, but I think you're nothing but a coward."  She turned,
to shove her mother away and leaned back. "And don't you dare move until I
get down there to give you a piece of my mind."

He
couldn't have moved if he had wanted to. He just kept staring, dumbfounded, at
the empty window, where Maggie shouted like some goddess fishwife.

Only
she wasn't a fishwife. She was a woman with strength and determination. She was
a woman pushed to an edge she didn't want to fall over.

It
felt like the whole of the clan was standing in the courtyard, fidgeting with
embarrassment, for they had come out to watch an explosion that blew up beyond
their expectations. Talorc knew they could no more move than he could. He also
knew they wanted to ease away, discreetly, as if they hadn't heard the slander
against their laird.

She
had called him a coward. She had questioned his manhood.

There
was only one thing left for him to do. Stand-up and take her fury head-on. But
that was not what would prove him courageous. Nor would it prove him a man. Those
would be seen in his soul, when he still had the courage to set her free and to
do so without ever letting her know the anguish it cost him.

***********************

Maggie
tore down the stairs, her skirts hefted above her knees, so she could run all
the way out to the side courtyard. Her heart pounded. Not from exertion, but
with fear, that he would have disappeared.

She
never should have shouted out such rubbish, for all his people to hear. She
should have run down the stairs straight away and confronted him close up. She
may have overplayed her hand, lost him completely.

That
would not happen without a fight.

Jamie
and Crisdean tried to stop her but she sidestepped them, managed to barrel
through the doorway to stand, heaving for breath.

He
was there. Standing right where she told him to stand. When he raised his hand
and crooked his finger, she went to him. She owed him that much. She could have
sunk into the ground for being so brazen in front of . . . her head shifted to
see the huge crowd of people watching.

Did
they always have to have an audience?

She
looked back at Talorc.

"I'm
not going."  It was all there was to say.

"Fine."

That
was not the response she had expected. "I thought you were sending me
away."

She
watched as he took air into his lungs. Did it take so much patience to deal with
her? 

"Maggie,
you can come or go. It doesna’ matter. Sim is taking a missive to the Campbells
where they say the priest has settled for the winter. It says I forced you to
wed me, against your will. Your father wrote that he forced you as well."

"That's
a lie."  She watched him shake his head.

"The
church won't recognize a marriage of arms."

"Aye,
you made up my mind for me. You took me to handfast against my better judgment.
You took me away from my family, my home. You promised me a husband who took risks
with his life every time he left me." She began to pace. "You
expected me to be strong enough to face all of that, when you are too weak to
face the loss of one babe."

He
grabbed for her shoulders, stopped at the sight of the bandage that covered a wound
still fresh. "I almost lost you, three times."

"And
I almost lose you every time you leave this keep."

"It's
not the same."

"It
is. Don't you see, you know how to defend with the sword, you know how to match
wits with another warrior, but you're a fool to think you could fight a woman's
game.

"Why
do you think a laird needs a wife if not to fight the battles from his blind
side?"

She
stepped back, her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. She wasn't done yet. She
knew the rest would come, she could feel it spoiling within her. And then it
did, the words flew from her lips as she shoved so hard at his chest, he had to
take a step back or fall on his bottom.