Torn (The Handfasting)

  THE HANDFASTING

  Torn

  Part 3 of

  A Novel in Three Parts

  Becca St. John

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

  Torn©2009Martha E Ferris

  All rights reserved

  Cover Art © 2012 Kelli Ann Morgan / Inspire Creative Services

  www.inspiredcreativeservcies.com

  Dedication

  To my daughters for all their differences, similarities and joys. You make me smile, you keep me young, you give me a reason for being. I love you.

  Table of Contents

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1 – A TOUCH WISER

  CHAPTER 2 - REVELATION

  CHAPTER 3 – BROKEN

  CHAPTER 4 – DREAMS

  Chapter 5 – GRUESOME CELEBRATIONS

  CHAPTER 6 – DEVIL’S CLAN

  CHAPTER 7 – LETTING GO

  CHAPTER 8 – TORN APART

  CHAPTER 9 – A WOMAN’S GAME

  CHAPTER 10 – CONFRONTATION

  CHAPTER 1 – A TOUCH WISER

  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?" her mother, 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.

  The letter. Thoughtless, thoughtless, thoughtless.

  Her clan, her family, pushed her into a handfast with Talorc the Bold, the Laird MacKay. Marriage for a year and a day, unless they bonded in body, then it was a marriage to be sure. Only she hadn’t known that, she hadn’t known about the limitations until Talorc told her and now,och, now she’d made a right mess of it all.

  If only her clan, and the Bold himself, had given her time to accept the idea, but they hadn’t. In one night she went from living among her people to riding off for the MacKay keep. She’d felt the right of it, when she sent that missive off to her mother, implying things were not so good for her in her new home. Only, they had been good and then her brothers had come to take her home. Spoiling for a fight, they were, when all she had wanted was to see her family again.

  Impulsive, reckless action.

  Talorc was as bad. Hadn’t he proposed to 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, with all her closeness to the man, 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 than held fast to the MacKay keep.

  She dampened the recriminations. This, now, was her homecoming. She refused to think of Talorc or the MacKays and spoil 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 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 people, 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 family enveloped Maggie.

  "I'll be staying with you tonight, Maggie. We all know how you don't like the darkness." Sibeal offered.

  "Did you tell him about that?" Fiona asked. "Did he know you don't like to be alone in the night?"

  "He knew." Maggie reassured her ma. "But I'm too old to be fretting about such things, now."

  "Tsk," Fiona disapproved. "He left you alone. These warring men just canna' understand we all have our fears."

  "And we need to learn how to face them."

  Sibeal pulled a chair near the tub, broke off a bit of haggis and put it to Maggie's mouth, to feed her as if she were a babe. "Was it that bad? That you had to face fears like that?"

  "No," Maggie pulled away from Sibeal's offer, and reached up to take it herself.

  "Well," Fiona shot out, "Your father and brothers would not let you be harmed in battle! And that's the truth of it!"

  Reparations could not wait until she had her wits about her. She had deliberately distorted the truth, had exaggerated the distortions, but who would have thought her family would take it as gospel? She was known to be dramatic. There was no choice among a family of boisterous older brothers, and a clan that was no different. She knew to come in loud and grand or be ignored. Of all the times for them to take her on her word, they would have to start now.

  There was naught she could do, but defend those she had slandered. "It wasna' the MacKay's fault. I broke through the protection when a man was felled. You know how I can be."

  "He should have known."

  Maggie forgot how stubborn her people could be, once they took a side.

  "We all thought the Gunns had gone, turn tailed and fled. They had been gone that long. But you know the Gunns are a sneaky lot. I'm just that grateful that I'm free of them. Talorc thought they were set on capture and against that he did a fine job."

  Fiona fussed over Maggie's forehead. "There's still a lump, lass. He should have taken the blow."

  "I'm fairing well, ma."

  "You'll fair better, now that you're home."

  "Aye, ma, I'll fair better."

  * * * * * * * * * *

  If only it had been true. That Maggie would do better at home but she didn’t. Her ma may not have been ill, but Maggie surely was. It came on slowly but soon took over her life.

  At first, she blamed it on the emotions at battle inside of her. They sucked her dry, like a sawdust doll that leaked its inners. It left her all floppy and listless. But it didn't stop there. No. Terrible little sithichean, fairies by the bucket load, danced and jigged in her belly and soured all she smelled, made her sick, until she could keep naught down.

  Her mother hovered, too close.

  As all children born in the wee hours of the night, Maggie was expected to be brilliant as well as wild. Because of that she had been given a fair amount of freedom. Now, to have her ma, her da, all her brothers and their wives perched so near, was about to drive her crazy. Even when she retched, someone would hold her head, another would hand her a wet cloth and the lot of them stood witness to the embarrassment of her weakness, for Maggie never ailed.

  "How close did you come to be, to the Bold?" Her mother asked after one such bought.

  How close? Maggie moaned, which her mother put down to illness. They had been as close as two people can be. They had also been as far apart as two people could be.

  Or had they?

  "He was gone, much of the time. And when he was there, he had clan business to see too. He did not follow me about, if that's what you mean."

  "Could you be his wife?" Finally, the question had come.

  "Mayhap, one day." Maggie hedged.

  "I see," Fiona nodded, as if that explained all.

  But it didn't. It didn't explain to Maggie why she felt so lonely among the people she loved. It didn't explain the fear she felt, that Bold would never come for her. It didn't explain the hunger for kisses and caresses and soft whispered words.

  It didn't explain why she felt those things never felt before.

  * * * * * * * * * *

  Talorc rode into Glen Toric'
s snow swirled courtyard well after dark. He doubted the watch knew he was there before he was straight under their noses. Especially as he had traveled alone, leaving his men to their dinner and sleep. They were not as anxious to return to the keep. None were newly married. None had just come to 'know' their wives, nor was the hunger still licking at them to get to know her again.

  He told the guards not to announce him. He wanted to surprise Maggie there in the hall, to see her reaction when he stood waiting for her welcome. No doubt, she would be as ravenous for him as he was for her. She proved the truth of it in the barn. It was that good between them.

  Together they would go above stairs, ready a bath so she could bathe him. Her fingers would run over his head while she lathered it. Her hands would knead the ache in his shoulders and back as it warmed the cold that had settled in his marrow. He would teach her how to ease the lower aches as well. To run her fingers from his shoulders, down his chest, across his belly to his loins.

  He stormed up the steps, to the door of the keep.

  The memory of Maggie held him fast in hand combat, kept him alive, for he promised he'd not leave her. And he'd not. No more fighting with reckless abandon. Not now. He had enough experience to fight with skill and care. Maggie gave him the reason to do so.

  Talorc moved into the doorway of the great room to look over the crowd. Even before he spotted Maggie, he saw Seonaid there with her child. His inners clenched. His head shot around, as he scanned the crowd, suddenly aware of the unusual muted tones. It was Donegal who saw him first.

  "Bold."

  The quiet turned to calls and shouts, questions about the battle, urgings for him to move close to the fire, have a dram. Someone swiped snow from his shoulders, but it wasn't Maggie.

  "Where's my wife?" He hadn't meant to bellow, to frighten her with his need for her. But the escalating fear could not be squelched.

  The room stilled, an ominous thing. Una, always proud to be the first to impart news, called out. "She's gone to the MacBedes but she said naught about being a wife."