Charming the Shrew Read Free

though the great bear of a man looked as strong and sturdy as ever he had.
    Tayg dismounted and handed the reins to a young lad standing nearby with his mouth agape as if Tayg were a monster with horns instead of a warrior returned from war. Tayg winked at him, and a blush rushed over the lad’s cheeks. Tayg turned to his parents.
    “Da. Mum.” He didn’t know what to do next, but his mum, as always, did. She moved forward and enfolded him in a fierce embrace. His father joined them, and Tayg felt much of the tension he had carried with him these many months drain away.
    It was good to be home.

    A FEW HOURS later, after much conversation with his mother over the well-being of his many cousins who also served with the Bruce and a good hot soak in a real tub, Tayg adjusted the pleats of a brand-new plaid his mum had brought him. The weaver had experimented with new dyes and patterns, and this was the best of what she had produced, saved for just this occasion.
    Tayg admired the crimson crossed with the brightest green he had yet seen in a plaid and a watery blue with just the smallest line of brilliant yellow crossing through it all. ’Twas not a plaid he would wear when hunting, nor fighting, for ’twas bright of hue and would easily be seen, but ’twas an excellent change from the browns and grays he had worn so much of late. The colors seemed to lift his spirits, and he began to look forward to the evening spent among his friends and family.
    Mum had said a bard was with them for the winter, a happy but unusual arrangement, as bards tended to winter over in the larger castles where there was more coin to be earned. This one was apparently wooing a lass in the village and had visited the clan often in recent months.
    Tayg reached for his claymore, then remembered where he was. A sword would not be a necessary addition to his festive attire this evening. He did slide his dagger into its sheath and checked that his sgian dhu was in its place. Some things would not be left behind no matter where he was.
    Satisfied that he was ready to face the clan, he left his chamber on the topmost floor of the hallhouse and descended the twisting narrow stair to the middle floor, which was given over almost entirely to a hall. Tonight it was filled with trestle tables groaning with food and people enough to make the large chamber feel crowded but somehow cozy. A fire roared on the hearth at one side of the room, and at the far end was a dais where a long table had been placed. Four chairs had been arranged near the center of the table facing those gathered in the hall.
    Tayg could see his mother and father already seated there. Beside his mum was an empty chair, and next to that sat Duncan McCulloch, his cousin and best friend since they were wee lads. Duncan had left the fighting when he had been badly injured at Balnevie some seven months before. Tayg was glad to see that his friend appeared fully recovered and, from the way he was cutting into his food, there had been no lasting effect upon his sword arm. Relief poured through him though he had not been aware of holding more than a passing concern over Duncan. Duncan would be his champion when Tayg became chief, and he was counting on his friend’s level head to help him fill Robbie’s considerable brogues.
    He made his way quickly to the table on the dais, nodded at his father, kissed his mother on the cheek, and took his place beside her. Duncan clapped him on the back and managed to grin while still chewing.
    “You look well,” Tayg said as he helped himself to a platter heaped with thick slices of roasted beef. “Where is Mairi?”
    Duncan grinned. “She is not feeling well.”
    Tayg looked at his friend, puzzled by the grin.
    “She is with child,” his mother said, passing him a tureen of braised turnips and leeks.
    Tayg looked back at Duncan and couldn’t miss the pride in the other man’s face. “Congratulations! So you’re to be a da. How soon?”
    “Another two