Tangled (Handfasting) Read Free Page A

into the crowd, a mouse to a crack in the wall.
    Ealasaid
shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes.
    “Who
was she?”  Maggie was getting more alert. Talorc took her hands in his.
    “Beathag,
an old nurse maid,” Her hands were too cold. He rubbed warmth into them.
    “Talorc?”
    “Aye?”
    “The
rest?”  She lifted her chin toward the foot of her pallet. "And where am
I?"
    He
had forgotten that the others were there, that her bed was here, a pallet upon
a table in the great room, before the fire. His clan, her clan now, formed a circle
around them.
    “It’s
the Clan McKay, Maggie. But I wouldn’t be thinking you’d be ready to hear all
the names.”
    Her
eyes closed as she shook her head gently. “No, not all, but some, I should know
some . . . the one with the cool cloths.”
    "Ealasaid,
Maggie. She is as close to a ma as I have."
    Ealasaid
flustered with the notice. “You’ll be needing another.”  Overly enthusiastic
she replaced the warmed cloth with a fresh one.
    “Aye,
thank you Ealasaid.”  Maggie adjusted the rag that hung drunkenly over her
forehead. “And who whispered stories?”
    Talorc
had erred before, he may have done so again with Una. She had the breath for a
tale, but it was gossip, aimed for drama, not reality. Talorc never thought
Maggie would remember what was said, only be urged by the voices. He realized
he should have listened, should have censured what the woman said.
     Una
scrambled up around to the fire side of Maggie's bed. “It was me. I could tell
you heard every word. No one else believed that you would, but you did, did ya
not?  Oh, you were sooo . . .”
    Una
had been a mistake. Talorc nodded toward Conegell, Una's husband.
    “Come
on woman.”  Conegell tugged at her arm. “Canna’ you see, she’s suffering from a
sore noggin?”  When his wife resisted, the calm man warned, “you’ll make it
worse if you don’t stop that chatterin.’”
    "I'm
the one who woke her."
    "No
you're not," Deidre snorted, "It was her dreams of the boy. The
Laird's son. She knew she had to come back from that."
    Maggie
had gone back to sleep. Talorc lifted one of her eye lids.
    “Just
resting, Bold,” she whispered, “just resting.”
    Una
ignored her husband. “Do you want me to keep talking to her?”  Talorc shook his
head. “No, Una, that’s enough.” 
    “Una?” 
Maggie whispered, “You remind me of a cousin.”
    “I
do?  I remind her of her cousin.”  She preened to the crowd.
    Leaning
down beside Maggie, Talorc murmured in her ear, “saucy wench. I’ve met your
cousins and I know exactly which you were speaking of. ‘Twas no compliment you
just paid Una.”
    “Who's
to know?”  She whispered back.
    “Aye.
You warmed her, you made her feel proud," he tucked the covers around her
as she fell back to sleep. He shot a look at Ealasaid, in question.
    "Don't
you fret now, laird, she's fine to sleep. It's just the pain."
    "She'll
wake again?"
    "Oh,
aye, she'll wake again, now."  The older woman promised, as she shooed the
others away.
    The
mighty Bold held onto his handfasted's hands, bowed his head to rest it next to
hers.
    "You
gave me a scare girl. You gave me a good scare."  A shudder racked him
with the surge of fears he had kept at bay.
    Maggie
returned to her dreams. Talorc was not so fortunate. He could do no more than
sit by her side and watch for the tussle of attraction. To see if she would
struggle to return to her brother.
    In
the end, after she had been moved back to his bed chamber, after a night and a
full day of Maggie rising and falling between slumber and wakefulness without a
word of Ian, Talorc gave way to sleep.
     
    * * * * * * * * * * *
     
    The
MacKay woman stood at the top of the hill, her arms wide, hair caught on the
wind. He thought of her naked and willing on the slab of stone and grunted as
the cold whipped about him. She had been furious. So had he.
    "Yes,
Cailleach Bheare,” She sang to the wind. “Fill me with your