Tangled (Handfasting) Read Free Page B

breath of
life."  She turned toward the setting sun, "I vow we will give you
blood. May the day set on the MacKay. May he fall below the horizon, give rise
to a new day, and an old way." 
    He
watched her, his new plaid pulled tight, and smiled. They may not have succeeded
capturing the MacBede woman, lost good men in the effort, men they couldn’t
afford to lose. But they had a reward, the woman’s trunks. New clothes for his
men, fancy embroidered dresses for the lasses.
    He
couldn’t wait to wear the MacBede plaid in an attack against the Gunns. Their
retaliation would be a stunning blow that would go far to balance out their
failure.
    He
looked behind him. This time it was a small deer upon an altar, body dissected,
entrails removed. Someone read fortunes in the splay of its guts. It should
have been the MacBede lass's inners they were studying.
    She
had power. She had broken the chain of loss he fought so hard to ensure.
    The
MacKay woman had finished her supplications to whatever she called God. He felt
her reach him, the warmth of her body, the scent of her.
    “You
failed.”  She sniped.
    He
grunted, refused to respond.
    “Despite
my invocations, she has survived. You know that?”
    “One
loss,” he reminded her. “One loss.”
    “Yes,
the only plan I was not a part of.”
    He
turned on her then. “Careful.”  He warned.
    “I
was the one who saw to it their food was spoiled. I was the one who ensured
their supplies would not travel with them. I have been the one to undermine the
MacKay.”
    “Using
my ideas. You know what is to come. We will not fail in this.”
    The
woman nodded, wrapped her arm around his. She had been right. The MacKay’s
success was due to the MacBede lass. One, unanticipated woman.
    "I need to
return.  I need to be there, to see that she questions her place at Glen Toric,
his loyalty to her...”
    He shared her
frustration. They had been so close. Patiently, with deliberate steps, they had
undermined the MacKay's confidence. Just one
more sneaky little victory against the MacKay, and his glory would have turned
to rust. Insecurity would have destroyed his clan.
    The
MacKays would have crumbled, blamed the Gunns, faulted their enemy. Pursued
nasty little revenges. The Gunns, pompous in victories not of their making,
would destroy themselves in arrogance.
    All
the clan confidence they had worked so hard to destroy had flooded back because
of Maggie MacBede.
     But
they had one small victory, another fissure in the foundation of their security.
The Mackay warriors had found the altar in Dunegan's Woods. It scared them. They
didn't have the courage to destroy it. Fear was a grand weapon that weakened. The
weak made mistakes, left room for a new order.
    Blood
lay in a pool below the altar. Soon, it would be her blood to bless them. For
now, the deer would do.
    One
day.
    Soon.
    This
little band of outcasts would have their way.

CHAPTER 3 – INTRIQUE
     
     
    Ealasaid
pulled at a sleeve too short for Maggie’s arm, gave up and brushed lint tangled
in the intricate weave of the finest embroidery.  “It fits well enough for
now.  We’ll see that you have something finer by tomorrow.”
    Finer
could not be possible. A better fit would be good though.  One where she could
breathe without fearing a split seam. Looser, as woman wore in this day and
age.  Surely this had been from his mother which meant these people were
extravagant enough not to reuse the material.  Wasteful.
    “All
my trunks were lost?” Her only link with home, her life, all gone.  No matter
how many times she asked, the answer never changed. 
    “Aye,”
Ealasaid fussed about the room, tidying all the other garments Maggie had tried. 
“Such a shame.  No doubt you’ve a better hand with a needle, but there it is,
nowhere to be found.”
    “Oh,
aye.” Maggie lied as she looked down at delicate treads of gold and silver. 
Threads her own people could ill afford.  She didna’ have to leave the room