she could not return to The MacBede Keep before spring.
That would be too late. They had to go, and quickly.
"My
mother will fret if they don't return soon."
"Getting
rid of us, sister?" Douglas shouted out.
"Aye,
I have my pride to carry. Don't want you to spoil that with foolish tales of
when I was young."
They
both barked with laughter. "They've heard the stories, Maggie. We didn't
cut our visit that short."
"Come,
little sister, give your old brother a fond farewell." Jamie called out.
They
were really, truly leaving and if her missive didn't send them straight back,
she may not see them again for . . . it could be years.
Push-pull.
She wanted them to leave. She did not want them to leave.
"Jamie,"
she came up close, clasped his hand. "I've a letter for ma, could you see
that she gets it."
"Aye,
lass. She'd be wanting one and all."
"And,"
she rushed on, over to Douglas, afraid that tears would start to run down her
face. "Mary made these for the both of you." She handed out the
packets, which the men clutched tight, before stuffing them inside the cross of
their plaid.
"Mary?"
Douglas called out.
"Here,"
she waved from the top of the stairs.
"You’re
a fine woman. We'll be proud to carry your reminder of the MacKays! Keep our
sister dear."
That
was it. Those were their last words. They each in turn, eased their horses over
to Maggie, bent for a brief, close hug. They kissed the top of her head,
ruffled her hair with raised brows toward the MacKay as if to say, it was about
time their sister wore a kerchief.
Off
they shot then, through the bailey and into the MacKay wilderness.
They
were gone so quick, that it was beyond reality for Maggie. She stared at the
path they took, wondering what kind of fool she had been to take so long to
offer her parting. She should have rushed out, first thing, begged them to take
her with them.
She
put her fingers to her mouth, sniffled, but refused to cry.
Eight
days, fortnight at most, and they would be back.
Talorc
put his arm around her, squeezed but she pulled away.
"I
should have left with them, you know."
She
took a step toward the keep, but he stopped her, his hand to her chin, forcing
her around to face him. "No I don't know."
"They
are my family."
"And
so are we."
She
shook her head. "No, Bold, you are my friend. They are my family."
"Maggie,"
but he didn't continue. Instead he took her arm. His hold was firm, determined.
She had no choice but to follow his lead, beyond the others, across the
courtyard, to the nearest barn. "Give us space, Domnall." He said to
the lad cleaning the stalls. Domnall asked no questions just put down his pitch
fork and scurried out.
Maggie
still at his side, Talorc stood silent as the barn door closed behind the young
man, Talorc pulled Maggie around and straight into his arms.
CHAPTER 10 – VOWS
The
rich sweet scent of hay and oiled leather softened the heavy smell of sweat and
horse droppings. Maggie jerked free of Talorc not realizing how much she needed
the support. Unsteady she leaned against the wall, refusing to look at him.
Instead she studied beams of light that filtered between sod roof and stone
wall, watched the dance of chaff floating in that sparse light and fought
against tears.
"You're
expected to miss them, you know. No one would think unkindly of that."
She
shoved off the stone wall, her arms crossed against a belly so full of emotion she
was afraid of exploding.
"They're
fine men, Maggie. The MacBedes are a fine line. I'll be proud to mix our
bloods."
She
snorted.
"And
what was that for?" He reached, but she pulled away.
"Is
this because of what came between us? Are you afraid of my touch?"
She
refused to answer, she couldn't. It would only open the door to a flood of rash
words flung to hurt. The tumble would reveal Maggie's own weakness, perhaps
even confess a missive just sent.
"Maggie,"
one word, heavy with weariness. "Do you really think the tailor would have
suited
That would be too late. They had to go, and quickly.
"My
mother will fret if they don't return soon."
"Getting
rid of us, sister?" Douglas shouted out.
"Aye,
I have my pride to carry. Don't want you to spoil that with foolish tales of
when I was young."
They
both barked with laughter. "They've heard the stories, Maggie. We didn't
cut our visit that short."
"Come,
little sister, give your old brother a fond farewell." Jamie called out.
They
were really, truly leaving and if her missive didn't send them straight back,
she may not see them again for . . . it could be years.
Push-pull.
She wanted them to leave. She did not want them to leave.
"Jamie,"
she came up close, clasped his hand. "I've a letter for ma, could you see
that she gets it."
"Aye,
lass. She'd be wanting one and all."
"And,"
she rushed on, over to Douglas, afraid that tears would start to run down her
face. "Mary made these for the both of you." She handed out the
packets, which the men clutched tight, before stuffing them inside the cross of
their plaid.
"Mary?"
Douglas called out.
"Here,"
she waved from the top of the stairs.
"You’re
a fine woman. We'll be proud to carry your reminder of the MacKays! Keep our
sister dear."
That
was it. Those were their last words. They each in turn, eased their horses over
to Maggie, bent for a brief, close hug. They kissed the top of her head,
ruffled her hair with raised brows toward the MacKay as if to say, it was about
time their sister wore a kerchief.
Off
they shot then, through the bailey and into the MacKay wilderness.
They
were gone so quick, that it was beyond reality for Maggie. She stared at the
path they took, wondering what kind of fool she had been to take so long to
offer her parting. She should have rushed out, first thing, begged them to take
her with them.
She
put her fingers to her mouth, sniffled, but refused to cry.
Eight
days, fortnight at most, and they would be back.
Talorc
put his arm around her, squeezed but she pulled away.
"I
should have left with them, you know."
She
took a step toward the keep, but he stopped her, his hand to her chin, forcing
her around to face him. "No I don't know."
"They
are my family."
"And
so are we."
She
shook her head. "No, Bold, you are my friend. They are my family."
"Maggie,"
but he didn't continue. Instead he took her arm. His hold was firm, determined.
She had no choice but to follow his lead, beyond the others, across the
courtyard, to the nearest barn. "Give us space, Domnall." He said to
the lad cleaning the stalls. Domnall asked no questions just put down his pitch
fork and scurried out.
Maggie
still at his side, Talorc stood silent as the barn door closed behind the young
man, Talorc pulled Maggie around and straight into his arms.
CHAPTER 10 – VOWS
The
rich sweet scent of hay and oiled leather softened the heavy smell of sweat and
horse droppings. Maggie jerked free of Talorc not realizing how much she needed
the support. Unsteady she leaned against the wall, refusing to look at him.
Instead she studied beams of light that filtered between sod roof and stone
wall, watched the dance of chaff floating in that sparse light and fought
against tears.
"You're
expected to miss them, you know. No one would think unkindly of that."
She
shoved off the stone wall, her arms crossed against a belly so full of emotion she
was afraid of exploding.
"They're
fine men, Maggie. The MacBedes are a fine line. I'll be proud to mix our
bloods."
She
snorted.
"And
what was that for?" He reached, but she pulled away.
"Is
this because of what came between us? Are you afraid of my touch?"
She
refused to answer, she couldn't. It would only open the door to a flood of rash
words flung to hurt. The tumble would reveal Maggie's own weakness, perhaps
even confess a missive just sent.
"Maggie,"
one word, heavy with weariness. "Do you really think the tailor would have
suited
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