"Maggie," Talorc broke the stand-off, "if you want someone in the bed with you, I'll join you."
"Never." She thought of the other woman, Seonaid and wondered if she had shared this bed with him.
"I'll not pursue you more than you want." His white teeth gleamed with his smile.
That she could challenge. "I don't see you pursuing at all."
He cupped her head, pulled her to his kiss before she could react, all hard and tense hunger. He rolled onto her with his body, thrust against her with his loins. She felt the long, thick length of him and knew that she had won. He was pursuing, he was challenging her.
She had to check him, or he would think to dominate her with her one weakness. She had to check herself as well, or she would be buried so deep in her want for him she would never leave.
"I'm not wanting." She told him and realized it was her third lie of the evening.
"Then I'll not pursue."
This was what she hated about him. The push-pull, to want him and not want. The pit of her fluttered, a hundred frenzied butterflies. Her mind screamed to push him off, tell him to go to the floor.
"You'll have to sleep in a different layer of covers." She was naked. She'd not risk her skin to touch his, certain it would ignite a horrible sensation she could never control. "And stay on your side."
"Aye, Maggie," he didn't pull his plaid free until he was under a blanket. "I'll do that." Settled, he reached out again, pulled her close. "You'll be safe, right here, with me."
“You’re not on your side.” She grumbled even as she wriggled against him.
“Aye, I am. On my side of the center. And you are on your side of the center.” He tightened his hold.
Tell him to let go her mind argued, but Maggie stayed mum, until Talorc asked, "Remember your dream, Maggie. When you woke from your wound."
Impossible to forget. "You mean when Ian came for me."
"Ian didn't come for you, Maggie," Talorc leaned up, and over her. With a reverence that stunned her, Talorc rested his hand over her belly, "He brought you a bairn, my child, Maggie. Yours and mine."
"He didn't say it was yours."
Talorc laughed. "He brought the lad to you here at Glen Toric, to my home, my bed. He'd not do that with another man’s child."
His words tugged at her. She did not want the sense of it any more than she wanted to hunger for his nearness.
Talorc lifted a strand of her hair, traced her cheek with it. She brushed him off.
"Maggie?"
She would fight the warmth of him. The security. He was a warrior. A spear-heading, dive into the fray, warrior. He had already played against the odds of survival. He was not a man that a woman could count on to grow old beside her. He was not a man to be content unless he had his way.
He was not the man she wanted to dream of.
"I'm tired, MacKay." She willed thoughts that would turn her against him. "What with all the sleep I've had, I'm still tired." She rolled away, settled deep in the covers.
"Fine," he whispered, "Just remember I'm here for you."
He was there for too many. That was the problem. Chin over her shoulder she asked, "Were you there for her too? Did you make such promises to Seonaid?"
His eyes lost the heavy lidded look. "She's nothing to you, Maggie. We grew up together. Her father was my da's right hand. I promised to watch over her. There is nothing more to it than that."
"She's fairly cozy with you."
"Maggie, I'll not treat you false."
She heard the way he held on to his patience. "You've already done that."
"Maggie," his exasperation escaped, "why would you think I could want a woman like that when I have you?" Possessively he cupped her breast, she moaned. "You, who are so responsive?" He worked his hand under her blanket, trailing it across her belly and lower. She wanted to stop him but he had started to kiss her again, his words no more than a wisp of air against her cheek, in her ear. The whoosh of it spiraled straight down her inners, parallel to the path of his hand. "You are so brave." Horrified, she felt his fingers thread through the small cluster of curls at the juncture of her thighs. "You don't run from your desire," his fingers were turning to magic. Maggie twisted in his hold, buried her face in his shoulder, "You meet my challenge, come to me like the warrior lass you are." He was stroking that part of her that ached with desire, between the folds of her womanhood. One finger drew a tiny swirling design on the tenderest of places. Her hips lifted off the bed, she whimpered, felt weak and foolish.
She would meet him. She would take his challenge. Quickly, before she could stop herself, she reached below his cover and found that solid hard ridge that commanded her desire. With determination, she wrapped her hand around him, stunned by the size and texture of him. Hard as a sword’s handle but soft as a babe's flesh it drew her with wonderment. She slid her fingers from base to tip, felt its involuntary jerk, felt the drop of moisture that topped it.
"Oh, Maggie." He covered her hand with his, forced her hold to tighten. "How I wish you weren't still mending." He groaned, his forehead to hers, his other hand still working glory between her thighs.
She licked her lips wanting something, anything to free her hunger. "I want more. You never seem to give me enough."
"Maggie," Talorc lifted her chin, forced her to meet his eyes. "When I give you enough, it will be with the length and breadth of me."
Oh, good Lord. "You would never fit." She shook her head. "Never, ever, in my lifetime."
He had the cheek to laugh. It was time to back off before he tried to do what he spoke of. For if he tried, she was not certain she would stop him.
"I will fit, Maggie, trust me. But you will not be the same from that moment."
"Then that moment best not happen."
He surprised her with a gentle kiss on her mouth, a slight lick of her lips. "That moment will happen. I promise that. But you must know, when it does, you will be mine. No skirting past that. I will be your husband in body and word."
"Never."
"Aye bodies chained, will make you my wife."
"You don't claim Seonaid as wife."
He sighed, rolled to his back. "Maggie, Seonaid has never tasted of me nor touched me as you have tonight." He sounded as if he meant that.
Maggie rolled her eyes rather than let him know the exhilaration of his words.
"And you, Maggie?" Talorc leaned up, pushed her over onto her back, "While we are talking of pasts, what of the Bard, that was here tonight. Who is he to you?"
Please bed swallow me up. Maggie did not want to answer.
"Well?" He was not going to give up.
"Why do you want to be knowing?"
"He sang to you, did he do that before?"
"He's a bard, Bold, he sings for everyone. Back home they call him Babbling Birk the Bard because he sings and talks so much."
"He courted you."
No, she thought, I courted him. "We were friends."
"Close enough that your brothers ran him off."
She tilted her head, to see if he spoke the truth. She had never thought of that. If her brothers had run him off, then Birk hadn't run from her. She smiled. There’s a grand difference between running away from protective kin and running away from a woman.
"My brothers ran him off?"
She pictured Birk, as he had been this evening. Sweet, hopeful, eager to please. Like an expectant child, next to Talorc.
Talorc could never be seen as a child.
"He's more mouse than man."
She laughed at his predictable response. He sounded just like her brothers. "Birk has a good heart and can sing better than any other."
"He could never love you better than me."
"You don’t love me Bold." He didn't know her to love her. And once he did know her, there would be no chance of love.
“That’s not the kind of love I’m talking of.”
She snorted.
He kissed her, a slow insistent taste.
"Just one more," he whispered, his mouth pressing against hers, his lips urging hers to open.
"Sleep well, lass." His voice wrapped around her as surely as arms.
It was neither Seonaid nor Birk she pictured as she drifted to sleep, but Talorc. The one man she did not want to dream of.
CHAPTER 5 – MEANS OF ESCAPE
Sun filtered through the shutters in a time of year when the sun was a late riser. Maggie overslept. So had the Bold, sprawled out on the bed as though sleeping with her were a normal thing. He needed to catch up on his rest after nights of watching over her. She, on the other hand, had slept enough since reaching Glen Toric. It was time she started to do something.
Anything.
Only it was cold, she was naked. The cold she could face, had been doing so her whole life. It was the man in her bed that had her hesitating and an imp of desire that wondered what would happen if he caught her slipping free of the bed in no more than she was born with.
She closed her eyes to the temptation and listened to his steady snores. It would be better if they were louder, deeper more arrogant. The noises he was making could be mere play. He was on his stomach, his head turned away.
There would be no better chance. Maggie slipped off the bed, onto all fours. Should he wake, he would have to roll over and move to the edge of the bed and peer down to see her. She would hear that, and have enough time to scuttle behind the bed drapes.
Secure in that plan, she crawled to the trunk at the foot of the bed, full of clothes left by some of the clans’ women for Maggie. Her chemise hung behind a screen in the corner but she dared not go that far, and risk being seen. Instead she grabbed the first kirtle she found, pulled it over her head only to find it too small when her arms got stuck. The reverse process proved harder than getting it on.
The bed sheets rustled. She stilled then frantically tried to pull the garment off. A great rending rip later she was free enough to use the garment as a screen. Naked, except for the fabric held at her chest, she peaked over the side of the feather mattress.
The Bold snored gently as he resettled into a new position. She risked leveling up high enough to have a good look at the pile of clothes, found a garment in heather green and, with less effort, pulled it on, adding a yellow side-less surcote to cover. She eyed the MacKay plaid. It would add warmth if she went outside.
She peeked at the Bold, once more, grabbed the plaid and headed to the hallway as it occurred to her that her head did not ache. For the first time since she had arrived at Glen Toric, she felt like her old self. Cheerful with health, she followed the hallway to the corner that turned to a stairway down to the great room.
It was empty. Which was odd. At home there were always people about. Glen Toric was much larger, with far more people, yet no one was in the great hall.
A door swung open at the far end, leading toward, what Maggie suspected, the kitchens. Little Eba, Diedre’s daughter, peaked around the edge then ran out to the center of the room where she skidded to a halt staring up at Maggie. With a giggle she turned, racing into the gallery that led to another set of stairs ending at the entrance of the castle.
Even Maggie, unfamiliar with the castle, knew this was not a good place for a child. Not that the wee one could get out. The door was massive, no doubt heavy. But it was no place for a young lass to run amok. The stairs outside, like the ones Maggie had just descended, were designed for defense; narrow and twisted with no railing on the outside edge, just a very steep drop.
Maggie hiked her skirts and set out after the child, picking up speed when the groan of the heavy door hinges reached her. The little sprite had managed to get outside.
Images of a broken child flew through her mind as she raced to stave off the danger. The great door was swinging closed when she reached it. Weighted to be kept closed it took the strength of worry to push it open and slip through to the top step. Exhausted she took deep breaths and watched little Eba run safely back around the castle toward the kitchens. Standing at the top, seeing the long drop, and wondered who Eba had followed out. The mite was lucky to be alive. Even standing there, close to the wall, took Maggie’s breath.
She chuckled at her foolishness, lifted her skirts so she wouldn’t trip on them as she turned when something hit her shoulder hard, sending her off-balance against the steep open steps. It happened so quickly she spun with the momentum, reeled.
She landed, without grace, on all fours as though climbing the stairs, far too close to the edge. The corner of a plaid caught her eye, nearly caught in the closing door.
Had the door taken so long to shut or did someone hold it open?
Bruce shouted from below.
“Are you all right Lass?” He raced up to help. “You needs be careful on these.”
With the hesitation, the push to follow halted, she sat, not at all certain her legs would hold her. “Yes, rattled but fine.” She hesitated. “Did you see?”
Bruce reached her side. “See what?”
“Did you see anyone behind me?”
He frowned. “No lass. Saw you down, not the tumble. You aren’t thinking someone at Glen Toric would topple you on these stairs.”
“No,” She rose, using the wall for support, refusing to start her first day throwing accusations around. “Of course not. I was looking for Eba. She ran out here.”
“Eba? Diedre’s child?”
“I followed her, that’s what brought me to these wicked stairs.” She chuckled on a sob, determined not to show just how upset she was. “Nearly swallowed my heart when I heard the door open.”
“You’re telling me she ran for the door?”
Of course it sounded ridiculous, but it was the truth. Maggie knew it was the truth. She forgot all about the fear she’d just faced and took the stairs to the castle entrance.
Bruce reached it first, risking the long drop to step past her, to open it for her. She stepped inside, He followed and the massive door swung closed.
Maggie watched, aware that the movement meant something but still too unsettled to realize just what.
It was a solid thing, sturdy oak, thick as the length of her fingers. Far too heavy for a child the size of Eba.
Bruce scowled. “You are saying Eba ran to this door, opened it without a struggle and ran down the steps.” He stood in front of the closed door. “When you followed you were pushed?” He didn’t look at her, kept studying the door. There was doubt in that.
“Of course not.” It didn’t make sense. “I think she followed someone out.”
He stepped back. “Open it.”
She reached for the massive iron ring and, with both hands, barely managed to turn it. The turning pushed the lever up out of its slot. With an umph, she pulled the door inward. Unwieldy for an adult but possible. Not so for a wee lass.
“Could it have been left ajar?”
Bruce shook his head, guided her away. Immediately, the door swung shut on its own. “It’s designed to fall closed. That’s a defense as well as protection.”
“The child could have been crushed.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“No.” She hadn’t been looking, too focused on saving the child. Maggie didn’t blame Bruce for doubting her.
“Please, don’t say anything to the Bold.”
“He’s the laird, you’re his lady. He needs to be told.”
“I could be wrong, confused. The stumble frightened me.” She explained, not believing a word of it. She could take care of her own safety. There was no need to make a fuss.
“You believe you were pushed.”
“No.” She lied, for she was pushed, she was certain of it. Whoever pushed her had opened the door for Eba. They couldn’t have known Maggie would follow. It couldn’t have been planned..
She had to
find Eba to learn who had let her out that door.
“No.” She told Bruce. “It was just the surprise of it. No one wants to think they’re clumsy.” She lied again.
“Are you sure, lass? Because if you are not, this is no light thing you speak of.”
“I’m certain as I can be.” And she was, certain she had been pushed.
“Then I will give you a chance to tell the Laird yourself. If you don’t tell him in good time, then I will. That’s my duty.”
“Fairs fair.” Maggie nodded. She just had to find Eba and the whole matter would be settled.
*************************************************
With the quiet at this time of day, he had no trouble moving through the castle ground. Head bent, the kerchief hiding the sides of his face, he shortened his stride rather than get entangled by the volumeof fabric. How did women manage? Not that he cared. After today he wouldn’t risk getting caught on the castle grounds. He just wanted to get close enough to see this Maggie MacBede from himself.
He smiled when he pictured her stumbling on the stairs. It hadn’t been planned, just being in the right place at the right time and a little shove.
He found the tower of baskets right were the lass said they would be. Good. It was tall enough to hide his face when moved past the guard to the store rooms. He thought about killing the guard, but that would alert them to his presence, to the chance that he could breach their defenses. He didn’t want them to be that wary.
For now, he knew how to get through the caves to the castle. He knew the weaknesses in their defenses. Soon he would come in, with all his men, and take over.
But not now, not yet. He wanted to see the Bold crushed, first. Then Glen Toric would be his.
CHAPTER 6 – ENEMY WITHIN
Bold couldn’t find Maggie. Naill and Sim had been spotted riding hard for Glen Toric and he wanted to know where she was when he heard the report.
It was his own fault When Deidre suggested they do their best to ensure his handfasted enjoyed the MacKays he never thought they would keep her from him. They played that game last night.
Tangled (Handfasting) Page 5