by Tia Isabella
Maya bit into a french fry then looked down at the album. She gulped, wide-eyed. “Uh…no one special.” She reached for the album and deftly moved it to the next page. “Oh look at this one!” she announced, hoping to distract her husband. “This is Sara and me in Paris.”
Her ploy didn’t work. Thomas flipped the page back to the previous one and pointed vehemently at the photograph of a handsome blonde man standing behind Maya, his arms encircling her at the waist. “Who is he?”
Maya flinched. “I was betrothed to him at one time,” she quietly admitted.
Thomas’s brow rose together, forming a stern slash over his eyes. “The mon’s name?”
“Nick.”
“Nick?”
“Yes.”
“Nick the Arse?”
“Yes.”
Three gasps came from the mouths of Argyle, Dugald, and Harold. “Had I known that, I would ha’ killed the mon whilst I was in the future, milord.” Harold glared at Maya as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Ye were betrothed tae a wizard?” Argyle asked incredulously.
“A wizard?” Reginald inquired, his expression bewildered. “What’s this about a wizard?”
“Now dad,” Sara interjected, giving her father a don’t-you-dare-contradict-me look, “we both know that Lady Maya ended her betrothal to Nick the Arse when she found out he was a wizard. Isn’t that so?”
Reginald scratched his head and gave his daughter a you-better-explain-what-in-the-hell-this-is-all-about-later look. “Yes. Yes, of course I know that. Everyone knows Maya cannot abide marrying a wizard.”
Thomas grunted, appeased. “Ye will remove this photograph at once and burn it. I will no ha’ any parchments of my wife in the arms of another mon, wizard or no.” He glowered at Maya, waiting for her to comply with his demand.
Maya shrugged her shoulders, removed the photograph from its protective plastic covering, and took a Bic lighter to it. She threw it to the ground, watching it burn down to ashes. “Happy now?”
Thomas grunted.
Dugald folded his arms across his chest and scowled at Sara. “If there be any photographs in that album with ye and another mon, ye best rid yerself of them afore I see them.”
Sara bit her lip and nodded. She snatched the album from Thomas’s grasp and shuffled through the pages. She pulled out a total of ten pictures, Dugald fuming more and more visibly with each withdrawn piece of parchment. “Ye ha’ loved all of these men?” He turned to Reginald and scowled. “Ye allowed her tae court all of them?”
Reginald flushed, snatching the photographs out of Sara’s hands while he glared at his soon to be son-in-law. “Now see here, in our time women court many men before settling upon just one!” He fiddled with the pile of pictures and frowned. “Half of these are pictures of Maya’s men anyway.”
“Maya’s men?” Thomas bellowed.
Maya groaned, sinking further into her chair. “Thanks Daddy C,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Now see here!” Reginald declared to Thomas and Dugald with righteous indignation, “neither of my girls courted more than ten men apiece. They were good girls, both of them.”
“Ten men a piece?” Thomas and Dugald shouted in unison.
Maya and Sara closed their eyes, both of them fantasizing over all the ways they would torture Reginald when they got him alone.
“Ten men? Ten men?” Thomas glared at his wife, his nostrils flaring.
Maya rolled her eyes as she rose to her feet. “Thomas,” she scolded as she threw a long curl over her shoulder, “I just gave birth to your children a few hours ago. I am in no mood to be yelled at. I am going to my bedchamber.” She turned on her heel and stomped off toward the parlor door.
“Maya!” Thomas bellowed. “Ye will come back here and explain yerself this verra moment!”
“No I will not!” she spat even as she whirled around to confront him again. “You, my own husband, have insulted me.” She ran to Reginald’s side, plucked the photographs from his hand, and hurled them at her husband. “This courting was the custom of our time, the way things were done. You cannot fault me for living the only way I knew how!”
Her defensive words pierced through Thomas’s tirade, making him see things from his wife’s perspective. He backed down immediately, still angry but saying no more.
“Now,” Maya announced over her shoulder as she walked back toward the parlor door, “I am going to my chamber, feeding my babies, and then going to sleep in my bed! Goodnight!”
* * * * *
The MacGregor paced the length of the lower bailey, praying that he would soon calm down enough to visit with his wife and bairns. No man dared approach him as he strutted angrily back and forth, not even Sir Dugald.
In his heart of hearts, Thomas knew it wasn’t fair for him to be so bloody mad at his wife, yet knowing as much did little to dissipate his murderous mood. He wanted to kill the bastard Nick, wanted to watch him die by his own hands.
Thomas wasn’t green enough to believe that Maya had come to him a virgin and he also conceded to the fact that he knew as much before he had wed her. Still, it was one thing to know of some long ago forgotten man from her past and entirely another to have to witness a photograph of the man holding his wife’s body as though he had the right of it.
No man had that right. Maya was his wife, his property, his possession by law. If only he had harbored the foresight to go with Harold and Argyle into the future, then the bastard Nick would be dead and his honor would be avenged. Instead, he was made to pace the courtyard wishing for what could have been and what would never be.
True, he could venture into the future alone and take his vengeance, but he knew he would never leave his wife’s side for the time it could take to do so. Nay, he couldn’t bear to be torn from her for so long.
Thomas sighed, defeated. He came to an abrupt halt and ran his fingers through his hair. His Maya was right. Such courting customs were the way of things in the world she used to claim as her own. And besides, he had won. Maya belonged irrevocably to him. Mayhap he could just let it go, knowing that he was the victor when all was said and done.
After all, ‘twas his bed that Maya came to each night. ‘Twas his body that claimed hers, loving her with all his passion. ‘Twas his bairns suckling from her breasts in their chamber even now. And ‘twould be his bairns not yet made who would grow in her belly.
Thomas shrugged, brooding less and less every moment. He sighed in resignation, realizing that he should be above stairs with his wife and bairns, not in the courtyard pacing like a madman.
It was time to accede to the obvious. Nick the Arse might have won the first battle, but ‘twas a battle fought afore he’d met his Maya. Besides, ‘twas the MacGregor who had claimed the ultimate prize. He was the man who had won the bloody war.
* * * * *
Maya dismissed Maris from her bedchamber, insisting that the midwife—and now governess—go down to the great hall for a bite to eat. She complied readily, the weariness of the past several hours at last catching up to her.
Angus woke up at the sound of his mother’s voice and cried for all he was worth. Maya opened her gown, freeing her breast in the process, as she rushed over to the cradle he shared with his sister. She picked him up and smiled warmly. “Are you hungry, little guy?”
Angus wailed in response and continued to do so until he was happily chugging down his mother’s milk.
Thomas entered their bedchamber a short while later, finding his wife cooing to his son while he fed from her breast. He watched them in silence for a long moment, saying nothing but feeling vastly contented. Elizabeth began to petition for attention with her tiny squeals, breaking Thomas out of his languid perusal of mother and son. He walked over to the cradle and picked his daughter up. He rubbed her soothingly on the back while he showered her perfect little head with his doting fatherly kisses.
Maya glanced up then narrowed her eyes at her husband. “I didn’t hear you come i
n,” she stiffly admitted.
Thomas looked down at his wife and smiled, very much wanting a truce. “I was watching ye and Angus from yon corner. Little Beth must ha’ heard her papa come in.” He placed another loving kiss atop her forehead then gazed at Maya. “I am sorry aboot the way I behaved, Maya mine. I dinna ha’ the right tae get mad o’er anything that happened whilst ye were still in the future.”
Maya shrugged, her defenses immediately disarmed. She smiled slowly, her anger dissipated. “It’s okay. Truth be told, I probably would have reacted the same way you did if I had unexpectedly been confronted with seeing a woman from your past.” She shook her head and scowled. “Let me rephrase that. I definitely would have reacted the same way you did if I had unexpectedly been confronted with seeing a woman from your past.”
Thomas grinned. “Good. And let us pray that never will ye ha’ tae experience the kinds of feelings I ha’ been subjected tae.”
Thomas walked closer to his wife as he continued to stroke Elizabeth’s back. “I think she’s wantin’ her turn at yer bosom, wife. We best trade as soon as Angus is finished eatin’.”
Maya nodded. “He’s done now. I’ll feed Elizabeth while you burp Angus.”
“Burp?”
Maya grinned. “Put him over your shoulder and pat him gently on the back. When you hear him belch then you’ll know you did your job right.”
Maya had to laugh when a few minutes later, their son did burp…and her husband boasted a look so proud one would have thought he’d just been crowned the king of Scotland.
Chapter 34
Between the wedding preparations for Lady Sara and Sir Dugald’s upcoming nuptials, the knighting ceremony of Sir Argyle and Sir Harold that took place the day after they returned, the announcement of the betrothal of Sir Argyle and Lena, and the arrival of Hamish the Craftsman at the keep, Castle MacGregor was bustling with unending activity for the next month. And all this, Maya mused, while adjusting to parenthood with her warlord of a husband.
“You’re going to be married tomorrow, Sara, can you believe it?”
“Amazing, isn’t it? I only had to wait, what, a year?”
Maya picked up her hand of cards and grinned. “Well it paid off. Daddy C will get to escort you to the chapel doors.”
“I know.” Sara smiled. “And I have Harold and Argyle to thank for it.”
Harold blushed as he picked up the hand of cards Maya dealt him. “’Twas nothing, milady.”
Argyle nodded in agreement. “Now that is settled. Let’s the four of us get down tae business. I’ve a hand here guaranteed tae grind the likes of all of ye intae the dust.”
“I’ll be the only one doin’ the grindin, lad,” Harold insisted with an indignant jerk of his head.
Just then Reginald strolled into the parlor proper and frowned. “Don’t let Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum scare you off, girls. Neither of them can hold a candle to you in poker.”
Maya and Sara’s chuckles caused the already piqued Harold the Sotted to scowl at Dr. Chance all the harder. “Mayhap ye should join the game, Reggie, and we’ll see who makes dust of whom.”
“Don’t call me Reggie, Harry.”
“Dinna call me Harry, Reggie. And whose going tae stop me?”
“I will.”
“Ye? Ha! Ye canna even wield a sword!”
Reginald stomped over to Harold’s side, his face beat red with rage. “I still have my fists!”
Harold stood up, challenging Reginald eye to eye. “Is that what ye call those puny womanly things?”
“Puny? Womanly? Now see here you horse’s ass—”
“Horse’s arse?” Harold sputtered. His face turned the same angry shade of crimson as Reginald’s. He drew his self up to his full height and poked his finger in the doctor’s chest. “I am rubber, ye are glue. Whatever ye say bounces off my fine form and sticks tae the likes of ye!”
Maya rolled her eyes. “Boys, that’s quite enough. Angus already shows more maturity than either one of you.”
Sara and Argyle laughed, inducing the shouting men to blush all the brighter.
“Fine!” Harold spat.
“Fine!” Reginald seconded.
The men took their seats in a huff a moment later. Maya handed Reginald a hand of cards as she shook her head in amusement.
“Well,” Argyle declared in an anxious tone, “let yon games begin.”
* * * * *
Harold spit on the butt of his sword then shined it up using a discarded animal skin. He repeated the action over the entire hilt, concentrating on his work. He looked up when he saw Reginald approaching him in the courtyard. “Lord Chance,” he grumbled.
“Sir Sotted,” Reginald acknowledged in just as grousing a tone.
Harold went back to his work, spitting and polishing. Reginald sat down on the bench beside Harold and silently watched him for a long moment. Finally, he sighed. “You were right. I cannot wield a sword. It wasn’t something you had to know how to do in my world.”
Harold stopped his work and looked intently at Reginald. He listened, but said nothing.
“I suppose I feel…well…like a weakling here,” Reginald admitted. “I could care for the girls in the twenty-first century, but I’ve no idea how to do so in the fourteenth.”
Harold scratched his bearded chin and reflected. He realized how much it had cost the healer to admit as much. “I could teach ye, Reggie.”
“You could?”
“Aye.”
Reginald nodded. “I would be forever in your debt.”
Four hours later, Maya, Sara, and Argyle happened upon Reginald and Harold while strolling through the courtyard. They scurried quickly and quietly behind a row of bushes, watching the dueling duo without being seen.
“I was wondering where they disappeared to,” Sara murmured.
Argyle squinted at the men. “It appears Sir Sotted is teaching Lord Chance how tae battle,” he offered.
Maya grinned as she shook her head. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when your father was sword fighting while dressed in a kilt,” she whispered.
Sara laughed in a hushed tone. “He said he feels like a Catholic school girl wearing that plaid.”
Maya gave Dr. Chance the once-over with her eyes. “A very burly Catholic school girl, perhaps.”
“Ye ha’ the hang of it already, Reggie!” Harold yelled from the center of the lower bailey when their swords clanged together. “We will work on bettering yer skills after the morrow.”
“Why wait that long?” Reginald asked as he struck out at Harold again.
“Thy daughter’s wedding is on the morrow. I’ve ballads tae prepare fer. I canna spar until the day after.”
Reginald cursed when, a moment later, Harold disarmed him and drew the tip of his sword to Reginald’s throat. “One day, Sotted,” he warned. “One day it will be my sword pointed at your throat.”
Harold smiled. “And I will feel every inch the proud papa when that day arrives.”
Reginald rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Let’s go get some grub, Harry.”
“I was aboot tae suggest the same thing, Reggie.”
Two snickering ladies and one bemused knight laughed quietly from the shadows.
“I do believe they like each other,” Maya whispered.
“I ha’ tae say I agree,” Argyle mused.
“I hope he doesn’t teach my father how to sing,” Sara added.
The threesome looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Chapter 35
“I canna believe I’m tae be wed tae a knight.” Lena clutched her hand to her heart and sighed dramatically.
Maya and Sara looked up from the tapestry the trio was sewing together and smiled simultaneously. “You should feel proud of him,” Sara prodded. “He earned his knighthood.”
“I am proud of my Argyle. Verra proud, milady.” Lena smiled, picking up her end of the tapestry once again. “He said he thought of me during the whole of his travels.
He vowed that I am more lovely than even the women of the books he read whilst on yon journey.” She furrowed her brow and shrugged her shoulders. “I dinna ken what he meant by that, yet am I touched all the same.”
Sara coughed, clearing her throat delicately. “I’m certain it was the highest of compliments.”
Maya shook her head absently, then pricked her finger and scowled. “Ouch!” she grimaced. “After an entire year at this, one would think I’d quit acquiring war wounds from sewing.”
Sara chuckled delightedly. “The MacGregor tapestries wouldn’t be the same without droplets of your blood woven throughout them.”
“Aye,” Lena giggled, “it makes fer a verra real effect, milady.”
* * * * *
Oh say Sir Dugald will see
The dawn’s early light
After Lady Sara he does bed
And gives her nigh a fright.
The laughter at the wedding reception echoed throughout the great hall. Maya grinned from an unabashed sense of revenge, patting Angus on the back as she burped him. She looked to Sara who was turning a delightful shade of pink. “At least you’re being humiliated to the tune of The Star Spangled Banner instead of Gilligan’s Island,” she teased.
The Lady Sara is fair
Sir Dugald nee-eeds an heir
Let us pray through the night
That his rod has a care.
Sara groaned. At least Maya hadn’t been made an ass of in front of her father at her own wedding reception! She gingerly picked up her goblet of spiced mead and drained it of its contents. She then motioned desperately toward Gilfred, indicating her need for a refill.
* * * * *
“I thought the reception went rather well,” Maya whispered from the bed as her husband laid the babies into their cradle.
“Aye,” he affirmed in a hushed tone. “’Twas a good time.” He unbelted his plaid, letting it drop to the chamber floor. He walked toward the bed naked and grinned at his wife. “Though no’ as good a time as I had at our own.”