place. Straightening, clasping his own
hands behind him, Talorc waited for her to continue.
“You
know, Laird MacKay,” He watched, as she took a deep breath and smoothed her
plaid down her sides, “I was born here.” When he nodded, she acknowledged it
with one of her own as she turned to pace. “And I was raised right here in this
keep.” She pointed to the rush-covered floor that she crossed, back and forth,
before him. “To be sure, by marriage and blood I’m kin to everyone within the
walls of this place.” She halted, her brow knotted thoughtfully, before she
looked up at him. “Do you get my ken?”
Again,
Talorc nodded for her to continue, for he didn’t have the slightest idea where
she was going with all this.
“Well,
now, I’m not saying things are different for the MacKays . . .”
Talorc
stopped her, wanting to make sure she understood they were not so different. “The
MacBedes are descendants of the MacKays, and well you know that. We are kin,
Maggie, distant mayhap, but . . .”
“Och,”
she stilled him, “What I’m saying is that on MacBede land, within the walls of
this keep, I am safe from harm. No one would hurt me. Now, mayhap, a MacKay
woman is not so safe . . .”
“You
go too far, woman!” Talorc roared, the MacBede men joining in against their
own.
Maggie
ignored them all, as she leaned in to face Talorc, head on with the fury of her
own anger. “Then tell me,” she snapped, “why these brutes find the need to
follow me? Here in my own home. On the land where I’ve run free as the wind. In
the keep that comforts my heart? Why would they be thinking I need protection? They
insult us, Laird MacKay.”
Talorc
said nothing, just looked to his men who no longer smiled.
“We
didna’ intrude until she screamed.” Bruce vowed.
“Screamed?”
Talorc, Feargus, all of Maggie’s brothers rounded on her, their hands on the
hilts of their swords. For the second time that evening, third time that day,
Maggie backed away. She did not like the feel of retreat.
“Why
did you scream?” Talorc asked, his voice far too calm, far too quiet.
“It’s
not what you’re thinking.” She backed up further.
“Maggie,”
her father barked, “where were you when you screamed?”
Ah,
anger, that she could face. She turned to her da. “It was naught but a yelp of
surprise.”
“Laird
MacKay,” William started, “I think it was . . .” But Maggie spun on him before
he could go further.
“’Tis
not your story to tell,” she bit out, “and it’s no one else’s business but my
own. There was no harm meant or done, so go away and stop following me.” Maggie
ordered.
She
gave them her back, stormed to the kitchens rather than wait for an outcome. She
could not miss the sound of Talorc’s voice as he asked where she had been. They
would answer him, there was no doubt to that, and then everyone would know of
her humiliation. Her life would be a misery.
“Maggie,”
Fiona caught up with her, turned her daughter around for a good look. “Ah, Maggie,
mine, you’ve grown into a fine lass, love.” And gave her a hug, tight as could
be.
“Don’t
say that so loud, ma. The others will think you’ve gone daft.”
“Nay,
but I’m going to ask you to be a bit kinder to our guests.” She shoved Maggie
back, fussed with her hair, “You’re a Highlander lass and a MacBede. You’d not
shame us now, would you?”
“Is
that what you think? That I’d shame you?"
“You
don’t treat him as you treat our other guests, Maggie, and you know it’s true.”
She
wanted to remind her mother that their other guests did not call her brothers
to battle, but she knew her mother would object. “Our other guests don’t treat
me the way he does.”
“He’s
not unkind.”
“Nay.”
“He’s
not rude?”
Maggie
might have argued that, as well, but to no better results. “Nay”
“Then
how does he treat you different that you act so queer around him?”
Maggie
shrugged,
hands behind him, Talorc waited for her to continue.
“You
know, Laird MacKay,” He watched, as she took a deep breath and smoothed her
plaid down her sides, “I was born here.” When he nodded, she acknowledged it
with one of her own as she turned to pace. “And I was raised right here in this
keep.” She pointed to the rush-covered floor that she crossed, back and forth,
before him. “To be sure, by marriage and blood I’m kin to everyone within the
walls of this place.” She halted, her brow knotted thoughtfully, before she
looked up at him. “Do you get my ken?”
Again,
Talorc nodded for her to continue, for he didn’t have the slightest idea where
she was going with all this.
“Well,
now, I’m not saying things are different for the MacKays . . .”
Talorc
stopped her, wanting to make sure she understood they were not so different. “The
MacBedes are descendants of the MacKays, and well you know that. We are kin,
Maggie, distant mayhap, but . . .”
“Och,”
she stilled him, “What I’m saying is that on MacBede land, within the walls of
this keep, I am safe from harm. No one would hurt me. Now, mayhap, a MacKay
woman is not so safe . . .”
“You
go too far, woman!” Talorc roared, the MacBede men joining in against their
own.
Maggie
ignored them all, as she leaned in to face Talorc, head on with the fury of her
own anger. “Then tell me,” she snapped, “why these brutes find the need to
follow me? Here in my own home. On the land where I’ve run free as the wind. In
the keep that comforts my heart? Why would they be thinking I need protection? They
insult us, Laird MacKay.”
Talorc
said nothing, just looked to his men who no longer smiled.
“We
didna’ intrude until she screamed.” Bruce vowed.
“Screamed?”
Talorc, Feargus, all of Maggie’s brothers rounded on her, their hands on the
hilts of their swords. For the second time that evening, third time that day,
Maggie backed away. She did not like the feel of retreat.
“Why
did you scream?” Talorc asked, his voice far too calm, far too quiet.
“It’s
not what you’re thinking.” She backed up further.
“Maggie,”
her father barked, “where were you when you screamed?”
Ah,
anger, that she could face. She turned to her da. “It was naught but a yelp of
surprise.”
“Laird
MacKay,” William started, “I think it was . . .” But Maggie spun on him before
he could go further.
“’Tis
not your story to tell,” she bit out, “and it’s no one else’s business but my
own. There was no harm meant or done, so go away and stop following me.” Maggie
ordered.
She
gave them her back, stormed to the kitchens rather than wait for an outcome. She
could not miss the sound of Talorc’s voice as he asked where she had been. They
would answer him, there was no doubt to that, and then everyone would know of
her humiliation. Her life would be a misery.
“Maggie,”
Fiona caught up with her, turned her daughter around for a good look. “Ah, Maggie,
mine, you’ve grown into a fine lass, love.” And gave her a hug, tight as could
be.
“Don’t
say that so loud, ma. The others will think you’ve gone daft.”
“Nay,
but I’m going to ask you to be a bit kinder to our guests.” She shoved Maggie
back, fussed with her hair, “You’re a Highlander lass and a MacBede. You’d not
shame us now, would you?”
“Is
that what you think? That I’d shame you?"
“You
don’t treat him as you treat our other guests, Maggie, and you know it’s true.”
She
wanted to remind her mother that their other guests did not call her brothers
to battle, but she knew her mother would object. “Our other guests don’t treat
me the way he does.”
“He’s
not unkind.”
“Nay.”
“He’s
not rude?”
Maggie
might have argued that, as well, but to no better results. “Nay”
“Then
how does he treat you different that you act so queer around him?”
Maggie
shrugged,
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