Read Online Tangled (Handfasting) by Becca St. John - Free Book Online Page B

whisky.”
    “And
you’re full of telling them so.”
    She
snorted. “Waste of time that.”
    “And
you told them, if they drank less, they could trade what was left and wouldn’t
have to be raiding and fighting to keep their families alive.”
    He
didn’t touch her, just stood close and watched as countless emotions shifted
her features, like clouds across the sky. Her awed, “You’re preparing whisky
for trade?” made him feel proud, fueled him with the same excitement the
original idea had inspired.
    “Aye.” 
He knew his smile was grand, for the idea of it, the pure simple idea of it. “We’ve
been trading whisky in a small way for the whole of our lives, but the demand
has not been so great until now, with Old Micheil. He’s the finest whisky maker
in these lands.”  He rubbed his hands together. “He’s the best in the world,
and why we haven’t thought to pursue trading I canna’ tell.”
    “You’re
going into business.”  She couldn’t seem to get past the thought.
     “Why have you not told
me of this?”
    “It’s
still early days, Maggie. We don’t know if it will work. But we do know it all
started with a wee thought from you.”
    She
braced herself against a table. “You’ve buckled my knees, that you’re . . . I
mean . . . you wouldn’t need to be fighting.”
    He
steadied her, sighed. “Maggie, we aren’t there yet. And fighting is something I
will have to be about.”  He was going to tell her that he would be about it
soon, this very day but she didn’t give him the chance to finish.
    “Because
the whisky maker has been taken and all the supplies you’ve been setting up?”
    “Aye.” 
Talorc took her by the shoulders. “He’s been taken, and everything we’ve been
trying to put together has been broken or stolen, but we know where to find
him.”
    “How
many know of your plans?”
    And
that was the worst of it. “Only the closest to me in the clan, Maggie. Only
those on the inside.”
     
                
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
     
    The
Bold turned to his men as Maggie stepped back into the shadows. Diedre and
Ingrid were busy filling the table with more food and pitchers of ale. Maggie
should be doing that herself, it was time she got involved, made a place for
herself here, but she couldn’t move.
    He
had taken her idea and turned it into reality. Or, at least, he was trying to. He
had taken her seriously.
    She
couldn’t stop staring at him. Like a moonstruck lass, she found the line of his
cheek, the lay of his hair, the way words formed on his lips utterly
fascinating. Even the bend of his body as he reached across the table for a
hunk of bread teased her senses.
    He
believed in her. The idea of it blew away any resistance she concocted. She had
lost the fight to be free of him. Had fallen hard for a great big bear of a
beast. A beast who could be tender and caring.
    That
changed nothing, though. He was a fighting man. There would always be call for
that. She had to face it, challenge it, or accept it. Like her family, she was
prone to fight rather than accept. It didn’t bode for a peaceful marriage.
    His
men talked on top of one another, but not Talorc. He stood still, silent, a
warrior steeled and ready for battle. He would have all his senses opened. Aye
and he did too, for he turned as though he knew she watched him.   
    She
was selfish enough that she did not want him to go even as she knew he had no
choice, not this time. With his going was the chance he would not return.
    She
spun away, accepting that which she had promised herself she would never accept.
She had given her heart to a fighting man. The fear of it rose to her throat.
    Hand
shaking she reached into the pouch at her side and found the packet; a bit of
plaid that held soil and heather, a gift from the MacBedes upon her leaving. Her
most cherished possession.
    “Maggie.” 
He spoke to her. She brushed away tears, not wanting him to see the ridiculous
reaction that