Read Online The Handfasting by Becca St. John - Free Book Online Page A

admitting. “We were losing
like the saints were against us. Aye, that is true. One ride out, the food
didn’t go with us. Another, what we ate was tainted. Small raiders, neither
Gunn nor clan, attacked when we least expected.”
    “You’re
to expect everything.”
    “Aye.”
He reached for her then, as though it were true, that he had an uncontrollable
need to touch her. Fingers spread, he cupped her cheek, stroked it with his
thumb. She didn’t stop him.
    “Maggie,”
Talorc took her hands in his, “Do you know how you avenged Ian? Do you know the
role you played in turning the tide, bringing abundance?”
    She
pulled away, insulted. “Don’t use your words with me. That’s all they are, just
words. I have done nothing. Nothing,” she snapped.
     “Aye,
you have and the MacKays want to thank you. Come to Glen Toric with me.”
    She
sat up, turning fully to confront him. "You ignore me all evening, then
suddenly, quick as you please, you’re asking me to leave this place? This is my
home, these are my people. I’ve no reason to leave.”  
    “Ah,
but you do, Maggie girl, you do,” he murmured, as he bent to the platter of
meat, cut-off a morsel, speared it. “You gave us an idea that we’re growing with.
You are changing the need to battle for all we have.”
    Before
the tip of his knife could get the meat to her lips, Maggie took it with her
fingers. Moist and succulent, the stewed juices ran down her hand. She tried to
catch the rivulet with her tongue.
    "Oh,
no, Maggie. Let me.” He caught her hand, pulled it to his lips, and took the
liberty of capturing the droplet with his mouth, licked the rivulet with a slow
tongue.
    For
a breath, a long breath held, Maggie didn’t move. The hall could have been
empty, the noise pure music, before she caught herself and tugged her hand free.
Talorc was not ready to let it go.
    “Stop.”
She hissed.
    He
looked into her eyes and with one bite, took the meat from her hand. “You taste
better than the meat.”
    “Oh,
Lord.” She pulled free, stumbled, toppled her bench in a rush to be away from
him. He reached to help her but she ignored his hand, scrambled to rise on her
own.
    Nigel
laughed. "You drunk already? It's still early, lass.”
    “Laugh
all you wish, brother, for I’ll return the favor soon.”
    Quick
as that, his amusement ended. “Have a care, Laird MacKay, for when she sets out
for revenge, she could teach the lot of us a thing or two.”
    Maggie brushed at her skirts. “He’ll
not have need to worry, brother, for why would I be wanting revenge on the
likes of the Laird?”
    “Why
indeed?” Talorc asked, as he reminded her, “I’ll be leavin’ on the morrow.”
    “Aye,”
she acknowledged, trying to catch Nigel’s eye as she reseated herself. Nigel
refused to look her way.
    “I
want you to leave with me.”
    She
laughed. “Leave with you?” Patted his arm. The man had barely talked to her all
evening. “I’ll think of it,” she lied, “and when next we see each other, I’ll
consider your request.”
    “Not
later, Maggie,” he caught her hand upon his arm, held it tightly in place,
“tonight, this night. When I tell my story, if you truthfully find you cannot
go with me, then I will accept your decision.”
    “Tonight?
You want to tell me a story tonight and then expect me to leave in the morn?”
    “Aye.
Tonight.”
    She
laughed. “Does my father know of this?”
    “Aye,
as does your mother.” He moved so they could both look to her parents, who
watched with uncommon wariness.
    Their
wariness made no more sense than anything had this day. Her parents knew that
nothing could induce Maggie to leave her home, not tonight, not ever. And, as
far as she was concerned, not with a warrior; especially not with a warrior. Her
parents knew that.
    Talorc
blocked them from Maggie’s sight. “But they don’t know the story, have yet to
hear it. When they do, when you do, they’ve agreed to go along with