The Handfasting Read Online Free PDF Page B

face, pinching her cheeks, taking as close a look as
they did when she was a wee babe, barely born.
    No
one had looked at her that closely in as long.
    It
was better that way.
    She
was none too happy with the attention now.
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 4 - A STORY
PROMISED
     
    Talorc
moaned with pleasure, as he eased into one of two bathing tubs set before the
fire. “Ah man, ‘tis weeks since I’ve bathed in anything other than a frigid
stream or a frozen loch.”
    From
the other tub, his host, Feargus MacBede, chuckled. “Keeps a man strong.”
    “Aye,
it does.” Heat curled around Talorc, as he settled deep, knees bent until they poked
out from the surface. Better cold knees than a cold neck.
    He
glanced around at the soft sound of a door opening, but couldn’t see beyond the
bathing screen.
    “It’s
my wife.” Feargus explained. “She’s a great hand when it comes to washing hair
and backs, don’t you wife?” Fiona moved within the light of the fire. “Can near
put you to sleep, she can.”
    “Och,
flattery, that’s what you’re doin’,” she teased, as she ran her fingers through
her husband’s thick head of white hair.
    Talorc
watched, curious. His own father had always said, look to the mother to see
what the daughter would become. Fiona was tall and regal, her movements smooth
as a gliding falcon. There was a hint of mischief in her smile.
    Without
warning, she dunked her husband until his entire head was drenched.
    More
than a hint of mischief!
    Feargus
came up sputtering. “I hope you don’t treat our guest like that!” But his
grumble was lost in a sparkling glance. The man had known it was coming.
    It
was good to still be playing games when you had eight grown children . . .
correction, there were only seven now. He knew that well.
    Talorc
closed his eyes, his head against the rim of the tub. The couple’s
companionable banter lulled as gently as the warm water within his bath.
     “MacKay?”
Feargus butted into his thoughts. “The Gunns grow more vicious of late. Foul as
they are, they are not the sort to come at us like they’ve been.”
    “Aye,”
Talorc nodded. “There’s no understanding to it. They get angry with no ill
treatment from us, burn our crofters’ homes, steal in a way that leaves a clan
starving. Hunger we know how to live with.” He gripped the sides of the tub,
“But now someone’s been thieving young lasses out from under their parents’
care.”
    Feargus
grunted. “Aye. One of our crofter’s daughters has gone missing. Young Alicia.
No sign of her for months now, and we searched.”
    “The
same tale can be heard from the Raeys and the Bainses.”
    The
older man bent his head. “Many a loss, these years past. Young females, good
fighting men.”
    “The
glory of the fight does not take away the sorrow of loss. It was a sad day when
Ian fell to the sword.” Talorc reached for his soap, as he searched for words
not easily found. “These battle losses are mine to bear.” He admitted. “I call
the men to fight. They trust me. But there have been too many problems, too
many things gone wrong.”
    He
looked to the older man. “Feargus, you fought with my father, you’ve raised
strong men who don’t shy from the fight. Our families have been united for
generations. There’s no other man in the highlands I would trust more than
you.”
    “The
MacBedes have always done their part.”
    “Aye,
more than their part. You’ve offered good counsel. So I am telling what I’ve
told no other. I think we have a traitor in the clan.”
    “Impossible!”
Feargus barked. “It’s the Gunns, that black hearted Angus Gunn!  You know, I
know, it’s him.”
    “Oh,
aye, the Gunns play a part.” A traitor was unthinkable but not impossible. Clan
loyalty was taught from the cradle, instilled in every highlander. Still, it
was possible.
    He
tried to explain. “There are those thrown out of the clans, the outlaws.” Feargus
nodded slowly, as