Free Bold (The Handfasting) by Becca St. John

the
tables lined with watchful clansmen, both MacKay and MacBede.
     “Oh
Lord!”  Maggie sent the plea heaven word.  “Oh, lord, please help me here.” 
But she knew it was her own fault for wanting him to flirt with her.  As usual,
she had brought this on herself, over estimated her ability to deal with a
situation.
    All
eyes were focused on the Bold.  He tugged on Maggie until she stood beside him,
within the curve of his arm.  Her legs trembled until she thought they couldn't
possibly hold her upright.  Talorc gave her waist a squeeze, as if that would
reassure her.  He was a fool if he believed that.
    As
though they were alone, as though the whole world were not watching he bent
over her and whispered.  “Will you listen to my plea now?”
     
    *****************************
     
    “Please,
I beg of you.”
    “You
beg?”
    “Anything,
anything you want.” Roddie MacBede whimpered from beneath the foot of the man
in green. Six other harsh, ragged men aimed spears to take him down should he
try to rise.
    “Anything?’
    “Aye,”
he sniffled, hiccupped a sob of fear.
    “You’ve
been cast from your clan.”
    “No,
no,” he stuttered as the man in green pressed his dirk further into his chest,
between two ribs, above the heart.
    “Why
not.”
    “No
one knows.” Roddie promised.  “I’ve not any chances left with the clan.”
    The
pressure of the dirk eased.
    “No
one knows what you do,” the man looked over at a bundle of fabric, the limp
form, and smiled.  “Not do, did, to that child? Other children.”
    “I’ve
never killed one,” Roddie cried. “I shouldna’ of done it, I know, I shouldna’
of done it, didn’t mean too, just wanted a little fun.  She’s my sisters child,
she was going to tell.”  Once again, the dirk pressed hard.
    “Why
not?”  The whimsical question startled Roddie, The lilt of it skewed from
reality just as his joy, in the process of destroying the small body was an
emotion out of step.  Wrong.  He knew it was wrong.
    “Why
not.” Whimsy turned hard, cold. “Why shouldn’t you have done what you did?  You
enjoyed it. Admit it.” 
    Roddie
nodded, sure, now, the blade would pierce his black heart.
    “Can
you find more children?  Can you bring them to us?”
    For
the first time Roddie looked up into the eyes of the man standing over him. 
Eyes darker more dangerous than Roddie had ever striven to be.  Evil eyes.
    Roddi
shivered, reluctant to nod his assent though he did in the end. “Aye.”  Bile
reached his throat for half of him still held better intentions.  “Aye, I can
coax more to my side.” Fantasies, that’s all they ever were.  Urges not to be
fed. Only, he had fed them, and this one, when he silenced his victim he was
caught for the deed.
    The
blade left his breast entirely, a hand offered.  “Rise, join us.  Let us make
merry.”
     
     
     

CHAPTER 7 - A STORY TOLD
     
    Talorc's
hand rested upon Maggie's shoulders.  Reassuring it was not, coming from a man
too wild to anticipate, and far too confident.  All evening he overlooked her
and then, just like that, expected to convince her to go away with him, as
though she had no mind of her own. 
    “To
all you men who joined me in the battle against the Gunns,"   Maggie
jumped as Talorc's voice blasted out across the hall.  "Have we not failed
to honor the one who pulled us through?”
    A
roar rose to the rafters matched by the thunder of stomping feet and fists that
pounded table tops.  Dishes clattered and shook, some fell to the floor. 
Maggie looked about, to see who they were honoring, but all the warriors faced
forward, sights set on the Bold who shouted above the noise. 
    “I’ll
do my telling,” He bellowed, “for everyone to hear the glory of our Maggie
MacBede!”
    Maggie
MacBede?  The thought of it nearly suffocated, as the cheers crescendoed.  Her
whole body trembled as warrior after warrior moved forward, crossed their right
arm over their chest,