“Can you not hear the gossip ‘Puny Hamish the tailor dies with a smile on his face? Drowns in the full bodied womaness of Maggie MacBede.’”
Hoots filled the air. Even the MacKay men, who tried so foolishly to blend with the wall, boomed their amusement. People would hear it across the loch. You’d think the kitchen was full of rough and rowdy men rather than a passel of women. And what did any of them know?
“They were a disgrace measured next to you.” Leitis offered as she fought to catch her breath.
Maggie pressed dough in her hands, thinner and thinner, her head bent to her task, anger building with each round of pastry.
These women knew nothing. Look at Muireall, who angled for a brute of a warrior having already lost one husband to the fight. Didn't they see what they were asking for? Did they all wish to feel the loneliness that Muireall suffered?
“You weren’t made to be the wife of a runt.”
Harder and harder she turned the dough until it was a circle so fine you could see through it. She placed her latest effort on the pile of finished tart shells and tried to break the flow of humor. “You know,” she tilted her head, the shrill crack of her voice the only sign of irritation, “I think it was not exaggerating you were up to, Neili! I’m thinking you spoke the truth! I do have a fine hand with the dough.”
“Oh do you?” Roz elbowed Neili.
“Aye, I’m thinking that my pastry shells are the best.”
“Well then, whatever you say, Mistress Margaret.” Neili winked at Roz. “And as you are the best,” Roz sidled away, “you should do them all!”
“You wouldn’t.” Maggie hurled the pastry at the giggling girls.
Like a spirit, appearing from nowhere, Fiona caught the dough in mid-air. The room stilled. Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie noted that the men stood straighter, their smiles wiped clean.
Fiona sighed at Maggie. “Enough of chattering and playing, daughter. You need to be getting yourself ready.”
“Ready for what?” Nosy Muireall asked.
“For The MacKay, of course." Fiona answered. "He is to be our guest.”
"What does that have to do with me?" Maggie snapped, not that she wanted to know. Not that she wanted any one to know. But she had opened her mouth and the worst came out. Quiet settled on the room. Maggie sighed.
One of the MacKay's, so silent up until now, spoke. "Lady MacBede you speak as if you know what the Bold is here for?"
Fiona shook her head. “Nay.
The man accepted that as answer enough. This time Maggie's sigh was full of relief.
Fiona turned to Simon, "Have some lads send more hot water up to my chamber. I’m going to see to the men’s baths." She faced Maggie again, "And you, young lass,” she took Maggie’s shoulders, looked her up and down with a shake of her head. "Look at the state of you. Your hair is naught but a tangled mass. You need to be seeing to yourself.”
“But Ma.”
“No buts daughter. I'm not knowing the why of it, but the MacKay is here to see you." She turned to the men, "Is that much not so?"
Their stupid grins were back in place. "Aye, mistress, 'tis a fact."
"Well then, child," Fiona flipped a strand of Maggie's hair from her shoulder, "you’d best make yourself worth seeing?”
Nothing, absolutely nothing, moved within the room except Fiona. Oblivious to the reaction she’d created, she swept past the other women.
The frozen state lasted for as long as one woman could hold her breath then all manner of chaos erupted.
“The MacKay?”
“Oh, aye, isn’t that a ripe one.”
“Our Maggie?”
“You don’t say? Well, it’s about time.”
“And here she had us all thinking she was sweet on Hamish the tailor.”
“Och, wouldn’t the MacKay be just the one for our Maggie?" Letice looked to the MacKay men who nodded their agreement. Slyly she added. "He’d not die in her womaness.”
“He’d thrill to it.”
“Rise to it is more the way of things.” One of the men blurted out.
"Ohhhhh!" The stunned laughter swallowed Maggie as all the women gathered around, pushing her hair from her 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