Bold (The Handfasting) - By Becca St. John Page 0,30
breath, to settle the rising hysteria, the others were too stunned to break her momentum.
“Do ya’ think he lived there with no woman in his bed?” She asked. “Do you think I’ll have my own around me when they carry his body back, all bloodied and broken after a battle? Do you think I’ll be pleased with a man not of my own choosin’?”
“Aye!” Angrily, Fiona broke through the shock of her daughter’s attack with a succinct nod, “I do!” She shouted back, rounding on Maggie. “For the first time I’m grateful for your brothers’ interference. For 'tis true, no man dared court their sister. But your brothers would not dare to interfere with the Bold. Nor would I have allowed it, as I did in the past.”
She took her daughter by the shoulders. “He’s perfect for you Maggie, even if you’re too fool to know it.”
They stood, both rigid, linked by Fiona’s hands on Maggie’s shoulders when suddenly Maggie flung herself into her mother’s arms. “Oh mama, I’m so frightened!” And finally the tears came as mother and daughter clung to each other, each full of their own sorrows for the parting.
Fiona would lose her daughter, to fret and worry with no way of knowing how her own little lass fared. And Maggie, to face marriage to a stranger, to confront the unknown, without her mother’s wisdom and care.
“Oh, lass, you’ll be fine, you will.” Fiona cradled her daughter’s head upon her shoulder. “I’d not let this happen if I thought it would be any different. And you remember now, if you just can’t see it in you, to give yourself to him, then come home. For this will be your home, forever, for always, even if you are married with a dozen children, you are always wanted here.”
Maggie pulled away, swiped at the tears, unaware of the quiet bustle about her as the others prepared a bath, warmed towels, sorted out the best of her plaids with discreet peeks at the two women.
“Mama?” Maggie asked, now needing to know the whole of it. “What is it you mean by giving myself? Talorc said the same thing, that if I give myself then we are truly wed, but if we Handfast . . . mama? Why do you look that way? What am I saying that you . . .”
“No,” Fiona rushed, “no don’t be thinking anything, I was just surprised. A mother doesn’t imagine it’s possible to raise a daughter, with so many older brothers, in a place as busy as our home . . . well . . . where people are so careless with what they say,” Fiona put her arm around Maggie, guided her away from the others, toward the window-- still inky black with night, “It’s just that a mother does not expect her daughter to be quite so innocent of thought.”
"You didna’ look so much surprised as . . .”
“But I was surprised.” Fiona broke in.
“You’re also thinking to use your words to your advantage, or is it to his advantage?” Maggie startled herself by realizing. “I’m thinking you’ve his interest in mind over my own.”
“Never.” Fiona snapped, “Never.” She repeated more calmly. “Though ‘tis true, I often wonder if you know what’s best for you.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Maggie badgered.
“About giving yourself?”
“Aye, you ken that’s what I’m wanting to know.”
“Well,” Fiona lifted her chin, “you’ve heard the women talk about the wedding night?”
“Aye, I know all about that. That’s when he takes me to wife.”
“You know what takes place?”
Maggie snorted in disgust, “You are right on that mother. This place is not quiet about such things, nor do the animals care to go into hiding when it comes to mating. But what does that have to do with giving myself? A husband has rights and he takes them. An animal has instincts and they follow them. So what of me?”
“You,” Fiona said with conviction, “have a heart to give or to withhold. You do according to your heart, you give to your husband, absolutely, or you withhold. Let your heart decide, not your husband. He cannot take what you do not give.”
“Is that it?” Maggie sagged upon the window ledge, and welcomed the freshness of the fall breeze as it brushed over her and rustled her hair. There was clarity in its coolness. “A matter of my heart?”
“If you let your heart rule what you do or do not do.” Fiona hedged.
“Then if I do not give my heart than I