Bold (The Handfasting) - By Becca St. John Page 0,41
and been abandoned as a widow. That was the problem with warriors, they did things like that. Maggie kept silent. The woman didn’t need reminding of what was.
“You may have the right of things. I don’t think I would marry another warrior. It’s too much of a worry. Waiting for days, weeks when they go out for the fight. It eats at a body.”
“Aye.” Maggie nodded, glad she had Diedre, that the Bold had thought to bring her.
Diedre stopped, pulled Maggie around so they spoke face to face, eye to eye. “Just don’t let him near. Stick with the women folk and don’t let him near. Then you can have a high time with us, and return home to anyone you want.”
Wise words, only she didn’t know if she wanted to hear them. Contrary, that’s what she was. One minute enjoying the man’s company, the next, angry that he took all her choices away from her.
“You would help me?”
“Aye.” Diedre nodded, but didn’t have a chance to say more, for the Bold had reached them.
Maggie fought to hold to Diedre’s idea through days of travel, despite the aches of the forced ride she was drawn to the Bold. Though she kept her tongue sharp, whenever he was near, she hungered for those moments. Feared he would acknowledge her hardness and leave her be.
“Are you enjoying Diedre’s company, lass?’ A shiver of awareness shot through her as the Bold pulled alongside of her.
“Aye, I believe we will get on.”
“Good.” He nodded.
Her people were not ones for aimless chat. She had been relieved to see that neither were Talorc or his men.
After a time he took her arm, signaled to stop and be quiet.
They had just breached a small rise that looked over a narrow valley. Below, a herd of deer grazed along a stream that cut through one side of the flat land.
“See them.” The warmth of his hand intoxicated. She pulled free only to have him lean in, one hand braced behind her on the horse’s rump, the other pointing. Diverted by the strength of his hand, the sinewy strength in his arm, she failed to see what he was showing her.
“See him?” He jolted her to look where he pointed. “That’s Bruce, moving in.”
She sucked in her breath, surprised. Below them, blending in with the heather and the rock, a hunter crouched, edging ever closer to the herd, so much a part of the land that it was hard to place him.
She held her breath, as though even that small sound could be heard, and watched, waited, wondering how the Bold could tell, from this distance, who was who.
“He’s down wind, so the deer can’t smell him.” His explanation brushed her ear.
She focused, hard, on the man, Bruce, down on his belly creeping closer still. One of the creatures lifted its head, ears twitching, nose to the wind. The hunter stilled.
“He’s close enough now.”
Aye, Bruce was close to the deer but so was the Bold to her. The heat of his body, the brush of his breath drew her away from the action below. She looked at him, her handfasted.
He didn’t acknowledge her gaze, kept his on the action below so she took her time, considered just what it was that pulled at her senses. Why was he so different from the other men she knew?
The compulsion to trace the scar that ran along his cheek, to touch the crinkles that radiated from his eyes had her hand poised between the two of them, as though some magic controlled her better judgment. The dark tan of his skin, common enough among any who spent their days out of doors, fascinated.
“You’re going to miss it if you keep looking at me.” He said without once shifting his gaze away from Bruce.
Maggie snapped back just in time to see Bruce’s fluid adjustment from crouching to standing, aiming and shooting. He downed the animal in one shot as all the other game fled.
“No need for more. That will keep us for the journey.” Talorc told her and heeled his mount forward.
She urged her ride to catch up, confused by her compulsion yet not ready to fight it. “How did you know who that was down there?”
“I can recognize my men, how each moves.” He looked to her. “As I do with you.”
She snorted, “A stiff and bowlegged lass. Enchanting.”
“Oh girl, what I see you can be verrrry proud of.” He teased.
With her best glare she changed the subject. “You knew the deer