Bold (The Handfasting) - By Becca St. John Page 0,1

face aglow with tears. “They’re here.” She whispered. “They’ve come from the other way.”

“No! Oh goodness, no.” Maggie reached the top, grabbed hold of Caitlin’s arm as she took in the scene before them.

Below, a train of men and carts crossed under the archway into the courtyard of the keep.

All that commotion and they had been too far to hear it.

“I wanted to greet them, and do so properly.” Maggie moaned and set off down the hill, Caitlin running along beside her.

“They’re here!" Her throat stung with the cry as she charged for the keep. Despite twenty years and strapping body, Margaret MacBede sailed like a child over the rough land until she could hear the laughter and voices and shouts of welcome ahead of her.

Caitlin, struggling to keep stride, stopped her at the keep entrance. “Will you look at that?” She asked, breathing heavily. And Maggie did.

So many men, not all MacBedes, and a slew of animals. Boisterous hurrahs could be heard from the courtyard vying with the bawl and bleat of livestock. Wagons piled with pillaged harvest pushed through the mélange.

Her brothers returned with more goods than had been stolen from the MacBedes in three seasons past. Her kin had championed their clan. Thank the skies. These highlanders would eat this winter.

The reward was to more than their bellies. It had been a long wait since they'd heard the victor's song. Too much stolen from them with no successful recourse. Too many lives sacrificed to no gain.

“Come on!” She shouted to Caitlin.

Skirts held high and out of the way, heedless of others, Maggie hurtled forward, straight into the huddle of her brothers and leapt, without warning, into the arms of her brother, Jamie.

“What have we here?” Jamie held her straight out from him as though she weighed no more than a straw doll. She dangled in midair, her grasp firm on his arms. No small lass, she towered over other women and quite a few of the men folk, but she thrilled to the knowing she would never outsize her brothers.

Just in time, Maggie tensed, held her body straight and true, arms crossed at her chest, legs twined about her skirts to hold them secure. As she knew he would, Jamie tossed her in the air, parallel to the ground, tested the weight of her, same as he would test the weight of a caber.

“I think I’ve found the biggest faerie in the land,” Jamie mused.

“Biggest faerie?” Nigel shouted. “Here, toss it here. It looks naught but a mass of hair and plaid to me.”

Maggie gasped at the outrageous slur, as she sailed through the air to be caught again. Her childish cry sounded the delight, for she loved the game, loved to fly as though nothing could pull her to earth.

Nigel caught her neatly, added a spin, as he tossed her high again. Maggie pulled in tighter, lest a flailing limb strike out at her brother.

“Aye, ‘tis naught but a mass of rusty red fur and rags.”

She rethought the striking out business, but there was no time for action. Airborne and twirling, Maggie shut her eyes against the dizziness of it.

“Umph!” It was Douglas this time. “Can’t be our Maggie.” He groaned, “Too heavy for our light, little Maggie. Here.” Maggie pulled in, prepared for the toss. “You see if she’s not too fat!”

She should have hit while she could.

Douglas hurled her with an ease that belied his goading. This twirl she landed face to the skies, eyes wide.

Good Lord! She’d not landed in the hands of another brother, and well she knew it. Nay, these hands were even greater in size. They nearly spanned her waist and it was no small waist. But it was not the size that felt so different. It was . . . oh goodness, she didn't really know what it was other than to know she had never felt it before.

Bounced, a test of weight, like the jostle of a bag of coins to guess their worth. With each landing, shivers quivered through her, his touch an arrow that found its mark, candle to flame. A horrible, strange thing.

She cried out, when the man spun her to face the ground. To face him. A stranger as rugged and beautiful as the mountains surrounding them. He had the high cheekbones so common among their clan, yet they did not look common. Dark eyebrows raised in humor, as the lines of his face fitted easily to his smile.

She recognized him, in the way