Chapter Seventeen #2
Standing up and brushing down her skirts, Moira decided enough was enough.
She could endure no more of Mungan’s wooing, no more of Una’s fighting for her man, and no more of Tavig and Mungan arguing over her like two spoiled children over a toy.
Until she made herself completely inaccessible to Mungan and made him feel the tower house was no longer a threat, the strife would continue.
She would have to accept Tavig’s solution.
It made her sad to marry Tavig under such circumstances.
She would have liked to accept his frequent proposals with the knowledge that they would be safe and perhaps even happy.
What she needed was some assurances that a union between her and Tavig would not be like releasing a wolf into a pen of newborn lambs.
She also wished that she had some assurances that Tavig truly and deeply cared for her.
And she definitely needed some assurances that if their marriage brought the trouble and danger she feared it would, Tavig would not grow to hate her for it.
“Ye want too cursed much,” she scolded herself as she left her chambers to find Tavig.
One thing she would demand was an explanation for why he tricked her into a handfast marriage.
She also had to get him to agree that the marriage did not have to be forever, that if she chose to leave, he would let her go.
Since the situation with Mungan and Una was forcing them to marry, she did not think that was too much to ask.
Moira had to know that she could leave before she and Tavig were seriously threatened by superstitions or—she shuddered as the thought fled through her mind—she caused Tavig to be injured or even killed.
She found Tavig with Mungan. Both men were shirtless and surrounded by Mungan’s men-at-arms as they fought with each other.
For one brief moment Moira was terrified that the argument over her had become a true battle.
She elbowed her way through the men, each crash of the swords making her jump.
One look at the two battling cousins told her that it was no real fight.
Tavig and Mungan would certainly suffer a lot of bruises and scrapes, but neither man had any intention of hurting the other.
They were just teasing each other, showing off their prowess before the men.
Tavig was soon declared the winner, his grace and speed overcoming the admirable skill and impressive strength of the larger Mungan.
The audience shuffled away while the cousins stood by a bucket of water, cleaning off the dust and sweat and admiring each other’s bruises.
Shaking her head over the strange way of men, Moira walked up to Tavig but did not return his tentative smile.
She briefly contemplated waiting until Tavig was alone, but decided that Mungan was so involved in their lives at the moment there was no real need to be secretive.
“Ah, ye are still angry with me,” Tavig murmured when she did not smile back.
“Aye, but I have calmed myself enough to heed your explanation for such cunning.” She crossed her arms and stared at him.
“The look on your face isnae one that promises forgiveness,” he said.
“Right at this moment I dinnae feel too forgiving. I was hoping your explanation might make it easier.”
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to be sure ye went to Drumdearg with me. All ye keep talking about is the fear and superstition ye and I could stir up. Ye never really listened when I said it wasnae like that at Drumdearg. It was clear that ye didnae even mean to try to see if I was right. So when I first came up with the idea of claiming we were wed to keep us safe in those wee villages, I realized it would be the same as our being handfasted to each other.”
“Except that I didnae ken I was declaring myself.”
“Ah, weel, aye, there was that. Lass, I just wanted to be sure ye would at least test the truth of what I have been telling ye about Drumdearg. If ye didnae decide to come there with me, then I thought I could use the fact that we are handfasted to make you.”
“Aye, ’twas a fine plan,” said Mungan, lightly clapping Tavig on the back.
“Oh, aye, verra fine,” agreed Moira, giving Tavig a disgusted look. “Verra clever and verra sly. ’Tis clear that ’tis not only Mungan who can be sly in this family.”
“Did ye say I was sly, Cousin?” Mungan asked, frowning at Tavig.
“Ye can be, Mungan, and all ken it. Now, will ye hush? This doesnae concern you. I am trying to make amends with Moira, and your interruptions dinnae help that to go smoothly.”
“I am not sure anything ye say can make the trick ye played sound any more like a base deceit,” Moira said, drawing Tavig’s attention back to her. “Howbeit, although I dinnae agree with the reasons ye give in your weak attempt to explain yourself, they will suffice.”
“Suffice?” He stepped closer, tentatively putting his hands on her shoulders. “Am I forgiven, then?”
“I wouldnae say ye are forgiven, but I do understand. ’Twas a foolish trick, but I see no real evil in it. So now I may speak of what I have decided with as much ease as one can under the circumstances.”
“Ye have something else to discuss?”
“Aye, I will marry you. Ye were right; ’tis the only solution.
One more day didnae make any difference.
I dinnae think e’en one more year would make a difference.
” She stared at him, hoping he could see that her next words were not only about Mungan.
“Some people can be so stubborn they havenae the wit to give up.”
Tavig grimaced as he slowly enfolded her in his arms. “Rebuke accepted. So, are we to be married?”
“Aye, but we need a moment or two of privacy to discuss a few particulars.” Moira looked at Mungan, who just smiled, apparently deaf to her hint.
“So, ye and the lad will marry. Weel, ’tisnae as good as if ye married me, but at least I can rest easy kenning that ye hold the land, Tavig.
Now,” he said as he rubbed his hands together, “I must find Una. I dinnae think she much liked the idea of me wedding Moira. Dinnae trouble yourself, Cousin, I will find the priest, and the whole lot of us can be wed ere the sun sets,” he said, picking up his tunic and striding toward the keep.
“That swine Robertson will have himself a hearty surprise when he arrives to find his daughter and his ward married.”
The minute Mungan was gone, Moira wriggled out of Tavig’s light hold.
She was still angry because of the way he had tricked her.
She was also a little angry because matters she could not control were forcing her to do things she did not really want to do.
If she and Tavig were ordinary people, she knew she would be thrilled to have such a handsome, charming, and modestly wealthy man as her husband, especially since she loved him.
Even the fact that he never spoke of love would not deter her.
Now that was just one more difficulty and one that could easily make the other problems they faced seem far worse.
“Ye dinnae act much like a happy bride,” Tavig murmured as he tugged on his shirt.
“I have been pushed and pulled about until I am securely cornered. Mungan’s head is as thick as his precious walls.
He willnae give up. Neither will Una. She has now begun to tell me all about the relationship she and Mungan have, right down to the sort of personal detail I have no wish to hear.
’Tis clear that her newest plan to get me to give her the tower house or put myself completely out of Mungan’s large reach is to let me ken, in nauseating detail, just how weel she and Mungan get along beneath the blankets.
” She frowned at Tavig, who started to laugh. “Ye find that funny?”
“Weel, aye, I fear I do.” He continued to laugh for a moment before struggling to control himself. “Sorry, I was just trying to imagine a lass speaking lyrically about old Mungan as a lover.”
“I would cease trying unless ye have a strong stomach,” she grumbled as she sat down on a rough bench near the well the men had drawn their water from.