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my terms.” He looked over
his shoulder at Fiona. “Your Maggie is a strapping lass.”
    With
one hefty push, Fiona shoved him under.
    “I
didna’ say anything,” Talorc sputtered as he surfaced, “that you dinna’ know.”
    “Oh,
aye.”  Fiona admitted sweetly.
    “Did
you dunk me for speaking of your daughter?”
    “Why
would I do that?” Fiona hedged, adding, “but I was wondering, if it’s true, are
you here because of our Maggie?”
    “Aye.” 
Talorc admitted.                                               
    The
fire crackled, water splashed as he reached for a sheet on a stool by the side
of the tub.  Standing, he wrapped the long sheet around his waist, used another
for drying.
    Husband
and wife looked to each other.  ”You don’t know much of our Maggie if you’ve
come for her.”  Fiona warned.
    “Do
you mean that she likes her men puny?” Talorc vigorously rubbed his hair.
     “Aye,”
They both frowned.
    “She’s
not meant for a puny lad, you know.”  He tossed the extra sheet over his
shoulder.   “And I’ve a mind to help her understand such things.”
    The
MacBede stood from his own bath scowling.  “How do you mean to do that?”
    Talorc
pulled a shirt over his head, his words caught in the folds of fabric. “Well,
MacBede,” his head popped out of the opening, “with your permission, I’ll marry
her.  She’ll come to understand in time.”
    Fiona
shoved a warmed sheet at her husband.  “You’ll not get her to understand after
the wedding, Laird or no, you force Maggie to marry and she’ll make your life a
misery.  You’ll never win her that way.”
    “I
mean to have her agree to the wedding.”  Talorc defended.
    Fiona
laughed.
    Talorc
argued.  “You could help persuade her.”
    Feargus
slumped on a stool.  “It’s more than that, Laird MacKay.  You’re a fine man, I
couldna’ hope for such a grand husband for my lovely Maggie, but she’s more
stubborn than the lot of us.  She doesn’t want a warrior.”
    “You’re
her father.  You could make her.”
    “Oh,
aye, I could force it on her, but my Fiona is right.  We won’t send her to the
altar in tears, and if she goes against her will, there will be tears aplenty.”
    “From
a lass such as Maggie?”  Talorc was appalled.
    MacBede
chuckled, “Aye, strapping lass that she is, she’s still a female.”
    Fiona
ignored the understanding that passed between the men and nodded at her own
thoughts.  “You know,” she said, “you might make it work, if you could spend some
time with her, win her over and then stay away when she says nay to a
marriage.  She’ll pine for you, then come around.”
    “There’s
no time for that.  I want to take her with me tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow?” 
Feargus stormed.  “Never lad.  I’ll see her settled in her feelings first.” 
     “Timing,
MacBede.  You know, I know, timing is everything.  It has to be now.”
    “Why?”
    “You’ll
understand tonight when I tell my tale.”
    “You’ll
be telling me now.”
    “No.” 
Fiona's soft words broke through.   “No, he is right, husband.  Maggie doesn’t
need time to come up with excuses and reasons not to marry him.”
    “You
can’t be serious, wife?”
    “Aye,
I am, and as her mother, with your approval, I will give my blessing if he can
convince her to marry him on the morrow.”
    “He’ll
never do it.”
    “Perhaps
not.  But I’m thinking, if he fails, it will be our Maggie who will lose in the
end.”
    “I’ll
not fail.”  Talorc claimed.
    Fiona
nodded at his confidence.  “Fail or no, I’ll not grant my blessing until you
promise me two things.”
    “Aye.”
    “You'll
not force yourself on her.  She has to give of herself willingly otherwise
we'll not accept the marriage.”
    Talorc
agreed.  “Neither would she, and I know that, but I also know she'll come
around.  The bond is there already, she just doesn't recognize