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Talorc continued. “Some still have family inside our care.
Loyalties can be divided.”
    It
cleared his mind to finally speak of this. “For the life of me, I can’t think
of who would turn against us. There’s only one MacKay who has family with the
outlaws and there was no love lost when he was banned.”
    Soap
in hand he lathered his chest, his arms, drawn to the smell of it, pine and bay
with a touch of spice. A fine odor for a man to wear.
    “Laird,”
Feargus argued, “you have it wrong. We are not a people for turning on our own.
And the Gunns have been there to fight when we go out. They’d not fight the
renegade’s battles.”
    The
room quieted but for the crackle of the fire, the soft splash of water, as
Fiona scrubbed her husband’s back.
    Feargus
broke into the silence. “Your wife was a Gunn, rest her soul. I’ve heard they
think you murdered her. Anger festers and grows. Do you think that’s what
causing these problems?”
    “Aye,
they claimed I murdered her,” Talorc agreed, “but that was grief speaking and
too long ago to still be fighting over.”
     “She
died in childbirth.” Fiona remembered. “That’s no uncommon thing.”
    The
weary rustle of his breath shuddered through the room. “She was a wee thing, my
Anabel.” A petite lass, who tended towards floral soap for man and woman alike.
With her gone, the soap of his keep smelled of lye and fat. A man needed a wife
for such things.
     “If
I failed to get her with child, the union would have been for naught. If I did
get her with child, well then, what happened could happen. I lost Anabel to the
birthing. It was that desperate, we were, that we didn’t want to lose the babe,
as well, so I cut her open.”
    “That’s
not so strange. We’ve done the same.” Fiona encouraged.
    “The
Gunns claimed I tried to take it from the mother while she was fit and fine and
waiting for the pains. But I don’t believe that’s the thorn that’s causing our
problems. I think we have a canker of another sort. I just can’t fathom what it
is.”
              Both men sat,
frowning as they held their own counsel. Fiona moved over to Talorc, eased him
forward to wash his back, “Your late wife, Anabel, did you love her?” She
asked, as she’d lulled him to peace.
    “Loved
her?” Talorc scowled.
    Feargus
sputtered and barked. “Don’t be ridiculous woman, everyone knows The MacKay
married for his clan, not for foolish notions of love.”
    “No,”
Talorc argued, “women wish to know these things, although in truth, I don’t
know.” He admitted, adding, “Holding my wife was like embracing a delicate
flower. Your heart swells with the beauty, but you fear you’ll bruise it. No,”
he shook his head against the memory. “It would take a stronger lass to win my
heart, I’m thinking, one who could meet me on 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