Chapter Two
“What was that all about?”
Maggie pretended not to hear her sister by marriage as she folded another clean linen before placing it in her healing basket. Her new sister was a kind woman and Maggie loved her dearly. Knowing Elwynna had suffered so greatly at the hands of her own father made Maggie ache. It also added to her fear of men. Her true sister, Paulene, had been killed by her husband a summer ago in Alba, which was the main reason Àdhamh and Maggie had sought a new life in Ériu at Ráth Mór, serving High King Tuathal Techtmar. Maggie’s mother had also been treated foully and her father eventually killed her. And now her wee sister by marriage, who was one of the kindest souls she had ever met, shared similar stories of abuse at the hands of men. Aside from her brother, Maggie had not met a man worthy of her trust.
“You can pretend not to hear me, sister, but I know you do. You cannot live your life fearing every lad.”
Aye, she could. She did. It was not to say she preferred to live this way, but even the finest face could hide a beast. She had learned that early on in life. ‘Twas best to live with her brother and his wife, even if she did feel like she was encroaching on their privacy since their marriage a few moons ago.
Shoving another stack of clean linens in her basket, Maggie smoothed her soft lavender wool dress over her hips and considered how to reply to Elwynna. Lying was clearly not an option. Apparently, Maggie’s fear was obvious, though she did try to hide it.
“How do you do it, Elwynna?” Maggie finally whispered as she twisted her skirt in her fists. “With all you have lived through at the hands of men, how did you so easily trust my brother?”
A softness came over Elwynna’s face. Was it pity? Maggie flinched and turned back around. She did not want to be a pitiful lass. She wanted to be brave, face her fears, and truly learn to live. Her thoughts shifted to Aislin, who was Flynn’s cousin and the wife of one of their warriors, Alastar. Aislin could hunt, climb, fight, and protect her tribe, and she feared no man. Yet, she was also a tender wife, mother of a wee babe, and capable of running a household. Maggie had always envied Aislin and her strength. She wished to learn to use a weapon, as well. Mayhap it would make her feel safer to be able to defend herself.
Many times, she had wished to ask her brother for help, but he was much too preoccupied with his own training and being a husband to Elwynna. Maggie was already living in their home and intruding on their married life. She could not ask her brother for more. He would do it, she knew well, but at the cost of his time with his wife. Maggie could not be a further burden to them and asking another man to help her would require a trust she simply could not fathom ever having. Nay, her life was best spent tending the ill and keeping silent. The less visible she was, the less chance a man would ever focus his attention on her. Only then could she avoid becoming a victim, like all the other women in her life.
“How do I do what, dear sister?” Elwynna’s small warm fingers touched her shoulder gently, urging Maggie to turn around and engage in the conversation. Elwynna’s long blonde hair was only a shade lighter than her own, but her hazel eyes were almost yellow as they looked at her imploringly.
With a sigh, Maggie licked her lips and shrugged. “You have endured so much pain in your life, caused by men. Still, you do not fear them and you found love. I have not even been violated and yet I cannot be near a man without fearing him.”
“Even Flynn?” Elwynna asked carefully, clearly wanting to continue the conversation without upsetting Maggie.
Soft blue eyes widening, Maggie took a deep breath. Why would Elwynna mention Flynn, of all men? Aye, he was the brawest warrior in all the village and so handsome that her breath left her body every time he was near. It was like her heart and head stopped working every time he entered a room. Deep in her heart, she dearly wished to know him, even speak to him without stuttering like a fool. Still, he was a man, a very large man with enormous muscles who stood at least two heads taller than her. He intimidated her immensely, and though nobody could ever have a bad word to say about him and he came from a wonderful family, he was also very quiet and mysterious. She was not certain whether she should be frightened of him or in awe.
Finally, she decided to answer. “Especially, Flynn, Elwynna. And since you mention his name, I now know I am doing a terrible job of concealing my… interest,” Maggie grumbled. She took her now full basket and carried it over to the door, where it would be readily available in case of an emergency.
“He is a handsome man,” Elwynna interjected matter-of-factly. “I never hear of him with another lass. And he did smile at you today… until you turned white and scurried away.”
Embarrassment flooded Maggie and now instead of turning white, she felt herself turning pink. She made a fool of herself. How she wished to be more confident and brave, especially around Flynn. Still, the man had shown no interest in her whatsoever. A smile meant naught. Although, she had to admit that the man spared smiles for few people. Mayhap she should feel special to have received one, especially when he had such wondrous dimples that her heart beat wildly just thinking on them.
“I admit I find Flynn attractive,” she decided to share with her sister. “Still, my attraction to him cannot outweigh my fear of men, and he is quite a large one, at that. Furthermore, he is almost never within the village. He travels most frequently and he has never shown me any favor.”
Elwynna scoffed from across the room and put her hands on her hips. “He smiled at you. ‘Tis more than I have ever seen him do for any other lass.”
Maggie felt her brow furrow. “’Tis but a smile. It means naught. Besides, I am much better off on my own. I do not think I can even stomach being touched by a man.” She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. Should she tell Elwynna her darkest secret? Mayhap she should confide in at least one person. Even her brother did not know the full truth.
Growing serious, Elwynna stepped closer and nodded, her green wool dress swishing against her legs in the otherwise silent room. The hearth fire blazed, keeping them warm and protected from the chill outside. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Maggie looked her sister in the eye. “I was in the room when my mother was violated and killed.”
A gasp left Elwynna’s lungs as she put her hand over her heart. “Oh my, Maggie!” Elwynna tittered and stormed over to her side, wrapping Maggie tightly in her embrace. “’Tis nay wonder you are as fearful as you are. Were you a young lass?”
Maggie pulled back slightly, only so she could catch her breath after Elwynna’s grip had sucked the air from her lungs. “I was not so wee. I was ten and three. Old enough to know what I was seeing but too young to do aught about it. I hid like a coward beneath the bed. But he had her on the floor and I… I saw it all. Every horrible thing he did to her before he…” her voice trailed off and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was simply too hard to speak about that awful day. The images haunted her enough, but speaking the words would feel like ripping open a festering wound.
“You never told Àdhamh of this?” Elwynna asked gently, taking Maggie by the arm to help her sit on the bench against the round wall.
Shaking her head, she tucked a stray wave behind her ear nervously, glad she had finally spoken the words. Someone in the world now knew why she feared men so gravely. “Nay. And, please, do not tell him. I fear he pities me enough. I do not need for him to think of me as weaker than I already appear.”
“You are not weak, Maggie. You have seen things in this world that would cause fear in any woman. You lost your mother and sister to two violent men. But Maggie…” Elwynna put her hand on Maggie’s knee and squeezed. “Most men are not so bad. You had very poor fortune to be around such a cruel man, but most men are like your brother, kind and gentle.”
Maggie scoffed and shifted on the bench. “Men wage wars over cattle, land, honor, and women. My brother is a rare man. Most men will not hesitate to hurt a woman. You must know this yourself, having lived through all you have.” Maggie winced after the words left her mouth. She did not wish to cause Elwynna pain.
To her surprise, Elwynna smiled. “My father is an awful man, I admit that. And the warriors he gave me to were not much better. But there were some who refused to take me against my will. In fact, more of his warriors kept me safe rather than hurt me. It was the few, however, who did hurt me, who made my life horrible. There are bad men, aye, but there are more good. I stand by that.”
Maggie wanted to argue that she may be right, but telling the good from the bad was a risky business. A lass had to allow a man close enough before she could learn the truth and it was not a risk she would take.
“My thanks for speaking with me, Elwynna. I trust you shall keep my secret.”
A pounding at the door had Maggie standing swiftly, rushing to the entrance. Being the healer of the village, especially one as large as Ráth Mór, meant visitors at all hours, another reason Maggie felt guilty to be staying with her brother and his wife. They were woken from their sleep too often.
“You are a brave lass already, Maggie. You save lives and bring more life into this world as a midwife. ‘Tis more than most could ever do. Remember that.”
With a nod, Maggie gave Elwynna a weak smile and opened the door, feeling the cold sting her skin immediately. Aislin stood at the door panting, her red waves wrapped around her face as she leaned over to catch her breath. Dread ran up Maggie’s spine to see this strong, brave woman looking so harried. “Is it wee Conor?” Maggie asked carefully. “Is your son ill?” Sick babes were her greatest fear. If a child died because she could not save him, she would never forgive herself. She knew it would one day happen. Babes died every day, but still she dreaded it.
Standing up straight, Aislin breathed deeply and waved off Maggie’s fears. “Nay. ‘Tis my husband. A lad in training accidentally sliced his arm during practice this morn. He will be all right, but requires your stitching skills. I am afraid mine still lack, as much as I try.”
Hearing Aislin doubt herself made Maggie cock her head. Aislin was always so self-assured and yet, she admitted that Maggie was more skilled than she was at something. In a way, that made Maggie feel better about herself. She knew she was skilled at stitching up wounds but, for some reason, having Aislin recognize it made her want to smile. Fortunately, she had better manners than to smile after hearing Alastar had an injury.
“Let us go to him immediately,” Maggie agreed. She grabbed her cloak, clasped it around her neck, and picked up the basket by the door.
As she and Aislin walked through the village in silence, she carefully dodged the puddles, hoping not to muddy her dress. Several people milled about, trying to get their chores done before the next looming storm eventually came down on them. Angry gray clouds slowly moved in from the west and Maggie knew that once it reached them, it would rival the storm from the night before.
A drop of rain landed on her cheek and small droplets began to fall all around. Picking up their pace, she and Aislin rushed toward the outer edge of the village, where her and Alastar’s roundhouse sat on the border of the woods. Their door was wide open and Aislin finally spoke. “My thanks for coming so swiftly, Maggie. Please pardon all the people. We had some family drop in to check on Alastar before their travels.”
“’Tis nay trouble, Aislin,” Maggie responded, then winced when she felt icy water splash up her leg. Curse it. She’d stepped in a large puddle and her purple dress was a murky brown around the hem. She probably resembled a drowned rat now, but could not truly care since she had work to do.
A hound barked wildly from inside the house and Maggie smiled, knowing it was Aislin’s faithful hunting hound, Branwen. Rolling her eyes before entering her home, Aislin laughed. “Branwen gets a bit excited when we have company.”
Stepping into the house, she was at first blinded as her eyes tried to adjust to the sudden dimness. It had been so bright outside with the clouds reflecting the sunlight. Walking into Aislin’s home was like entering a cave. “Oomph.” Maggie ran into something hard and fell onto her backside with a rather painful thump. She had no time to brace herself for the unexpected fall.
“Are you all right?” She heard a deep voice ask gently as she opened her eyes and looked up, starting to slowly adjust to the dimness. Two beaming green eyes, the color of spring leaves, were level with hers and she caught her breath. That same feeling of her stomach dropping, heart beating, and brain stopping came over her again. Flynn knelt beside her with a worried frown, his hands outstretched to her. He was incredibly handsome, and again, much too large.
Her instinct was to pull away. She could not help it. He intimidated her beyond reason. And yet, she had already made a fool of herself once this day in front of him, and he clearly meant only to help her back onto her feet. Surely a man who was cruel would leave her there or even laugh at her. His look of concern and large hand reaching for hers, were signs of comfort, not cruelty. Swallowing hard, she took a chance and put her hand into his.
When his warm calloused fingers wrapped around hers so strongly, she felt a tremor of excitement run through her. Strange. She had never had that reaction to a man before. Still, she had to remind herself that even though handsome men could harm a lass, he was surrounded by people. No man would dare hurt her in public. This did not mean he would be different in private.
That thought steadied her emotions and calmed her excitement. Wariness, so engrained that she carried it easily with her, took charge once more and she yanked her hand out of his grasp as soon as possible. “My thanks, Flynn,” she mumbled with embarrassment, doing all she could not to rub her sore backside in front of him and his brother, father, and Alastar, whom she could now see clearly.
As soon as she saw the angry gash in Alastar’s arm, all her embarrassment disappeared while her healing instincts took to the forefront. “Och, Alastar! That’s not a wee gash!” Pushing through the wall of huge Mac Greine men, Maggie made her way to the bed Alastar sat on, placing her basket beside him.
“’Tis not the worst I have had, as you know well, Maggie,” he said with a lopsided grin. He spoke true. She would never forget the sword he took through the chest last summer that almost ended his life. She had tended him for almost two moons and, at one point, was very worried he would die. Compared to that wound, this was nothing. And yet…
Leaning over to look at it more closely, she squinted and focused on the specs of dirt and grime mixed into the flesh. It would need to be cleaned. “Someone give me a candle,” she commanded without taking her eyes off the wound.
Alastar visibly paled. “You… you are not going to sear me shut, now are you, lass?” he said hesitantly.
“What?” She looked up to his worried blue eyes and patted his good shoulder. “Och, nay! I only need more light so I can better see. After falling on my backside just now, you can imagine ‘tis too dim in here for me.”
Alastar laughed and she could not help but crack a smile. Mayhap Elwynna was correct. She knew Alastar well enough to know he was a good man. He was so gentle with his wife and child, and always made her laugh. She supposed their King Tuathal, giant beast that he was, was also quite gentle with lassies. In fact, most of the married men she knew were good husbands. The trouble was that she only knew this after they were married. How did a lass know a man would be gentle with her before committing to him, or falling for him?
She shook her head. She needed to stay focused. Flynn stepped up with a candle and held it close for her to see. Looking up to his great height, she took a deep breath and nodded her thanks to him. Once again, words escaped her in his presence. “’Twill need to be cleaned,” she murmured, reaching into her basket and grabbing a clean linen cloth. “Do you have water in your cauldron, Aislin?”
“Nay. ‘Tis empty. I will go collect some.” Before Maggie could offer to do it herself, Aislin ran outside and slammed the door behind her. Curse it. Now Maggie was alone in a home with four huge warriors. Her head swam with fear and she could not help but take a step back, trying to keep herself calm. She really needed to overcome this stifling fear of men. But that would require a slow introduction to one man… not being trapped in a room with four.
“That lad got you good, mate,” Brennain said, stepping forward to better look at the wound as Flynn continued to silently hold the tallow candle. “We will make him clean all the dung out of the stalls for a fortnight for this slip,” he grunted.
That seemed unfair to Maggie. The lad was simply learning. Sparring with men twice his size was likely a fearful thing. He should not be punished for simply trying to work hard and learn. Yet, she bit her lip and pretended to rummage in her basket to keep them from seeing her hands shake. Alastar would panic if he saw her hands shaking just before she stitched him up. In truth, her hand was steady as a rock when not alone with men.
“We will do nay such thing,” Flynn chimed in, rebuking his brother. “He is just a learning lad. Have we all not made mistakes while in warrior training? What good does cleaning dung do us? Make him work more drills with the straw dummy. He will hone his skills and not have real flesh to wound as he does it.”
Maggie’s eyes widened. ‘Twas the most she had ever heard Flynn speak in her life, and she was so very pleased to see how calm and reasonable he was. He had compassion for the lad and something about that made her fear him just a bit less. Granted, a man could defend a lad and still harm women, but for now, it was a comfort. She stayed quiet, waiting in turmoil, squished between the Mac Greine brothers until Aislin blessedly returned with the water.
After Aislin poured the bucket of water into the cauldron, Maggie tugged the chain suspending it above the hearth, lowering it enough to heat and boil the water.
“I must allow the water to boil before I can clean the wound.”
“Whatever for?” Brennain asked, aghast.
“Well,” Maggie tittered nervously. Having a large man shout at her made her anxious. He was not truly shouting at her, she knew. He was simply confused about her methods. Still, he made her want to run away. It infuriated her to have her skills questioned. Healing was the one thing she was good at and she would not allow this large warrior to question her.
“I am not certain, but linens boiled in water cause fewer infections than those that are not. I have seen horrifying infections and I have noticed that the dirtier the linen, the worse the infection. An old healer from Alba taught me this and I believe ‘tis why I have so few infections on my wounded.”
“That’s nonsense. ‘Tis only a waste of time. His wound needs to be cleaned right away,” Brennain pressed.
Like a flash of lightning, Flynn was in his brother’s face. The men stood almost equally tall, but Flynn was only slightly shorter. With both having black stubble on their chins, those green eyes, and raven hair, they could almost pass as twins. “Do not question the lass. If she says the linens need to be boiled, then the linens need to be boiled.”
Brennain quirked a brow at his brother and grinned, as if silently communicating some smug comment to Flynn, but he put his hands up in surrender and bowed his head to her. “I apologize, Maggie. I am certain you know best.”
Maggie looked at Flynn curiously, wondering why he had so adamantly defended her, and yet, her heart beat wildly against her ribs at the ire in his eyes for his brother. He looked so formidable, yet she did not feel threatened.
“She saved my life before, Brennain. I trust her,” Alastar added.
“My thanks,” she murmured, and she walked over to the cauldron to check the water. It was boiling rapidly, so she dropped the linen into the water, using an iron rod to push it under fully. She stared into the bottom of the cauldron, watching the linen dance in the water as the steam moistened her face. It was a distraction from the tension in the room and she stayed silent while she listened to the men converse with Aislin in the background. She knew Flynn’s father, Brocc, was Aislin’s uncle, and Maggie felt envious of Aislin for having so much family. She had only a brother whom she loved dearly, but who was now married and distracted—as he should be, she supposed.
From the little she could hear of their conversation, Flynn and Brennain were leaving town once again just as soon as Alastar was patched up. By their whispers and intermittent silence, she knew they discussed something that was none of her business, so she concentrated once more on the linen, deciding it was well-boiled. Using the iron rod, she lifted it out of the water and allowed it to drip and cool just enough to touch it.
Walking over to Alastar, she gave him a sheepish smile. “You remember this will sting, aye?” He only nodded and squared his shoulders, silently giving her permission to do what she must. As she squeezed the warm water over the wound, Maggie watched the dirt wash away. Then she gently dabbed the clean linen over the gash. He winced and gritted his teeth, but he never made a sound.
Flynn stepped close to her again with the candle, this time accidentally grazing her hip with his thigh. It was the most ridiculously innocent touch, but her face heated and she looked away to grab her clean thread and bone needle. Taking a deep breath, calm washed over her as she did what she did best. Instinctively, her needle went in and out of Alastar’s flesh, creating a perfect row of stitches that she knew would heal quite nicely. He would have a scar, aye, but she had made certain it would be a straight scar. Nobody would look upon a wound she stitched and say it was flawed.
“’Tis most impressive,” she heard Flynn whisper under his breath. She was almost certain he had not meant for her to hear it, so she did not acknowledge his compliment. Still, it made her bite back a smile and she was suddenly glad for the dim lighting so he could not see her flush.
“Thank you, sweet Maggie,” Aislin said, and she stepped closer to observe her husband’s wound. “You have a gift, for certain.”
Her gifts were nothing compared to Aislin’s, but she silently accepted the compliment with a nod and a smile.
“You must be off, lads,” Brocc said deeply from behind Maggie, suddenly startling her from her thoughts. She had forgotten the quiet man stood near the hearth.
“Aye,” Brennain said, walking past Maggie and bumping into her hard enough to throw her body against Flynn’s, who was still standing next to her holding the clay bowl full of burning tallow. With his free hand, Flynn caught her around her waist, holding her tightly against him so she could regain her balance.
Panic seized her when she realized she was firmly against him. She looked up to him and saw anger in his eyes, which only frightened her further. He was angry with her and she had no idea if he would strike her for knocking into him or not. She flinched and shrugged out of his grip, feeling relief when he easily let her go, confusion in his gaze. “Are you all right?”
Swallowing hard, she nodded and turned away to gather her supplies.
“I am sorry I bumped into you, Maggie,” Brennain said with a smirk. He did not look sorry at all and she was very confused by his actions. It all felt very intentional, like he wanted her to knock into Flynn, though she could not understand such an action.
Again, she only nodded and kept her back turned. The door opened, the fire flickered and she heard large booted steps leaving the home before the door shut again. She could finally breathe.
“Are you all right, Maggie? You seem shaken.” Aislin asked, and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I am fine. I need to leave. Fetch me if you need aught, or think a fever is developing.” Aislin crinkled her brow at Maggie’s sudden change of mood, but she just needed to get home and back to the one place she felt safe. She knew she had overreacted; a part of her quite liked the feel of Flynn’s hands on her body, his body against hers. Still, the thought of being so small and helpless against a strong man had, once again, consumed her mind. Gods, she was a mess no man would ever love, and even if one could, she would likely run away.