“Five,” Lochlan answered for her.
Maggie’s throat tightened at the memory of how many women had been hurt. “Aye. The beatings are what prompted us to seek shelter with Father Bede. We had hoped being on holy ground would make the men think twice before assaulting any of us again.”
The Englishman scoffed at her words. “As if that ever stood in the way of animals.”
Braden ignored the Englishman’s words as he raked a cold glare over Maggie. “Did you ever stop to consider the foolishness of your actions?” Braden asked, his voice filled with rage. “How many more women are going to suffer because of your stubbornness?”
Maggie’s own anger ignited at his accusatory words. She wasn’t some child in need of a reprimand. She knew the consequences of her actions. They all did.
Every single woman who was now gathered around them understood.
They were mere women, subject to the whims of men, but even so they had all agreed that this was a necessary measure to ensure the well-being of all.
Maggie stiffened her spine as she confronted the four men. “Not nearly as many as the men who will die if the feud continues. Better we be beaten than our sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers die. Think you that doesn’t hurt much more than any blow? I’d rather be beaten all day long than bury one more member of my family.”
“Aye,” the women around her concurred.
Agnes stepped forward from the crowd to confront Braden and Lochlan. “My bruises healed in only four days.” She brushed her hand down her smooth cheek. “But my heart still aches for my youngest boy who died three years back under a MacDouglas sword. There will always be a hole there, aching for him.”
Lochlan eyed them all. “You’re not changing anything.”
“Aren’t we?” Maggie asked. “You men can’t be killing and raiding the MacDouglas while you’re coming here to negotiate with us. Nor can you wage war on empty stomachs.”
Again the women agreed with her.
Braden opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Maggie heard another loud shout, only this one was a cry of joy.
“Braden, my wee bairn! You’re home.”
The group parted as Braden’s mother, Aisleen, rushed toward them.
Maggie noticed the look of hatred on the Englishman’s face as he saw the tiny brunette for the first time.
Never in her life had she seen so much malice directed toward a single person. Frowning, she watched as the Englishman drifted back into the crowd to where Aisleen couldn’t see him.
Braden drew his mother into a tight hug. “Ah, Mother, but it’s good to see you.”
“And you,” she breathed, cupping his face in her hands and squeezing it tight an instant before she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve worried over you. I was just this minute in the chapel saying prayers for your well-being.”
“I’m sure he needs all the prayers he can get,” Maggie muttered uncharitably beneath her breath.
“Now, don’t be that way, Maggie,” Aisleen chastised her. “This be my boy you’re talking about and a fine, bonny man he is.”
Bonny, Maggie couldn’t argue, but fine...
Well, she couldn’t really argue that either. He could, of course, be a little more steadfast and a lot less of a womanizer.
“Well,” Maggie relented, “it was nice of him to help poor Bridget. But as you can see, he’s no longer needed, so?—”
“Mother,” Braden said, interrupting her. “I was thinking that what you women need is a guardian.”
Maggie’s jaw dropped. Surely he wasn’t suggesting what she thought he was.
“A guardian?” his mother asked in wide-eyed innocence.
“Aye.” He glanced meaningfully to Maggie. “Lochlan told me that Bridget makes the sixth woman who has been attacked. I was thinking that perhaps I should stay here and help ensure no other woman is harmed until a settlement is reached.”
Oh he did, did he? Maggie couldn’t believe what a fool he took her for! “I just bet you do. Tell me? Am I the only one present who thinks this sounds a little too much like hiring a wolf to guard the flock?”
