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“Bother my wife, come near her, make her cry, make her sad, speak to her as if you own her, and I will see you gutted and strung from the highest tree.” He tossed the man to the floor like a piece of garbage and walked over to Tara. As he stepped behind her, he wrapped his arm possessively across her chest and pulled her back against him, so there could be no mistake that she belonged to him.
Carmag stepped forward. “I suggest you leave. All has been settled.”
Carnoth stood, his hand going to his throat, Reeve having left a sizeable imprint on it, and choked as he spoke. “This is not over.”
“Yes, it is,” Carmag said. “As Reeve said, Tara is now a MacAlpin. Our warriors will escort you off our land.”
Carnoth glared at his daughter. “You have brought disgrace to our clan. And have caused nothing but problems for me, so it is glad I am to be rid of you. As far as I’m concerned, I have no daughter.” He turned his back on her, snapped his fingers, and his warriors followed him out of the hall, MacAlpin warriors right on their heels.
Reeve could feel the tremor that rumbled through Tara. While Carnoth was never a good father, he was still Tara’s father, and to hear him admit, before all, that he purposely sent his daughter to her death had to have caused her immeasurable pain.
“It’s over,” he whispered in her ear. “You belong to me now, and as you can see, I’m still here.” He wanted her to understand that she had a home and was safe, and that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Her tremors continued, and she didn’t respond. He knew something was amiss when he saw his mother’s eyes turn wide when she glanced upon Tara.
Reeve coaxed Tara around in his arms as Mara approached. Her face was as white as freshly fallen snow. And tears trickled one by one down her cheeks.
Mara reached them before he could do anything and yanked her out of Reeve’s hands, though she nodded for him to follow. Mercy hurried ahead of Mara, rushing to grab one of the wool cloaks that hung on a peg by the keep’s double doors.
“It’s the fire’s warmth and a hot strong drink you need,” Mara said.
Reeve then realized that Tara’s father had actually chilled her to the bone in shock. He took the cloak from Mercy and wrapped it around his wife then sat her at the table closest to the fire’s heat and joined her on the bench, his arm going to her back to rub warmth into her.
Mara filled a tankard with hot cider and added more than a splash of acqua vitae. She then filled enough tankards with ale for them all and raised hers high.
“Blessings to Reeve and Tara.”
They each in turn offered their own congratulations and, with acknowledging nods, drifted off, leaving the couple alone.
He was relieved when she turned and finally spoke to him. “I thought my father might have planned it this way, but I didn’t want to believe it, and even now hearing it—” She shook her head, and a few more tears fell. “How could he? I’m his daughter.” She shook her head again. “He never loved me. My father never loved me.”
Reeve tried to ease her into his arms, but she pushed him away and stood.
“I’ve been nothing but a burden to him, an annoyance he wanted out of his life, and he thought to be rid of me along with another annoyance, the king.”
Reeve remained silent, letting her spew out her anger and hurt.
Her shoulders slumped, and, again, she shook her head. “My second wedding ceremony, and again it is filled with heartache.”
“And in a sense, death, which takes care of the curse,” Reeve said.
Tara turned wide eyes on him. “With my father’s shocking rant, I forgot all about the curse.”
Reeve silently cursed himself for having reminded her. “You must admit that your father’s departure is very much a death.”
She sighed, another tear dropping. “It is, isn’t it?”
“So the curse has been fed, and we have no need to worry,” he said, hoping she would see it his way.
“I wish it was that simple.”
“I’m still here,” Reeve said, throwing out his arms to her. She didn’t run into them, and he didn’t like that.
“We need to talk with your brother about the witch.”
“There’s time for that.” Since she wouldn’t come to him, he walked toward her.
She raised her hand to ward off his advance, and he stopped, his eyes narrowing and his brow knitting in a frown.
