The Border Vixen

by Bertrice Small

  Fin aided Dugald Kerr to clamber upon his horse, then mounted his own animal, and they returned to the keep, the Netherdale Kerrs and the village coming behind them.

  In the courtyard Maggie and Fin greeted each Kerr, giving them a small but useful gift; honing stones for the men, a small basket of colored threads for the women, and a sugar plum for each child. There were ale and sweet cakes for everyone. A health was drunk to the bride, the groom, and the laird. Then the clan folk departed back to their own cottages, allowing the wedding party to reenter the hall where the celebratory feast would now be enjoyed by the family and its retainers.

  It was midafternoon now. The day had cleared. As the sun set and the fires blazed in the hall hearths, the food was brought forth to the high board. Fresh trout and salmon were served on platters of peppery wild cress. This was followed by a roasted goose, a leg of lamb, a ham, and a rabbit stew with tiny onions and sliced carrots in a rich brown gravy flavored with red wine. There was a bowl of late peas from the kitchen garden, and some lettuces braised in white wine along with fresh bread served with both butter and two cheeses. The cups, studded with green agate, were filled with dark red wine that tasted sweet to Maggie’s tongue.

  Below the high board the men-at-arms and the family’s retainers enjoyed trout, ham, rabbit stew, bread, and cheese, while their cups were never empty of the laird’s good ale. There was much camaraderie and laughter between the trestles, for the men of Brae Aisir and Lord Stewart’s men were now one and the same.

  Lord Edmund glowered out over the small assembly. He had lost his chance to gain the whole of the Aisir nam Breug today. But there was always tomorrow. Maggie could prove infertile. She might die in childbed or birth only daughters. Discord could be sewn among the Kerr clan folk when old Dugald died. Did the Kerrs really want a Stewart overlord and master? Despite his son’s warning, Edmund Kerr wasn’t ready to yet concede his loss. His fist tightened about the stem of his goblet, and his lips narrowed.

  “We’re leaving immediately on the morrow,” Rafe Kerr said quietly to his sire. “The head groom in the stable says there’s a storm coming in another day or two. I’d just as soon be home in Netherdale Hall when it does.”

  “Aye,” his father agreed. “No need for us to remain here any longer. My cousin will be glad to see the back of me, I’m certain.”

  Rafe laughed. “Aye, Da, he will, ’tis truth. Old Dugald doesn’t like you at all. He told me he holds you responsible for not telling him that Glynis was frail.”

  “I had hoped my half sister would produce an heir for Brae Aisir whom I would one day influence and match with one of my daughters,” Edmund Kerr said.

  “So you’ve meant to have it all along, Da, have you?” Rafe was surprised, but then once his father got an idea he liked stuck in his head, it was difficult, if not impossible, to move him in another direction. He was his father’s heir, and he certainly did not want the entire responsibility of the Aisir nam Breug to fall upon him. Their eight miles were enough for him. His father hadn’t managed his responsibility in years. It was Rafe who had overseen their part of the pass since he was sixteen. He was now past thirty. Some years were more difficult than others depending on whether England and Scotland were quarreling. And if they were, keeping the Aisir nam Breug safe was harder.

  But from the looks of Lord Stewart, his cousin’s bridegroom was a strong man and would sire strong sons on Maggie. She was nothing like her mother had been. Glynis Kerr had been beautiful, but a wise man would have seen she was frail. Sadly, Dugald Kerr’s son was not wise, and Rafe was frankly amazed she had lived to birth three bairns despite the fact the only one surviving was a lass. Dugald Kerr had blamed Edmund Kerr for not pointing out that Glynis was delicate, and for the sake of them all discouraging the match between his half sister and the laird’s son. But Dugald had had three sons then, and several other grandchildren. Who could have anticipated all that had happened, and that a lass would end up the last of the Kerrs of Brae Aisir?

  “Ye hae a serious look about ye, lad,” the laird said. “ ’Tis a happy occasion we celebrate today. Do ye have a wife?”

  “Aye, sir, I do. And two little lads and two little lasses,” Rafe said with a smile.

  “Then the succession of yer family is assured,” the laird remarked. “I hope by this time next year the succession of ours is as well.”

  “The bairn won’t be a Kerr,” Edmund said meanly.

  “What matter?” Dugald snapped back. “The bairn will have my blood. No family’s male line goes on forever, ye sour fool! Yers will end one day too. The name of Stewart is a proud and noble one. Can I complain that one of that royal line will take my place eventually, Edmund? I know that Fin will keep our portion of the pass safe, and so will his sons and sons’ sons. And yer Rafe is a reasonable man. He will work well with my granddaughter heiress’s husband. Kerr and Stewart together keeping the Aisir nam Breug as it has always been. A safe traverse for honest travelers. Now shut yer mouth, and cease yer carping, for what’s done is done, and what is, is.”

  Rafe hid his smile. He knew of no other who would dare to speak with his father in such a manner.

  The laird’s piper now came into the hall and began to play. Maggie and Fin danced a country wedding dance in the space between the high board and the trestle tables. It was a simple stately dance that had been executed for centuries in Scottish halls throughout the land. Fin’s arm about Maggie, they moved slowly and sensuously to the deep rhythm the piper, a drummer, and a clansman playing upon a flute performed.

  Her head back against his shoulder, she looked up into his handsome face and recognized the look of longing upon it. Maggie’s heart beat a little faster. Her velvet skirts swirled about them as they danced. He lifted her up and swung her about. His eyes never left her face, and she found she was unable to turn away from him though her cheeks grew pink. And then as the dance slowly came to an end, Fin bent to brush her lips with his. Maggie sighed audibly, then blushed with the realization of it. He smiled down into her face and led her back to the high board. To her surprise, she found herself breathless.

  Then Clennon Kerr and Iver Leslie arose to dance amid two crossed swords in the same expanse. In their stocking feet they stepped agilely and gracefully between the sharp blades as the music grew more and more spritely. The efforts of the dancers were much appreciated by the onlookers. As the two men finished, those at the trestles arose, clapping and shouting their approval. Another round of ale was suggested. When the kegs ran dry, the evening would end for the guests.

  Grizel arose from her place at a trestle and slipped up to the high board to whisper in her mistress’s ear. Maggie nodded. She leaned over, saying to her grandfather, “I shall depart the hall now, Grandsire.” He nodded silently. Maggie reached out to touch the arm of her cousin Rafe. “I know you will leave even before dawn,” she said to him. “Thank you for coming. I wish you a safe passage home, Rafe Kerr.”

  “And I wish you and Fin happiness and many sons, Cousin,” he replied. “I’ll tell Da you bid him farewell. As you can see, he is in his cups now.” His head nodded to Lord Edmund, who had fallen asleep still clutching his goblet, which was now empty.

  Maggie couldn’t help but smile. “His head will hurt the whole way home,” she said. “I doubt he’ll come again soon to Brae Aisir.”

  Rafe chuckled wickedly as she arose and hurried from the hall to the cheers of the men-at-arms who watched her go. Rafe spoke now to Fingal Stewart. “It’s unlikely I’ll see you on the morrow, my lord, so I will bid you farewell tonight. For the sake of the Aisir nam Breug, put no trust in my father. He’s a devious man, and he would control the entire traverse. He will use any means to gain his way, I fear. If it seems disloyal to you that I speak thusly, know that my concern is for the Aisir nam Breug and our family’s safety. The two families working together to maintain and protect the pass over the centuries has kept it safe and free of political influence. But we need both families in this endeavor. I am no
t disloyal, and will attempt to keep my father’s meddling to a minimum, but he is still Lord of Netherdale, and I can only do so much. So beware of him, and his schemes,” Rafe Kerr concluded.

  “I understand,” Lord Stewart replied, and he held out his hand to Rafe, who took and shook it. “Thank ye.”

  “I wish you happiness, and strong sons,” Rafe replied. “And while I see a gleam of eagerness in your eye, you must wait a while longer. Brides need time to prepare themselves for the first coming of their husband. A bit more wine may be in order.”

  The two men grinned companionably at each other.

  Upstairs, however, Maggie had been divested of her wedding finery, and she now sat quietly as Grizel brushed her mistress’s long chestnut hair. “Ye were a beautiful bride,” Grizel said fondly.

  “I ache in every joint,” Maggie complained. “My shoulders and arms are so painful, and yet I have fought with my claymore before.”

  “Not as hard as ye did this day,” Grizel responded. “Ye were fierce, lass.”

  “But he overcame me,” Maggie said as she sat while her tiring woman slicked the brush through her thick hair. “I’ve never been overcome before. Am I really a good swordswoman, or have my opponents been allowing me to win to humor me?”

  “Nay, nay,” Grizel responded. “No one at Brae Aisir has been yer equal until today, my bairn. But did ye really want to be victorious over him? He did not crow with his triumph, for he has too much respect for ye.”

  “But he won,” Maggie said again.

  “Aye, he did. He was tired of the contest, and did not wish to blood ye. He simply knocked the claymore from yer grasp, lass, but I could not say that he overcame ye.” She gave her young mistress a mischievous grin.

  “Nay, he didn’t, did he?” Maggie suddenly felt better about the day’s events. She grinned back at Grizel and chuckled.

  “But dinna torment him about it, lass,” Grizel advised the younger woman. “Sometimes ’tis better to allow a man to think he has the upper hand. And this is yer wedding night. Certainly ye dinna want to quarrel with yer lord.” She had finished brushing Maggie’s long tresses. Putting the hairbrush aside, she said, “Time to get into yer bed now. I’ll be returning to the hall to tell him yer waiting.” She helped the girl into bed, plumping the pillows up behind her. Then Grizel bent and kissed Maggie’s cheek. “May ye have many healthy sons, my bairn,” she said, and turning, she hurried from the bedchamber, closing the door firmly behind her.

  Maggie sat almost frozen, her heart beating faster, it seemed, than it usually did. She was very aware of the ache in her shoulders, neck, and arms. More than anything else she wanted a good night’s sleep. She wouldn’t get it, of course. He would come, and they had one more duty to perform this night for the good of Brae Aisir. Her grandfather would want the bloodied sheet proving her virtue to fly from the roof come the morrow.

  It was going to hurt. That much she knew for she had heard enough of the servant lasses complain of their first time with a man. But what was it really like to be with a man? Was there pleasure after the pain? She didn’t know enough about what was to transpire between her husband—God’s toenail, that word sounded so strange in her mouth and to her ears—and herself. She knew he would cover her body with his and that his cock would find an entry into her body. What more to it was there? Well, she supposed it was as much as many lasses knew, but bloody hell she wished she could avoid it all tonight and just sleep her aching muscles away. He had been a fierce opponent today, and he had given her no quarter at all other than avoiding wounding her.

  Grizel reached the hall, and going to the high board murmured in Lord Stewart’s ear, “Yer bride awaits ye, my lord.” Then she returned to her place at the trestles.

  Fin nodded, and leaning over so Dugald Kerr and Rafe Kerr might hear him said, “Good night, my lord, Rafe.” Then he arose, and stepping down, made his way from the hall. About him the men-at-arms chuckled softly, and nodded to one another, smiling. Each man had the single thought in his head. Brae Aisir would now be safe. Fingal Stewart would do his duty tonight, and Mad Maggie would birth a future generation for them. They had waited a long time for this moment to come.

  He sprinted up the stairs, then stopped suddenly. Where would she be? In his chamber? In hers? Then he heard Archie’s voice.

  “I’ll help ye undress, my lord. Grizel says yer wife awaits ye in her chamber.”

  Fin breathed a sigh of relief. What a fool he would have looked going from door to door seeking Maggie. He stepped into his own chamber, and with Archie’s aid stripped off his wedding finery. “Should I ask where these garments came from?” he said dryly as he pulled off his doublet.

  “Honestly come by, my lord, I swear it,” his serving man assured his master. He handed him a rag with which to wash. Lord Stewart had bathed fully after the challenge.

  Fin washed himself and scrubbed his teeth with the rag. He debated whether to wear the white cotton nightshirt. Probably best he wear it into her bedchamber tonight as she was hardly used to the naked male form. He didn’t want her shrieking with fright, and he would have to go through the narrow corridor both coming and going. He turned to go to the door, but Archie’s hand stopped him.

  “Nay, my lord, this way,” the serving man said, and he opened a small curved top door in the wall that Fin had not noticed before, so well was it hidden in the paneling. “Press the carved rose on the other side when you wish to return to your own chamber,” Archie murmured in a low voice.

  Lord Stewart stepped through into another bedchamber. He turned to carefully close the door behind him, seeking and finding the rose first. The room was dim but for a fire in the hearth, and a taperstick on a small table next to the bed where Maggie now sat up in her bed, straight as a poker, the look on her face a combination of nerves and fear.

  Maggie had stiffened as the wee door had swung open and her husband stepped through into the chamber. When he turned to come towards the bed, she swallowed hard.

  Fin sat down on the edge of the bed. “Well, madam,” he said, “here we are at last as God, the king, and the laws of Scotland would have us.”

  “I am ready to do my duty,” Maggie said primly.

  Fin laughed. “Oh, Maggie mine,” he replied, “it may be a duty we do for Brae Aisir, but I want it to be a pleasurable duty for us both.”

  “How many women have you loved?” she asked, surprising him.

  “I have loved none, but I have made love to enough to know what is pleasing to lovers,” he said. “There are men who believe a woman’s body is for their pleasure alone. They take what they want from women and care nothing but for their own enjoyment. I have learned that a man’s greatest pleasure comes from giving his woman pleasure too. You are a virgin, of course. Tell me what you know of lovemaking so I may correct the misconceptions first, and then add to your knowledge.”

  “Could we not just do what needs doing, my lord?” she asked nervously. “I ache in every joint from today’s challenge, and want nothing more than sleep.” Her cheeks were pink at having said the blunt words just spoken.

  Fingal Stewart laughed aloud. “Oh, Maggie mine,” he said, “never have I known a woman of such candor as ye are. But what we do this night is more than just a duty.” Reaching out, he took her hand in his. It was cold, but her slender fingers curled about his. That was good, he thought. “You aren’t afraid of me, are you?” he asked her.

  “Nay,” she responded. “I know ye now and believe ye to be a good man.”

  “Are ye afraid of the coupling?” he queried.

  “Nay!” Maggie quickly said. Then blushing, she admitted, “Mayhap a little, but only because I am not certain what is expected of me.” She sighed. “I do not like being so wretchedly ignorant, my lord.”

  “Ye must trust me, Maggie mine,” he said, “and I have learned these past months that your trust is not easily or quickly given.”

  “To not be in control of my life is difficult, my lord. I know these are w
ords a man does not often hear from the lips of a woman, but I trust you enough to utter them to you without fear of a beating.”

  “I will never beat you, my lady wife. A man who beats a woman is admitting his own defeat, and I have never admitted defeat in all my life. Now we both know what needs doing this night, and we shall do it. Then we shall sleep, for I tell you truly that my body aches even more than yers. Ye were not an easy opponent to overcome, Maggie mine.” He smiled warmly at her as he spoke.

  The words came out before she might stop them. “Ye dinna beat me, my lord.”

  “I disarmed ye, lass,” he replied with a grin, appreciating the fine line of distinction she had drawn and not in the least offended. “And then yer grandsire declared me the victor. Do ye really want to disagree with the old man?”

  “And break his heart?” she replied. “Nay, I do not. But ye did not really beat me, my lord. My silence allowed ye the victory, but I am not unhappy with the outcome.”

  “I am very relieved to hear it, lass,” he told her softly. Then he brushed the back of her hand with his lips, slowly kissing each finger upon it. He turned the hand over and placed a deep kiss upon her palm as he looked into her lovely face.

  Maggie’s hazel eyes grew wide with surprise as she felt a ripple of excitement race through her. She had never known the palm of one’s hand could be so sensitive.

  “Take off yer night garment,” Fin’s voice instructed quietly, his eyes meeting hers.

  “Will ye take off yers?” she countered, her heart beginning to thump in her ears.

  In response, he loosed her hand and pulled his night garb off, tossing it carelessly to the floor. “Turnabout is fair play, madam,” he told her.

  Unwilling to play the shrinking virgin, Maggie yanked her gown over her head and tossed it bravely onto the floor next to his, but she grasped the coverlet up with one hand to cover her naked breasts, not daring to look at him now.