He arose from her bed, gathering up their two night garments. Handing her hers, he put on his. Then he climbed back into bed with Maggie.
“Ye are not returning to yer own bed?” Many men preferred visiting their wives, and then sleeping in their own beds.
“Tonight I would be with ye,” he said as he gathered her into his arms. The delicious feel of her bottom pushing into him was intoxicating. Reaching around, he captured one of her breasts, and burying his face into her scented hair, sighed contentedly. Very quickly he was snoring lightly.
Maggie, however, remained awake a bit longer digesting this evening. This man she had been ordered to wed was turning out to be a better bargain than she had ever anticipated or even imagined. He was intelligent, and he was swiftly learning the ways of the Aisir nam Breug. He had quickly settled into the keep, and he had been easily accepted by all. The Kerr clan folk were usually not so quick to countenance strangers, but they had taken to Fingal Stewart as if he were one of them for all his life.
She snuggled against the sleeping man, enjoying the sensation of his hand clasping her breast. The coupling had been good. His restrained passion had opened a whole new world to her. Maggie could not help but wonder what that passion was going to be like when it was fully unleashed. And would she be able to match his ardor? She very much wanted to match it. Aye! She did! Her eyes were growing heavy, but before she fell into a contented sleep, Mad Maggie Kerr considered that she had never before pondered such a thing. Why was she contemplating it now? The coupling was for the purpose of creating heirs for Brae Aisir. That’s what the church taught. There certainly was nothing more to it than that. Or was there? She realized as she finally tumbled into sleep that she couldn’t wait to find out.
Chapter 7
To their mutual surprise they slept late, and no one came to disturb them. Maggie was amazed to find him still in her bed. His eyes were closed, his breathing even. She took the opportunity to look down at him. She had been correct in her observation the past night. He was handsome—not pretty like a lass, but in a masculine way, with his long straight nose, high cheekbones, and long thin mouth. He had shaved his face yesterday, but already a shadowy veil of black beard was beginning to show itself. His eyelashes were certainly thick for a man’s, Maggie thought. His eyes suddenly opened, and she found herself staring into molten silver.
“Oh!”
“May I assume ye like what ye observe, madam?” he teased, and the long mouth turned up in a smile.
“Aye, yer a bonnie lad, Fingal Stewart,” Maggie answered back pertly. She wasn’t going to blush and simper like some little fool, although his open eyes had surprised her.
“Yer a bonnie lass,” he responded. “We’ll make pretty bairns together.”
“The sun is way past dawn,” she said. “Why did no one come to awaken us?” She made no move to arise from the bed.
“I believe they were being discreet,” Fin replied. “They are giving me time to ravage ye again, for all here are eager for an heir.” The gray eyes were twinkling.
“Should we do it again now?” Maggie asked curiously. “ ’Tis morning, and the sun is shining brightly.”
“Aye, it is,” he said. “But yer newly opened, love. I think we may wait until tonight to continue with our endeavors, madam. Unless, of course, yer feeling particularly lustful for my body,” Fin teased her further.
“Yer a fool,” she told him, but she laughed.
“Did ye enjoy the coupling?” he asked candidly. She had said last night that she did, but he wanted to be certain now in the light of day that he had not repelled her.
“Aye,” she answered him. “I did. After the pain. I must ask ye, husband, for I have no knowledge of these things prior to last night, but there was something more than just the linking of our bodies, Fin. For a brief moment I sensed something I had never felt before. Do ye know what it was? Did ye feel it too?”
“ ’Twas pleasure, Maggie mine,” he said. “Virgins do not usually have much pleasure, if they have it at all. The sweetness of passion comes with time. As to men, if they are with a lover who pleases them, they too gain delight from their togetherness.”
Maggie nodded. “I suppose we should get up. Hopefully the Netherdale Kerrs are already gone into the pass.”
Flinging back the coverlet, he climbed from the bed. “I’ll see Grizel comes to ye,” Fin said as he pressed the little rose carving on the wall. The door sprang open, and he was gone through it, leaving her alone in the bed.
It was almost an hour before Grizel appeared. “Ye look rested,” she said brightly.
“His lordship has gone down to the hall. I’ve had the tub brought to his chamber so ye can bathe before going down. Come along with ye now, my lady.” She quickly helped Maggie from the bed, hurrying her through the hidden door and helping her into the tub.
“Now ye just soak a bit while I take the evidence of yer virtue lost to yer grandsire,” she told her mistress before she bustled out, leaving Maggie in the tub.
Returning to her mistress’s bedchamber, Grizel pulled back the coverlet and stared down at the stained bed linen. Nodding with satisfaction, she pulled it from the bed. Then she hurried down to the hall, the sheet gathered to her ample bosom. Dugald Kerr was still seated at the high board. He was engaged in conversation with Maggie’s new husband. Grizel stepped before the board. “My lord,” she said to the laird, curtsying.
Dugald Kerr looked up.
Grizel flung open the sheet to reveal the bloodstain.
The old laird looked, nodded, and then said, “Have Clennon Kerr fly it from the battlements, and tell my granddaughter she has done well.”
Grizel curtsied again. “Aye, my lord.” Then gathering the linen back up, she left the hall.
“She was braw,” Fingal Stewart told the laird.
Dugald Kerr nodded. “Aye, she’s always been a brave lass.” Then he looked closely at the younger man. “Ye like her, don’t ye?”
“Aye, I do,” Fingal answered without any hesitation. “She makes me laugh with that sharp tongue of hers. She has no fear of speaking her mind.”
“That’s why I let her have her way in this matter of marriage,” the laird responded. “Maggie has always known what she wants. I suspect if the king hadn’t sent ye, and ye had been a lesser man, my granddaughter would still be a maid.”
“If the king had sent another?” Fingal asked, curious as to what the laird would say to his query.
“She would have eventually killed him rather than wed him,” the old laird said bluntly. “Ye gained her respect quickly, but for the honor of the Kerrs, she had ye meet the challenge she had set forth for all of her suitors. And that has gained ye credibility with our neighbors, particularly as ye beat her.”
“We were equal in both races,” Fingal said, “and she would not have given up in the swordplay had ye not declared me the victor. I cannot say with complete honesty that I overcame her. I am frankly astounded at her skills.”
“Ye disarmed her fairly,” Dugald Kerr said. “She is a braw lass, Fingal, but in truth she could hardly stand any longer, let alone wield her claymore. My judgment was a fair one. Maggie knew it too, for if she had disagreed with me, she would have shouted it to the high heavens for all of Scotland, and not just the Borders, to hear.”
Fin laughed. “Aye,” he agreed with the older man, “she would have.”
Upstairs, Maggie soaked in her tub. The water felt wonderful, and the wretched soreness she had felt in her muscles the past night was almost gone as was the soreness between her thighs she had awakened with this morning. Would she be sore each time they coupled? He had promised her there would be no more pain after the first time. Well, she would learn if it was truth tonight, for he had said they would sleep together again each night until she was with child. It was fair.
When she went down to the hall, she found her grandsire alone. “Where is Fin?” she asked him. “And please tell me the Netherdale Kerrs are gone.”
/> Dugald Kerr chuckled. “Aye, at first light, and Edmund complaining as they departed. As for yer husband, he’s gone out to make certain the men in the watchtowers have what they need to weather the snowstorm old Tam says is coming.”
“How long ago did he leave?” Maggie wanted to know.
“Too long for ye to catch up with him,” the laird said. “The hall is yer province now, lass.”
“Ye know if I don’t get out of doors I will suffer for it, Grandsire,” Maggie said reasonably. “Once the storm sets in, I will be forced to remain in the hall until it passes.”
Dugald Kerr sighed deeply. “Margaret Jean,” he said, and she knew when he called her by her full Christian name that it was serious. “The Aisir nam Breug is no longer yers to watch over. That’s what yer husband is for, lass. Let him do his duty so he may gain the respect of the men who serve him now. Dinna go trailing after him. If ye would ride out, take a man with ye, but stay away from the pass. Go out and visit the far cottages. ’Tis yer place to see to our clan folk now as the lady of Brae Aisir.”
Maggie thought a long moment. As much as she hated to admit to it, to face it, her grandsire was right. The Aisir nam Breug was Fin’s obligation now, not hers. A sense of great loss overcame her. She had known with a part of her being that this day would come, yet she had not expected it to really happen. But it had, and she would have to make a new place for herself in the scheme of things. “Yer right, Grandsire,” she said. “I’ll ride out to the far cottages, and aye, I’ll take a few of the men with me.”
“ ’Tis hard, Maggie lass; I know, for I can see it in yer eyes. But yer a woman, and a woman’s place is different from that of a man,” Dugald Kerr said. His tone was a kindly one, but Maggie felt a flash of bitterness at those words.
“My sex mattered little these past years when I controlled the traverse for ye, Grandsire. Think if ye will that others thought ye were just indulging me and allowing me to play while it was ye who really held the reins to our heritage. Well, perhaps some did believe it, for there are still enough men in this world who think a woman is not capable of anything other than hearth and bairns, but others knew better. They knew ye lay ill, and I was in charge. The Aisir nam Breug has never been managed better than when I was managing it, so do not, I beg ye, tell me that my place is in the hall at my loom while I wait for my big belly to ripen.” Then turning abruptly, Maggie departed the hall.
Dugald Kerr watched her go. She was right, of course, but what did that matter? She was a woman, and the rest of the world would refuse to see her for anything other than that. It saddened him, for he did not want his granddaughter unhappy, but had he died before she wed, their neighbors would have been upon her like a wolf on a lamb.
Out in the stables, Maggie saddled her stallion, calling to Clennon Kerr to bring a few men and ride out with her. Finished, she climbed upon the animal’s back and rode him out into the yard.
“Where are we going?” Clennon Kerr asked her.
“To the far cottages. I should see that all is well for the cottagers,” Maggie said.
“Take Iver Leslie then,” Clennon Kerr replied. “He’s nae been that way, and he should have some familiarity with the path. Yer not going to the pass?”
“My husband is there now,” Maggie said shortly.
“Aye,” Clennon Kerr said. “ ’Tis right he should be, my lady.”
“Get the men going with me,” Maggie told him sharply. “I’ll not dally this day, with the coming snows.”
The keep’s captain said nothing more. He understood why she was in a black mood today, but ’twas past time she took her rightful place as the lady and gave Brae Aisir some bairns. He went off to fetch Iver, calling to several men as he did to get their horses and mount up. Several minutes later, Maggie and her party of men-at-arms rode across the drawbridge and out into the hills.
They rode in silence for some minutes, Iver at Maggie’s side. Finally she turned to him, saying, “The cottages we’re visiting are at the edge of our lands. We’ve made them very secure for the inhabitants. They’re stone, the windows have thick shutters, the doors are bound in iron, and each of the three dwellings has a small well inside so they may be self-contained in the event of attack. There are no families there. Only men, and three older women who take care of them. They are shepherds, and cattle herders.”
“They’re helpless in case of attack, however,” Iver said.
Maggie laughed. It was a hard sound. “Nay,” she told him, “but ye’ll see.”
The day was fair, but cold. There wasn’t a cloud in the bright blue sky, nor was there the faintest puff of wind. They rode for more than an hour, and then Iver saw ahead of them in the distance on the low hills a grouping of three cottages. Maggie sent one of the clansmen ahead to warn the cottagers of her coming.
“The sheep and cattle are now at Brae Aisir, but in the summer these are some of the meadows in which they browse.”
“What do these men do when the beasties are at the keep?” Iver asked, curious.
“They patrol the border between us and our neighbors,” Maggie said. “They make repairs to their equipment and warn us of any undue activity in the region.”
“Why are we here then?” Iver persisted.
“I’m the lady of the keep,” Maggie said. “It’s my duty to see to their well-being. The women who look after these clansmen look to me. My visit allows them to know they are not forgotten out here.”
Iver nodded. He was admiring of his mistress, although he would have never admitted to such a thing. It wasn’t his place to approve or disapprove of her.
Reaching the cottages, they dismounted. A large-boned woman was waiting to greet them. “My lady!” she said, curtsying. “Ye honor us, and with the storm coming.”
“Good morrow, Bessy Kerr,” Maggie greeted the woman. “I wanted to be certain ye had all ye need for the winter.”
“Oh, aye, my lady, everything is in order as you would wish it. Clennon saw our supplies delivered several days ago when Tam told him of this earlier than usual storm. But there is one small difficulty.”
“What is that?” Maggie wanted to know.
“Mary’s daughter is near her time. ’Tis a first bairn, and Mary desperately wants to be with her, my lady. The lass never told her mam she was almost five months gone when she wed last summer, or Mary would have asked sooner. She learned it from her son-in-law, who brought our supplies, when the bairn was due.”
“Can ye manage with just the two of ye?” Maggie asked.
“Oh, aye! Mary’s burden is the lightest. She cares for just four lads. We can close up her cottage until the spring when she returns to us. Sorcha and I have more than enough room for two each,” Bessy Kerr said cheerfully.
“Tell Mary she can ride back with us,” Maggie said.
“Thank ye, my lady!” Bessy curtsied again. Then her eye went to Iver. “And who is this fine laddie?” she asked him.
“Iver Leslie,” was the short answer, and he reddened slightly.
“He came with my lord from Edinburgh and is Clennon Kerr’s second in command,” Maggie explained. “My union with Lord Stewart was blessed yesterday.”
Bessy’s eyes grew wide. “He overcame ye, my lady? I never thought to see the day when anyone could outrun, outride, and outfight ye, but . . .” she said, hesitating.
“ ’Twas past time,” Maggie, chuckling, finished the sentence for Bessy.
Bessy nodded, grinning back at her lady. “Aye,” she agreed. “Now, will ye come into my cottage for some cakes and ale?”
“See to the others. I want to show Iver about, and then we’ll join ye,” Maggie answered the woman. Then looking at her companion she said, “Come along, Iver.”
He followed her while she led him about the small settlement, pointing out what he might need to know one day. “Ye still haven’t told me why these clan folk of yers are safe in an attack. Aye, the cottages are strong, and the slate roof on each will prevent their being destroyed by
fire, but eventually they have to give in,” Iver said.
“Nay, they don’t,” Maggie told him. “In each cottage is a small dovecote. In the event of an attack, three pigeons are released, one from each cote, with a message attached to one of their wee legs. They come home to Brae Aisir entering the keep into their own special cote. There is always someone watching that cote for them. No one has figured out how we so quickly repel an attack on our borders,” she laughed. “There are two more places on our lands where cottages with pigeon cotes exist. We’ll visit them in the spring, for there is no time today.”
Iver nodded. “ ’Tis cleverly done,” he said.
“I’ve shown ye all ye need to know here,” Maggie told him. “Let’s go and get some cakes and ale before we return home. Do ye mind riding pillion with Mary?”
“Nay, I’ll take the woman,” he said, following his mistress to Bessy’s cottage. As he ate a fresh-baked oatcake and drank some good October ale, Iver looked about the cottage. It was a well-kept space, clean and neat, with three rooms. The main one, where the men ate and socialized, was the largest. A second room had space for a row of beds. The third was the smallest, and obviously belonged to Bessy. It had a door that could be locked, and no window. It was all very well thought out, he considered. As he drank his ale and ate the oatcake, Bessy flirted with him.
“Yer a fine strong lad,” she said, her hand on his arm. “I wouldn’t mind having a bit of a tumble with ye.” She grinned up at him.
“Yer a shameless woman,” he said low. “Ye’ve got a houseful of lads to play with, Bessy Kerr.”
“Nay, Iver Leslie, I would never swive one of them, for it would make the others jealous, and then I should have to fuck them all. There are few secrets kept in a cottage.”
And while the others were engaged in speaking with their lady, Bessy reached down and gave his manhood a squeeze. “My lads know me, and they’ll keep the lady busy while ye and I have a little fun.” Bessy gave him a coquettish grin and pulled him from the room.
The Border Vixen Page 15