“Ye will be, and soon, I have not a doubt,” he told her.
“Lay a hand on me in anger, my lord, and I’ll gut ye from stem to gudgeon,” Maggie told him fiercely, her hand going to the dagger at her waist.
The laird’s face grew grim at her combative words, but before he might admonish her, Lord Stewart laughed aloud.
“Marrying a stranger cannot be easy for either bride or groom, madam,” he told her, grinning. “I can but hope this passion of yers extends to the marriage bed, for then we will suit admirably, and there will be no talk of murder, I promise ye.”
Though Maggie was tall for a woman, he towered over her. She gasped and blushed at his blunt speech. No man had ever spoken so suggestively to her. For a moment she was at a loss for words. Then she said, “I’ll sign the marriage contract, for in law that will make ye my husband. And I’m certain that will convince the greedier among our neighbors that the Aisir nam Breug’s future ownership is settled. Particularly after they have met ye. Ye would appear to be reasonably intelligent and competent, my lord. But ye will nae bed me until ye have fulfilled my terms.”
“Maggie!”Her grandfather almost shouted her name. “Ye cannot set the terms of this matter. The king has said ye will wed him, and ye will!”
“Aye, I will, Grandsire, but for the reasons earlier stated, he must best me,” she replied. “The king said I must wed him—not lie with him.”
“I will best ye, lassie,” Fingal Stewart told her quietly. “Here’s my hand on it.” He held out his big hand to her, smiling.
She took his hand, watching almost mesmerized as his long thick fingers closed over her smaller hand, enclosing it completely as they shook. Then he shocked her by yanking her forward. An arm clamped about her waist, pulling her close against him. His chest was hard, and she could smell a mixture of male and the damp leather of his jerkin. A hand grasped her head, those same fingers wrapping themselves in her chestnut hair to hold her steady as his mouth descended upon hers in a fierce, quick kiss that left her breathless and gasping with surprise. He released her as quickly as he had taken her. Maggie stumbled back, but then, swiftly recovering, raised her hand to slap him.
The big hand sprang forth to wrap firmly about her wrist. “Nah, nah, lassie,” he warned her softly. “I have the right now.”
“Yer hurting me,” Maggie said through clenched teeth, “and ye have no rights yet, my lord.”
The laird watched the interaction between his granddaughter and Lord Stewart, fascinated. He would have to thank the king for sending him such a strong man to take on his responsibilities, not that he was quite ready yet to relinquish them. Fingal Stewart had a great deal to learn about the Aisir nam Breug. But he obviously was already skilled at handling a woman. Dugald Kerr chuckled.
“Are ye going to allow this ape to manhandle me, Grandsire?” Maggie demanded. She was utterly outraged. He had kissed her! Made her feel weak, and she wasn’t weak.She wasn’t!And her grandfather had done nothing to prevent it. Indeed, he had laughed.
“I’m going to call for David to come and meet Lord Stewart. I want yer marriage contract signed by the morrow. What date will ye fix for the challenge, lassie?”
“I’ll sign the contract, for I have already given ye my word, but the challenge will have to wait, Grandsire. We are only just past Lammastide. We have late crops to harvest, and the fields must be opened for gleaning. When this is done, we will set a date, Grandsire,” Maggie said.
“I am content with that,” Lord Stewart quickly said, for he could see the laird was eager to have the matter settled and ended. “Send for the priest I saw in the village as we passed through, and let us make a beginning to it.”
“Busby,” the laird called. “Send for my brother to come to the keep immediately, and tell him to bring parchment and pen.”
“I must go back to the yard, Grandsire,” Maggie said. “I was training the new lads when I was told of Lord Stewart’s arrival.” Without waiting she made a quick curtsy to both men and hurried out of the hall.
“She trains the recruits?” Lord Stewart was surprised.
The laird nodded. “In archery, and other combat skills,” he said. “Do ye now see why I have acquiesced to her demand that a husband be able to outrun, outride, and outfight her? She is beautiful, and she is clever, but she would rather be outdoors than in the hall. She has been that way since she was a wee lass. And from the moment I taught her how to use a bow, her pursuits were more those of a lad than of a lassie. She governs the house as well, for Grizel, her tiring woman, made her learn the things she must know to manage it. I pray God that you can overcome her, my lord, for Brae Aisir will be all the safer for an heir or two. I wish she were not so difficult, and I too old to control her.”
Lord Stewart sat down again and sipped from his goblet. “She is a strong woman—she must be to survive here in the Borders,” he began. “She has become formidable, I suspect, to protect ye and the Aisir nam Breug. The signing of the contracts on the morrow makes us legally man and wife. Beneath her brave heart and fierce will, yer granddaughter is still a woman. She knows she cannot escape the king’s will, but she is afraid, though she would deny it. The moment my lips touched hers, I knew she had never been kissed. Let her have the time she needs to accustom herself to our marriage. Let us learn to know each other before I bed her. Ye need have no fear. I will beat her in whatever challenge she puts forth. And when I do, she will do her duty, for I know ye have raised her to accept her responsibilities.”
“The king cannot possibly know the great favor he has done for us in sending ye here, Fingal Stewart,” the laird said. Then his brown eyes twinkled mischievously. “How much is it costing Brae Aisir?” he asked.
Lord Stewart laughed. “I see my cousin’s reputation extends into the depths of the Borders,” he replied. “He wanted half of the yearly tolls paid each Michaelmas in coin. I argued for a third. When the contracts for our agreement reach me, I shall ask they be paid on St. Andrew’s Day beginning next year. I believe that is fairer as I have no idea what ye collect, although judging from yer keep, I must assume it is a goodly sum.”
“It is,” the laird said, but gave no further details.
“Perhaps tomorrow the lady will ride out with me so I may see the pass,” Lord Stewart suggested.
“Aye, before the winter comes there is much you will need to see and learn about Brae Aisir. And tomorrow I shall send one of my own men to the king with my thanks for sending ye. If ye wish to write to him, my messenger can take yer letter too.”
Father David Kerr, robes swaying, hurried into the hall, his servant behind him carrying the priest’s writing box. “What is so important that I must come posthaste, Dugald?” he asked his older brother. The priest’s eyes went to Lord Stewart.
“This is Fingal Stewart, Brother. The king has sent his cousin, Lord Stewart of Torra, to wed with Maggie,” the laird began. Then he went on to explain.
The priest listened, nodding as his elder brother spoke. When the laird had finished he said, “ ’Tis as good a solution as any, Dugald.” He held out his hand to Fingal. “Welcome to Brae Aisir, my lord.” The two men shook. Then David Kerr looked back to the laird. “And what, pray, does my niece think of this? I saw her when I came into the courtyard working her lads hard. I think she is not pleased to be told what she must do.”
“She will sign the marriage contract tomorrow when it is drawn and ready,” the laird assured the priest.
