“If you think the Scots king, now knowing of the Aisir nam Breug and its value, will let you marry my cousin and then take over the pass until a son you give her is grown, you have lost your wits, Da. And what if the bairn died? Maggie Kerr is like no woman you have ever met. You don’t know her. All you can remember is a pretty lass you’ve seen now and again over the years. But I’ve seen her grown, Da. They don’t call herMad Maggiebecause she’s a sweet young flower. She really can outrun, outride, and outfight any man in the Borders. And she’s proud of it. Who the hell wants a termagant like that for a wife? And there is that little matter of consanguinity to consider.”
“A couple of good beatings would cure her temper,” Lord Edmund said.
“You wouldn’t survive the first blow you aimed at her,” Rafe said candidly. “She’s a proud woman, Da.” He noted his father’s avoidance of the consanguinity.
“You sound as if you admire her,” his father remarked.
“I do,” Rafe replied. “I wouldn’t want her in my bed, or birthing my bairns, and I especially would not want my daughters to be as independent as she is, but aye, I do admire her. I don’t quite understand why I do. I think perhaps ’tis because she is like some magnificent wild creature, a falcon, an eagle, that cannot be tamed.”
His father looked at him. “You’re a damned romantic fool like your mother was,” he said coldly. “However, you do not put me off the lass. Everything you have said intrigues me. With a woman like that by my side, we could make our own terms with both England and Scotland. We don’t have to belong to either.”
“What do you think Aldis will say to what you’re considering?” Rafe asked wickedly. “She is hardly apt to stand by while you court and wed another. She’d kill you first. She gave you a bairn so she might bind you to her more closely.”
“Wee Susan’s a bastard just like a dozen or more others I’ve sired on various women hereabouts,” Lord Edmund said. “Aldis is no fool. She knows her place.”
Rafe Kerr laughed harshly. “Nay, Da, ’tis you who are the fool if you actually believe that. Aldis would be your wife. Marry her. She’s a young wife for your old age.”
“I want to go to Brae Aisir tomorrow,” Lord Edmund Kerr said. “And I want you with me, Rafe. Let us meet this kinsman of Jamie Stewart, and see his mettle. And I want to be a spectator to this challenge between him and old Dugald’s wench.”
“That I will enjoy seeing myself,” Rafe said enthusiastically. “The last man who attempted to win her was beaten so badly he has yet to raise his head from his shame, or so ’tis said. He was a Hay, I am told.”
“We’ll start out at first light,” Lord Edmund said. “We should reach Brae Aisir by late afternoon. I doubt old Dugald will be glad to see me, but hearing of the wedding from our peddler friend, I could not resist coming to add my good wishes as the lord of the Netherdale Kerrs; especially as our two families will be working together to ensure the Aisir nam Breug remains the safe and peaceful route through the Cheviots it has always been.” He smiled toothily at his oldest son, and Rafe laughed.
“You’re a clever old devil, Da,” he said. “Very well, let us go and size up the enemy. But I will wager you’ll never get control of the whole road.”
“We’ll see,” Lord Edmund Kerr replied to his eldest. “First things first, however, Rafe. Now I must go and have Aldis make certain I show at my best.”
Rafe laughed all the harder. His father would have his mistress dress him in his best finery so he might go and court another man’s wife. Aldis would hardly be pleased. Edmund Kerr was certainly a brave fellow, his son thought, amused. Brave or foolish, perhaps a bit of both; Rafe Kerr wasn’t entirely sure which.
Chapter 5
The day dawned dry and cold. A weak sun hung low in in the winter gray sky. Late the previous afternoon Brae Aisir had unexpected guests when Edmund Kerr and his son, Rafe, arrived. The sun had already set. Maggie welcomed them graciously, although she was suspicious of this sudden visit from their English kin. The old laird was less tactful than his granddaughter. Seated at the high board he glared down the hall as the visitors were announced and entered. His mouth was flint-thin with his disapproval of his English kin’s arrival. His brown eyes grew hard with mistrust.
“Good evening, Cousin Dugald,” Edmund Kerr said by way of greeting, though they were related in several ways. He bowed along with his son, smiling.
He wants something, Maggie thought. The smile showed too many teeth. She had never liked Edmund Kerr on the few occasions they had met when she was a child. This uncle reminded her of a fox, always looking at her as if she were something to eat, and he was just waiting for her to ripen and fall into his mouth.
“This is unexpected,” Dugald Kerr replied to his kinsman’s greeting. “What the hell brings ye to Brae Aisir on a winter’s night, Edmund?”
“Bad news, Dugald,” the Lord of Netherdale replied. “Bad news. I hosted a peddler a few nights past who said your heiress was wed by royal command. I cannot believe such a thing is true. Certainly you knew I would be offering for Margaret now that I have been widowed once again. With no male heir to follow you, a match between us is the perfect solution to keeping the Aisir nam Breug in the hands of the Kerr family. You would let strangers have our heritage, Dugald?”
The laird of Brae Aisir stood up, glaring down at his kinsman as he leaned over the high board, his broad hands flat upon its smooth surface. “Brae Aisir is Scotland, Edmund, not England. I was glad to give Maggie into the keeping of a good Scots husband, the king’s kinsman, I might add. Besides, ye don’t need a wife. Ye’ve had two. Ye’ve a quiver full of bairns. Ye’ve a mistress the gossips say is jealous of any female who casts an eye upon ye. There’s even a rumor she helped yer last wife to her death. Yer Maggie’s uncle, for God’s sake! She is wed to Fingal Stewart, and that’s an end to it. I’ll give ye and yer lad shelter tonight, but on the morrow I expect ye both gone back through the Aisir nam Breug. I dinna hope to see ye again.” Dugald Kerr sat back down.
“The marriage hasn’t been consummated,” Edmund Kerr said boldly. “It could be annulled by the archbishop in York.”
The laird leaned back in his chair. “Yer balls are as wizened as yer brain, Edmund,” he said. “Yer too close in blood for me to have ever considered such a match. For sweet Jesu’s sake, her mam was yer half sister. The marriage will be blessed tomorrow by the keep’s priest, and consummated soon after. Why the hell would I turn away King James’s own kinsman, a strong vital Scot, for an ancient Englishman?”
A snicker rippled through the hall from the men at the trestles.
“I’m young enough to have just sired another child,” Edmund Kerr said angrily.
“I’m sure ye labored mightily to get that bairn, if indeed it’s yers,” the laird replied.
Now there was open laughter among the men-at-arms.
“My father is disappointed, as would any man be to lose such a lovely young woman as the lady Margaret,” Rafe Kerr said in an attempt to ease the situation. His father was looking more foolish with each word he uttered.
“Are ye the eldest?” Dugald Kerr asked the young man.
