“I am pleased that ye are not common,” Ewan said, stepping up to her, and quickly putting a restraining arm about her waist. “Ye will serve me, Flora Kerr, and tonight ye will also service my captain.” He thrust a hand into her blouse, his fingers closing about a very plump breast.
“Please, sir,” Flora began, and then she cried out, for he had cruelly pinched the nipple of the breast he now was holding.
“Sayaye, my lord, Flora,” he told her in a hard voice. “My cock needs to sheath itself in ye, and I should far prefer to use my energies in fucking ye than restraining ye.”
“Nay!” Flora cried out, and tried to escape his grasp, but Ewan Hay slapped her so hard her head spun. Bhaltair stepped behind the woman, putting his arms about her in a hold so tight she could barely breathe. He yanked her up, and Ewan Hay, releasing his burgeoning cock from his breeks, ripped Flora’s skirt off, flinging it aside as he pushed her petticoat up, grabbed her kicking legs, pulling them about his torso, and pressed himself into her. Flora screamed and fought him.
It was but the beginning of a long evening for the poor woman. After Ewan had eased his lust once, he and his captain ripped Flora’s remaining garments from her so they might have the freedom to ravage her without hindrance. Both men had her several times before leaving the cottage to ride back up to the keep. Before they departed, Ewan Hay placed a coin on the table where Flora Kerr had been kneading her bread earlier.
“For ye, sweetheart,” he said, smiling at her.
The naked and bruised woman looked at him with angry eyes. Then picking up the coin, she flung it at him. But he only laughed.
As they rode, Ewan Hay said to his captain, “I shared her with ye tonight as a mark of my favor. Yer not to go near her again. Relieve yer itch with the whore at the end of the lane. Flora Kerr is mine from now on. She has spirit.” He absently rubbed his arm where she had bitten him. He liked that she had fought him so vigorously, and he realized he felt much better than he had earlier.
“Thank ye, my lord, for the favor,” Bhaltair said. “I’ll not touch the wench again.”
In the courtyard the two men parted, Bhaltair going to the stone barracks before making his evening rounds to check on his men. Ewan Hay, however, reentered the hall to be met by Busby. “Well,” he demanded of the majordomo, “has she spawned her brat yet, or is she still in labor?”
“Her ladyship has just given birth to a daughter, sir,” Busby said.
“I’ll go see,” Ewan Hay replied.
“Sir, my mistress does not want ye in her chamber. She is with her family now. Please, sir, to respect her wishes. The bairn is new and fragile as all new bairns are. This is not a time for visitors. On the morrow I’m certain she will see ye.”
Ewan laughed. “She’d sooner see me in hell,” he said, “than in her chamber. Take the lady my congratulations, Busby. I will see her at a time of her choosing, I know.” He was in too good a humor right now to want to fight with Maggie.
“I will convey your felicitations, sir,” Busby said, which he did.
“Thank ye for keeping him away,” Maggie said. She was exhausted, pale, and her hair hung wet and lank. She had birthed her sons with relative ease, but this lass had been difficult. The bairn had a head full of black hair like her father.
“Does the wee lassie have a name yet, my lady?” Busby asked as he smiled down at the swaddled infant who now lay sleeping in her cradle.
“Annabelle,” Maggie said. “She is Annabelle Mary Stewart.”
“A fine name indeed,” Busby said, and then he left her.
“Archie wants to see the bairn,” Grizel said.
Maggie nodded. “Let him come, but be careful. I would not put it past the Hay to sneak up the stairs after he told Busby he wouldn’t.”
Grizel nodded.
Fingal’s personal servant had returned to Brae Aisir grievously wounded. Only Grizel’s skill and devotion had kept him from losing his arm, but he would never be able to fight with it again. They had kept him hidden above in the servants’ attic for all these weeks. Maggie was fearful if Ewan Hay knew who he was, he might harm Archie. The little man had healed slowly, and he was well enough now to be secreted with the other men in the village. She would send for him very soon.
Archie came quietly into Maggie’s bedchamber with Grizel. He went straight to the cradle, looked down at Annabelle Stewart, and pronounced, “She’s her da’s lass, and there’s no mistaking it, my lady.” Then he drew a long breath and said, “I’m going back to look for him. I would have never left him, but they took me away by force.”
“Nay,” Maggie said. “It’s too dangerous for ye to go into England now. Ye would not know where to seek him now. The ransom request is certain to come soon, Archie. When it does, then ye will take it to the English and bring my husband home.”
“How will ye manage a ransom with the Hay in our midst?” Archie asked.
“We do not retain all of our coin here in the keep,” Maggie told him. “We store a great deal of it with a goldsmith named Kira in Edinburgh.”
“Aye, his lordship has his monies with Kira as well,” Archie said. “Let me go to Edinburgh as soon as I am strong enough to ride, which will be soon. That way I’ll be ready to collect the ransom from the Kiras and ride down into England. I’ll stay in my lord’s house, and ye can send to the Kiras, who will notify me. We’ll save a great deal of time that way, my lady, and I’ll be out of the way of the Hay. Ye’ll have difficulty enough getting the ransom paid if he is watching yer every move.”
“I’ve already told the village to watch for a messenger. We will stop him there, and the Hay is not likely to know at all. Let him think Fin has been killed, and he can steal what belongs to the Kerrs with impunity.”
“Be careful, my lady,” Archie said. “Yer playing a dangerous game with this fellow.”
