She found Grizel and Busby awaiting her in her chamber. “The contracts are signed, but they will not be legal. My lord husband will return.”
“He may or he may not,” Grizel said candidly. “But how will ye keep the Hay from yer bed, my lady?”
“He has given me three days, and we will see he keeps his promise,” Maggie said. “And in three nights when he attempts to mount me, I will kill him.”
“His priest will cry for vengeance,” Busby said.
“There will be no mark on Ewan Hay,” Maggie said. “I will drug his wine, and when he sleeps, I will smother him. It will appear he has died in his sleep. Let the priest cry foul to the high heavens. He will be able to prove naught against me. I’ll not leave my bairns without their mother as much as I should like to slice the bastard to bits.”
“It’s a good plan, my lady,” Busby noted. “Do not, however, change the coldness ye exhibit to him. If ye are suddenly sweet, and then he dies, suspicions will be raised. If yer attitude does not change, it is less likely that anyone other than the priest will cry foul. Especially if ye let the priest leave to spread his tale. And when questioned, say ye are not in the least unhappy that he is dead, but deny all culpability.”
“To all except Father David,” Maggie said.
“Confess it only on yer death bed,” Grizel advised. “Let all believe God spoke in this matter. That no Hay should have Brae Aisir. I doubt Lord Hay will be distressed too greatly that his youngest brother has died. He gambled his sibling could take and hold this keep. Remember, other than the thirty men he gave to his kinsman, he has had no part in any of this at all. Admit ye are not unhappy that yer bridegroom is dead, and then tender yer sympathies to his family.”
It was good advice that her servants gave her, Maggie considered, and she would take it. Her own thoughts were jumbled, and half confused by all that was happening. Where the hell was Fingal Stewart? She just knew he wasn’t dead; he hadn’t been killed at Solway Moss. She could almost sense him drawing near to her. And the fact that Archie hadn’t returned encouraged her to continue to hold on to her hopes. But she dreaded the day when she must stand before God in Brae Aisir chapel, knowing her intent towards this man who had forced himself upon her.Oh Fin, she thought to herself.I need ye now so desperately. I am so tired of being strong for myself, for Brae Aisir. I am willing to let you be strong for the both of us from now on. Come home, my darling! Come home!
Chapter 16
Archie remained by his master’s side as Fingal Stewart began to heal in body and mind. He saw that Fin was extremely well fed, and he was pleased to see his big frame filling out once again, his physical strength returning. But best of all without the stress of travel, and ill health, Fingal Stewart’s memory had returned fully. He was eager to return to Brae Aisir and dispossess Ewan Hay from his home. He could but imagine Maggie’s irritation and impatience with the fool.
Archie had told him of the messenger’s error in delivering the note to Maggie, so Fin was more eager than ever to leave Edinburgh. Both men would have been relieved to know that Bhaltair, who had taken the message, had thrown it into the barracks’ fire. Ewan’s captain couldn’t read himself, but he suspected his master wouldn’t want Maggie receiving messages from anyone in Edinburgh or anywhere else. Then distracted by another matter, he had forgotten the messenger and not mentioned it to his master.
Now Fin needed a horse. His stallion had been stolen at Solway Moss. He could hardly walk back to Brae Aisir. Thinking on it, he realized that he had probably passed quite near it when he had come over the border from England. He had walked the distance once. He would not walk it again. “We need to purchase an animal for me to ride,” he said to Archie one morning as they broke their fast with ham, fresh bread, cheese, and strawberries come in from the county-side that morning.
“It’s a market day,” Archie replied. “We can look, my lord.”
The market square was a busy place. It was late June, and the sun was shining after several gloomy days. They walked past the many stalls, the vendors calling out to them as they went.
“Newly baked buns! Still warm. Four a penny!”
“Fresh milk and cream! The cow won’t take it back!”
“Cockles, prawns, and mussels fresh from Leith this day!”
“Flowers! Who’ll buy my flowers?”
Archie knew the dealers of livestock and horses would be found on the far side of the market square. He led his master through the shoppers until they finally found a horse dealer. The man was a gypsy with dark eyes and a cautious demeanor. “My master is in need of a horse,” Archie said.
Fin smiled at his serving man, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I want a stallion. Well trained, not skittish,” he told the horse dealer. “And hopefully not stolen.”
The gypsy laughed, the tanned skin about his eyes crinkling with his amusement. “I sent the stolen horses over the border into England,” he replied.
Fin laughed too. It was probably one of the few honest things the man had ever said. “Since I’ll be riding into the Borders, I’ll not want to come face-to-face with an angry former owner of any beastie I purchase from ye.”
“Ye won’t, my lord Stewart,” the gypsy responded.
“Ye know me?” Fin was surprised.
“Mad Maggie lets us camp on her lands twice a year,” the gypsy said. “We had heard ye were dead at Solway Moss. We’ve met briefly before, my lord.”
Fin looked at the man, thought hard, and then said, “Jock, isn’t it?”
“Aye, my lord, Jock it is!” he replied. “I have news that may not please ye.”
“Ewan Hay is attempting to take over the Kerr holding,” Lord Stewart said. “Aye, my man, Archie, has told me.”
“It’s yer wife he’s attempting to gain,” Jock said. “He is claiming they will be wed at Lammastide.”
