Border: The Border Vixen Part 9

"He's a fine man, and will give ye strong sons and daughters, mistress," Grizel said. "Is there anything ye would ask of me now that ye face yer wedding night?"

"Nay," Maggie replied, a faint blush touching her cheeks. "I've seen enough la.s.ses and lads in the hay and out on the moors to know just enough to make a beginning of it. And what I don't know I expect that my husband will tutor me in to make up for my deficiencies."

"Aye," Grizel agreed. " 'Tis better that way, for ye'll learn to please him. And ye'll get yer way more often than not pleasing a husband than displeasing him."

"Help me wash my hair," Maggie said, changing the subject. "My scalp is soaked wet with all my efforts this morning."

Grizel brought her mistress a small stone jar filled with sc.r.a.ps of soap that had been melted soft in a bit of water. Taking a small pitcher, she dipped it into the tub and poured the water over her mistress's head. Then Maggie dipped her fingers into the jar, bringing up a handful of the mixture, which she rubbed into her head. The sweet-smelling mixture foamed up quickly as she scrubbed her head. Grizel rinsed the soap away, and the two women repeated the process. When all the soap was finally erased from Maggie's hair, she took her tresses into a hank, wringing it out. Then Grizel pinned the wet hair atop the girl's head so she might continue her bath.

"I can't decide whether to wear the burgundy or the deep green velvet," Maggie said to her companion as she scrubbed herself.

"Neither," Grizel surprised her by replying. "I've been working for weeks on a gown for ye to wear on this day, my lady." She chuckled, well pleased by the look of excitement that bloomed on Maggie's face. "Finish with yer bath," Grizel said, smiling.

"Do ye think my lord has bathed too?" Maggie wondered aloud.

"Aye, he has," Grizel answered her.

"How can ye know?" Maggie inquired.

"Archie is a man who enjoys a bit of chatter," Grizel said, chortling. "He said he was putting sandalwood oil in his master's bathwater today."

"My lord's manservant likes ye," Maggie teased her tiring woman.

"Do ye ache less now?" Grizel asked, avoiding the subject of Lord Stewart's man.

"Aye," Maggie replied, but her hazel eyes were twinkling. "I don't think I have ever in my life fought so hard as I did this day. My husband is very skilled with his claymore. Not once did he give me the opportunity to slip beneath his guard and blood him," she said admiringly.

"Did ye want him to?" Grizel inquired slyly.

Maggie smiled almost to herself. "Nay," she admitted. "I didn't."

"He's a bold man, and an honorable one too," Grizel said, nodding approvingly.

Maggie finally emerged from her tub. The water was cooling, and she was beginning to ache again. She dried herself thoroughly, wrapping the cloth about herself. Then she sat down by her hearth to get warm again while she toweled her hair with another cloth and began brushing it out before the fire.

" 'Tis past noon," Grizel said at last. "Ye must dress, and then go to the kirk for the blessing. The Netherdale Kerrs haven't left. They're staying for the blessing and the feast. Lord Edmund is not happy about yer marriage, but Rafe, yer cousin, seems a good lad. Not at all like his da. Imagine the old fool telling yer grandsire that he wanted to wed ye and bring the two families together," Grizel said indignantly.

"He wants to control all of the Aisir nam Breug," Maggie said. "I seem to be the answer to his desire. I'd nae wed him if he were the last man on earth, and as fair as a May morn," Maggie said. "I've never liked him, even as a child."

Grizel took the hairbrush from her mistress, and running it through the girl's hair said, "Yer dry now. Let's get ye dressed, my lady."

Maggie could see her undergarments laid out upon her bed, but there was no sign of a gown. Grizel handed her mistress a pair of soft woolen stockings that were pale in color and came just below her knee. She drew them on, affixing them with a plain ribbon garter. Standing, she next put on a chemise. It had long sleeves trimmed with gold lace, and a low square neckline also edged in gold lace that would match her gown's neckline. Next Grizel added two silk petticoats that tied in the back with ribbon.

The tiring woman went to the wardrobe and drew out the bodice, which already had its sleeves affixed, and the skirt that made up the gown that Maggie would wear. The lower half of the gown was a funnel skirt of orange tawny velvet brocade edged in brown fur. The matching velvet bodice had a square neckline edged in gold embroidery, and the sleeves had deep turned-back cuffs of rich brown marten, the gold lace from her chemise sleeves just barely visible. "Well?" Grizel said, smiling.

"It's beautiful!" Maggie exclaimed. "It's perfect!" She threw her arms about the older woman. "Thank you, Grizel! Thank you!"

"I want the king's kinsman to see what a fine lady ye are," Grizel said. "I want him to know yer the kind of wife he can take to court one day when the king takes a wife. I want him to be proud of ye as all here at Brae Aisir are proud of ye." She wiped a tear or two from her warm brown eyes.

Maggie was close to tears herself after Grizel's declaration. "Help me finish dressing," she said, a catch in her voice. What on earth was the matter with her today? She supposed it was the shock of actually losing the contest. Before this day no one seeking her hand who had dared to take up the challenge had ever gotten past the footrace, although she had raced her stallion just to make a point with Ewan Hay. The contracts had been signed weeks ago. She was already wed to Fingal Stewart. But now he had gained her respect. He had proved himself worthy to be her husband this day, to inherit control of the Aisir nam Breug eventually, to sire bairns upon her.

She stood silently as Grizel fastened the skirt of her gown. It fell in graceful folds over her petticoats. She slid her arms into the bodice, waiting while Grizel carefully laced it up the back with gold ribbon. She sat carefully, letting her tiring woman brush out her long rich chestnut brown hair. It would be worn loose, attesting to her virginity. A gold ribbon embroidered with tiny glittering bits of gold quartz was fastened about her forehead to hold her tresses in place. Maggie stood and took the soft leather gloves Grizel handed her. They would be riding to the kirk. Her servant slipped a fur cape about her shoulders.

"Yer ready," Grizel said.

Maggie descended into the great hall where the men of her family awaited her. Her grandfather was dressed in a long, dark brown velvet coat with full-puffed sleeves, and a large fur collar. She smiled at him, but then her gaze went to her husband, and her eyes widened with both approval and surprise. If as Grizel had said, she was fine enough to appear at the king's court, then so was Lord Fingal Stewart.

Chapter 6.

She had always thought him pa.s.sing fair for a man, but looking at him now, she realized how handsome he truly was. At five feet ten inches, she was considered extremely tall for a woman, but he topped her by at least half a foot. His thick wavy black hair was cropped short. His gray eyes looked out at her from beneath thick bushy black eyebrows. He had a long face with an aquiline nose, and while his mouth was big and thin, when he smiled it changed the severity of his countenance. He smiled at her now, and Maggie smiled back.

"Ye are beautiful, madam," he gallantly told her, taking her hand up and kissing it.

"As are ye, my lord," she said, admiring his deep green velvet doublet with its bit of gold embroidery, padded sleeves, and fur cuffs. He had matching slashed breeches, silk stockings that showed his shapely calves, and embroidered shoes.

"Archie seems to have some magic that grants him proper garments for me when the occasion demands it," Fingal Stewart answered. He had fully expected to wear the black and brown canions he wore to court. He tucked her hand into his arm.

"Can we get to the kirk for the blessing?" the old laird asked impatiently.

"I could do it here, Brother," Father David Kerr said.

"Nay! I want the blessing p.r.o.nounced in the kirk," Dugald Kerr replied. "The kirk is full of Kerrs now waiting for this."

"We should not keep them waiting another minute then, my lord," Fingal Stewart said. Then he turned to Maggie and said mischievously, "Do ye want to race?"

She laughed loudly. "Nay, my lord. We shall proceed through the village upon our mounts at a docile pace as is suitable for this day."

In the courtyard a fine chestnut gelding and a cream-colored mare with a dark mane and tail stood waiting patiently. Lord Stewart lifted Maggie onto the mare, waiting while she pulled on her riding gloves and adjusted her skirts; she did not ride astride this day. Then he swung himself up on the gelding next to the laird and the priest, who were already mounted. Slowly they descended the hill path and into the village. The street was lined with villagers who then fell in behind the riders escorting them.

The priest hurried into the church building with the villagers behind him eager to find places among the keep's servants where they too might watch the ceremony. Lord Stewart lifted Maggie from her saddle. When her feet had touched the ground, she found herself flanked by her grandfather on one side of her and Fingal Stewart on the other. Together the two men escorted her into the kirk and up the aisle where Father David Kerr stood awaiting them. Without a single word, Dugald Kerr, laird of Brae Aisir, placed his granddaughter's hand into the hand of Lord Fingal Stewart. Then he stepped back and aside to watch the proceedings as Edmund Kerr glared, angry to have been foiled.

"Kneel," the priest said. When they had, he p.r.o.nounced the church's blessing upon the union of Margaret Jean Kerr of Brae Aisir and Lord Fingal David Stewart of Torra. A hand rested upon the head of the bride and of the groom as he spoke. Then Ma.s.s was celebrated for all within the small kirk. When it concluded, David Kerr announced, "Fingal Stewart and Maggie Kerr are now man and wife in the eyes of the church as well as the laws of Scotland."

"Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!" those within the church shouted with one voice.

"Long life and many bairns to our Maggie and her man!"

They arose from the velvet-cushioned kneelers. Fin swept Maggie into his arms and kissed her quite thoroughly to the delight of the clansmen and women. Then they hurried from the church together, the old laird coming behind them, accepting the congratulations of his folk. Rosy with blushes, Maggie was already seated upon her mare.

Fin aided Dugald Kerr to clamber upon his horse, then mounted his own animal, and they returned to the keep, the Netherdale Kerrs and the village coming behind them.

In the courtyard Maggie and Fin greeted each Kerr, giving them a small but useful gift; honing stones for the men, a small basket of colored threads for the women, and a sugar plum for each child. There were ale and sweet cakes for everyone. A health was drunk to the bride, the groom, and the laird. Then the clan folk departed back to their own cottages, allowing the wedding party to reenter the hall where the celebratory feast would now be enjoyed by the family and its retainers.

It was midafternoon now. The day had cleared. As the sun set and the fires blazed in the hall hearths, the food was brought forth to the high board. Fresh trout and salmon were served on platters of peppery wild cress. This was followed by a roasted goose, a leg of lamb, a ham, and a rabbit stew with tiny onions and sliced carrots in a rich brown gravy flavored with red wine. There was a bowl of late peas from the kitchen garden, and some lettuces braised in white wine along with fresh bread served with both b.u.t.ter and two cheeses. The cups, studded with green agate, were filled with dark red wine that tasted sweet to Maggie's tongue.

Below the high board the men-at-arms and the family's retainers enjoyed trout, ham, rabbit stew, bread, and cheese, while their cups were never empty of the laird's good ale. There was much camaraderie and laughter between the trestles, for the men of Brae Aisir and Lord Stewart's men were now one and the same.

Lord Edmund glowered out over the small a.s.sembly. He had lost his chance to gain the whole of the Aisir nam Breug today. But there was always tomorrow. Maggie could prove infertile. She might die in childbed or birth only daughters. Discord could be sewn among the Kerr clan folk when old Dugald died. Did the Kerrs really want a Stewart overlord and master? Despite his son's warning, Edmund Kerr wasn't ready to yet concede his loss. His fist tightened about the stem of his goblet, and his lips narrowed.

"We're leaving immediately on the morrow," Rafe Kerr said quietly to his sire. "The head groom in the stable says there's a storm coming in another day or two. I'd just as soon be home in Netherdale Hall when it does."

"Aye," his father agreed. "No need for us to remain here any longer. My cousin will be glad to see the back of me, I'm certain."

Rafe laughed. "Aye, Da, he will, 'tis truth. Old Dugald doesn't like you at all. He told me he holds you responsible for not telling him that Glynis was frail."

"I had hoped my half sister would produce an heir for Brae Aisir whom I would one day influence and match with one of my daughters," Edmund Kerr said.

"So you've meant to have it all along, Da, have you?" Rafe was surprised, but then once his father got an idea he liked stuck in his head, it was difficult, if not impossible, to move him in another direction. He was his father's heir, and he certainly did not want the entire responsibility of the Aisir nam Breug to fall upon him. Their eight miles were enough for him. His father hadn't managed his responsibility in years. It was Rafe who had overseen their part of the pa.s.s since he was sixteen. He was now past thirty. Some years were more difficult than others depending on whether England and Scotland were quarreling. And if they were, keeping the Aisir nam Breug safe was harder.

But from the looks of Lord Stewart, his cousin's bridegroom was a strong man and would sire strong sons on Maggie. She was nothing like her mother had been. Glynis Kerr had been beautiful, but a wise man would have seen she was frail. Sadly, Dugald Kerr's son was not wise, and Rafe was frankly amazed she had lived to birth three bairns despite the fact the only one surviving was a la.s.s. Dugald Kerr had blamed Edmund Kerr for not pointing out that Glynis was delicate, and for the sake of them all discouraging the match between his half sister and the laird's son. But Dugald had had three sons then, and several other grandchildren. Who could have antic.i.p.ated all that had happened, and that a la.s.s would end up the last of the Kerrs of Brae Aisir?

"Ye hae a serious look about ye, lad," the laird said. " 'Tis a happy occasion we celebrate today. Do ye have a wife?"

"Aye, sir, I do. And two little lads and two little la.s.ses," Rafe said with a smile.

"Then the succession of yer family is a.s.sured," the laird remarked. "I hope by this time next year the succession of ours is as well."

"The bairn won't be a Kerr," Edmund said meanly.

"What matter?" Dugald snapped back. "The bairn will have my blood. No family's male line goes on forever, ye sour fool! Yers will end one day too. The name of Stewart is a proud and n.o.ble one. Can I complain that one of that royal line will take my place eventually, Edmund? I know that Fin will keep our portion of the pa.s.s safe, and so will his sons and sons' sons. And yer Rafe is a reasonable man. He will work well with my granddaughter heiress's husband. Kerr and Stewart together keeping the Aisir nam Breug as it has always been. A safe traverse for honest travelers. Now shut yer mouth, and cease yer carping, for what's done is done, and what is, is."

Rafe hid his smile. He knew of no other who would dare to speak with his father in such a manner.

The laird's piper now came into the hall and began to play. Maggie and Fin danced a country wedding dance in the s.p.a.ce between the high board and the trestle tables. It was a simple stately dance that had been executed for centuries in Scottish halls throughout the land. Fin's arm about Maggie, they moved slowly and sensuously to the deep rhythm the piper, a drummer, and a clansman playing upon a flute performed.

Her head back against his shoulder, she looked up into his handsome face and recognized the look of longing upon it. Maggie's heart beat a little faster. Her velvet skirts swirled about them as they danced. He lifted her up and swung her about. His eyes never left her face, and she found she was unable to turn away from him though her cheeks grew pink. And then as the dance slowly came to an end, Fin bent to brush her lips with his. Maggie sighed audibly, then blushed with the realization of it. He smiled down into her face and led her back to the high board. To her surprise, she found herself breathless.

Then Clennon Kerr and Iver Leslie arose to dance amid two crossed swords in the same expanse. In their stocking feet they stepped agilely and gracefully between the sharp blades as the music grew more and more spritely. The efforts of the dancers were much appreciated by the onlookers. As the two men finished, those at the trestles arose, clapping and shouting their approval. Another round of ale was suggested. When the kegs ran dry, the evening would end for the guests.

Grizel arose from her place at a trestle and slipped up to the high board to whisper in her mistress's ear. Maggie nodded. She leaned over, saying to her grandfather, "I shall depart the hall now, Grandsire." He nodded silently. Maggie reached out to touch the arm of her cousin Rafe. "I know you will leave even before dawn," she said to him. "Thank you for coming. I wish you a safe pa.s.sage home, Rafe Kerr."

"And I wish you and Fin happiness and many sons, Cousin," he replied. "I'll tell Da you bid him farewell. As you can see, he is in his cups now." His head nodded to Lord Edmund, who had fallen asleep still clutching his goblet, which was now empty.

Maggie couldn't help but smile. "His head will hurt the whole way home," she said. "I doubt he'll come again soon to Brae Aisir."

Rafe chuckled wickedly as she arose and hurried from the hall to the cheers of the men-at-arms who watched her go. Rafe spoke now to Fingal Stewart. "It's unlikely I'll see you on the morrow, my lord, so I will bid you farewell tonight. For the sake of the Aisir nam Breug, put no trust in my father. He's a devious man, and he would control the entire traverse. He will use any means to gain his way, I fear. If it seems disloyal to you that I speak thusly, know that my concern is for the Aisir nam Breug and our family's safety. The two families working together to maintain and protect the pa.s.s over the centuries has kept it safe and free of political influence. But we need both families in this endeavor. I am not disloyal, and will attempt to keep my father's meddling to a minimum, but he is still Lord of Netherdale, and I can only do so much. So beware of him, and his schemes," Rafe Kerr concluded.

"I understand," Lord Stewart replied, and he held out his hand to Rafe, who took and shook it. "Thank ye."

"I wish you happiness, and strong sons," Rafe replied. "And while I see a gleam of eagerness in your eye, you must wait a while longer. Brides need time to prepare themselves for the first coming of their husband. A bit more wine may be in order."

The two men grinned companionably at each other.

Upstairs, however, Maggie had been divested of her wedding finery, and she now sat quietly as Grizel brushed her mistress's long chestnut hair. "Ye were a beautiful bride," Grizel said fondly.

"I ache in every joint," Maggie complained. "My shoulders and arms are so painful, and yet I have fought with my claymore before."

"Not as hard as ye did this day," Grizel responded. "Ye were fierce, la.s.s."

"But he overcame me," Maggie said as she sat while her tiring woman slicked the brush through her thick hair. "I've never been overcome before. Am I really a good swordswoman, or have my opponents been allowing me to win to humor me?"

"Nay, nay," Grizel responded. "No one at Brae Aisir has been yer equal until today, my bairn. But did ye really want to be victorious over him? He did not crow with his triumph, for he has too much respect for ye."

"But he won," Maggie said again.

"Aye, he did. He was tired of the contest, and did not wish to blood ye. He simply knocked the claymore from yer grasp, la.s.s, but I could not say that he overcame ye." She gave her young mistress a mischievous grin.

"Nay, he didn't, did he?" Maggie suddenly felt better about the day's events. She grinned back at Grizel and chuckled.

"But dinna torment him about it, la.s.s," Grizel advised the younger woman. "Sometimes 'tis better to allow a man to think he has the upper hand. And this is yer wedding night. Certainly ye dinna want to quarrel with yer lord." She had finished brushing Maggie's long tresses. Putting the hairbrush aside, she said, "Time to get into yer bed now. I'll be returning to the hall to tell him yer waiting." She helped the girl into bed, plumping the pillows up behind her. Then Grizel bent and kissed Maggie's cheek. "May ye have many healthy sons, my bairn," she said, and turning, she hurried from the bedchamber, closing the door firmly behind her.

Maggie sat almost frozen, her heart beating faster, it seemed, than it usually did. She was very aware of the ache in her shoulders, neck, and arms. More than anything else she wanted a good night's sleep. She wouldn't get it, of course. He would come, and they had one more duty to perform this night for the good of Brae Aisir. Her grandfather would want the bloodied sheet proving her virtue to fly from the roof come the morrow.

It was going to hurt. That much she knew for she had heard enough of the servant la.s.ses complain of their first time with a man. But what was it really like to be with a man? Was there pleasure after the pain? She didn't know enough about what was to transpire between her husband-G.o.d's toenail, that word sounded so strange in her mouth and to her ears-and herself. She knew he would cover her body with his and that his c.o.c.k would find an entry into her body. What more to it was there? Well, she supposed it was as much as many la.s.ses knew, but b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l she wished she could avoid it all tonight and just sleep her aching muscles away. He had been a fierce opponent today, and he had given her no quarter at all other than avoiding wounding her.

Grizel reached the hall, and going to the high board murmured in Lord Stewart's ear, "Yer bride awaits ye, my lord." Then she returned to her place at the trestles.

Fin nodded, and leaning over so Dugald Kerr and Rafe Kerr might hear him said, "Good night, my lord, Rafe." Then he arose, and stepping down, made his way from the hall. About him the men-at-arms chuckled softly, and nodded to one another, smiling. Each man had the single thought in his head. Brae Aisir would now be safe. Fingal Stewart would do his duty tonight, and Mad Maggie would birth a future generation for them. They had waited a long time for this moment to come.

He sprinted up the stairs, then stopped suddenly. Where would she be? In his chamber? In hers? Then he heard Archie's voice.

"I'll help ye undress, my lord. Grizel says yer wife awaits ye in her chamber."

Fin breathed a sigh of relief. What a fool he would have looked going from door to door seeking Maggie. He stepped into his own chamber, and with Archie's aid stripped off his wedding finery. "Should I ask where these garments came from?" he said dryly as he pulled off his doublet.

"Honestly come by, my lord, I swear it," his serving man a.s.sured his master. He handed him a rag with which to wash. Lord Stewart had bathed fully after the challenge.

Fin washed himself and scrubbed his teeth with the rag. He debated whether to wear the white cotton nightshirt. Probably best he wear it into her bedchamber tonight as she was hardly used to the naked male form. He didn't want her shrieking with fright, and he would have to go through the narrow corridor both coming and going. He turned to go to the door, but Archie's hand stopped him.

"Nay, my lord, this way," the serving man said, and he opened a small curved top door in the wall that Fin had not noticed before, so well was it hidden in the paneling. "Press the carved rose on the other side when you wish to return to your own chamber," Archie murmured in a low voice.

Lord Stewart stepped through into another bedchamber. He turned to carefully close the door behind him, seeking and finding the rose first. The room was dim but for a fire in the hearth, and a taperstick on a small table next to the bed where Maggie now sat up in her bed, straight as a poker, the look on her face a combination of nerves and fear.

Maggie had stiffened as the wee door had swung open and her husband stepped through into the chamber. When he turned to come towards the bed, she swallowed hard.

Fin sat down on the edge of the bed. "Well, madam," he said, "here we are at last as G.o.d, the king, and the laws of Scotland would have us."

"I am ready to do my duty," Maggie said primly.

Fin laughed. "Oh, Maggie mine," he replied, "it may be a duty we do for Brae Aisir, but I want it to be a pleasurable duty for us both."

"How many women have you loved?" she asked, surprising him.