Fingal Stewart burst out laughing. "Ye would decide which of us admits first to loving the other by the toss of a coin?"

" 'Tis fair," she said, "isn't it?"

Still laughing, he wrapped his arms about her tightly. "Very well, ye impossible border vixen, I love ye. I probably have since I first laid eyes on ye. Yer bonnie and braver than any woman I've ever known. And while it took some getting used to, I find I like yer quick wit and yer quicker tongue."

Maggie snuggled against him. Then she said provocatively, "I love ye too, Fingal Stewart, and I especially love yer tongue when it plays those naughty games with me."

She felt him grow hard against her as she spoke the taunting words.

He turned her about, his hands reaching up to first unlace her shirt, and then undo the ribbon holding her chemise together. His hands plunged beneath the material to cup her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. They were larger now than when he had first known her, but they were still round and firm to his touch.

"Ummmm," Maggie sighed, pressing her b.u.t.tocks against him.

He groaned, his hands tightening about her flesh, and she rubbed against him more as he pinched her nipples, teasing them to hard little points as she worked to shrug off her blouse and the top of her chemise. But he was not satisfied to have her naked to just her waist. "All of it," he whispered hotly in her ear. She quickly obeyed until she was completely naked. "Now," he said, "on yer knees, wife."

"Yer already hard," Maggie said.

"I need your mouth on me," he told her. "And then I'll put my mouth on you."

Kneeling, she opened his breeches, and his c.o.c.k burst forward. Wrapping her hand about the firm pillar of flesh, she squeezed him, smiling as he drew a sharp breath.

Still holding him, she ran her tongue around the swollen head, sliding the tip just beneath to follow its edge. His breathing grew quicker. Her thumb and her forefinger now grasped the ruby head, and she began to lick his extended length with long slow strokes of her tongue. Finally she took him into her warm mouth, sucking upon him in an easy and leisurely fashion. She could feel his hand upon her head, his fingers digging deeply into her scalp as she roused him to a fever pitch.

"Enough!" he finally growled, and he pulled her up, his mouth seeking hers desperately as he kissed her until Maggie's lips were swollen and bruised. He was a man who had always been able to prolong his pleasure and that of his partner, but knowing that they would soon be separated made it difficult tonight. He pushed her on her back onto their bed, kneeling between her legs, which hung over the side of the mattress.

"Aye!" she cried to him. "Aye!"

He laughed low. "Beg me for it, border vixen," he said.

"Please!" Maggie whispered.

"Tell me what you want," he insisted. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"I want ye to tongue my little jewel until it bursts with delight," Maggie said. "I want ye to suck on it until the sweetness is unbearable. And then I want ye to take that delicious c.o.c.k of yers and f.u.c.k me until I explode with the kind of pleasure that only ye can give me, Fingal Stewart!"

He laughed softly as he parted her nether lips with his thumbs and gave the flesh a slow lick. "Yer certain that is what ye would have me do, madam?" he taunted her.

"I will kill ye if ye don't!" she said fiercely.

"Ye will kill me when I do," he responded, and then he began to obey her instructions in slow and careful detail.

Maggie closed her eyes and let the sensation sweep over her as his tongue licked first the soft insides of her thighs, then the interior of her nether lips, and finally found her little jewel. He flicked his tongue back and forth over the sensitive flesh, his rhythm increasing until she was nearly mindless. And when his lips closed over her jewel and he sucked hard about it, she screamed low as the sensation burst with a ferocity that left her weak with her delight.

Fin stood, pulling her to the edge of the bed, legs raised over his shoulders; he thrust into her as he stood, his swollen length pistoning her with long slow strokes at first, and then increasing the cadence until his c.o.c.k was flashing furiously back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Her wet heated sheath tightened about him, causing him to almost lose his control. Maggie's legs wrapped about his neck, encouraging him to bring them both to the pleasure of perfection. And he finally did, roaring his satisfaction as her nails clawed at him. "Jesu, woman!" he groaned happily. "Yer near to killing me with yer sweet loving." He fell on the bed next to her, still fully clothed.

Maggie sighed contentedly, thinking she was glad she was taking Agnes Kerr's remedy now, for he had spilled a great deal of his potent seed a few moments ago.

Davy was two now, and Andrew just past one. She wanted no more bairns for the interim. Reaching out, she slipped her hand into his. "I do love ye, Fin. I don't know when I realized it, but I do. For the love of Sweet Mary, dinna get yerself killed by some northerner. I don't know why men cannot remain at peace."

"I'll not be in the forefront of things, la.s.s," he promised her. "I'm not important enough to be given a command. I'll be remaining as much out of sight as possible, although actually the best place to be will be the king's side. James is no coward, but his lords will not allow anything to happen to him. Especially with his son so small."

"And if yer by his side, he'll know ye've come," Maggie remarked. Then she considered. "Nay, just let him see ye, and then stay in the background. Now take yer clothes off, and let us continue what ye began when ye admitted to loving me."

"Yer insatiable, madam," he said, chuckling, but he arose, and began to pull off his garments, not bothering to lay them neatly aside, but tossing them to lie where they fell, the quicker to return to her warm arms and loving embrace, for on the morrow he would depart Brae Aisir to join the king.

"Take an extra man to send back to me that I know ye've arrived safely and joined the king," Maggie said the next morning as she stood by his horse in the courtyard.

"I'll send Archie back," Fin told her. "I've no need of a serving man, but he's so used to being by my side I could not tell him nay."

Maggie nodded. "Grizel will be relieved," she said low.

"So that's the way it is," Fin replied, smiling.

"We're not supposed to know," Maggie told him, "but I have eyes in my head." She took her husband's gloved hand and kissed it. "Be careful, Fingal Stewart, and do not take chances. I want ye back. I need ye back!"

"I will be back," he promised her.

Father David stepped forward now to bless Fingal Stewart, and his party of men, praying aloud to G.o.d and the Blessed Lord Jesu and Holy Mary for their safe return.

Maggie watched him as he rode off, her grandsire by her side. There were tears in her eyes, but she sensed with every fiber of her being that he would be back.

Very little word of the king's expedition seeped into the Borders. Each family had sent some form of representation in order to keep on the king's good side. Ewan Hay had watched his brother ride off, but he would not go. Why would he fight for a man who had taken Mad Maggie Kerr from him? Besides, James Stewart wouldn't care if Ewan Hay was fighting in his war or not. He had Ewan's elder brother, Lord Hay of Haydoun, among his warriors. If Lord Hay didn't return, it didn't matter to him since Ewan was not his heir. His brother had two half-grown sons in good health, and then, of course, Ewan was the youngest of three brothers. Their middle brother had not gone to war either.

The spring turned into summer. There was no word from the north on how the king's war was going. Traffic through the Aisir nam Breug was busy, however, with the groups of merchants headed for Edinburgh, Perth, and Aberdeen, along with family parties and single peddlers. A caravan of gypsies exited the pa.s.s one afternoon and asked for permission to spend two nights on Brae Aisir's lands because their leader's wife was about to give birth to her first child. Maggie gave her approval, walking down to personally speak with the gypsy leader. She liked the gypsies, for they had always brought her luck.

"Yer welcome to stay," she told the man, "but dinna steal my livestock. We're just a border family and have nothing to spare but water and a welcome."

"Ye've a king's favor," the gypsy said to Maggie.

"Do we?" Maggie responded, pretending amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Aye, and ye know ye do," the gypsy responded. "Yer man will be back safe in a short while, but beware, my lady, for ye have an enemy nearby who seeks to claim all that is yers. He hates ye, but desires ye too. He is dangerous." Then the gypsy bowed. "That is all I see, my lady."

Maggie had felt a shiver go down her spine when the gypsy man's eyes had suddenly become unfocused and he spoke. But she respected the sight he possessed. "Thank ye," she told him. "Does yer wife need anything?"

"Nay, but I thank ye for the asking," the man said.

Maggie turned and walked back to the keep. Who secretly desired her, but also hated her? She couldn't begin to imagine an answer, and put the gypsy's prophecy from her mind, concentrating on the fact he had said her husband would be home soon. That meant more to her than some vague prediction that she had an enemy. And how long was a short while? A week? A month? Did the gypsy really know? Or had he just said it, knowing that most every woman in the Borders was without her man right now? More than likely that was it, but she did believe in the sight, and the gypsy seemed genuine.

Then two days after the gypsies had departed Brae Aisir, Lord Stewart, Iver, and their men returned home. Maggie decided under the circ.u.mstances not to begrudge the gypsies the lamb that had disappeared when they departed. Their leader's wife had birthed a male bairn. Her husband was unscathed, and none of their men had been injured. Dugald Kerr was eager to learn all that had happened. The entire household and village crowded into the hall that evening to learn of Lord Stewart's adventures.

Fingal took a sip of wine from his goblet, and then looking out into the hall from the high board, began. "Ye all know how independent the northerners have always been," he said. "And Scots kings have gone north to visit, but never before like this. The king set sail to make real to the entire north the power that is his, and every Scots king's. We sailed across the Moray Firth and through the Pentland Firth to Orkney and Shetland. Then we sailed south again around Cape Wrath, down and through the isles. The local chieftains were more than surprised."

Laughter erupted in the hall. They could but imagine the shock the chieftains and the people of the Western Isles experienced as the king's fleet sailed into view with its small army.

"We took a number of captives from the isles," Fingal continued. "They will stand hostage for their chieftains' behavior. They have been taken to Dunbar and Tantallon castles as well as to Ba.s.s Rock to be housed. The king has now taken the lordship of the isles for the Crown. I think the northwest will now be peaceful for the interim."

"He's a clever fellow, the king," Dugald Kerr said. "He's given the men in the northwest the same lesson he gave the rebels here in the Borders ten years ago. Aye, they'll be silent for now. And ye brought everyone home safe. 'Tis a good thing."

"I've been a mercenary, as ye know, Dugald. I know fighting. There was little involved in this expedition. A skirmish here and there, but nothing of significance. The chieftains gave up their hostages without a fight. Most of them are tired of all the feuding and quarreling. They have all they can do to survive, but there's always someone now and again among them who will rise up in rebellion. I think they hope the many hostages their families have given will help them to keep that one man, whoever he will be, in check." He looked around the hall at all the familiar faces. "G.o.d's foot, 'tis good to be home again!" He lifted his goblet to those gathered. "To Brae Aisir and her clan folk!" he said to them, and they cheered him. They no longer thought of Fingal Stewart as an outsider who had wed their heiress. He was one of them now.

The king came into the Borders that autumn to hunt. He left the queen behind at Linlithgow with his mother. The queen was pregnant with a second child; her first, a son named after his father, had been born in the early part of the year, just before the queen's coronation. The king's mother and wife had become good friends, and Marie de Guise had helped reconcile Margaret Tudor with her son.

Maggie was excited that the king would spend a night at Brae Aisir. Fin was less so. Brae Aisir wasn't the kind of house set up for entertaining a king. It also worried him that the king had no idea that the house was more keep than manor. He hoped this fact would not anger James. Dwellings such as the Kerrs' home usually required royal permission to be built. But Dugald had told him Brae Aisir had begun as a tower house and had just grown from there.

Fortunately, the house had no style, and the chambers were in general small. Fin hoped that the king would not be impressed once he saw this even if the outside of the house set on its hill was impressive. He himself chose a chamber for the king. It had no hearth and only a small wooden-shuttered window. There was barely room to turn around in it, but Fin cleverly saw his servants furnished the s.p.a.ce with their best. The bed was hung with homespun linen and red velvet brocade. The springs on the bed had been tightened, and a new mattress and feather bed were laid upon it. There was a fine down coverlet, and pillows, the cases of which were scented with lavender. The taperstick by the bed was silver, and the narrow candle in it beeswax. There was a long narrow table against a wall upon which a tray with a decanter of whiskey and a goblet was placed. The king would be comfortable but hardly envious.

James arrived in midmorning. He came with only one companion, his servant. He was a man who enjoyed going about the land incognito as the gudeman o' Ballengeich. His red hair usually gave his ident.i.ty away, but there were plenty of la.s.ses willing to pretend they were in ignorance of his true ident.i.ty. Today, however, he was himself, and he was ready to hunt grouse, which was now in season. He met the laird and charmed the old man. Then Fin took him hunting with a party of Kerr clansmen.

"Did ye not want to go?" Dugald Kerr asked his granddaughter.

"I did, but Fin asked that I remain home. The king has not lost his wandering eye or taste for unfamiliar flesh just because he has a queen he likes. Ye know how I am when I hunt, Grandsire. I ride like a devil, and I am very enthusiastic in the pursuit. Fin feared that such behavior would entice the king. Ye can't say no to a king."

Dugald Kerr nodded. "Nay, ye can't," he agreed.

"I shall show the king a mile or two of the Aisir nam Breug tomorrow before he leaves," Maggie said. "And tonight I shall sit meekly at the high board, being a perfect, if dull, hostess." She chuckled. "My husband is very jealous, I find."

"The man loves ye, la.s.s," her grandfather said. "Yer a fortunate woman."

When the hunters returned, the king was in a particularly good mood, for he had bagged a half dozen grouse and killed an antlered stag. He was ready for his dinner and, knowing he would be, Maggie saw that it was promptly served. To begin, there were fat prawns broiled in b.u.t.ter, along with salmon poached in white wine. Then came the poultry, which included duck roasted with a sauce of raisins and apples; a fat capon; and a dish of tiny ortolons in a pie with a flaky crust. This was followed by game, venison, and rabbit, and a pottage of vegetables. Fresh crusty bread, b.u.t.ter, and cheese, both hard and soft, were also offered. The king's cup was never allowed to empty, and the meal concluded with a dish of plump apples baked with honey and cinnamon.

Maggie was relieved that the king barely looked her way. He was enjoying the masculine company of the laird and her husband. He had taken a liking to both Clennon Kerr and Iver Leslie, who had ridden with them that day. And when she decided she might leave the hall, Maggie came and curtsied politely to the king.

"If ye will excuse me now, my lord," she said, "I must see to my bairns. Is there anything ye need that I have not provided?"

The king's eyes flicked over her, and Maggie held herself very still. "If ye would be kind enough to provide me with someone to warm my bed, madam, I should then be content." His look was questioning.

"Of course, my lord. Someone buxom or more slender?" she inquired politely.

"Buxom and clean, madam," the king responded.

"She will be awaiting ye, my lord," Maggie said with another curtsy. Then she said to her husband, "I'll see to Davy and Andrew and go straight to our bed, my lord, if that would please ye."

"It pleases me," Fin said, looking directly at her. Then he said, "I do believe, Maggie mine, that the king would enjoy Flora Kerr's company."

Now how did he know that? Maggie wondered as she nodded to her husband before turning and hurrying off. Flora Kerr was a pretty widow in the village who earned her living discreetly servicing men whose wives were with child. She kept no man as a lover, nor would she give herself to just any man. He had to have a wife who was with child before she would raise her skirts and offer herself. The women of the village appreciated the service she offered. Flora Kerr didn't want their men. Her late husband had been a controlling man. She was relieved to be free of him. But she did miss the bedsport they had shared.

Maggie sought out Busby, and finding him said, "Fetch Flora Kerr. Tell her the king wants a woman for his bed tonight, and I would be grateful if she would service his needs. I will see she is reimbursed for her time. And tell her to wash. He specifically said the female should be clean. Take a sliver of my soap from the storeroom for her. If she smells of flowers, it will make him remember that we treated him well during his visit to Brae Aisir."

"At once, my lady," Busby said. "I'm certain Flora will be cooperative as well as honored by the king's attentions."

"Put her in his bed to await him," Maggie said.

"Of course, my lady," Busby replied, his eyes twinkling as his mistress turned away and hurried upstairs. He could but imagine her relief that the king had not wanted her to warm his bed. He went himself to fetch Flora Kerr and bring her back to the keep, stopping before he departed to collect the bit of soap from the storeroom.

Maggie told Grizel of the king's request.

"He's a randy fellow, but then, his da was too. Well, Flora will give him a happy time and leave him satisfied," Grizel remarked. "The lads in the village have no complaint. And just how did ye know about Flora Kerr, my lady?"

"She was my husband's suggestion," Maggie said.

"What?!"

"The whole hall heard him suggest her," Maggie replied.

"Perhaps he visited her when ye were carrying one of yer bairns," Grizel murmured. "He's a l.u.s.ty man, his lordship."

"Are ye telling me he has visited Flora Kerr himself?" Maggie asked.

"Well, how else would he know of her?" Grizel said. "She will only lie with a man whose wife has a big belly. It gives them surcease from their l.u.s.t and satisfies hers."

Maggie had undressed and washed herself. Sitting on the bed, she brushed her long hair thoughtfully. "I never would have thought Fin would betray me," she said.

"Och!" Grizel replied. "He's a man, and men will satisfy their needs. He probably hasn't given her a thought since until tonight." She drew the coverlet up and took the brush from Maggie's hand. "Go to sleep. Yer man loves ye, and ye alone."

But Maggie could not sleep at first. She had never considered her husband with another woman. Oh, she knew he had had others before her, but since they were married? She didn't know what to think. Was he tiring of her? Would he, like so many other men, take a mistress eventually? Well, she wouldn't have it! If he couldn't be satisfied with his wife for a lover, then he would have to turn celibate. Or if he would take a mistress, then he could hardly object to her taking a lover. Propped against the cover, Maggie sat waiting for her husband to come up from the hall.

As he entered their bedchamber, Fingal Stewart saw his wife through the haze of all the wine he had consumed this evening. "Mag-gie mine," he slurred the words, smiling at her boyishly.

"Yer drunk!" she said in a hard voice. "And just how did ye know about Flora Kerr, my lord? Did ye tumble the wench when I carried yer sons? How could ye betray me? If I had known now what I didn't know in the hall, I would have gone to the king's bed myself tonight. What's sauce for the gander should certainly be sauce for the goose!"

"Ye think I f.u.c.ked Flora Kerr?" He was astounded.

"Well, didn't ye? How else would ye know of her?" Maggie demanded.

"Everyone in the G.o.dd.a.m.ned village knows of Flora," Fin replied, the haziness gone to be replaced by a headache. "She's not like Jeannie, the village's wh.o.r.e. She offers herself only to those whose wives are breeding. She's respected for it."

"Ye didn't answer my question," Maggie said angrily. "Did ye f.u.c.k her?"

"Nay! I did not f.u.c.k her," Fin replied, his temper beginning to rise. "Am I some weakling that I canna abstain from pa.s.sion when my wife is carrying my bairns?"

Maggie burst into tears, much to her horror and Fin's astonishment. "I couldn't bear it if ye were with another woman," she sobbed. "Yer the only man I've ever loved, Fingal Stewart. I will always be true to ye!"

"What if I died in battle?" he teased her, trying to defuse the situation.

"I'd die too!" Maggie swore dramatically.

"Ye can't die if I die. Who would look after our lads? They can't lose both parents, Maggie mine." Kicking off his boots, he climbed into the bed and gathered her into his arms. "I'm not going to die, love, and neither are ye."

"If ye die before me, I'll never remarry," she told him earnestly.

"And if ye die before I do," he countered, "I'll just take a mistress."

"What?" She began to pound on him with her fists.

Laughing, Fin caught her wrists and pressed Maggie back against the pillows. He kissed her until they were both breathless. His hand slid beneath her night garment and up her leg to give her b.u.t.tock a squeeze. She began to undress him, pulling off his jerkin, his shirt, then running her hands over his smooth, hard chest. His hands went to the neckline of her gown. He smothered her protest with a kiss as he ripped the garment open to get at her beautiful round b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His dark head dipped, his tongue pushing into the valley between the soft yet firm orbs as he struggled from his breeks.

Maggie's fingers threaded themselves through his thick black hair. She teased the sensitive nape of his neck with just the tips of those fingers before she clutched at him, feeling the hard flesh of his torso as her hands caressed him. She moaned as his mouth closed over one of her nipples and began to suckle on her. She loved the tug of his lips on her, and squirmed against him, encouraging him. "Aye, my lord and love! Ohh, that feels so good. Dinna stop."