"I believe yer correct, my lord," Archie said. "Everything she has done so far has been done with measured carefulness for her daughter."

That same day Archie went into the market to purchase parchment, ink, and a fresh quill. Bringing the items home, he helped Lord Stewart compose a brief missive to his wife.

Madam, he began, I have just returned home from England. I am quite alive but have been unable to communicate with you until now. Archie has joined me, and we will remain here while I complete my business. You may expect me home within another month. My felicitations to your grandsire. It was signed, Your loving husband, Fingal Stewart. While his signet ring had been stolen from him, he had a another seal in his house. He pressed it deeply into the thick wax he had drizzled onto the parchment.

The next morning, Archie took the tightly rolled parchment and went to the small square where men who hired themselves out as messengers were waiting for employment. He stepped up on a square stone put there for the very purpose of hiring a man. "I need someone to ride into the Borders for me and deliver this message to the lady of the keep at Brae Aisir," he called out. "There's a silver piece in it for the man I hire."

"The Borders grow more dangerous every day," someone in the crowd of waiting men said. "Just where is this keep?"

"In the mid-Borders," Archie said. "Away from Berwick and Carlisle."

"Just deliver the parchment? Nothing else?" the voice inquired further.

"Just deliver the message to the lady of the keep," Archie repeated. "Ye dinna have to wait for a reply. Just deliver."

"I'll do it." A rough-looking bearded man stepped from among the crowd. "Where's the silver?"

"Do I look the fool?" Archie said, glaring up at the fellow who stood at least six inches taller than he was. "My master is Lord Stewart of Torra House beneath Castle Hill. Come there when ye return with the name of the person at the keep into whose hands ye placed this message, and ye'll have yer coin. Here's a copper to show my good faith. Now will ye take the commission or nay? I've no time to haggle with ye. The price is indeed more than fair, but because the ride is long, my master is inclined to be generous with ye." He tapped the rolled parchment against his boot impatiently.

"Give it to me! I'll take it," the big messenger said, holding out his hand for the copper piece promised as good faith. The little man was right. The price offered was fair. He tucked the message into his jerkin for safety. Two days there; two days back, he thought. The messenger went to his horse, mounted up, and kicking the beast, trotted from the little square.

Archie hurried back to his master. The messenger returned to Edinburgh several days later, coming to Torra House for his payment. "Who took the parchment from ye?" Archie asked him as he held the coin up.

"Didn't catch his name," the messenger replied. "He came up to me in the keep yard and took the message from me. I said it was for the lady. I did my part."

Archie gritted his teeth. The messenger had been given specific instructions, but to argue with the clod would accomplish naught. Reluctantly he flipped the man the promised coin.

Chapter 15.

Six weeks after Annabelle Stewart had been born, her mother was churched in the Brae Aisir chapel in an ancient ceremony of thanksgiving that celebrated a woman's safe pa.s.sage through the ordeal of childbirth. In order to keep Ewan Hay from his great-niece, Father David declared the ceremony could be attended only by the women of the village. Knowing no better, Ewan Hay was forced to keep away.

It was the middle of May now, but no ransom demand had come for Lord Stewart.

Still there was gossip that King Henry had released a number of lords back into Scotland.

Archie had managed to slip away to Edinburgh to search for Fin in case he had gone to his house beneath Castle Hill first. Ewan Hay knew nothing about Archie, as Fin's servant had returned before his arrival at Brae Aisir, and Archie had been kept in a small chamber in the attic being nursed. Maggie held out hope yet that her husband would return.

But few others did. Even her grandfather believed now that Fingal Stewart had died at Solway Moss and lay in an unmarked grave. Father David had attempted to reason with Maggie, but she would not listen to his words of comfort. May came to an end, and one day a group of several neighboring lairds came to see Dugald Kerr. They would not speak with him until she had left the hall. She refused to go until her grandfather had quietly asked her to leave them.

Maggie had never refused any request her grandsire had asked of her. She curtsied to him, and walked from the hall, her head held high. But once out of sight of those in the hall, Maggie hurried to a small alcove on one side of the chamber's wall that had a spy hole. Here she could see and hear all that transpired. What she heard did not please Maggie in the least.

It was Alexander Bruce who spoke for the delegation. "Dugald, we tolerated yer granddaughter's disobedience in the matter of her marriage when she was a maid. And Lord Stewart was the perfect answer to all of our prayers. But it becomes more obvious as every day pa.s.ses that Fingal Stewart is dead. We understand Maggie's grief. And G.o.d be praised that she has birthed two fine sons who seem to be escaping the rigors of childhood. Would that our late king had been as fortunate."

There was a murmur of a.s.sent from the other men present.

"But," Alexander Bruce continued, "while ye have male heirs, there is a need for ye to have a guardian watching over the Aisir nam Breug until they are old enough to do so. Aye, yer still the laird here, but yer an old man now, past seventy. What if something should happen to ye? Who will hold the pa.s.s? And dinna say yer granddaughter. Maggie is a woman with bairns to bring up. She should have no time to do what needs doing. Until his unfortunate death, Lord Stewart was that man. But Lord Stewart is gone.

"Lord Hay has spoken to us on behalf of Ewan, his brother, who came to protect ye early last winter, and has remained. The perfect solution would be for Ewan Hay to marry yer granddaughter. Yer great-grandsons would have a father to look up to, and Maggie, having proved a good breeder, would undoubtedly have more bairns, ensuring yer line for generations to come."

"What ye say has a certain merit to it," Dugald Kerr agreed, "but my answer is a resounding nay. Maggie doesn't like Ewan Hay, and she never will. I am not a man to tolerate foolishness, but a woman should at least like her husband, my lords. Maggie will find another man in time. But I cannot force her to wed a man she despises. Ewan Hay's contribution to this keep has been to ensure his own safety by ridding it of my Kerr clansmen while installing his own Hay men-at-arms. We have had to send the females in the keep-but for the cook, Maggie, and her tiring woman-back to their homes for fear of these undisciplined Hay men and their captain, and even then one among them has not escaped unscathed. If ye would aid me, my lords, then rid me of these Hays!"

"The pa.s.s must be kept safe," Alexander Bruce said.

"When did we not keep it safe?" Dugald Kerr asked him. "In more than five hundred years the Kerrs have never allowed the pa.s.s to be used for anything but peaceful travel. What has changed now that you would consider subverting my authority?"

"My lord," Ian Ferguson spoke up, "times have changed, I fear. King Henry sends raiding parties across the border from all directions in his effort to make the Queen Mother do his will, and give him Scotland's little queen. He has become ruthless in his pursuit. Ye are old and weak. What is to keep yer English kinsmen from succ.u.mbing to pressure from their king, of taking advantage of yer frailty, and letting an army through the Aisir nam Breug into Scotland?"

"The road through the traverse isn't wide enough for more than one man on horseback at a time," Dugald Kerr answered. "And the hills press the way so closely, it would be impossible to widen it. No army will come through the Aisir nam Breug."

"But if a small raiding party was allowed through," Ferguson persisted, "and they took charge of this keep, they could allow other raiders through until there was a large group bent on mayhem. Spies could use the pa.s.s to get in and out of Scotland easily."

"Spies already use the pa.s.s and probably have since its beginnings," the old laird said dryly.

"Ye've let spies use the Aisir nam Breug?" Ferguson gasped.

"Of course they have used it," Dugald Kerr said. "Are ye daft, man, that ye expect I would know a spy if I saw one? But it would stand to reason the pa.s.s is used by them. It's quick and safe, and 'tis discreet. Pay yer toll, and travel in peace is all that we require of those who use the Aisir nam Breug."

There was a long silence, but then Alexander Bruce spoke again. "Ian Ferguson has brought up a good point. Have ye ever defended yer keep against an enemy who came through the pa.s.s, Dugald Kerr? Has yer granddaughter? To my knowledge neither of ye has done so. But if this keep was attacked, it could not be defended by an old man and a young woman."

"So say ye," Dugald Kerr quickly replied. "But I believe yer wrong."

"I'm not," Alexander Bruce responded. "Ye need a younger man here with ye. The Hays have stepped to the forefront of this dilemma. Maggie must wed Ewan Hay so this keep and its most valuable a.s.set have a defender."

"Ewan Hay couldn't defend a barn full of kittens," Dugald Kerr answered scornfully. "He's a bully and a coward. Forcing this man on us will cause more difficulties than you can imagine. My clan folk won't accept him."

"They will have to if he is wed to yer granddaughter," came the reply.

Maggie had listened to all the arguments from her spy hole. What was the matter with men that they could not believe that a woman was capable without a man to direct her every move? But if these border lords were united in their resolve, she was going to have a difficult time evading what was to her a horrific future. And she didn't trust Ewan Hay not to harm her sons once they were wed. He would want his own son to inherit. Annabelle would be safe, for he would consider her daughter something of value to be married off eventually to someone wealthy or powerful, or preferably both.

"See them wed by Lammastide," Alexander Bruce said. "This situation with England isn't going to get any easier."

"This man has not the strength or experience to defend us," Dugald Kerr protested. "And I'll not force my Maggie into a marriage she doesn't want! Get out of my keep, all of ye, and to h.e.l.l with the laws of hospitality in the Borders! Begone! And take Ewan Hay with ye if ye would help me," the old man shouted.

Listening, Maggie was proud of her grandsire. He might be old, but he was still strong and determined. Their neighbors had left, but Ewan Hay had not. Having been given the tacit approval of the nearby lairds to wed her, Ewan Hay made plans to do so.

"I won't implement the marriage of an unwilling woman," Father David said. "Until the day comes that Maggie agrees to wed ye, I will not perform the ceremony."

Undeterred, Ewan Hay sent for his brother's priest, a man who was less scrupulous than Brae Aisir's cleric.

"We'll draw up the contracts," Father Gillies said.

"She'll never sign them," Ewan replied.

"Ah, my son, ye will find the means to force her to yer will as is yer right. And as soon as ye do, we'll perform the blessing. She will be yers."

Feeling more rea.s.sured, Ewan Hay sought to catch Maggie off guard. One late-spring evening, he watched from the shadows in the hall as she saw that the fires were banked without going out and that the candles and lamps were snuffed out. Then in the dim light of the low fires she headed for the staircase. It was there he caught her, stepping out so they were face-to-face.

"Get out of my way!" Maggie snarled at him.

He quickly slid an arm about her, yanking her close and pinioning her arms to her sides. "We are going to be wed shortly, madam," he said in a cold, hard voice. "I think it is time ye accepted that I will soon be yer husband and yer master." Then his hand plunged into her gown, wrapping itself about a plump breast.

"Take yer paws off me, ye d.a.m.ned animal. I have a husband, and I don't need another. I especially don't need ye." Maggie squirmed, attempting to break loose.

"Ye belong to me now, ye border vixen, and I'm going to very much enjoy taming ye to the point where ye will come when I call and eat from my hand," Ewan growled against her mouth. Then he kissed her, but as he did, his grip upon her relaxed.

Maggie yanked her arms up. Her hands clawed down his face. She pulled away from him, the bodice of her gown sustaining a tear as she did. "Don't touch me!" And she turned to escape him.

His face stinging from her nails, Ewan grabbed Maggie's thick plait and jerked her back. He slapped her several times. "Ye dare to scratch me, b.i.t.c.h?" he said angrily.

Maggie slapped him back so hard his ears rang, and he actually saw stars. "I warned ye not to touch me, Ewan Hay." Then she ran halfway up the stairs. "Next time ye attempt it, I'll kill ye without hesitation," Maggie warned him. Then she was gone.

Ewan Hay's c.o.c.k was hard and aching. He would bind her to the bed on their wedding night to prevent her from using her claws on him again. Then he would run his hands and tongue all over her body at his leisure before he f.u.c.ked her over and over until she would beg him for mercy. The picture in his head was so graphic he knew he would have to satisfy his l.u.s.t. Going to the stables, he called for his horse. Then he rode down to the village to Flora Kerr's cottage.

He did not knock but walked directly into the dwelling, calling for her. To his surprise, the midwife, Agnes Kerr, came from the tiny bedchamber. "Where's Florrie?" he asked. "I have a great need to f.u.c.k."

"She's dead," Agnes Kerr said coldly.

"Dead?" He was astonished by her words.

"She aborted the b.a.s.t.a.r.d ye put in her belly, my lord," Agnes said scathingly. "Only that her sister found her and called for me, she should have died alone."

"She was enceinte?" He was surprised. Florrie had said naught about it.

"We have a perfectly good village wh.o.r.e. A willing good woman," Agnes said. "But ye could not patronize her, could ye? Ye needed to shame a respectable la.s.s."

"She was a wh.o.r.e too," Ewan replied. "She willingly opened her legs."

"Flora offered a service to the men in this village whose wives were with child and could no longer have conjugal relations. She took no coin, or anything else for it. She did not want their men, or any entanglements. She had a need for c.o.c.k, and they had a need for c.u.n.t," Agnes said. "But ye forced her, and then made her yer mistress. Well, ye'll not hurt her anymore," Agnes told him. "Now satisfy that bulge in yer breeks at the edge of the village with Jeannie."

Ewan Hay didn't argue. He walked from the cottage, not even bothering to even take a last look at the woman he had used for a mistress. He found Jeannie's cottage at the end of the lane, entered it, and then eased his l.u.s.t on her before returning to the keep. She did not speak with him during the act, and saw him quickly off. It was obvious she knew something had happened and didn't approve of him at all. He would have to find a more pleasant and cooperative woman to be his mistress. And he'd soon have a spitfire wife, but once he got her with child she would hold no fascination for him.

The Hay priest drew up the marriage contracts between Ewan Hay and Maggie Kerr, but she refused to sign them. Dugald Kerr would not sign them. Maggie would not even come to the hall any longer. As he did not patrol the Aisir nam Breug himself, he had no idea that she was riding it. One day as she came to the border between Scotland and England she spied her cousin, Rafe Kerr, riding towards her. He waved to Maggie, and the two of them dismounted their horses to talk.

Maggie told her English kinsman of how Ewan Hay was attempting to force her into a marriage. "He thinks once he has me for a wife he will have our portion of the pa.s.s. He's already stealing from the tolls taken."

"How do ye know that?" Rafe queried her. It was just as he had suspected when he warned his father against Ewan Hay. The man was not to be trusted.

"Grandsire taught me when I was twelve years old how to manage our accounts. Of course, Ewan doesn't know that. He's taken over everything, or so he believes. But I have kept a careful tab of the traffic since he took my account books from me. And since he has left those records in Grandsire's old library, I wait until all are sleeping, and then go and check them. He has only recorded four travelers for every five who have come through, Rafe. He is stealing from Brae Aisir."

"Aye, and from us as well," her kinsman replied. "We have had complaints from several of our regulars traveling north that after they paid their toll to us, Ewan Hay extracted an additional toll at your end. He threatened to hold their cargo if he was not paid. I was coming to speak with yer grandsire about it."

"The Hay has driven our Kerr clansmen from the keep and peopled it with his own men. He keeps the drawbridge up day and night. He has no idea that I ride out, because he doesn't know about the little gate in the wall behind the stable," Maggie said.

"Grandsire has grown frail trying to maintain control. Now several of the more important neighboring lairds have come and demanded of him that I be wed to Ewan. Despite my having managed our section of the pa.s.s before, they insist a woman cannot do it. They will not support me. Instead, they say I must wed and they insist Ewan Hay is the natural choice."

"Are ye certain that Fingal Stewart is dead?" Rafe asked.

Maggie sighed. "I think I would sense it if he were, and I don't. Yet there has been no word from him, or request for a ransom." She sighed again. "I will have to kill Ewan Hay, Rafe, for I will not marry him."

"Don't use a weapon," Rafe advised. "They'll hang you for it. Poison him, and let him die a slow, lingering death so it looks natural. That is what Aldis did to my stepmother. Of course, many suspected, but nothing could be proved. Shall I find out for you what she used?"

"Aye, I would like to know," Maggie said, shocked to hear herself asking for such help. But she simply could not marry Ewan Hay. The thought of him atop her made her sick to her stomach. And too, if he got her with child, and she delivered a son, Fingal's lads would be in danger, she was certain.

"I'll not come to Brae Aisir today," Rafe said. "Having learned what I have from ye, I think it best I bring this to my father to learn what he would do."

"Rafe, I dinna trust yer father either," Maggie said candidly.

Her cousin laughed. "Ye shouldn't trust him. He wants the whole of the Aisir nam Breug for himself. He also wants one of yer lads for my half sister. But he is still the master of Netherdale. I will do my best to influence him in the right direction, but I will not deny him his rule or embarra.s.s him publicly."

Maggie nodded. "I understand," she said. "It is not a bad idea, matching my elder son with yer half sister, Rafe. I would seriously consider it."

"I'll tell my father what ye have told me," Rafe said. Then he kissed Maggie on both cheeks. "Meet me here in another ten days, Cousin, so we may talk again."

"I will," Maggie said. Her kinsman was a good man even if he was English, and she felt a little less alone now. She rode back to the keep, leading her horse through the small door in the stone walls, then into the stables. She unsaddled the animal, storing his saddle, blanket, and bridle carefully away. Then she rubbed the stallion down, checking his hooves to be certain there were no pebbles caught in his shoes.

Finished, she went to the stable door, and peeped out to be sure she would not be seen exiting the stables. As no one was looking in her direction, Maggie slipped out of the barn and hurried across the courtyard into the house. She ran quickly upstairs to find Grizel and told her of the chance meeting with Rafe Kerr. "The Hay has been stealing from us both," Maggie told her serving woman. Then she said, "Have the lads been fed their meal yet? I promised them I should tell them a story tonight."

"They went down to the kitchens a little while ago," Grizel said. "Ye were careful, my lady, weren't ye? No one saw ye come or go?"

"The Hay doesn't keep a watch from the roof," Maggie said. "He doesn't even know we have a cannon up there for I camouflaged it after he arrived," she chuckled. "I can come and go as I please. I had best change out of my breeks, though, lest he become suspicious. Then I'll go down and fetch my sons upstairs."

Maggie changed her garments quickly, stripping off her breeks, shirt, and boots and replacing them with a medium blue velvet bodice and skirt. She undid her braid, brushed out her chestnut curls, and then replaited her hair. Slipping her feet into a pair of soft kid house slippers, she hurried downstairs to the kitchen where the cook was now preparing the meal. Looking about, she did not see her sons. "Where are my lads?" she asked the cook and her helpers.

"That Hay captain, Bhaltair, came and got them," the cook said. "The poor bairns hadn't even had their meal yet. I was just serving it, but nothing would do but that he take Master Davy and Master Andrew by the hand and go off with them, my lady."

Maggie's heart began to hammer. She took several slow deep breaths to calm it. Then turning, she ran up the stairs, and into the hall. Her grandsire was dozing by one of hearths, an old deerhound by his side. Ewan Hay and his priest, Father Gillies, were speaking in low tones by the other hearth. Maggie went immediately up to them.

"What have ye done with my sons?" she demanded of him.

"I do not like yer tone, madam," he responded.

"I do not like ye," she said, "but I am forced to bear yer company. What have ye done with my lads, Ewan Hay? Yer captain took them from the kitchens where they had gone to have their meal. Where are they?"

"They are safe for the interim," he answered, smiling a cruel smile. He had cold blue eyes, and the look in them made her shiver.

"Where are they?" Maggie said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

"Ye will have them back on the day we wed," Ewan Hay told her. "Until then they will live in a locked and windowless chamber in yer cellars. They will have a single candle for light. When it burns out, they will be in the dark, madam."

"They're little bairns!" Maggie said, horrified. "What kind of a man are ye that ye would use two wee lads to force me to yer will?"

"What kind of a man am I, madam? A real man, not a la.s.s in breeks giving orders to her betters. I am a man who will not allow ye to run roughshod over me. I warned ye once that I would teach ye yer place. Now get out of the hall, and remain in yer chamber until ye are ready to obey me. Neither ye, nor yer lads, nor the old man dozing by the fire will receive food or drink until ye bend to my will. Do ye understand me?"