Authors: Bertrice Small
Tags: #Fiction, #Literary, #Romance, #Historical, #General
When she went down to the hall, she found her grandsire alone. “Where is Fin?” she asked him. “And please tell me the Netherdale Kerrs are gone.”
Dugald Kerr chuckled. “Aye, at first light, and Edmund complaining as they departed. As for yer husband, he’s gone out to make certain the men in the watchtowers have what they need to weather the snowstorm old Tam says is coming.”
“How long ago did he leave?” Maggie wanted to know.
“Too long for ye to catch up with him,” the laird said. “The hall is yer province now, lass.”
“Ye know if I don’t get out of doors I will suffer for it, Grandsire,” Maggie said reasonably. “Once the storm sets in, I will be forced to remain in the hall until it passes.”
Dugald Kerr sighed deeply. “Margaret Jean,” he said, and she knew when he called her by her full Christian name that it was serious. “The Aisir nam Breug is no longer yers to watch over. That’s what yer husband is for, lass. Let him do his duty so he may gain the respect of the men who serve him now. Dinna go trailing after him. If ye would ride out, take a man with ye, but stay away from the pass. Go out and visit the far cottages. ’Tis yer place to see to our clan folk now as the lady of Brae Aisir.”
Maggie thought a long moment. As much as she hated to admit to it, to face it, her grandsire was right. The Aisir nam Breug was Fin’s obligation now, not hers. A sense of great loss overcame her. She had known with a part of her being that this day would come, yet she had not expected it to really happen. But it had, and she would have to make a new place for herself in the scheme of things. “Yer right, Grandsire,” she said. “I’ll ride out to the far cottages, and aye, I’ll take a few of the men with me.”
“ ’Tis hard, Maggie lass; I know, for I can see it in yer eyes. But yer a woman, and a woman’s place is different from that of a man,” Dugald Kerr said. His tone was a kindly one, but Maggie felt a flash of bitterness at those words.
“My sex mattered little these past years when I controlled the traverse for ye, Grandsire. Think if ye will that others thought ye were just indulging me and allowing me to play while it was ye who really held the reins to our heritage. Well, perhaps some did believe it, for there are still enough men in this world who think a woman is not capable of anything other than hearth and bairns, but others knew better. They knew ye lay ill, and I was in charge. The Aisir nam Breug has never been managed better than when I was managing it, so do not, I beg ye, tell me that my place is in the hall at my loom while I wait for my big belly to ripen.” Then turning abruptly, Maggie departed the hall.
Dugald Kerr watched her go. She was right, of course, but what did that matter? She was a woman, and the rest of the world would refuse to see her for anything other than that. It saddened him, for he did not want his granddaughter unhappy, but had he died before she wed, their neighbors would have been upon her like a wolf on a lamb.
Out in the stables, Maggie saddled her stallion, calling to Clennon Kerr to bring a few men and ride out with her. Finished, she climbed upon the animal’s back and rode him out into the yard.
“Where are we going?” Clennon Kerr asked her.
“To the far cottages. I should see that all is well for the cottagers,” Maggie said.
“Take Iver Leslie then,” Clennon Kerr replied. “He’s nae been that way, and he should have some familiarity with the path. Yer not going to the pass?”
“My husband is there now,” Maggie said shortly.
“Aye,” Clennon Kerr said. “ ’Tis right he should be, my lady.”
“Get the men going with me,” Maggie told him sharply. “I’ll not dally this day, with the coming snows.”
The keep’s captain said nothing more. He understood why she was in a black mood today, but ’twas past time she took her rightful place as the lady and gave Brae Aisir some bairns. He went off to fetch Iver, calling to several men as he did to get their horses and mount up. Several minutes later, Maggie and her party of men-at-arms rode across the drawbridge and out into the hills.
They rode in silence for some minutes, Iver at Maggie’s side. Finally she turned to him, saying, “The cottages we’re visiting are at the edge of our lands. We’ve made them very secure for the inhabitants. They’re stone, the windows have thick shutters, the doors are bound in iron, and each of the three dwellings has a small well inside so they may be self-contained in the event of attack. There are no families there. Only men, and three older women who take care of them. They are shepherds, and cattle herders.”
“They’re helpless in case of attack, however,” Iver said.
Maggie laughed. It was a hard sound. “Nay,” she told him, “but ye’ll see.”
The day was fair, but cold. There wasn’t a cloud in the bright blue sky, nor was there the faintest puff of wind. They rode for more than an hour, and then Iver saw ahead of them in the distance on the low hills a grouping of three cottages. Maggie sent one of the clansmen ahead to warn the cottagers of her coming.
“The sheep and cattle are now at Brae Aisir, but in the summer these are some of the meadows in which they browse.”
“What do these men do when the beasties are at the keep?” Iver asked, curious.
“They patrol the border between us and our neighbors,” Maggie said. “They make repairs to their equipment and warn us of any undue activity in the region.”
“Why are we here then?” Iver persisted.
“I’m the lady of the keep,” Maggie said. “It’s my duty to see to their well-being. The women who look after these clansmen look to me. My visit allows them to know they are not forgotten out here.”
Iver nodded. He was admiring of his mistress, although he would have never admitted to such a thing. It wasn’t his place to approve or disapprove of her.
Reaching the cottages, they dismounted. A large-boned woman was waiting to greet them. “My lady!” she said, curtsying. “Ye honor us, and with the storm coming.”
“Good morrow, Bessy Kerr,” Maggie greeted the woman. “I wanted to be certain ye had all ye need for the winter.”
“Oh, aye, my lady, everything is in order as you would wish it. Clennon saw our supplies delivered several days ago when Tam told him of this earlier than usual storm. But there is one small difficulty.”
“What is that?” Maggie wanted to know.
“Mary’s daughter is near her time. ’Tis a first bairn, and Mary desperately wants to be with her, my lady. The lass never told her mam she was almost five months gone when she wed last summer, or Mary would have asked sooner. She learned it from her son-in-law, who brought our supplies, when the bairn was due.”
“Can ye manage with just the two of ye?” Maggie asked.
“Oh, aye! Mary’s burden is the lightest. She cares for just four lads. We can close up her cottage until the spring when she returns to us. Sorcha and I have more than enough room for two each,” Bessy Kerr said cheerfully.
“Tell Mary she can ride back with us,” Maggie said.
“Thank ye, my lady!” Bessy curtsied again. Then her eye went to Iver. “And who is this fine laddie?” she asked him.
“Iver Leslie,” was the short answer, and he reddened slightly.
“He came with my lord from Edinburgh and is Clennon Kerr’s second in command,” Maggie explained. “My union with Lord Stewart was blessed yesterday.”
Bessy’s eyes grew wide. “He overcame ye, my lady? I never thought to see the day when anyone could outrun, outride, and outfight ye, but . . .” she said, hesitating.
“ ’Twas past time,” Maggie, chuckling, finished the sentence for Bessy.
Bessy nodded, grinning back at her lady. “Aye,” she agreed. “Now, will ye come into my cottage for some cakes and ale?”
“See to the others. I want to show Iver about, and then we’ll join ye,” Maggie answered the woman. Then looking at her companion she said, “Come along, Iver.”
He followed her while she led him about the small settlement, pointing out what he might need to know one day. “Ye still haven’t told me why these clan folk of yers are safe in an attack. Aye, the cottages are strong, and the slate roof on each will prevent their being destroyed by fire, but eventually they have to give in,” Iver said.
“Nay, they don’t,” Maggie told him. “In each cottage is a small dovecote. In the event of an attack, three pigeons are released, one from each cote, with a message attached to one of their wee legs. They come home to Brae Aisir entering the keep into their own special cote. There is always someone watching that cote for them. No one has figured out how we so quickly repel an attack on our borders,” she laughed. “There are two more places on our lands where cottages with pigeon cotes exist. We’ll visit them in the spring, for there is no time today.”
Iver nodded. “ ’Tis cleverly done,” he said.
“I’ve shown ye all ye need to know here,” Maggie told him. “Let’s go and get some cakes and ale before we return home. Do ye mind riding pillion with Mary?”
“Nay, I’ll take the woman,” he said, following his mistress to Bessy’s cottage. As he ate a fresh-baked oatcake and drank some good October ale, Iver looked about the cottage. It was a well-kept space, clean and neat, with three rooms. The main one, where the men ate and socialized, was the largest. A second room had space for a row of beds. The third was the smallest, and obviously belonged to Bessy. It had a door that could be locked, and no window. It was all very well thought out, he considered. As he drank his ale and ate the oatcake, Bessy flirted with him.
“Yer a fine strong lad,” she said, her hand on his arm. “I wouldn’t mind having a bit of a tumble with ye.” She grinned up at him.
“Yer a shameless woman,” he said low. “Ye’ve got a houseful of lads to play with, Bessy Kerr.”
“Nay, Iver Leslie, I would never swive one of them, for it would make the others jealous, and then I should have to fuck them all. There are few secrets kept in a cottage.”
And while the others were engaged in speaking with their lady, Bessy reached down and gave his manhood a squeeze. “My lads know me, and they’ll keep the lady busy while ye and I have a little fun.” Bessy gave him a coquettish grin and pulled him from the room.
She was a woman who wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and he suspected they wouldn’t get away until he had given her what she wanted. He followed Bessy to her small chamber, and when she shut the door, he surprised her by pushing her up against it and giving her a hard kiss. “Very well, lass, let’s give ye what ye need so we may be on our way before the snow starts,” he said as her hands yanked his breeks down so she might fondle him to a stand. Iver surprised Bessy by his quick reaction to her touch.
“Yer a big man,” she said. “Good! It’s been months since I’ve had a good swiving, lad. Now I’ll get through the winter.”
His hands pushed her skirts up, clamped beneath her big bottom, and lifted her up to impale her on his manhood. Bessy squealed with excitement, wrapping her arms and legs about him as he began to piston her vigorously. Within moments she was moaning into his shoulder, but he seemed not to be tiring. Bessy was astounded by his vigor. She couldn’t ever remember a man using her in so lusty and long a manner.
“Tell me when yer ready,” he finally growled into her ear.
Bessy was near to fainting with her excitement and satisfaction. She was going to die if he didn’t soon stop. “
Now!
” she managed to gasp.
With a deep chuckle Iver released his own pent-up lust, and when it had drained itself into her, he gave her a hearty kiss, squeezed her plump buttock cheeks hard, and set her down again. Then he pulled up his breeks, fastening them.
She clung to him briefly to keep from falling, for at first her legs would not sustain her. “God’s toenail, Iver Leslie, I certainly hope I’ll see ye again!” she told him enthusiastically. “Yer the first man who’s ever truly satisfied me.” Bessy smoothed her skirts first, and then her hair. “We had best join the others,” she said. “I don’t want the lady realizing what we were doing.”
But Maggie hadn’t noticed the disappearance of her captain and Bessy. She had been too busy speaking with the men who watched over their borders, and giving the latest gossip to Sorcha and Mary. When they were ready to depart, Iver was relieved to see that Mary was not a big woman as was Bessy. Short and slender, she would not tire his horse unduly. He took her up behind him on his horse, and then, giving Bessy a wink, turned to make the ride home to Brae Aisir.
“The storm is coming in early,” Maggie noted as the flakes began to fall when they were but halfway home. “I hope my lord gets home safely.”
“The wind is coming from the north,” Iver said, “but ’tis barely a breeze.”
“It will rise later on,” Maggie told him. “Look at how small the flakes are. ’Twill be a serious storm, I’m thinking.” She pulled up the hood on her cloak and hunched down as she rode. Even with her fur-lined gloves, her hands were cold, her fingers stiffening and making it difficult to hold the reins.
When they finally reached the village, the snow was coming down harder. The land around them was already covered in white. They stopped briefly to let Mary down at her daughter’s cottage. It seemed the mother had arrived in the nick of time, for her child had just gone into labor; the village midwife was hurrying up to the door at the same time as the traveler. “Mam!” They heard the girl’s cry of relief as Mary rushed into the cottage.
Through the village and up the rise to the keep they rode. As they clomped across the drawbridge, Maggie could see her husband and his men just ahead of them.
She found herself relieved at the sight of Fin dismounting his stallion as she slid quickly from her own mount, tossing the reins to a stable boy as she did. Maggie smiled at him as he turned about. “I was fearful ye would get caught out in the Aisir nam Breug. The storm came earlier. Tam’s old bones aren’t quite as accurate as they once were.”
“Ye went out in this?” he asked.
“There was no snow when we departed for the far cottages,” Maggie told him. “I took Iver and several of the men with me. I don’t like staying indoors all the time, my lord. And a good thing we went too. We had to bring back one of the women for her daughter’s lying-in. Mary arrived just in time. The lass was already in labor.”