The Border Vixen (44 page)

“And Annabelle? Where is she?” he asked.

“I do not know,” Maggie responded, surprised by his query. So her servants had thought to get her little daughter out of the keep too. Bless them! She had been so concerned with Davy and Andrew that she had not considered Annabelle. She had not thought her in danger, but obviously others did think her baby vulnerable.

Ewan Hay saw the surprise that Maggie quickly masked upon her face when he had asked about her daughter. So, he thought, the bitch had more allies within the house than he had previously considered. Then he had a thought. “Let her go, Bhaltair,” he said. “She will indeed go to her grave before she tells us anything.”

Father Gillies came to Ewan’s side and whispered something in his ear.

“Fetch the old laird,” the Hay said, a nasty smile touching his lips.

“My grandsire knows nothing of any of this,” Maggie said as Bhaltair strode from the hall to do his master’s bidding. “Do ye think me foolish enough to involve him?”

“I think ye will very shortly sign the contracts that Father Gillies has laid out upon the high board,” Ewan Hay said coldly. “If ye do not keep yer word to wed me, then I will have Bhaltair slit yer grandfather’s throat, madam. If ye would have the old man’s death on yer conscience, then refuse me one more time.”

God and the Blessed Mother! She had not considered the Hay would use Dugald Kerr against her. But then, a man who would put two little lads in a dank dark cellar chamber would probably do anything to get his way. Maggie pressed her lips together to keep from shrieking at her own stupidity. She was tired of this game he was playing! She wanted him dead. “There will be no coupling until the blessing, which will be in three days’ time,” Maggie said to him. “Ye will give me that courtesy, my lord.”

He nodded as relief poured through him. He had beaten her! He had actually won this battle between them. In a few minutes she would legally be his. He could be gracious enough to wait three more days to bed her. Fingal Stewart had had to wait several months for the privilege of her body. Ewan Hay was no less a gentleman. Three days was not so long to wait. “Everything will be as we have previously agreed upon,” he told her. “I will want the lads brought home, however.”

“Nay,” she said. “I do not trust ye not to harm them.”

“Ye cannot keep them away forever,” Ewan Hay told her. “They are yer heirs.”

“I can, and I will,” Maggie said obdurately.

“We will discuss this at a later date when yer in a more reasonable mood,” he replied, smiling at her.

Maggie did not smile back.

Bhaltair now came into the hall, escorting her grandfather.

“Aah,” Ewan Hay said, “here is Lord Dugald come to witness the signing of our union, madam.”

Dugald Kerr cast a scornful glance at the Hay. “Are the bairns safe?” he asked his granddaughter.

“Aye,” she told him. She said nothing more, but her face registered her fear.

He was surprised to see such an emotion in her eyes, for Maggie had never been one to allow fear to overcome her. “Ye don’t have to wed the bastard,” he said.

“I do,” Maggie responded. “I gave my word, Grandsire, and my honor is every bit as important to me as a man’s would be.”

“But this man has not acted in an honorable fashion,” the laird answered his granddaughter. “Ye are free to refuse him now.”

“Nay,” Maggie said low.

Dugald Kerr fastened his gaze upon Ewan Hay. “What is it ye are doing to coerce my Maggie into this foul union?” he demanded of the young man.

Ewan Hay avoided looking directly at the old man, but he did tell him the truth. “I have told her if she does not wed me, I will have ye killed,” he responded coldly.

“Kill me then, ye dishonorable bastard!” the old laird said. “Ye discredit the name of Hay, and it will be shouted throughout the Borders to yer family’s shame. Ye cannot keep such ignominious behavior a secret.”

“Nay, Grandsire!” Maggie cried, her eyes filled with tears. She loved the old man so much, and his bravery almost broke her heart. “I cannot have yer death on my conscience, and even if he did what he threatens, he would find a way to make a marriage with me. Let this strife end here. I will wed him even though I believe this to be a bigamous union. Fingal Stewart is alive. He will return to me, to our bairns!”

“Are we ready to sign the contracts?” Father Gillies broke in. “The conflict surrounding this matter is certainly resolved now.”

“I am an old man, Margaret Jean Kerr,” the laird said. “I have lived more than seventy years, and I am content to die if it will keep ye from this man.”

Maggie stepped forward, enfolding him in an embrace. God’s toenail, he was so thin and so frail beneath his heavy dark velvet gown! “Ye will die in yer own time, Grandsire, and not on my account. I could not bear it. I will sign the marriage agreement.” She hugged him gently, murmuring softly in the old man’s ear so only he heard her. “But he will have no pleasure of me for I will kill him on our wedding night.”

Dugald Kerr stepped back from his granddaughter, nodding. His pride in her was more than evident. “I am hungry,” he said. “Let us do this wretched thing so we may break our fast quickly.”

They stepped up to the high board where the priest had carefully laid out the parchment upon which the marriage contract was written. Maggie scanned it quickly, noting that it turned everything that was hers over to Ewan Hay.

“Will ye have yer grandsire sign for ye, my lady,” the priest asked her, “or would ye prefer to make yer own mark?”

Maggie did not answer him, instead signing her full name at the designated spot where her name had previously been written.
Margaret Jean Kerr, by her own hand
.

The priest’s mouth fell open, revealing rotting teeth. “Ye write?” he said.

“And I read as well, Priest,” Maggie answered him. “I notice ye have given this thief everything that I possess. ’Tis hardly just, but no matter.” She shrugged casually.

Dugald Kerr hid a smile, especially when Ewan Hay took up the quill to make an X where his name was already written. When the Hay passed the quill to the laird, the old man wrote
Dugald Alexander Kerr, by his own hand
where his name was written. He then returned the quill to the priest.

“It is done,” Father Gillies said in pleased tones. “There but remains the matter of the church’s blessing upon ye both in three days’ time.”

“Should ye not give me a kiss?” the Hay asked Maggie.

“Ye can wait until the blessing,” she said coldly.

“Did ye make Fingal Stewart wait to kiss ye once the contracts were signed?” Ewan Hay wanted to know.

“Ye are not Fingal Stewart, nor will ye ever be,” Maggie said with devastating effect. She signaled to Busby to bring the food so they might break their fast. Then she ate quickly so she might excuse herself with the excuse her household duties needed attending to, and hurried from the hall.

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

A
rchie 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.”

“I sent word to Brae Aisir almost ten days ago that I am alive,” Fin said.

“My lord, I was at Brae Aisir four days ago. There is no word of yer survival, or that ye are safe in Edinburgh. The Kerrs’ neighbors have been pressing yer wife to take Ewan Hay as her next husband. His brother, Lord Hay, has approved the match. They fear for the stability of the Aisir nam Breug without a man to manage it. They have said quite plainly and out loud that the laird is too old now to be useful. When they said it, I heard he took up a stick and attempted to drive the delegation of his neighbors from the hall. He collapsed and had to be carried away, but he did survive. The Hay would not allow us to camp on the Kerr lands this spring. Whatever help ye might need to drive him out of Brae Aisir, my people and I will be glad to aid ye. But ye must go home, and ye must go quickly lest ye lose all ye have.”