Border: The Border Vixen Part 12

"Sit down, sit down," the laird said to them both. "Well, Fin, how was the pa.s.s this day? Was all well?"

"I rode the hills above the Aisir nam Breug and went to the farthest watchtower first. Then we made our way back. All was as it should be, Dugald. The towers were well stocked with food and fire-wood, and the men were ready for the storm. From my vantage point I could see the Netherdale Kerrs just pa.s.sing over the border. They did not see me."

"Good, good," Dugald Kerr said, nodding. Then he turned to Maggie.

"The far cottages are supplied for the winter. Clennon saw to it a few days ago. We brought Mary Kerr back with us, as her daughter was ready to deliver her first bairn.

"Bessy and Sorcha a.s.sured us they could manage the winter without her. Mary's la.s.s had just gone into labor, and we reached the cottage at the same time Midwife Agnes did. After the storm pa.s.ses, I'll send to see all went well, and if it did, we'll bring a gift."

"Well," the laird said, "ye've both had a busy day. The meal is ready, and ye'll want an early bed after yer cold ride."

Maggie laughed again. "Grandsire, ye must never go to court, for subtlety is not yer gift, I fear." But she felt her cheek warming as her eye caught Fin's, and he winked wickedly at her.

The wooden trenchers were set upon the high board and the trestles to be filled with hot venison stew. Father David, who usually ate with them, said a blessing. There was bread, b.u.t.ter, and cheese. They ate heartily, was.h.i.+ng their food down with a dark red wine. Maggie wanted something sweet after the meal. Grizel fetched her a small dish of stewed apples and pears. The laird's piper came into the hall and played for them. Dugald Kerr, and his younger brother, David, left the high board to play a game of chess.

Maggie arose from her place. "Give me time to bathe lightly," she said, and was gone from the hall.

He watched her go, thinking that although they had but formally consummated their marriage only yesterday, it felt as if he had been with her and at Brae Aisir forever. He looked forward to going upstairs and spending the evening in her bed. He had never seen himself as a married man, but he realized in a burst of clarity that he very much liked the way his life seemed to be progressing. The hall was warm, his belly was full, his bonnie and braw wife was waiting for him. Could a man really ask for more? Standing up, he stretched himself, stepped down from the high board, and left the hall.

"What think ye?" the priest asked his older brother, watching as Fin departed.

"Oddly, they seem well suited," Dugald Kerr said, and he smiled. "He told me he likes her. That's to the good, Davy."

"Does she like him?" the priest said.

"Maggie has said naught to me but that she respects him. She's not a la.s.s who flirted or teased the lads. She's never been in love even a wee bit. But if she respects him, she will be a good wife to him, and she will do her duty by us all," the laird concluded. He moved his knight piece into an attack position.

"I'll pray for them both," David Kerr said as he studied the chessboard, deciding how he would counter his elder sibling's move.

Fingal Stewart had gone up the stairs into the narrow hallway to his own bedchamber. He found Archie waiting for him. His serving man had put out a cloth, a rag, and a basin of hot water with a little cake of soap for his master. He took Lord Stewart's garments and boots as they were removed.

"Will ye want yer night garment, my lord?" he asked in a bland voice.

"Nay," Fin answered briefly as he quickly washed himself.

"Is there anything more I might do for ye then, my lord?" Archie said.

"Nay, thank ye," came his answer. "Go and see if ye can steal a kiss from Grizel."

Archie chuckled. "She's not an easy woman, my lord," he said. "Good night."

The serving man shut the door behind him and was gone.

Fin smiled at the reply as he pressed the carved rose that opened the door connecting their two chambers. He stepped through into Maggie's bedroom. She was seated cross-legged and naked upon the bed, brus.h.i.+ng her long chestnut-colored hair.

Looking up at his entrance, she smiled mischievously at him. "I see we are of one mind," she said, her eyes boldly sweeping over him.

"Aye, I thought it practical," he agreed, climbing into bed with her and taking the brush from her hand as he seated himself behind her. He began to stroke it through her long locks. "I like yer hair," he said. "It smells of flowers." Bending, he kissed her shoulder and nuzzled the curve of her neck. He set the brush aside.

"Ye have hair as black as a raven's wing," Maggie replied. "I never knew anyone with such dark hair." She had not ever considered a man would brush her tresses, but she had to admit to herself that she very much liked it. The kiss and nuzzle he gave her set her pulse racing, as did the knowledge that they sat together naked in her bed.

His hands slipped about her to cup her two b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his palms as he kissed the shallow hollow where her shoulder and neck met. Her nipples immediately hardened.

"We are lovers now, Maggie mine, and as such we should enjoy each other," Fin said.

His rough thumbs rubbed the two nipples. "I don't want ye fretting over what to do. I want ye to follow yer instincts when we are together like this. There is no wrong or right when lovers are together."

Maggie leaned back against him. Until yesterday no man had ever handled her, but strangely she was not shocked by his actions. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s being cradled in the warmth of his palms felt good. Very good. She felt the pressure of his belly against her back.

"Ye will instruct me?" she asked him.

"I will teach ye what pleases me, and ye will tell me honestly what pleases ye, or displeases ye. If we are to pleasure each other, it must be that way. Too many men simply take from their women. I would give as well as take, and have ye do the same."

"Who taught ye such courtesies?" Maggie wanted to know, for she had heard enough from other women to know his behavior was unusual.

"My father, who considered it a privilege to enter my mother's bed. He was many, many years her senior. He might have been her grandsire, but to keep an orphaned la.s.s with no dower safe he wed her, and cherished her. After she died, he would say to me over and over again that a woman who gave herself was a sweeter prize than one roughly taken. In my youth I didn't always listen, but as I grew older, I discovered he was right."

"Then ye have forced women to yer will, my lord?" This was a revelation.

"A man who sells his sword does not always behave as a gentleman, Maggie mine," he told her candidly. "Let us leave it at that, but know I shall never force ye."

"And if I said I wanted ye gone from my bed now, would ye go?" she queried.

"I would, but not until I had tried to convince ye otherwise, love," he replied.

One hand released a breast, and smoothed down her torso to her mons. A finger pressed between her nether lips, finding her love bud. He began to play gently with it.

"Oh!" Maggie squirmed against his hand.

"Do ye like this, sweetheart?" he asked as he pressed a row of kisses over her shoulder. He could feel the sensitive flesh beginning to swell against his finger.

"Aye, Fin, I like it. I like it very much," Maggie admitted. "Please don't stop!"

"I won't for now," he promised, "but there is another way to please this little bud and give ye even more sweetness. Will ye let me show ye?"

"Ummmm, aye, I'd like that," Maggie replied softly, her voice taking on a dreamy quality as she enjoyed their love play.

He slid out from behind her, saying as he did, "Lie back among the pillows, Maggie mine," and when she did, he drew her two legs up and over his broad shoulders.

Maggie gasped, surprised. "Fin!"

"Trust me, love," he told her, and before she might protest, he buried his head between her thighs, his fingers losing themselves among the chestnut curls as he peeled her nether lips open and his tongue found the sensitive swelling bud of her s.e.x. He began to lick at it with gentle, teasing strokes of his tongue.

"Ohh, Fin!" It was as if a fireball had exploded within her. This was surely the wickedest thing that had ever happened to any woman. Coupling was for making bairns. That was what her priestly uncle preached. Why had no one ever said there was such joy in the act? With incredible, wonderful sensations that left every bit of her aflame and ready to burst open, she could indeed feel her juices flowing.

Seeing her ready for even more pa.s.sion, he covered her body with his own, and guided himself slowly to her entry. With one fluid and smooth motion he pushed into her love sheath. With no barrier to stop him, he filled her completely, and then he began to ride her. Maggie wrapped herself about her husband, half conscious, guided by instinct alone. Every thrust of his c.o.c.k brought her closer and closer to that elusive something that had escaped her the previous evening on their wedding night. She had no idea what it was she sought, but she moved steadily towards it.

He groaned as he went deeper. She was tight and hot and so very wet. He couldn't seem to get enough of her and almost wept with the pure enjoyment she was giving him so eagerly. He had known some of the finest wh.o.r.es in Edinburgh, France, and England, but he had never known the pleasure that his new wife was giving him.

He found her mouth, and his pa.s.sionate kisses tried to tell her what he was not ready yet to admit with words.

"Oh, Fin! I die! I die!" Maggie cried as she reached the pinnacle of her delight. She soared into a golden unknown while about her stars exploded. Then with a cry she plunged down into a velvet darkness that rose to softly envelop her.

He felt her sheath tightening and spasming about his c.o.c.k. He groaned deeply, knowing she was tasting true pa.s.sion. Then, unable to contain himself, he released his l.u.s.t into her. "Maggie mine!" he cried out as the end weakness overcame him, and then he rolled off her body. But quickly he gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest as his fiercely beating heart slowly quieted itself.

Maggie came to herself slowly. G.o.d's toenail! What had just happened to her? Whatever it was had completely taken over and controlled her. She wasn't certain she liked that, although she had to admit the feelings that had pummeled her had been incredible and wonderful. And she was quickly coming to herself again. She felt his arms about her. What was that thumping? Then she realized it was his heart beating very quickly. Her husband had obviously experienced the same wild emotions as she had. She had not considered a man of experience would react in a similar manner.

"Did ye enjoy this better than last night?" His voice pierced her own thoughts.

"Aye! It was wonderful, and ye did not lie," she responded.

"Lie to ye?" He was confused.

"It didn't hurt," Maggie said. "Nay, it hurt not at all. It was as if yer c.o.c.k and my sheath were made for each other, Fin. We fit together nicely."

"As we are man and wife, they obviously were," he replied dryly, "and we did fit well, Maggie mine, I will agree." Then he laughed.

"What is so funny?" she demanded to know.

"Yer honest tongue," he told her. "I've ne'er had a woman I've lain with speak to me in so candid a manner."

"Perhaps they were more practiced and knowledgeable than I," Maggie said. "Seeing servants f.u.c.king l.u.s.tily in the hay or in the heather does not tell you much other than where the parts should go."

He laughed again. "I suppose not," he agreed. "Well, madam, are you pleased with yer lessons so far?"

"Aye," she told him with a grin. "I hope there's more to learn, my lord."

"We'll sleep for a bit, and then if yer willing, we will review what ye have learned so far, Maggie mine," he said to her with an answering grin.

"We should pray that the king finds the same happiness with his bride that we are finding with each other," Maggie said softly as she cuddled next to him, her head on his shoulder. "I don't know if we will find that emotion the poets call love, Fingal Stewart, but I know ye like me, and I surely like ye."

"Aye," he agreed with her. "I hope King Jamie finds his happiness too, for his road is a far more difficult one to travel than is ours." He drew the coverlet over them.

In France the month of December seemed to fly by as James Stewart's wedding day approached. He knew what he was doing was madness, but for the first time in his life he actually cared for another human being. His childhood had not been a happy one.

He had lost three brothers and had but two sisters. His flighty English mother had cared more for her own pleasure and position than for her royal son. He had only been seventeen months old when his father had been killed. He had no memory of James IV at all but what people had told him. Most people had liked his father, and the one trait he had inherited from the previous James was his determination to rule Scotland without any interference from his earls, or from England.

James V had come to France to seek a wife. He would be twenty-five in April, and it was time to marry. He had thought to offer for Marie de Bourbon, the duc de Vendme's daughter. The girl was more than n.o.ble and came with a dower of one hundred thousand gold crowns. Visiting her father's court in disguise, James found the prospective bride small with a hunched back. He departed without revealing himself, leaving his amba.s.sador to explain to the duc that his master was no longer interested.

At the court of King Franois, however, James Stewart's eye fell upon the king's fifth child, third daughter, Princess Madeleine. Frail from birth, the fifteen-year-old princess had spent most of her life in the mild climate of the Loire region. The French king loved her dearly. When Scotland's king asked for her hand, King Franois refused.

This child of his heart was too frail to survive the harsh Scottish weather. James Stewart was unhappy to be declined. He wanted a French wife to solidify the auld alliance that had existed for centuries between Scotland and France. He turned his attention in another direction.

Marie de Guise, the d.u.c.h.esse de Longueville, was the daughter of the duc de Guise and his wife, Antoinette de Bourbon-Vendme. She was three years younger than James Stewart. Marie had recently been widowed, and was the mother of two sons, the second born two months after her husband's death. The Scots king found that he liked her, but she was not ready to be courted or to even consider another marriage.

Late in the autumn, James saw Madeleine de Valois at a court ball again. Drawn back to her, he realized he was in love. And to his surprise, Madeleine admitted her love for him. They went together to King Franois and pleaded with him for permission to wed. Unable to deny his favorite child her heart's desire, and influenced by his second wife, Eleanor of Austria, the French king finally agreed. The wedding was celebrated on the first day of January at Paris's great cathedral of Notre Dame.

The delicate princess was fortunate in that she did not resemble her father. King Franois could not under any circ.u.mstances be called handsome, his best features being his charm and his power. But his first wife, Queen Claude, had had the same beauty as Madeleine, his favorite daughter. Claude, d.u.c.h.ess of Brittany, had been the daughter of King Louis XII and his wife, Anne of Brittany. Claude was fair to look upon with reddish blond hair and blue eyes. So was Madeleine, but it was her sweetness and firm character that had entangled themselves in James Stewart's cold heart.

For the next few months the young couple were feted and entertained, but their return to Scotland was inevitable. Finally in mid-May the royal couple sailed for Scotland. The young queen had not been well in prior weeks. Exhaustion had been an inescapable result of all the celebrations in their honor. King Franois knew as he bid his daughter a tender farewell that he should never see her again in this life. He might have regretted his decision to allow her marriage but that she was so very happy, and so very much in love with James Stewart, and he with her.

The voyage was not an easy one, and Queen Madeleine was quite ill by the time their s.h.i.+p reached Leith. Word of the king's arrival spread quickly. The queen could go no farther than Edinburgh. Only the fact that the French king had given his daughter an extremely large dower portion kept the more civilized of the king's lords from complaining aloud of his poor choice of a wife. And plans were already in the works to find a new wife for James Stewart.

When Scotland's king had departed for France the previous summer, he had seen his then-mistress, Janet Munro, married to Matthew Baird, Lord Tweed. James had agreed to acknowledge his child by Janet, and settle a dower portion on it if a female. Lord Tweed had agreed to raise the child as if it were his own. He was not unhappy to have Janet Munro for his wife. Her connection with the king and the generous dower her family provided made her an excellent choice.

And Janet Munro was not unhappy with her new husband. While closer to forty than thirty, he was a satisfactory lover, and told her he expected her to give him bairns eventually. Their home and their income were comfortable. In the very early spring of 1537, Janet gave birth to a daughter who was christened Margaret. Lord Tweed sent word to his king in France of his daughter's birth, but he heard nothing.

"We will travel to Edinburgh when the king returns, for that will be the first place he goes. We will ask for Margaret's portion then," Janet said to her husband. "I want the matter settled before his queen has any bairns."

But when Matthew Baird and his wife, Janet, went to Edinburgh, they found their new queen seriously ill, and the king unable to deal with anything other than his wife. He never left her side, sitting with her for hours on end. Janet Munro was sad for the man who had fathered her child, but she was a practical woman. She wanted what had been promised to her baby daughter. A la.s.s needed a dower to wed respectably.

"I must go to Brae Aisir to my cousin, Fingal Stewart," she told her husband.

"Why?" Lord Tweed asked. "What can he do to help ye resolve this matter?"

"I need to remind the king that it was I who brought Fin to his attention, and thereby gained him another means of support. I want the income James Stewart promised for my Margaret, and only the king can make it so. And if Fin is with me when I ask the king, the matter can be settled immediately."

"What a clever puss ye are, my dear," Lord Tweed said.

"This queen is dying, Matthew," Janet continued. "He is in love with her. Everyone says it. When she dies he will be devastated. Ye don't know him, my lord, but I do. James has never loved anyone in all his life. He is a charming man, but his heart was always a cold one until he met this princess. She is his first, and possibly his only love. He will not be easily amenable to anything after she dies. He will mourn her as deeply as he loves her. He is not a man to do things by halves," Janet said.

"We have not been able to even see him ourselves. Few have," her husband reminded her. "How do ye expect to reach out to him even if yer cousin comes?"

"I'm not certain," Janet admitted, "but I believe I have a way. I have to do this for my wee Margaret's sake. James has not yet received so much as a groat from Fingal. By giving that income to my daughter, it actually costs the king nothing. He will appreciate the subtlety in that, my lord, if I can but point it out to him."

Matthew Baird, Lord Tweed, laughed heartily at his wife's reasoning. "G.o.d's nights.h.i.+rt, Jan, ye are far cleverer than I had realized. Will yer cousin agree?"

"Fingal is a good man," she replied. "He will not refuse me. He will see the wisdom in what I suggest."

"But will the king?" Lord Tweed asked seriously.

Chapter 8.

It was late spring at Brae Aisir, and the hillsides were green with new growth, and white with new lambs. The frost had finally gone from the ground. The few fields were quickly plowed and planted. Traffic through the Aisir nam Breug had picked up with the better weather. In early June, Fingal Stewart was surprised to be visited by Janet Munro, his cousin, and her husband, Matthew Baird, Lord Tweed. They arrived one bright afternoon, traveling from Edinburgh.

Maggie was delighted to have the company, for there had been no visitors to Brae Aisir in months. And particularly as Lady Tweed was her husband's kinswoman, she welcomed the pair warmly. "Grandsire always enjoys company," she said cheerfully. "And especially that of a pretty woman," Maggie complimented Janet.

"Why, ye are far lovlier than I had antic.i.p.ated," Janet said frankly. "I suspect if the king had known how fair ye were, he might not have been so generous to our cousin. He's always had an eye for a pretty face." She dismounted her horse.

"Come into the hall," Maggie invited the couple. "Are ye traveling with another purpose, or have ye come to see us especially?" She led them inside the stone house, signaling to her servants to bring wine and biscuits as she invited them to sit.

"I see ye've birthed yer bairn," Fin said as he considered why Janet was here.