Maggie Mine (8 page)

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*
*

“She’s no’ as naïve and innocent as she
tries to
‘pear, that Lady Stanhope. She shows one face to the staff and another to his lordship. She bears close watchin’, I’m thinkin’.” Fia turned a cold eye toward the woman across the room. “She plans to marry Lord Middleham.”

Maggie tore off a bit of bread, listening to the words of warning. She followed her friend’s gaze across the room to where Mary stood animatedly talking to a serving girl. She’d not shown near that vibrancy in the bailey. The girl’s face had reddened and Maggie wondered exactly what was being said.

She and Fia had each bathed and met down in the nearly deserted great hall only moments ago. Clearly Fia had already picked up some knowledge about the other woman from the maid who’d helped with her bath. The shy young girl who’d assisted Maggie had been too nervous to speak more than a few words. But Maggie had already sensed tension between the staff and Mary. She wasn’t sure why yet, but she’d soon find out.

“I dunna think she will get her wish. She’s no’ right for him.” Maggie chewed on the bread and considered eating a bite of cheese as well. She really wasn’t all that hungry, but Fia appeared famished. She’d rather do some looking around, make acquaintances with the staff.

Fia gave her a curious look. “No’ right for his lordship? Dunna tell me ye have yer heart set on him.”

“Of course no’!” She thought about the big, handsome English lord. Definitely a fine specimen of a man. Not a Highlander, but still a strong leader, confident, and liked by his men. She also
knew him to be extremely s
t
ubborn
and grimly
determined
at times…especially with her.
“Nay, we arena suited either.”
Liar. You are far more suited to him than you were to poor Rob MacKenzie.

“I’m thinkin’ Lord Middleham would make a good husband. He’s got land and power, the respect of his men. He was good with the people at Urquhart, too.” Fia sighed, her cheeks blushing. “I’m also thinkin’ he’d know well how to please a woman in bed.”

Maggie felt the stirrings of heat low in her body. It happened a lot when she thought about Nicholas. She wanted to touch his splendid chest, wanted to smooth her hands over the bare skin, feel the play of his muscles beneath her fingers. She wanted to feel the touch of his mouth against hers. She wanted…
.

She tossed the rest of the bread on the table. “Enough! Lord Middleham may be a handsome devil, but he will ne’er be pleasuring me. I am no’ here for that, nor to become his wife.
Besides, he’s
English
!
”

She shoved to her feet
, recalling how he had turned her over his knee for going on and on about how much she detested the English
.
Then she heaved a sigh of frustration.
“I am here only because he has been ordered to find me a suitable betrothed. No doubt someone who the English king will approve
,
”
s
he said the last bitterly.

That thought left a sour taste in her mouth. She
would never have a
love for the English. They’d destroyed her family and insisted on taking her from her home. No, she did not want an Englishman for a husband and might have to go to drastic measures to prevent it from happening. She’d briefly toyed with the idea of sneaking away, finding her way back to Urquhart. Surely she could convince Douglas to let her hide there until Brodie returned. And he
would
return!

“And well you should remember that, Lady Urquhart,” Mary said and walked next to them at the long trestle table. “You will soon be gone from here.”

The determined look in her eyes told Maggie she’d heard most of what the two of them had said. She had the hearing of an eagle. Not for the first time, Maggie was certain the woman was playing games here. Fia was right, she sported two faces: the soft spoken innocent and the woman with a definite plan and the acting ability to reach her goal. Nicholas best be careful or he would indeed find himself wed to this woman.

“Eavesdropping, were ye?” Maggie gave her a knowing look.

Mary faced her down, not at all intimidated. “Sounds echo in this hall, especially when so few people are here.” She flattened her thin lips for a second and shook her head in disapproval. “I’m just hoping that young serving girl didn’t hear you talking about Lord Middleham’s suspected prowess in bed. Or about him pleasuring you, Lady Urquhart.”

Maggie hoped so as well, but she didn’t like being taken to task by the likes of Mary. “Well, the man willna be pleasuring ye either. Ye’ll be leaving here just like me, hopefully sooner than me.”

Mary’s hands curled into fists at her sides. Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll change his mind about sending me away. I’m quite confident that the king will back me in my case to take my poor sister’s place as Lord Middleham’s wife.”

Maggie wasn’t in the mood to argue any longer. The woman couldn’t be reasoned with, wouldn’t accept that Nicholas didn’t want her. She turned to head toward the kitchens. It was time to meet the people who really mattered around here.

*
*
*

Two weeks had passed and Nicholas still had both Maggie and Mary in his keep. They were driving him crazy. He spent more and more time with his men, even consider
ed
moving out to bed with them in the knights’ quarters. Now as he broke his fast and sat at the head of the trestle table, he found himself with little appetite. Maggie sat on one side of him, Mary on the other. Neither had spoken a word yet and the tension was getting to him. The keep ran as smoothly as it had at Urquhart; the servants were enamored of Maggie. Yet she’d done as little as possible in the way of guiding Mary in running a household even though he’d ordered her to do so. She always had some excuse or another for not doing so. Mary had come to him again last night with tales of all but pleading for Maggie’s guidance and being refused. He’d had enough.

He washed down the bread he’d eaten with a swallow of mead. Then he looked directly at Maggie. “You will take the time today to begin instructing Mary.”

“I’ve been doing so fer days now. Is there something specific ye have in mind?” She glanced at Mary with suspicion. “Has she come to ye with complaints? I’ve got a few of my own.”

Mary sipped her cup of mead and a look of beatific innocence spread over her face. “You’ve barely explained anything to me. Mainly you’ve had me working on the mending, which I understand is necessary.” She smiled tolerantly at him.

Irritation flashed in Maggie’s eyes. “Ye’ve done a poor job with it, too! I’ve spent more than one night repairing the faulty mending ye’ve done.”

“Enough!” Nicholas blew out a deep breath and noted the amusement flickering on the faces of a handful of men from where they sat breaking their fast at a nearby table. “I’m weary of these games the two of you are playing with each other. You will get along, Maggie, and do as I’ve told you or…
.
” He let the thought fade off. He’d already warned her more than a few times she was skirting the need for him to apply the flat of his hand to her bottom again. Maybe he should use the paddle this time.

Her brow wrinkled in vexation and t
hat defiant chin of hers shot up. “Why am
I
the only one ye threaten to behave? Why no’
—”

The hard look he sent her way had her slamming her mouth shut. “Mayhap you need a day
spent in your bedchamber
thinking over your behavior of late, of how you resist doing as I’ve ordered.”

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. “’Tis no’ right my being kept from my duties. Who will do them if I’m sent to my chamber?”

“I could
—”
Mary began only to swallow her words at Maggie’s fierce glower.

“She isna ready to take charge.” Maggie’s breasts rose and fell with her anger.

Nicholas watched all too closely the movement of those plump breasts. Too often he thought about how they might feel cupped by his hands. Too often he watched the sweet sway of her hips as she crossed a room. She’d begun haunting his dreams and he awoke with a hard pole and a strong need to drive it into her enticing body. Feeling the stirrings of arousal now because her fighting spirit drew him, he slammed his hand on the table. Mead spilled over the lip of his cup.

“’Tis your fault she isn’t ready. But I’m sure she has learned something these last couple of weeks. Surely Lady Stanhope has learned enough to take charge for today, with the help of the servants.”

He stood and towered over Maggie. “When you are done breaking your fast, you will go to your bedchamber. You will stay there this day. Work on the mending. Work on the tapestry you’ve started. I don’t really care, but you
will
stay there this day!”

Maggie shoved back her chair and nearly set it on his foot. He stepped back and she got to her feet. “As ye wish, Lord Middleham. Whatever ye say, Lord Middleham.”

Sassy lass! His hand itched to reach out and swat her bottom when she turned and walked by him. Instead he glanced down at Mary and ground his teeth at the look of satisfaction on her face. She’d won this round of their battle, because of him. He cursed under his breath
for having been pulled into their game
and strode out of the keep.

He was tired of their warfare, but at least they kept it mainly to themselves. Yet he knew the servants were aware of the challenge going on and appeared to find it amusing. He didn’t. And he wanted to steer as clear of it as possible. Although it was beginning to look like he’d soon be turning Maggie over his knee. Perhaps Mary as well. If only he would hear some responses to the messages he’d sent out concerning finding husbands for them. He should have sent Mary away before now, but she truly had nowhere to go. Fortunately, Edward had sent word he did not demand Nicholas accept Mary as a betrothed. Unfortunately, he insisted Nicholas find her a suitable husband as well as Maggie. He’d gone from a hardened warrior with a respectably stern reputation to a matchmaker.

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Maggie had been fuming mad ever since being sent to her chamber. She’d spent the first hour pacing the space, calling Nicholas every vile name she could think of, and calling that dark-haired conniving Mary Stanhope worse. Then she plopped down on her bed and plotted out how she would run away the first chance she got. It didn’t matter that traveling alone back to Urquhart would be dangerous, far beyond dangerous, in truth. It would be worth the risk to get away from here and a future she dreaded: a future with some Englishman. She was tired of worrying over what possible husband would ride up any day now. Nicholas had become so frustrated with the situation
—
and with her
—
that he’d probably agree to any disgusting man who came to Middleham. Hopefully, he’d find as
equally
disgusting a husband for Mary.

Angered even more by those
troubled musings
, she went to one of the trunks in her room and pulled out the tapestry she’d started her first week here. She would force her thoughts to something else. But after a good look at the piece of fabric, she sighed in disgust. Saint Ninian, ‘twas the worst piece of needlework she’d ever done! There were knots and miss-stitches everywhere. Even a spot or two of her blood from poking her fingers when she hadn’t been paying attention to her task.

With a huff of frustration, she tossed it aside, vowing to hide it before Nicholas ever laid eyes on it. He’d be stunned at her incompetence with a needle. And yet she truly wasn’t. Just with this
particular
piece.

She glanced around the
bed
chamber, hating it more by the second. So she walked to one of the narrow windows to look out upon the bailey. ‘Twas a blessedly beautiful day, too nice for being stuck inside.

She turned away, feeling depressed
, a
nd then she caught sight of her bow and quiver of arrows in the far corner. Excitement raced through her. The emotion was quickly followed by a tingling of apprehension and a tightening of her buttocks. The last time she’d shot an arrow it had been into Nicholas’ leg.
She still felt guilty for what she’d done, for how she could have endangered her people. But that was in the past, and he’d dealt with the dangerous incident by thrashing her with her father’s tawse. Not a memory she wanted to dwell on.

In spite of that unpleasant time,
she loved to shoot her bow and arrows. She couldn’t swing one of the big swords, not that she wanted to either. But she’d been trained as a marksman with her bow and she could hunt as well as any man in Urquhart. She missed some of the freedoms she’d had at her home. Here she only did what the lady of the castle was expected to handle. She really should let Mary do more of the duties and then she’d have time for other pursuits.
Like what? She had no idea, but she was weary of only dealing with the household.

She marched over to the bow and picked it up. It felt good in her hands. As much as she would like more freedom for practicing her archery, she did
not
want Mary taking permanent charge of the duties here. Temporary charge, that is, since neither of them would be here much longer if Nicholas had his way.