The Border Vixen (21 page)

They walked together into the hall, brushing the snow from themselves as they came. The old laird looked up, relief upon his face.

“Now, Grandsire,” Maggie teased him, “certainly ye weren’t worried. I’ve been out in worse than this, and ye know it.”

“Of course, I wasn’t fearful for ye,” Dugald Kerr prevaricated.

Maggie laughed, and going to him planted a kiss on his forehead.

“Sit down, sit down,” the laird said to them both. “Well, Fin, how was the pass 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 passing 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 assured us they could manage the winter without her. Mary’s lass had just gone into labor, and we reached the cottage at the same time Midwife Agnes did. After the storm passes, 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, butter, and cheese. They ate heartily, washing 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 lass 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, brushing 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 breasts 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 breasts 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 lass 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 sex. 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 passion, 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 cock 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 whores 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 passionate 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 cock. He groaned deeply, knowing she was tasting true passion. Then, unable to contain himself, he released his lust 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. God’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 cock 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 fucking lustily 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 Vendôme’s daughter. The girl was more than noble 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 ambassador to explain to the duc that his master was no longer interested.

At the court of King François, 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 François refused.