The Border Vixen (3 page)

“ ’Tis a goodly selection,” her priestly great-uncle murmured. “Lord Hay’s brother looks a possible match for you.”

“I prefer a younger man whom I may control,” Maggie said low. “One who will be content to let me do what needs doing while taking all the credit. I care naught for recognition. I just want the Aisir nam Breug managed properly. If I spawn a son I can teach, then I will do so. But none out there looks to possess any wits at all.”

“Ye cannot judge by just looking at them,” her grandfather remarked. “Let the piper play, and dance with a few of them. Perhaps you will be surprised.”

“More likely I will be disappointed, but I will take your advice, Grandsire,” Maggie replied. Then rising, she called out, “Who will dance with me, my lords?” And she stepped from the dais to be suddenly surrounded by a group of eager males. Looking them all over with a bold eye she smiled, then addressed a young man with pale blond hair. “Ye will do to start with,” she said, holding out a graceful hand.

He eagerly grasped the hand and said almost breathlessly, “Calum Lindsay, Mistress Maggie.” His other arm slipped about her waist as the piper began to play a lively tune. He was unfortunately not a good dancer, tripping first over his own feet, and then hers. He looked to be no more than sixteen, and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously up and down in his throat as he concentrated on the quick steps of the country dance. Not once did he dare to meet her glance, for he found he was intimidated by the beautiful girl.

Maggie’s chestnut brown hair was tossed about as they danced. It was impossible to engage Calum Lindsay in conversation, as she could see if he had to speak with her, he would lose his concentration with the dance. She was relieved when an older man stepped in to partner her, cutting the lad out to the boy’s obvious relief. Maggie looked directly at the gentleman, recognizing the red plaid of Clan Hay. “And ye are?” she asked.

“Ewan Hay,” he replied shortly as they capered across the hall with quick steps and turned sharply. He lifted her up, swinging her about before returning Maggie’s feet to the floor. “I am twenty-eight, have never been wed, am a third son, and will speak with your grandsire on the morrow.”

“Indeed,” Maggie replied. “And think ye that ye can outride, outrun, and outfight me, Ewan Hay?”

“Yer a woman, for Christ’s sake,” he responded. “Oh, I’ve heard of yer reputation, but ’tis certainly bragging, madam, and nothing more.”

Maggie laughed. “God’s balls, sir, what a fool ye be if ye believe that! Still, ye are welcome to speak with my grandsire. Nothing will give me greater pleasure than to beat ye in all three contests.”

Ewan Hay’s face darkened with anger. “We will see, madam, just how ye fare in a contest with me. And when I have put ye in yer proper place, and wed ye, I shall on our wedding night take a sturdy hazel switch and whip the pride out of ye. Ye will learn how to behave like a proper wife in my charge.”

“I would nae wed ye if ye were the last man on the face of the earth,” Maggie said angrily. “Remember my words when I blood ye with my blade.” When the music stopped she pulled away from him and returned to the high board.

“Yer flushed,” Dugald Kerr noted. “Did Lord Hay’s younger brother say something to distress ye?”

“He will sue for my hand, beat me in all three contests, and whip me with a hazel on our wedding night so I learn my proper place,” Maggie told her grandsire and her great-uncle.

The laird’s head snapped up. He looked about until he could find Ewan Hay, then glared at him. “I shall nae accept his suit,” he said angrily.

“Nay, let him try to best me,” Maggie said in a cold, even voice. “He is a man who wants public humiliation, and I shall enjoy giving it to him. Let the bastard try to beat me in fair combat. I shall enjoy shaming him before the rest of them.”

“Be careful, Niece,” David Kerr said warily.

“I will, Uncle,” Maggie replied. She rose again. “Now, sirs, if ye will excuse me, I have had enough tonight and would beg yer leave to depart the hall.”

“Ye have it,” her grandfather said. “Rest well, my bairn.”

Maggie departed the great hall, moving quickly through and past the tables below the board. She had eaten sparingly and drunk little. Tomorrow, when Ewan Hay sought to gain her hand in marriage, she intended pressing him into the battle immediately. Under the best of conditions she could beat him, but he had poured a lot of ale into himself tonight, and she didn’t doubt for one moment that after their meeting he had been tempted to swill more like the pig he was. She smiled wickedly to herself. She must get to bed immediately. A good night’s rest was necessary to teaching Lord Hay’s younger brother the lesson he needed to learn.

Grizel was waiting for her, and she listened as Maggie shared the details of the evening with her. “That Hay laddie is too bold for my taste,” she said.

“He won’t be quite so bold by this time tomorrow,” Maggie said grimly.

“Be careful, my lass. A fellow like that is not to be trifled with, I fear,” Grizel said. “They are said to be hard men, the Border Hays.”

“Wake me at first light,” Maggie said as she finished undressing. She washed her face, hands, and teeth before climbing into her comfortable bed hung with rose-colored velvet curtains.

“I will,” Grizel promised as she put her mistress’s clothing away. Then she hurried from the bedchamber while behind her Maggie blew out the taper by her bed.

As morning began to lighten the sky some hours later, Grizel returned to awaken the girl. Maggie jumped from her bed at once, rested and ready for her challenge. Instructing her serving woman, she pulled on a pair of dark-colored breeks, tucking her chemise into the pants and donning a white linen shirt that she carefully laced up. Then she sat pulling on a pair of light woolen stockings, and her worn leather boots. “I’ll go to the kitchens and get some hot oats,” she said to Grizel, and ran off.

The cook filled a bowl with oat stir-about. Maggie shaved some sugar from the sugar cone the cook offered over her oats and poured heavy cream atop it. Then taking up her spoon, she quickly ate the porridge.

“A slice of fresh cottage loaf, mistress?” the cook asked.

“Just the oats. I think I will be running this morning,” Maggie said.

The cook cackled. “The server says Lord Hay’s brother is engaging the laird in conversation right now. I saw him last night. He has a handsome face, but he used one of the serving lasses hard. His heart is a cruel one.”

“Dinna fear,” Maggie answered the woman. “I’ll nae have him.” Then finished with her oats, she hurried up the stairs to the great hall where Lord Hay and his brother, Ewan, were speaking with the laird. Maggie bounded right up to her grandfather’s side, where she stood looking boldly down at the two men.

“Ewan Hay would have yer hand, lass,” Dugald Kerr said.

“Is he willing to meet our terms, Grandsire?” Maggie asked quietly.

“He says he is,” came the reply.

“
Today?
” Maggie said pointedly. “I dinna like him, Grandsire, and I would quickly put his hopes to an end.”

“Today? Are ye mad?” Ewan Hay burst out. “Ye indulge the wench, my lord, far too much. When we are wed I will nae indulge her so.”

“If ye wish to try to win me, sir, it will be on my grandsire’s terms, and nae yers,” Maggie said coldly. “Today, tomorrow, next week. Ye will nae overcome me, and frankly I should just as soon be quit of ye today as tomorrow.”

“My lord?” Ewan Hay turned to the laird.

“She’s correct, young Hay. So if ye want her, ye will take up the challenge this day. If ye canna win her today, ye will nae be able to win her another day—believe me.”

Ewan Hay turned to his elder brother, but Lord Hay shook his head, saying, “The laird knows whereof he speaks. If ye really want her, then best her this day and be done with it, Ewan. If ye choose nae to, ye canna be blamed if ye dinna want to face this challenge. There are other lasses more biddable for ye to wed than this one.”

“I will nae be beaten by a woman,” Ewan Hay snarled, his face darkening when Maggie laughed aloud.

“We will run barefoot,” she said sweetly.

“Barefoot?”
His voice went up a full octave.

“ ’Tis my way, sir.” Then she sat down at the high board, swiftly removing her boots and stockings.

“Decline the challenge, and let us go home,” Lord Hay said to his brother.

“
Never!
” Ewan Hay almost shouted.

The course they would race both on foot and by horse was to be the same. They would go across the drawbridge, down the hill, run straight through the village, turn about, and come back up the hill again to circle the little keep once before crossing the drawbridge once more. As soon as they returned, they would mount up and redo the identical route a-horse. There would be no stopping.

“And if ye survive the races,” Maggie said, “I will engage ye in swordplay. The match is over when one of us draws blood. Do ye agree?”

“Aye!” Ewan Hay said through gritted teeth. When he had met her challenge and won, he would beat her black and blue on their wedding night for her boldness this day. He yanked off his shoes and stockings.

“Ye hae small feet,” Maggie noted. “They say a man with small feet has a small cock, sir.”

Lord Hay swallowed back his laughter as his younger sibling’s face darkened again with outrage. The lass was baiting him nicely into anger. If he succumbed to that anger, he would drain his energy, but then that was precisely what the girl intended.

He did not expect he would be welcoming Mad Maggie Kerr into their family.

The hall emptied out into the yard and to the drawbridge. Grizel hurried up to her mistress to tie her hair back with a red ribbon. Then Dugald Kerr asked both combatants if they were ready. Gaining their acquiescence, he raised his hand up and dropped the white napkin he had been holding. It fluttered to the ground as Ewan Hay and Maggie Kerr sprinted off to the cheers of the onlookers.

But it was obvious from the beginning that the man could not outrun the girl.

She was almost out of sight before he reached the end of the drawbridge. He winced with each pebble that his foot struck, swearing softly as he tried to run to catch up with her. At the end of the village were two Hay clansmen waiting to verify that both parties had gone the full length. Maggie passed him going in the other direction.

“Bitch!” he shouted at her as she dashed by, and he heard her laughter.

Maggie gave it her all. She wanted this over and done with. Regaining the courtyard, she did not even pause to put her boots back on, although she had more than enough time to do so. She leaped upon the back of her dapple gray stallion and raced from the courtyard, leaning low upon the beast, her bare heels digging into the animal’s side. She passed Ewan Hay as he stumbled up the hill to encircle the castle. It was over, and she knew it, but she knew he would not admit defeat until she blooded him with her blade. She was actually looking forward to it, but she was denied the pleasure, for when she rode back into the courtyard, Ewan Hay was seated upon a step, Grizel tending to his bleeding feet. He had not even bothered to mount his horse.

Maggie slid from her horse and walked over to him. “Do ye admit defeat, sir?” she asked him coldly. “Ye completed but one of the three challenges.”

“Madam, despite yer wealth, and the power ye will hold, I would nae hae ye for a wife if ye were the last woman on the face of God’s green earth,” Ewan Hay said grimly. “Yer a border vixen, and I pity the man, if he even exists, who will tame, wed, and bed ye. Is that a stallion ye were riding just now?” He stared, surprised.

“Aye,” Maggie drawled, smiling. She bent to pull her stockings and boots back on.

Ewan Hay shook his blond head. “A woman who rides a stallion is nae the lass for me,” he admitted to her, briefly humbled.

“Ye ran a good race,” Maggie said generously.

He looked up at her and shook his head. Then he said to Grizel, “Can ye help me get my boots on, woman?”

“Yer feet are too swollen, sir,” Grizel said. “I’ll wrap them for ye, but ye’ll nae wear yer boots for the next few days.”

Ewan Hay swore beneath his breath. “How am I to ride?” he asked of no one in particular. He stared at his neatly bound feet.

“We’ll get ye on yer mount,” Dugald Kerr said. He did not invite either Lord Hay or his brother back into the keep. “See to it,” the laird told the captain of his men-at-arms. Then he turned to his granddaughter. “The men yer training are waiting, lass.”

“Aye, Grandsire,” Maggie said, going off to drill a small squad of lads awaiting her in the courtyard. She tossed the reins of her stallion to one of the stable boys as she went.

Dugald Kerr gave a final glance to the Hays. “I thank ye for coming,” he said. Then he turned away and returned to his hall where throughout the morning he bid his guests farewell. Most of them had watched as Ewan Hay had been humiliated and soundly beaten. None of them stepped forward to speak with the laird other than to thank him for his hospitality. When the last of them had departed, Dugald Kerr sighed, saying to his priestly brother, “I know Maggie is a formidable lass, David, but are all of our border lads such weaklings that they would not even attempt to meet the challenges set forth?”

“Nae after seeing the Hay beaten so thoroughly,” David Kerr said. “Why must ye insist on a husband for Maggie meeting such a challenge?”

“She will nae love or respect a man who cannot best her. Her husband will need her help, her guidance, in managing the Aisir nam Breug. There isn’t a man in my house, in my ranks, on my lands, who does not respect Mad Maggie Kerr. There are some who even fear her, David. And they are right too. What a pity she was not born a lad!”

“She’s more lad than lassie,” the priest said dryly, “but I suppose yer right. She’ll need a strong man by her side. But after today’s exhibition, I dinna know who’ll have her. I will pray on it, however, Dugald.”

In the weeks that followed, several of the border lords sent to the laird of Brae Aisir; some even returned to speak with him face-to-face in an effort to negotiate a marriage contract between one of their kinsmen and Mad Maggie Kerr. But Dugald Kerr remained firm in his resolve. The man who married his granddaughter had to vanquish her, and earn her respect. Turned away, the lairds finally met at a small inn in the border hills to discuss the matter of Dugald Kerr, Mad Maggie, and the Aisir nam Breug.