Free The Border Vixen by Bertrice Small Page B

it when yer late.”
    Maggie nodded, then hurried from her bedchamber. In the hall she found her grandsire, the priest, and Lord Stewart much as she had left them, talking by the hearth.
    She silently signaled Busby. “Is the supper ready?”
    “It is, mistress. Shall I have it brought?”
    “Aye. I imagine our guest is hungry at this point, and the rest in the hall as well. Was Cook able to find enough to feed the extra mouths?”
    “She’s using the extra bread she had, added more vegetables to the pottage, and sent her lad to fetch a new wheel of cheese to cut for the trestles,” Busby informed his young mistress. “There’ll be cold meats for the high board as well.”
    At a nod from Busby, the servants hurried from the hall to quickly return with the meal. Wooden bowls were set before each man at the trestles below the high board. They were filled by those same servants with a pottage of carrots, onions, leeks, and rabbit in a thick gravy. Bread and cheese were put on each table, and the tankards were filled with ale.
    “My lords,” Maggie said to the three men by the fire, “come to table.” She ascended to the high board and seated herself in her place next to her grandfather’s high-backed chair. Pewter plates, spoons, and silver goblets had been laid at the four places for the diners. There were bread, cheese, and a platter of cold meats along with the pottage, the main meal having been served hours earlier. Wine was poured into the goblets.
    Lord Stewart looked about the hall as he ate. The chamber would be considered small by some; yet it was far larger than the hall in his house. It had two hearths, and four tall arched glass windows, two on each side of the room. It had a stone floor. A large tapestry hung behind the high board. Flag staffs with hanging battle flags had been set into the stone walls on the window sides of the hall, which had an arched roof with carved and painted beams. The room easily held five trestles and their benches. They were filled tonight. The chamber gave the appearance of prosperity not always seen in some halls.
    And when he had ridden through the village earlier, it had looked comfortable as well. The cottages were well cared for, unlike in many villages. Their slate roofs were in good repair. He had seen no broken windows, and the doors were actually whitewashed. There was a large round fountain with a Celtic cross in the village’s square. He had seen no garbage in the street, and the people appeared well fed. Brae Aisir was unique in that.
    Maggie watched Lord Stewart from beneath her lowered lashes. What was he thinking? she wondered.
    “I want ye to take Lord Stewart through the Aisir nam Breug tomorrow,” the laird said. “Not all the way, just a half-day’s ride, lassie. Explain to him how the defenses work. Don’t go over the border, however. No need for the Netherdale Kerrs to know ye have a husband yet. We’ll talk with them before the snows fall, or in the spring.”
    Maggie nodded. “I agree,” she said. She turned to Fingal Stewart. “Their former patriarch, Edward Kerr, who was also my grandfather, thought I should wed one of my English cousins. I would not, for an English master at this end of the Aisir nam Breug would have been unsuitable. His loyalties would have been to whichever English king was in power, and not to our King James. And if the English controlled both ends of the pass, they might be cajoled into violating our long-held principles of only peaceful traverse. My mother was a Netherdale Kerr, but she was fragile and no Scot. I am a Scot, my lord, and I am not fragile. I am strong,” Maggie said proudly.
    Strong, proud, and beautiful, Fingal Stewart thought as she spoke. What a wife she was going to be! “I will be honored to be your husband, madam,” he told her.
    Maggie colored, her cheeks taking on a most becoming shade of pale rose. She dipped her head in silent response to his compliment, and reaching for her goblet, sipped