babe—who Catrìona realized was the queen’s young son—before releasing him back to his nurse.
An older man with gray hair, who had been standing to one side, approached. Catrìona assumed he was the king’s steward.
“My Lady, the orphans await you and your ladies.”
“Thank you, Nechtan,” said the queen.
Audra leaned in to Catrìona and Fia. “Before she takes any food for herself, Margaret will see the orphans fed. They come to the tower door each morning, usually nine or ten of them. ’Tis her way and we do the same.”
Just then, the king stomped down the stairs, his heavy feet sounding like drum beats on the wooden planks. Frustration emanated from his grunts as he struggled to pin a large brooch to his scarlet cloak. His dark hair, thrown back from his face, fell to his shoulders in wild abandon. A golden-handled sword hung in a sheath at his side. A man of great height and presence, his entry drew the attention of all. Catrìona could not help but stare.
Spotting his queen, Malcolm went straight to her.
“ ’Twould seem I am in need of your deft hand, mo cridhe .” He grinned mischievously at his wife.
The queen raised her hands to his shoulder and with efficient movements, secured the brooch to his cloak. The king bestowed a kiss on her cheek. As Margaret turned toward her ladies, Malcolm slapped her affectionately on the bottom before striding toward the door, snapping his fingers at two hounds lying in the corner. The hounds immediately rose from the rushes and followed at their master’s heels as he swept through the door.
Margaret seemed flustered for only a moment, then a smile flickered on her face.
Catrìona felt a stab of envy at having witnessed the exchange. Malcolm had called his wife mo cridhe , my heart, and in his eyes she had seen the adoration he held for Margaret that was whispered of at court. To be loved by such a warrior, to be touched in such an affectionate and possessive way. ’Twas not unlike the love that had existed between her father and her mother. The love she hoped to one day share with Domnall.
The king swung open the door and before it thumped closed, Catrìona heard the king’s men, gathering outside, greeting him in a loud chorus.
She turned her attention back to her mistress. At one of the trestle tables, a group of children stood wearing broad grins and simple tunics of earthen colors. They greeted Margaret with noisy expressions of delight, pulling at the queen’s gown.
“Wait your turn,” Margaret gently reproved one very insistent young boy who could not have been more than four summers in age.
Servants bustled about, setting the table with bowls of gruel and bread. Others poured milk into small cups and set them before each place.
Margaret sat down on a bench in the middle of one table and beckoned a small girl to her. “You first, Bridget.” The child was not shy but came directly to the queen and climbed onto her lap. As Audra had told them, the queen did not eat. Instead, she picked up her own silver spoon and began to feed the girl from a bowl of gruel.
Catrìona and Fia joined the queen’s other ladies as they took their places at the table around Margaret and began to attend the remaining children clamoring to be fed from the bowls set before them.
Looking up at Catrìona and Fia while still feeding the young girl, Margaret said, “I try to give them something a child would like, sweetened with honey and raisins.”
Catrìona nodded her understanding as her rumbling stomach reminded her she was hungry. She was about to point out it was not just children who liked honey and raisins when the queen said, “I am rather fond of them myself.”
Off to the side, Catrìona saw a boy standing by himself and called him to her. Older than the others, he was slight of body, ruddy of complexion with beautiful wide set brown eyes and straight brown hair to his nape.
He came toward her cautiously, wearing a serious expression, mayhap
An older man with gray hair, who had been standing to one side, approached. Catrìona assumed he was the king’s steward.
“My Lady, the orphans await you and your ladies.”
“Thank you, Nechtan,” said the queen.
Audra leaned in to Catrìona and Fia. “Before she takes any food for herself, Margaret will see the orphans fed. They come to the tower door each morning, usually nine or ten of them. ’Tis her way and we do the same.”
Just then, the king stomped down the stairs, his heavy feet sounding like drum beats on the wooden planks. Frustration emanated from his grunts as he struggled to pin a large brooch to his scarlet cloak. His dark hair, thrown back from his face, fell to his shoulders in wild abandon. A golden-handled sword hung in a sheath at his side. A man of great height and presence, his entry drew the attention of all. Catrìona could not help but stare.
Spotting his queen, Malcolm went straight to her.
“ ’Twould seem I am in need of your deft hand, mo cridhe .” He grinned mischievously at his wife.
The queen raised her hands to his shoulder and with efficient movements, secured the brooch to his cloak. The king bestowed a kiss on her cheek. As Margaret turned toward her ladies, Malcolm slapped her affectionately on the bottom before striding toward the door, snapping his fingers at two hounds lying in the corner. The hounds immediately rose from the rushes and followed at their master’s heels as he swept through the door.
Margaret seemed flustered for only a moment, then a smile flickered on her face.
Catrìona felt a stab of envy at having witnessed the exchange. Malcolm had called his wife mo cridhe , my heart, and in his eyes she had seen the adoration he held for Margaret that was whispered of at court. To be loved by such a warrior, to be touched in such an affectionate and possessive way. ’Twas not unlike the love that had existed between her father and her mother. The love she hoped to one day share with Domnall.
The king swung open the door and before it thumped closed, Catrìona heard the king’s men, gathering outside, greeting him in a loud chorus.
She turned her attention back to her mistress. At one of the trestle tables, a group of children stood wearing broad grins and simple tunics of earthen colors. They greeted Margaret with noisy expressions of delight, pulling at the queen’s gown.
“Wait your turn,” Margaret gently reproved one very insistent young boy who could not have been more than four summers in age.
Servants bustled about, setting the table with bowls of gruel and bread. Others poured milk into small cups and set them before each place.
Margaret sat down on a bench in the middle of one table and beckoned a small girl to her. “You first, Bridget.” The child was not shy but came directly to the queen and climbed onto her lap. As Audra had told them, the queen did not eat. Instead, she picked up her own silver spoon and began to feed the girl from a bowl of gruel.
Catrìona and Fia joined the queen’s other ladies as they took their places at the table around Margaret and began to attend the remaining children clamoring to be fed from the bowls set before them.
Looking up at Catrìona and Fia while still feeding the young girl, Margaret said, “I try to give them something a child would like, sweetened with honey and raisins.”
Catrìona nodded her understanding as her rumbling stomach reminded her she was hungry. She was about to point out it was not just children who liked honey and raisins when the queen said, “I am rather fond of them myself.”
Off to the side, Catrìona saw a boy standing by himself and called him to her. Older than the others, he was slight of body, ruddy of complexion with beautiful wide set brown eyes and straight brown hair to his nape.
He came toward her cautiously, wearing a serious expression, mayhap
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