take
them far and near. The oldest was in Afrique. The cousins were in Cornwall. The other brother was aboard a ship.”
“Now I can be at peace,” Hugh responded in the same tone.
Edward laughed and rose. “You are a suspicious man, Hugh. Remember the compact was drawn in a most rapid fashion. ’Twas your
wish to bring it together quickly.”
“So it was.” Hugh’s brow lifted.
“You’re a rogue, MacKay.” The king tapped his arm. “Bring your lovely wife with you when next you come to Edinburgh.”
“We’ll see.”
Edward still chortled as he left with the others, but his eyes had narrowed on the powerful MacKay.
Hugh was glad to throw aside the worries that had plagued him for months and just watch his wife gather an ever larger coterie
of admirers around her. Though she seemed carefree, Hugh noticed she’d eaten little, that she’d barely touched her ale or
wine. She had concerns, this wife of his. He would find out what they were, and he had a lifetime to do it.
He pondered again that foolhardiness that had him ignoring her until their spousal day. Since it was not uncommon not to see
a bride before wedding her, he’d just accepted what those around him had said. Welsh bitch had been how most had referred
to her. That most of them had never met the woman consigned to an isolated corner of Wales had not weighed with him. What
an ass he’d been not to check out what was fast becoming an important segment of his life. His wife. He’d not havebeen so careless choosing a destrier. Not since boyhood had he let another choose his mount, but he’d been lax about knowing
more about his most important “mount.”
Morrigan turned to look at him. “Why did you just laugh?”
“You wouldn’t like what I was thinking.”
“Oh?”
What was she thinking? Would there ever be a time when she would probe his thoughts? Would she wonder what it would have been
like to be wooed by such as he, without the trappings of treaties, compacts, debts of honor? Mayhap she thought him a womanizer.
If she’d heard the women’s gossip she would.
Now that she’d met him would she discount the gossip or put more credence to it? It annoyed him that he had an urge to explain.
“Do tell me. I would be amused.”
“What?” She sounded aloof. He sensed temper under the coolness. He applauded restraint, and self-control. It had carried him
far. “Are you in bad tid, milady?” He used the Gaelic term for waspishness.
She faced him, head up, eyes flashing. “Do you say that I ponder you with a host of loose women? That such would make my blood
cook?”
He bit back a laugh. “Nay, milady, I—”
“Perhaps you think your profligate life would not matter to me until our vows were spoken. Be at peace, milord. I will not
have you drawn and quartered.”
“Thank you.”
“Why do you elevate your brow? Do you not believe me?”
“I do.”
“Then contain your mirth and regale me with your tale.”
A spitfire! Under all that smoothness and serenity was an unleashed wolf cub! He was delighted.
“Your story, milord.” She moved back from the trencher board, rising, turning away from the guests to concentrate on her spouse.
He stood as well. “All right.” He leaned down and whispered his thought about choosing a horse and a wife.
When she turned that benign smile on him, wariness seized him. He backed a step just as she brought her knee up in a sharp,
meaningful thrust.
Few noticed the move. One who’d not taken eyes off the pair since the vow taking did. Keeping the smile in place to hide the
hatred wasn’t easy, but observation provided more and more information. Mayhap this day the couple would be sped to Hades.
But… if they lived there was another way to level the enemy. Divide and conquer, Caesar said. Wife and husband could make
interesting adversaries. It could foment troubles for Wales and Scotland. The smile widened. Intrigue was delicious. The dispatching
them far and near. The oldest was in Afrique. The cousins were in Cornwall. The other brother was aboard a ship.”
“Now I can be at peace,” Hugh responded in the same tone.
Edward laughed and rose. “You are a suspicious man, Hugh. Remember the compact was drawn in a most rapid fashion. ’Twas your
wish to bring it together quickly.”
“So it was.” Hugh’s brow lifted.
“You’re a rogue, MacKay.” The king tapped his arm. “Bring your lovely wife with you when next you come to Edinburgh.”
“We’ll see.”
Edward still chortled as he left with the others, but his eyes had narrowed on the powerful MacKay.
Hugh was glad to throw aside the worries that had plagued him for months and just watch his wife gather an ever larger coterie
of admirers around her. Though she seemed carefree, Hugh noticed she’d eaten little, that she’d barely touched her ale or
wine. She had concerns, this wife of his. He would find out what they were, and he had a lifetime to do it.
He pondered again that foolhardiness that had him ignoring her until their spousal day. Since it was not uncommon not to see
a bride before wedding her, he’d just accepted what those around him had said. Welsh bitch had been how most had referred
to her. That most of them had never met the woman consigned to an isolated corner of Wales had not weighed with him. What
an ass he’d been not to check out what was fast becoming an important segment of his life. His wife. He’d not havebeen so careless choosing a destrier. Not since boyhood had he let another choose his mount, but he’d been lax about knowing
more about his most important “mount.”
Morrigan turned to look at him. “Why did you just laugh?”
“You wouldn’t like what I was thinking.”
“Oh?”
What was she thinking? Would there ever be a time when she would probe his thoughts? Would she wonder what it would have been
like to be wooed by such as he, without the trappings of treaties, compacts, debts of honor? Mayhap she thought him a womanizer.
If she’d heard the women’s gossip she would.
Now that she’d met him would she discount the gossip or put more credence to it? It annoyed him that he had an urge to explain.
“Do tell me. I would be amused.”
“What?” She sounded aloof. He sensed temper under the coolness. He applauded restraint, and self-control. It had carried him
far. “Are you in bad tid, milady?” He used the Gaelic term for waspishness.
She faced him, head up, eyes flashing. “Do you say that I ponder you with a host of loose women? That such would make my blood
cook?”
He bit back a laugh. “Nay, milady, I—”
“Perhaps you think your profligate life would not matter to me until our vows were spoken. Be at peace, milord. I will not
have you drawn and quartered.”
“Thank you.”
“Why do you elevate your brow? Do you not believe me?”
“I do.”
“Then contain your mirth and regale me with your tale.”
A spitfire! Under all that smoothness and serenity was an unleashed wolf cub! He was delighted.
“Your story, milord.” She moved back from the trencher board, rising, turning away from the guests to concentrate on her spouse.
He stood as well. “All right.” He leaned down and whispered his thought about choosing a horse and a wife.
When she turned that benign smile on him, wariness seized him. He backed a step just as she brought her knee up in a sharp,
meaningful thrust.
Few noticed the move. One who’d not taken eyes off the pair since the vow taking did. Keeping the smile in place to hide the
hatred wasn’t easy, but observation provided more and more information. Mayhap this day the couple would be sped to Hades.
But… if they lived there was another way to level the enemy. Divide and conquer, Caesar said. Wife and husband could make
interesting adversaries. It could foment troubles for Wales and Scotland. The smile widened. Intrigue was delicious. The dispatching
Similar Books
