by Mary McCall
"The MacPherson is right, daughter,” The MacKay chided. “You are not to interfere."
"In a pig's eye!” Hope declared loud enough for King William to hear.
"Wife, you'll drop this now.” The tic pulsated in Leonce's cheek.
Hope's eyes narrowed to slits. “If I drop this, I'll braid yellow and black ribbons and decorate this whole mountain!"
Julien stared at his sister in disbelief. “'Tis not a wife's place to raise her voice or argue with her husband, Angelaspera."
"I will bloody well argue and yell if I so wish, and right now—"
Leonce's roaring laughter drowned out her remaining words, infecting the other MacPhersons in the hall. When his humor dwindled, he turned amused eyes upon his brother-in-law. “I do not make light of your comment, Julien. You're right. ‘Tis just that, when I told her the same thing, she told me if I didn't like it I could cancel the marriage afore ‘twas consummated. I just had the strangest sense of stepping back in time."
"You're changing the subject,” Hope said in an accusing tone. “I tried to argue with you once. You said you wouldn't fight if you did not know the cause."
Leonce sighed. “Eminence, you may tell my wife the cause."
"A sheep and a wolf,” the cardinal said and nodded to himself.
Hope snorted. “I consider my mind intuitive, but could you give me a wee bit more to draw upon?"
"'Twas back in 986. Every year, the MacPhersons held a harvest festival with games of skill for the warriors, livestock shows, harvest judging, dancing—even had contests for the women to show off their cooking and sewing and weaving."
"Did the women not take part in competitions to show their skills with weapons?” Hope asked, surprised.
"No one would allow such a thing, wife."
"We bloody well will when we start having the festival again this fall. I'll win for our clan too."
Leonce grunted. “Would you let the cardinal finish?"
Hope nodded, and the cardinal continued. “Clans came from throughout the Highlands and participated in the event. The MacKay's great-great-grandfather had a ewe named Grizela who had a beautiful fleece and the plumpest form. Such care was taken on the journey here that Grizela never set a hoof upon the earth, so that she lost no flesh. Everyone was sure she would win the prize that year. The night afore the judging, The MacKay's shepherd decided she didn't look too fit. He separated Grizela from the other sheep so whatever plagued her wouldn't harm the rest of the flock. During the night, a wolf attacked Grizela. They found her carcass the next morn. The MacKay accused The MacPherson of setting a wolf on Grizela so a MacPherson ewe could win. The MacPherson found the dead wolf with poor Grizela's blood still coating his fur and accused The MacKay of feeding bad mutton to his local pack. The argument incited the feud, and the MacPhersons never had a fall festival again.” Cardinal Brodie shook his head. “'Twas the reason I visited your father, MacKay, at the time you asked me to preside over your second marriage. I hoped the Church could mediate between the two clans."
"Let me get this straight,” Hope said with disgust. “My husband and father are feuding because, over a hundred years ago, a wild wolf from MacPherson land killed a ewe that could have killed off the entire MacKay flock, and because the diseased sheep caused the death of a savage that preyed upon MacPherson herds?"
"'Tis what I said.” The cardinal nodded. “The most idiotic cause of any feud I ever heard."
Hope stood, dropped her napkin beside her trencher, and marched toward the stairs.
"Where are you going?” Leonce called.
"To get my whip."
"Face me when you speak to me, wife."
Hope turned around, her head high and eyes seething.
"What did you just say to your chieftain?"
Hands on hips, she glared. “I'm going to get my whip, MacPherson. When I return, I'll either give you and my father a yellow ribbon, or I'll take my lash to both of you until this cursed feud is finished.” She spun about, mounted the steps, and called over her shoulder, “If I were you, I would bloody well put on a few more layers of plaids."
"Does my daughter want you to beat her?” The MacKay asked, astonished.
"Nay. She is raging and wishes us to end the feud.” Leonce sighed. Great! Now The MacKay and his son would spread it beyond the clan that his wife ruled the keep.
"What do you think we should do about it?” the elder chief asked.
Leonce raked his fingers through his hair. “Either end the feud or get more plaids."
"Want me to hold her off with my whip, Papa?” Bertie asked from the end of the table. “I'm not as good as her yet, but ‘twill get you time to hide."
"I'll not hide from my wife. What say you, MacKay, do we end it?"
"Is she really that skilled?” Julien asked.
"When we played Highlander, a wolf came after a Fraser sow. Mam wrapped her lash around the cursed creature's throat and broke his neck in a flash,” Bertie boasted. “Almost killed our king, too, when she thought he was going to hurt Papa."
"Aye, I saw Malcolm's neck. ‘Tis finished, MacPherson.” The MacKay nodded once.
"Zounds! I almost forgot your surprise!” Bertie jumped from his seat.
"'Tis here, Bertie.” Hope stood by the stairs, holding her whip in one hand and something else behind her back.
"Can I give it to him?” Bertie asked, running to her.
She looked at Leonce. “Is it finished, MacPherson?"
"Aye, Hope."
She arched a brow toward her father. “MacKay?"
"Aye, Angelaspera. ‘Tis finished."
She flashed them a brilliant smile. “Good. Bertie, you can give it to him. Leonce, come get your surprise."
"Are you going to let my sister keep ordering you?” Julien asked, astounded by his sister's audacity.
"I am as long as she holds that whip.” Leonce stood. “Might as well join her. Bertie wants to demonstrate his prowess with his own lash."
The men at the head table adjourned across the hall to where Hope stood with Bertie hovering behind her.
"You ready, Lion?” she asked with a saucy smirk.
Leonce grinned. “I'm damn near filled with anticipation."
"Here it is, Papa.” Bertie came from behind Hope and handed Leonce a coiled lash, complete with ribbons. “'Tis longer than Mam's. She says that is ‘cause of you're so tall. I get to have a longer one when I grow more."
Leonce raised amused eyes to hers. “You trust me with this, wife?"
"Aye.” Hope coiled her whip and secured it to her girdle. “Not only have I your promise, but you do not know how to use it yet."
He weighed the whip in one hand. “When do I get my first lesson?"
"Tomorrow."
"Bertie is that good?"
"Stand back, and he will show you.” She linked her arms with her husband and father, and they moved aside.
Bertie claimed his whip from the peg and moved in front of the bale of hay, which held three pieces of cast-off pottery. He shook out the long leather braid. Then he snapped his lash and let it fly. Bertie growled. “Zounds, cursed and bloody rot! I missed the whole damn bale!"
"Bertie, do not say damn,” Hope scolded. “'Tis cursed poor manners."
Leonce chuckled at the language of Hope's reprimand. She gave him a disgruntled look before returning her attention to Bertie. “We know you're nervous. Try to concentrate and let your mind control the whip."
Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, Bertie studied his target. Making a series of three snaps, he hit each vessel, splintering them into hundreds of pieces. The audience cheered, and Bertie's color rose.
He turned toward Leonce and bowed. “Enemies demolished, Chief."
"Well done, son.” Leonce gave him a nod of approval.
"Milady?” Garia called from the bottom step. “The bairns are screaming for you."
"My thanks, Garia.” She turned toward her son. “You make me proud, Bertie. We'll move to choke ho
lds next time. Leonce, would you take my beauty and his new lady a treat while I tend the bairns, then come up and help me bring the wee ones down?"
"Aye. I'm sure Julien will want to see what became of his horse."
"'Twas my brother's horse?” Hope bellowed.
"You stole my horse,” Julien yelled. “'Tis a cause for feuding!"
Leonce shrugged. “'Twas raiding in the dead of winter. Had to have something to show for it."
Hope placed a hand on Julien's forearm. “I am sorry. Leonce gave Raven to my friend. We'll make it up to you, so do not start another cursed feud."
"You can make it up to me by getting my horse back from your friend!"
Hope grinned. “Lion, introduce Julien to my friend, and let him ask for the mare back."
Leonce let a smile roll along his lips. “'Tis sure to be a feud betwixt the MacPhersons and MacKays if your friend kills Julien."
"My brother does not appear simple. Introduce him—from a safe distance, of course—and then ask what recompense he desires.” Hope let go a melodic laugh and headed up the stairs. “'Tis bloody certain he'll not leave with Raven in tow."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Fifty-Six
* * * *
Leonce entered his chamber. The babes lay awake in the crib as Hope adjusted her plaid. He walked over, took her into his arms, and inhaled her sweet fragrance.
"Are we feuding?” She rubbed her hands over his chest.
"Nay.” He massaged her lower back. “Julien agreed to let us keep the mare for the first fold."
"'Twas a wise choice.” She purred and nestled her head against his neck.
He rubbed his jaw against her hair. “Mine was the wise choice."
"Taking the mare?"
"Tricking you.” Leonce nudged up her chin and captured her mouth in a hungry kiss. A low moan caught in her throat. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. “I did not mean to do that, love."
"Please do not say that.” She slipped her arms around his waist and held him tight. “You said it afore and nearly broke my heart."
"When did I say it?"
"The night we wed. I was terrified because you were taking over my life, then you said that. I thought you regretted your decision and did not want me to be a real wife. When I awoke the next morn, you were gone. I was certain ‘twas my fault."
"Ah, Angelaspera, you misunderstood both times.” He caressed her jaw with a knuckle. “The first time I was trying to hold off until your wounds healed. When I saw the blood on the bed, I feared I'd hurt you, but wasn't sure I could keep from taking you again. ‘Tis why I left, and I'm not wanting to hurt you now."
Her eyes glazed. “I do not wish to wake up without you on the morrow."
"You'll not, though the torture might kill me.” He kissed her nose. “Now smile, and we will take the bairns to meet your father."
"Could forget old Elda's advice and go for it,” she offered. “I feel better than afore I was confined."
"Nay, Hope. I love you and respect old Elda's advice too much to risk injury to my lioness."
She expelled an exaggerated sigh. “'Twas worth a try."
"Did Elda happen to have a recipe for wanton wives?"
Hope frowned. “She never even mentioned this cursed problem. Think mayhap something is wrong with me?"
"Nothing I'll not gladly cure in a few weeks.” Leonce gave her a quick kiss on the lips, then went to the hearth and picked up the crib.
"Zounds! You're bloody well strong as Diable!” She gaped at him.
He grinned at her backhanded compliment. “Have you forgotten I lifted it the night they were born, or do you just have a fondness for comparing me to the beast? Get the door for me."
She followed him across the room. “You're taking the whole crib?"
"Aye. They can sleep by the hearth while you tell Bertie his story. ‘Twill let the lad know he can have your attention when they are around."
She grinned and opened the door. “I think the Good Lord spent extra time on you. Made you handsome and gave you strength and brains too."
* * * *
The MacKay was speechless upon learning The MacPherson had allowed his second son to bear the name Artair. Aonghus attempted the assertion of godfather's rights by trying to take the babe from the visiting chieftain. Hope grinned at their bickering and held her firstborn, who wasn't attracting the same attention as the namesake godchild.
Courageous hovered nearby, trying to catch a glimpse of the babe. She faced him and smiled. “You'll be doing me a favor, Courageous, if you hold wee Leonce while I tell Bertie his story."
Excitement lit his big brown eyes. “I c-c-c-can h-hold h-h-him?"
"Aye. He would love to meet his big cousin. Bring another chair over by the hearth so you can be comfortable."
A crooked grin crossed his face, and he limped to the table area.
"You're not afraid he'll drop the bairn?"
Hope turned toward Leonce and smiled. “He did not drop four hulking warriors when he carried them to a cave. Wee Leonce should give him no trouble."
"That isn't what I meant.” He lowered his voice. “Courageous tends to be clumsy. I do not even like him moving stones for the battlements because I'm afeared he'll hurt himself."
"He is clumsy when made to feel inferior. Not when he is given a task and determined to prove himself useful. He even helped me make your whip.” Hope placed a hand on Leonce's arm. “Show him you trust him with the babe. Courageous needs to feel important to the clan."
"I'll trust him because I know you wouldn't let harm come to our son."
"I would rather you trust him for himself."
Courageous placed his chair beside the hearth and turned eagerly toward Hope.
"Sit down, Courageous. Remember your cousin is delicate. Hold him securely so he does not drop, but not so tightly that he gets crushed.” Courageous sat down. Hope placed the babe in the crook of his arm. “Wee Leonce, this is your cousin, Courageous. When you grow up, I'll tell you how he saved your father."
Courageous smiled at the first infant he had ever been allowed near and stroked the babe's cheek with a finger. “L-L-L-L-Leonce m-m-my friend."
Hope's brows knitted. “If Leonce is too hard for you, call him cub."
"Cub easy f-f-for m-me."
"He'll fall asleep soon, but if you need me to take him back, tell me.” Hope glanced about. “Bertie, are you ready for your story?"
"Aye,” he answered from atop a chair at the far end of the hearth where he stood feeding Harry dried peas. “Can Harry come?"
"Only if he wants to. Do not rile him if he does not wish to leave the mantel."
Harry proved congenial and followed the peas. Bertie tossed a pelt on the floor in front of Hope's story chair, sat on his haunches, and held out a handful of treats to Harry. Leonce sat down, and Hope took her place in his lap, wiggling around until she found a desirable position.
"Are you comfortable, love?” Leonce gritted out.
"'Twould be more comfortable if you would quit poking me,” she grumbled.
"Quit squirming. The part that is poking thinks you're caressing it."
Hope snorted. “Mayhap you shouldn't let the thing think so much."
"The thing has not been allowed to think for so long that I'm glad it remembers how."
"Papa, quit whispering, and let Mam tell my story!” Bertie demanded.
They both looked up. The warriors had taken their places for the tale. Leonce chuckled at the knowing smirks on their faces.
Hope blushed a fiery red and looked at The MacKay. “Father, do you and Julien mind joining us? Story time is one of my duties, and we can talk later."
"'Tis no problem.” The MacKay settled a hip against a table and gazed at Hope as if he never wanted to lose sight of her.
"Aye,” Julien concurred, joining his father. “We've begun a similar tradition, though the whole clan does not attend."
"Tonight I am
telling Bertie about the one-legged pig that saved King Malcolm."
"What was that, lass?” Aonghus lowered his tankard and peered at Hope. “I thought you said a pig saved The Canmore."
"Aye, Aonghus."
The MacKay raised a skeptical brow. “Then ‘tis a fable you tell?"
"'Tis the truth,” she declared.
"I have never heard such a thing!” Cardinal Brodie exclaimed.
"Well, you're bloody well not going to if people do not cease their cursed interruptions.” Hope glared, and Leonce chuckled. She shifted her hips until both of his hands clamped down on her upper thighs, preventing movement.
"Everyone be quiet so Mam can tell my story!"
"My thanks, Bertie.” She tapped a thoughtful finger against her jaw. “Where should I begin?"
"Once upon a time,” every warrior in the hall answered in unison.
She nodded. “Aye, ‘tis a good place. Once upon a time, in the year of our Lord 1066, The Canmore received a summons from William to go to London and pay him tribute. The cursed usurper was having himself crowned king of England, and he intended to rule Scotland too. King Malcolm became cursed miffed over the impudence and decided to march his army to London."
"I do not recall The Canmore marching on London,” Cardinal Brodie said, bewildered.
Hope glared. “You want to tell this story?"
"Nay, Lady MacPherson. Please forgive an old man with a faulty memory and continue the tale.” The cardinal sat back and sipped his ale.
"King Malcolm arrived in London with his legions of fierce warriors, and William feared he would have a battle on his coronation day. Keep in mind, Bertie, our king did not go to London to fight. He just wanted to make certain William knew Scotland was sovereign apart from the rest of the island. And while he took great warriors, he did not take enough to war against all the cursed Normans who were there for the occasion. He also went as a neighboring monarch, offering respect to an equal—though William is an inferior equal, being Norman and not Scot."
Hope told the story directly to Bertie, gesturing broadly with her hands. “So there they were. Mighty Scots and cursed Normans lined up across a battlefield. Then along comes the proud Queen Matilda. She pulled William and King Malcolm aside and told them to settle the matter because she was sick of warring, having grown up amongst so many cursed fights."
