The Border Vixen Read Free Page A

hair cut short, a long face and nose, and sharp brown eyes. He wore a long dark tunic brocaded in gold and trimmed with marten. No one would have ever mistaken the laird of Brae Aisir for anything other than what he was—a wealthy man.
    “As you must surely know, I am growing older,” he began. “My only heir is my granddaughter, Margaret. I hope to find a husband for her among ye. However, I will not give her to another lightly. To win her hand ye must be able to outride, outrun, and outfight Maggie. Ye must win her respect. Now, should any of ye wish to put yerselves forth as a possible husband for my granddaughter, come and speak with me before ye depart on the morrow. The man who weds and beds my Maggie will one day control the Aisir nam Breug. But if I can find none among ye who suits her or me, know that I will look elsewhere, but the same conditions will apply. Now drink up, and let my piper entertain you all.” Dugald Kerr sat back down.
    A murmuring arose in the hall now, and Maggie almost laughed as speculative glances were cast in her direction by the men below. As it had been guessed that the laird of Brae Aisir was seeking a husband for his granddaughter, many of the other clan lords had come with the sons they had of marriageable age. And several of the lairds themselves were unmarried, or widowers seeking a second or third wife.
    “ ’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