Chapter 2
The laird of Rath had gathered his familyin the hall of their tower house. He signaled to his servants to bring wine. It was poured into the two silver cups that belonged to the lord and his wife, and five small round earthenware cups for their five children. Robert Baird raised his cup. “Let us toast your sister, Annabella, who is soon to be wed,” he said, enjoying the look of surprise on his daughters’ faces.
“To Annabella!” they all said, drinking deep from their cups.
Annabella Baird had never liked surprises. Especially when they involved her. She would have preferred it if her father and her mother had told her of this marriage privily before announcing it in the hall for all the world to hear. She could but imagine how relieved her parents were to have finally found her a husband. Annabella Baird had no illusions about herself. She knew better than most just how plain of face she was. Finally regaining her composure she asked, “Who am I to wed, Da?” Who indeed?
“You are to marry the Earl of Duin, Angus Ferguson. He is your senior by fifteen years, but has never taken a wife,” Robert Baird told his daughter.
Annabella’s next-younger sister, Myrna, snickered, and then whispered something to their next sister, Sorcha, who immediately giggled. Sorcha was by nature a giggler. Annabella found it quite annoying.
“What is so amusing?” she demanded of Myrna.
“The laird of Duin has had no time for a wife, it is said, because he spends all his time chasing pretty lasses,” Myrna replied. “Blessed Mary, Annabella, he is said to be the handsomest man in the borders, as well as a sorcerer!” She brayed her laughter. “The plainest face in the borders to wed a handsome sorcerer. Maybe his magic can make you fair.” Myrna cackled again at her own wit.
“If sorcery could sweeten your nature, sister, I should be forever grateful,” Annabella returned sharply. “Won’t Ian Melville be surprised to learn what a shrew ye are, Myrna.” She turned back to her father. “Where is Duin, Da?”
“In the western borders on the sea,” Robert Baird answered his daughter.
“I am nae a shrew!” Myrna said angrily.
Sorcha and their youngest sister, Agnes, giggled as Annabella shrugged but did not take back her harsh words.
“Now, now, my lasses, ye’re sisters. Make yer peace wi’ one another,” their mother said. “Very soon Annabella will be gone from us, and who knows when we will see her again.” She smiled warmly at her eldest daughter.
“Probably never,” Myrna said almost smugly. “We shall be much too busy with our own lives to go traveling across Scotland to see Annabella and her sorcerer. I am so glad that Sorcha, Agnes, and I will wed closer to home, so we may be near our mother.”
“Though you three will be near,” the lady Anne said, “’tis Annabella who is making a great marriage and bringing honor to the Bairds of Rath. The distance between us is several days, but we will see one another again,” she reassured her eldest daughter. Then she smiled at them. “Now, because time is short we must begin to prepare your sister for the journey to her new home. In just a few weeks the Fergusons will come to claim her and take her back to Duin.”
“Ohhh,” Myrna said. “Will we get to see the sorcerer?”
“Daughter,” Robert Baird said to Myrna, “Angus Ferguson is no sorcerer. Ye must cease referring to him that way. I now find myself grateful he will not be coming to Rath, but sending his proxy.”
The next few weeks were busy ones, with the ladies of the household packing Annabella’s few possessions into an iron-bound oak trunk. Her dower consisted of linens for both bed and table; two fine goose-down pillows; a down coverlet; a silver spoon and cup; and a fine wooden box filled with ointments, balms, salves, potions, and healing herbs, along with her clothing and small bits of jewelry. A special gown was to be made for the bride to wear on her wedding day. Afterward it would serve as her best garment.
She tried to picture this unknown man she was to wed so soon. He would be tall, of course. Short men were not usually highly praised as handsome. Was he fair or dark? What color were his eyes? Myrna, who always seemed to know everything, could say only that the gossip about the Fergusons of Duin said they were magical folk, and kept much to themselves. It was the earl’s handsome face that caused the telltales to chatter.
“He is said to enchant any woman he wants with a mere look,” Myrna related in hushed tones as she crossed herself.
“It is something to talk about besides the English raids and the destruction they have wrought here in the borders,” Annabella responded. She was a practical young woman. “Babbling about a handsome man is much nicer than wondering how we will feed ourselves in the coming winter.” But for all her brave words, she worried. Still, it was a far better match than she could have ever anticipated.
“They say he has many mistresses, for once he has loved them, they do not—will not—leave him,” Myrna chattered on. “I’m sorry we will not get to see him, but perhaps ’tis better this way. After all, we are so beautiful, and ye’re so plain, Annabella. The earl might regret his decision if he saw us together.”
“What a mean thing to say,” young Agnes spoke up in defense of her eldest sister.
But Annabella, used to Myrna’s thoughtless tongue, just laughed. “Ye’re jealous,” she taunted back. “I am to be the Countess of Duin, and ye naught but Mistress Melville. As for the earl’s many mistresses, they may come in handy if he is not to my taste. I am required to produce an heir for my lord, to keep his house in good order, to stand by his side and chatter pleasantries when he entertains. I can do all of that, Myrna—and a handsome husband is much to be appreciated.”
Myrna shrugged. “Ye’re a strange lass,” she said. “I should be furious if my husband strayed. Indeed, I should scratch his eyes out so he didn’t ever cast them on another woman again. But then I suppose ye’re just grateful to have found a husband at all. I wonder ye did not go to the old church to spend yer days in prayer.”
“I have no wish at all to spend my days in prayer,” Annabella said. “I’m grateful that Da found me a husband, but I can’t help but wonder how he did it. We live in a stone tower that has stood for several hundred years, and housed many generations of Bairds. We cannot be said to be poor, but neither are we rich. How hard our father must scrabble to find dower portions for four daughters. How has he done it? Where is it coming from? And how on earth did he find an earl for me? Why would such a man have the daughter of a simple tower laird of no importance for a wife?”
She looked at Myrna. “Ye’re good at ferreting out information.” Then Annabella added the spur she knew would encourage her sister to go snooping. “I can only hope that Da has not taken from your dowers in order to gain this earl for me.”
Myrna paled as her breath caught in her throat briefly. Recovering, she said, “Ian remarked to me recently that his father was not pleased with the size of my dower. He said his son’s bride should do better. But he also said I am healthy, and he believes I will be a good mother.”
“Ye’re not breeding stock,” Annabella said, irritated.
“Aye, I am, and so are ye,” Myrna replied. “Our dowers and our ability to give our husbands sons are our great value as women.”
“Jesu, Jesu, ye’re listening to those traveling churchmen again. Reformed Church or old Church, they all have the same opinion of women.” Annabella swore.
Myrna’s Cupid’s bow of a mouth pursed itself in disapproval. “I intend to be a good wife to Ian Melville,” she said. “I shall birth a son for his family as quickly as I can. Ye had best do the same for yer earl, sister.”
Annabella sighed. Why couldn’t a woman just be? she silently asked herself. Why was her only value in her ability to reproduce, and in the coin she would bring her husband? But she was curious to learn what Myrna could find out about Duin and its earl, because the day was drawing nearer and nearer when the Fergusons would come to take her away to the west, and the stranger who would be her husband.
Myrna, however, could learn no more information about the lord of Duin. Nor did she learn how their father had managed to gain the dower to betroth Annabella to an earl. With the Fergusons just a few days from Rath, Annabella went to their mother and asked, “How did Da find a dower large enough to satisfy an earl, Mama? I pray he took nothing from my sisters to do it.”
“Ye should really not ask such questions, Annabella,” her mother said. “It should not matter to ye how the deed was accomplished, and naught was taken from yer sisters.”
“But I have asked, and I want to know,” Annabella persisted.
The lady Anne sighed. Then she said, “I suppose there is no harm in yer knowing. It was nothing more than a wee bit of good fortune that put ye in the earl’s path. I will not pretend that it has been easy to find a good husband for ye, Annabella. Yer da was actually despairing over it, for a lass wi’ a plain face and a small dower has a difficult time of it. But then Lord Bothwell came to yer da and suggested that he offer the Earl of Duin that bit of property in the west yer da inherited, as a dower portion for ye. The earl has been attempting to purchase that land from yer da for several years, but Robert would nae sell, for the kinsman who left it to him feuded with the Fergusons of Duin. The land borders his own and is particularly good grazing land. The earl raises cattle.
“Angus Ferguson is ready to take a wife. He doesn’t need a rich wife, for riches he has aplenty. He doesn’t object to having a wife whose features are modest in appearance. But most important, he wants that acreage that yer father holds, and so ye have gained him for yer husband in exchange for that land. Land has always been an acceptable dower, Annabella. Yer da has rented that land to Duin since he inherited it. The coin he earned for the rental has been put aside for yer dowers.
“Last month when yer da and the earl met, Robert was assured that Angus Ferguson wanted only the land in exchange for making ye his wife. He declined any purse, saying the land was more than enough value for a wife. Yer da and I will take the coin we saved for ye and now divide it among yer sisters.”
“Nay,” said Annabella. “If the earl declines my purse, then it should be mine, Mama. What if he dies, and I have need of another husband? Ye cannot take back the land ye have given the Fergusons, which leaves me in poverty wi’out my gold. I will not be left helpless to the Fergusons, and married off to some retainer for their benefit. If the earl does not want my gold, I do.”
Her mother was surprised by her daughter’s clever reasoning. She saw the wisdom in Annabella’s words. “Say nothing to anyone, my daughter,” she told the girl. “I will speak wi’ yer da. Ye will have what is yers; I promise ye. Ye will be far from the Bairds of Rath at Duin. You do need to be able to protect yerself.”
“My sisters have inherited yer beauty, Mama, but I seem to have inherited yer wisdom,” Annabella remarked to her mother.
The lady Anne smiled. “Thank ye, daughter,” she said. “Now learn this from me as well. Men, husbands in particular, dinna like discovering that their wives are intelligent. Keep this knowledge from yer bridegroom, and always keep yer own counsel. Ye will have a happier marriage if ye do, Annabella.”
“How will ye get Da to let me keep my gold?” the girl asked, curious.
“By letting him believe ’twas all his own idea,” her mother said mischievously.
Annabella laughed. “Oh, Mama, ye’re really quite wicked,” she teased her parent.
“Being a wee bit wicked,” the lady told her daughter, “can also intrigue a husband, as long as he does not feel threatened by yer behavior. Now, there are other things we must discuss if ye’re to be properly prepared for yer marriage bed.”
“I know a man’s form is different,” Annabella said. “I recall that ye bathed Rob and me together when we were little ones. Yet girls dinna have breasts as children. They grow them as they grow older. Do men grow anything extra?”
“Nay,” her mother said, “but their man parts do grow in keeping wi’ the rest of them. Some sprout hair on their chests, while others do not. We are all furred in many of the same places.”
“Myrna says the earl has many mistresses,” Annabella told her mother.
“Aye, a man will have his extras,” the lady Anne said calmly.
“Does Da have a mistress?” Annabella asked her mother. “How do you bear it?”
“Your father has not the means to keep a mistress.” Her mother laughed. “But I know he tumbles the village lasses now and again. It means nothing. He is my husband, and my lord. He gives me his love and his respect. I want nothing more.”
“The earl is rich enough to keep a mistress,” Annabella said thoughtfully.
“Aye, ’tis said he is rich,” her mother responded. “But if he keeps a mistress you will never acknowledge her, my daughter, should you learn of her existence. Give yer husband the bairns he wants and must have. Give him yer loyalty. He will respond in kind, no matter his wandering eye. You may even fall in love wi’ him.”
“Will he love me?” Annabella wondered aloud.
“If ye’re fortunate, perhaps he will,” her mother said, “but his respect is more important. A woman respected by her man is secure in her place.”
“Do ye love Da?” the girl boldly inquired.
“Aye, I suppose that I do, and I’ve always enjoyed our bed sport,” the lady Anne said. Then she smiled. “But we have strayed from the knowledge ye must have for yer wedding night.”
“I think I know what I must,” Annabella said, suddenly a bit shy. “I’ve seen the creatures making the beast with two backs, Mama.”
The good lady laughed softly. “’Tis a bit different when a man mounts his woman,” she said. “Ye’ll be on yer back, not yer belly. There is an opening between yer legs where his manhood will be fitted. Some think of it as another form of riding. The first time he enters yer body will hurt, but only briefly. That is because his cock will pierce yer maidenhead. When he has pleasured himself, and hopefully ye as well, he will water yer womb with his seed. The seed will not always be implanted, but once it is, a bairn will grow within yer belly, and after several months, usually eight to ten, the bairn will be born. Being my eldest daughter and second child, ye’ve seen the process of birth, so I need not tell ye of it. Do ye have any questions, Annabella?”
“Nay, Mama, thank ye,” the girl said politely. Actually she had several questions, but she was too embarrassed to ask her mother.
“’Tis better ye not be too knowledgeable,” the lady Anne said. “Yer husband will want to lead the way, and ye should let him.”
And finally her possessions were packed and ready. Her wedding gown was sewn. And on a fine morning toward the end of September, Matthew and James Ferguson, in the company of their sister, Jean, arrived at the tower house of the laird of Rath. They came with a large troop of men-at-arms wearing the blue-and-green plaid of the Fergusons of Duin, with its thin red and white stripes. Two pipers accompanied them, and Jean Ferguson, riding astride like the men she rode with, led a pristine white mare. From the moment they had entered onto Baird lands, they had been accompanied by the bride’s clansmen. There would be no delay. The marriage would be celebrated this very day, and on the morrow the bride would depart with her husband’s kin for Duin.
“Ohh,” Myrna squealed, gazing from a window on the arriving visitors. “What a fine mare! Who is the woman leading it, do ye think?”
“The Fergusons are well garbed and well mounted,” Sorcha noted.
Agnes began to weep. “We’ll never see our Annabella after today,” she sobbed.
“Ye’re not promised, nor will Da permit ye to wed until ye are at least sixteen,” Annabella said quietly to her youngest sister. “Ye shall come and visit me next summer, Aggie.” She put a comforting arm about the girl. “I’m sure the earl will permit it, and send a fine escort for ye too,” she promised.
Agnes sniffled, but then, looking up through her wet lashes at Myrna and Sorcha, both of whom were always lording marriage over her, she said, “Ye two will probably be wed by next summer, so ye’ll not get to visit our sister in her fine new home, but I will!” There was an air of triumph in her voice. Then she added, “Maybe Annabella will even find a rich husband for me.”
Myrna and Sorcha looked distinctly put out by Agnes’s words, but then Myrna said meanly, “If I were our plain-faced sister, I would certainly not invite my beautiful little sister to visit. What if the earl fell in love wi’ ye, and magicked our sister away so he could have ye?”
“Oh, Annabella, I wouldn’t steal yer man!” Agnes burst out. “I swear it!”
“I’m sure ye wouldn’t, Aggie,” her elder sister said, “and if my husband turned out to be that fickle, I wouldn’t want him. As for ye two, eventually ye’ll come to Duin to see me. Ye’ll always be welcome, sisters.”
Their brother, Rob, entered the chamber. “Da wants you downstairs in the hall immediately, Annabella,” he said. “Ye should be there to greet yer bridegroom’s kinfolk.” He was a handsome young man of twenty-two, with their mother’s blue eyes and their father’s dark hair. “Ye three are to remain here until ye’re invited into the hall,” he told his younger sisters. No need for the Fergusons to be blinded by their beauty until they had grown used to Annabella, Rob considered.
“Do I look all right, Rob?” Annabella asked anxiously. She was wearing the gown in which she would shortly be wed. It was lovely, but not quite the right color for the pale girl. The bodice was a light gray velvet embroidered with silver threads and black jet beads. The heavy silk skirt was a blue-gray. On a lass with golden hair it would have been stunning, even if it was a bit old-fashioned. But it did not really suit Annabella’s coloring at all. Her dark hair was left loose to proclaim her innocence.
“Ye look fine,” he said dismissively.
Brother and sister descended down the narrow staircase that led into the hall.
Once there, the laird waved to them to come quickly forward, indicating they should stand with him. The lady Anne reached out to take her eldest daughter’s hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze of encouragement as the Fergusons entered the hall.
“Welcome to Rath,” Robert Baird said, smiling.
“Thank ye, my lord. We have not met, but I am Matthew Ferguson, the laird’s half brother, and steward of Duin. This is James Ferguson, the laird’s brother, a priest come to inspect the contracts and perform the ceremony.” Matthew bowed politely.
The laird greeted both men cordially, noting that the priest did not wear the robes denoting his office. A wise move, he thought, considering the recent law of the land outlawing the old Church. Then Robert Baird introduced his wife, his son, and, finally, Annabella.
Matthew and James acknowledged each introduction pleasantly. Then Matthew turned, nodding to his sister to step forward. “This is the earl’s half sister and my sister, Jean, my lord. She has been raised to serve my brother’s wife. Angus thought that since the journey back to Duin is one of several days, his bride would feel more comfortable in the company of another woman.”
“How kind!” Annabella exclaimed before anyone else might speak. She would indeed enjoy having another woman with her. Her family could not send a female servant with her, for she and her sisters had always been taken care of by their old nurse, who was too ancient now to leave Rath. “I must thank the earl as soon as we arrive,” the bride said. “To send me a companion was a most thoughtful gesture.”
“I commend your good manners, Annabella Baird,” James Ferguson responded. “My brother is a man who values the courtesies.” He already liked this young woman. There appeared to be no deceit about her. As a priest, he had learned to quickly assess those about him. Despite Matthew’s concern over her lack of beauty, his eldest brother’s bride seemed a sensible lass, which would serve Angus far better than some flighty beauty. He turned to the laird. “I have brought the marriage contracts with me, my lord. May we sit and go over them? Then, with Matthew standing proxy for the earl, I will perform the ceremony making your daughter Angus Ferguson’s wife.”
The four men moved off to sit at the high board, where the marriage contract was now spread out upon the long rectangular table. The lady Anne and her daughter moved away to seat themselves by the hearth.
“Who are the mothers of these men?” Annabella asked her mother. “Did the earl’s father have a second wife?”
“Nay,” the mother told her daughter. “The earl’s mother was a Frenchwoman. The story told is that when she was enceinte with her first child, she begged her young serving woman, a lass who had been raised with her and come with her from France, to fulfill her husband’s manly needs, for he was a lusty man. She swore to raise any bairn born of such a union with her own bairns. She gave her husband three, and her serving woman gave him two. That is the tale your da told me, for the earl told him when they met at Hermitage several weeks ago. The five were raised together.”
Annabella was shocked. “How could the old laird’s wife bear to keep such a servant? Did ye not tell me that if my husband takes a mistress I am not to acknowledge such a woman?”
“ ’Twas the earl’s mother who suggested the arrangement, for she trusted her servant. She did not want her husband in the clutches of another woman. The laird was always respectful of his wife, and she loyal to him. There was no conflict between mistress and servant over this matter. I am told the old laird had several other bastards whom he acknowledged over the years of his life. Those bairns, however, remained wi’ their mams. Men will be men, Annabella, but unless your husband’s behavior threatens you or your bairns, ye would be wise to look the other way. The wives of the Stewart kings certainly have, and those bairns who are born on the other side of the blanket are useful and loyal to their sire’s family. It is the custom among the high nobility to raise their bastards as trusted servants and confidants. Queen Mary is advised by her half brother, Lord James Stewart, whose mam was once King James’s mistress. And the Earl of Duin’s half brother serves him well, as you see. His half sister will serve ye, and will prove a valuable ally for ye, my daughter.”
“I am not certain I am comfortable with my husband’s half sister serving me,” Annabella admitted to her mother.
“Do not worry yourself,” the lady Anne advised. “Jean Ferguson has been raised to fulfill this position. She will take pride in it.” She turned to look about the hall and see where Jean was now, and, finding her standing quietly across the hall, the lady Anne beckoned to her to come and join them.
Jean came immediately. “How may I serve ye, my lady?” she asked politely.
“By reassuring my daughter that although you are the earl’s half sister, you are glad to serve her,” the older woman said.
Jean Ferguson smiled a sweet smile. “Do not be uncomfortable, my lady Annabella,” she said, looking the girl directly in the eye. “My own mam was the lady Adrienne’s serving woman. I was raised to one day serve my brother’s bride. I am honored to do so,” she told her new mistress, curtsying.
“Having a personal servant is new for me, and I am used to a simple life,” Annabella replied.
“Life is not overly complicated at Duin,” Jean reassured her new mistress.
The lady Anne arose from her seat, indicating that Jean should take it. “Why do not you two become better acquainted,” she said, “while I go and fetch your sisters? As soon as your father has approved the contracts, you will be formally wed.” She hurried off.
“Do you think the earl will like me?” Annabella asked shyly.
“Of course he will. Angus is a good man, my lady,” Jean said.
“I realize ’tis that bit of land he really wants,” Annabella remarked.
“Aye, he does,” Jean replied, “but it is also past time he took a wife. He has no legitimate heirs. He did not obtain the earldom to have it expire on his death. My brother wants to found a dynasty, and he needs a wife to do it.”
“He’s being forced to the altar,” Annabella said softly. “I hope he will not hate me for it.”
Jean laughed. “All men are forced to the altar, my lady. Few go willingly. Marriage is about gold, land, and power. These are the things that make a family strong.”
“He will certainly be disappointed in me, for I have no beauty,” Annabella said bleakly. “I have never before wished for my sisters’ beauty, but I do now.”
“Aye,” Jean said candidly. “Ye’re plain. There’s nae denying it. But ye’re nae ugly. Yer features are neat. Yer skin is clear, and”—she reached out to catch a length of Annabella’s sable hair between her fingers—“yer hair is glorious. My brother has been told of yer deficiencies, and did nae object.”
Annabella didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this bit of information, but then her father called her to come to the high board. She rose and hurried to his side.
“Look here in the marriage contract,” the laird of Rath said, pointing. “Here is where it is acknowledged that ye possess ten unclipped gold coins, and that they are yers in perpetuity to do with as ye will.”
Annabella’s gray eyes scanned the parchment. “Aye, Da, I see the clause. Thank ye for that.”
“Ye read, my lady?” James Ferguson asked her.
“Aye, sir. I read, I write, and I have been taught to work simple numbers,” Annabella admitted to the priest, hoping the earl would not disapprove of her knowledge. I need no more deficiencies, she thought.
Well, well, well, Matthew Ferguson considered. Perhaps there is hope for the lass after all. She does not appear unintelligent, and with these small skills may be of use to us in more than just her ability to breed. ’Tis all to the good. Angus should be pleased.
“Are the contracts to yer satisfaction, my lord?” James Ferguson asked politely.
“They are,” Robert Baird said. “Everything is as it should be.”
“Since all has met wi’ yer approval,” James responded, “let us sign the contracts now, and when that is done I will perform the ceremony.” He looked to Annabella. “Ye will want to sign for yerself, my lady. There are three copies: one for yer father, one for the earl, and the third will be kept by the church.”
“They must be wed in the Reformed kirk as well,” the laird of Rath said. “I want no one doubting my daughter’s status, nor that of her bairns. While the old Church may recognize only its own rites, it is no longer legal in Scotland.”
James Ferguson sighed. While the queen might proclaim religious tolerance, John Knox and his ilk had made the new kirk the law of the land. “My brother understands this, my lord. Lady Annabella will be wed at Duin in the Reformed kirk. My brother wishes no disputes over his marriage either, which is why he sent a proxy to Rath rather than come himself. This way his own people can proclaim the marriage legitimate under the laws of Scotland, having seen it performed at Duin kirk with their own eyes.”
Robert Baird nodded, satisfied. While he found John Knox’s lack of tolerance for the Catholic Church objectionable, the Reformed Church appealed more to him and his kin.
The lady Anne now reentered the hall in the company of her three younger daughters. The lasses curtsied prettily as they were introduced to the three Fergusons.
Myrna flirted with the two men, unaware at first that James was a priest. Sorcha giggled nervously, as was her habit when faced with young men.
But it was fourteen-year-old Agnes who caught Matthew Ferguson’s eye. He thought her utterly adorable and lively. She was almost ready for marriage, but not quite. Yet in another year or two, he might very well come courting the lass. She had to notice his interest, but if she did she gave no indication of it at all. Matthew didn’t know whether he should be amused or offended. The lass obviously had spirit.
The women waited patiently as the contracts were signed. A fresh quill with its sharpened point was inked and handed to Annabella. She signed each copy in a neat, legible hand. Her father also signed, as did Matthew Ferguson, both as witnesses. Then James Ferguson carefully sanded each signature so that it would not smudge, but dry easily. Annabella noted that the Earl of Duin had already signed the contracts before sending them off to her father. His signature was a strong if impatient one. He was obviously doing what he had to do, she thought. Taking a wife was a duty for him.
Annabella felt another flutter of worry, but she was not allowed any time for her fears to build up. With her family and her servants about her, and Matthew Ferguson standing by her side as proxy for his older brother, Annabella Baird was married to Angus Ferguson by the local pastor of the Reformed kirk without any further delay. James, however, pronounced the blessing himself. Her mother had been correct, the bride realized sadly. Marriage was not about romantic love. Did romantic love even exist?
Marriage was all about alliances and trade. Daughters had no other use than that. Whether a union was between a man and a woman, or a woman and the old Church, daughters were born for this sole purpose. The Fergusons had accepted her as the earl’s bride in exchange for a piece of land. She would be expected to produce bairns for her new family. Sons, preferably. There was nothing more to it. And she could hardly consider herself abused for having just been wed to a wealthy nobleman. She found she was suddenly eager to meet this mysterious man and learn the truth of him herself.
As Annabella, Countess of Duin, she now presided over the high board with a smile, seated in the place of honor at her wedding feast. While her father’s table was usually simple, with one or two dishes and bread and cheese, today was different. There was broiled trout and poached salmon set upon beds of green cress. A large roast of beef had been packed in rock salt, roasted, and set upon the board, along with sliced venison, goose stuffed with apples, and a large pie filled with game birds and topped with a flaky crust. There was a potage of vegetables, a rabbit stew, fresh bread, butter, and a small wheel of hard yellow cheese. Cider, ale, and wine were for drinking. And finally, a large dish of poached pears in marsala wine completed the meal.
The Baird’s piper, along with the two Ferguson pipers, entertained them after the meal had been cleared away and the trestles below the board set to one side of the hall. Jean and Matthew Ferguson sang several songs, delighting the Bairds, for their voices were particularly sweet. In exchange, the four sisters danced together most gracefully for the small gathering.
Outside the tower house, the last sunset of September blazed across the border skies, and night came. The Ferguson men-at-arms had encamped outside of the house. It was not cold yet, but two fires burned to take the chill away. Matthew and James joined them, understanding that such a small dwelling as Rath could not hold much company. Jean Ferguson was settled comfortably into one of the two bed spaces in the hall near the great hearth. The laird and his wife went to their bed. And in their small bedchamber, the four sisters huddled together in their large bed, chattering softly.
“Well,” Myrna said, “I suppose Mama has told ye everything you need know.”
“Enough to get me started,” Annabella admitted. “She said it isn’t wise for a virgin to be too knowledgeable. We spoke of other things.”
“There’s nothing to it,” Myrna informed her, sounding more knowing than she should, Annabella thought. “All you have to do is lie on yer back, open yer legs, and he’ll do all the rest.”
“Not at all like the bull and cow,” Annabella teased.
Sorcha giggled. Agnes was silent but alert with her curiosity.
“Nay,” Myrna replied with a chortle. “All ye have to do is lie upon yer back, and he’ll put his cock into ye,” she repeated. “We have a wee opening in our bodies for it.”
“And how is it that ye’re so well-informed?” Agnes demanded to know.
Myrna flushed with guilt, saying, “Ian Melville told me. After all, we will be wed before the snow flies, now that Annabella is married.”
“Be careful, sister,” the new bride said softly to her sister.
“Ye let Ian Melville speak of such things to ye?” Agnes was shocked. “I don’t think Mam would approve, nor our da.” Then she said, “Ye let him touch ye too, didn’t ye?”
Sorcha giggled again, for she knew the truth of her sister’s involvement with her laddie. They had best be wed soon, she thought, for their games out on the moor could prove dangerous sooner rather than later.
Myrna said nothing in reply to her youngest sister.
“Ye’ll all have more room in the bed once I’ve gone, and then Myrna,” Annabella said in an effort to turn the conversation from the present subject. Aggie was curious, for the lads were beginning to flock about her. She was enjoying their attention, but Annabella didn’t want her bartering her chastity, as she suspected Myrna had already done. She would speak to her before she departed on the morrow. “I think it’s time for us to sleep now, sister,” she said. “The Fergusons have informed me that we will depart as soon as it is light. We have several long days’ journeying ahead of us.”
“Aye,” Myrna agreed, realizing that she had perhaps revealed a little too much knowledge of her relationship with Ian Melville. Aggie was not above telling tales. “I’ll miss ye, Annabella,” she said.
“I also,” Sorcha added.
Agnes began to cry.
Laughing softly, Annabella drew her little sister into her warm embrace, smoothing her cheek with a loving hand. “Remember that ye’re coming to visit me next summer, Aggie,” she reminded her. “Now go to sleep, my bairn.” Then she began to hum an old lullaby that she had hummed to Agnes when the lass became too large for her cradle and had been put into the big bed with her three older sisters. Agnes relaxed in her sister’s arms, and shortly after, all four Baird sisters were sleeping soundly.
