"Of course they must come."

"I'll not leave my Jamie-boy!" Jeannie repeated, and this time she stamped her foot for emphasis.

"My little brother comes most frequently to Greymoor," Lady Stewart said, immediately understanding Jeannie's concern. "I have a daughter just a wee bit younger than ye, too, Jeannie Hay. Ye’ll have someone to be yer friend. Have ye ever had a friend before?"

Jeannie shook her head in the negative.


"Have ye a little girl my age, lady?" Morag demanded, tugging upon Janet Stewart's skirts. "I've never had a friend either."

"I do!" Lady Stewart said, smiling, "and I have two little boys as well, but they play with each other."

“Fiona!'' Jean Hay looked to her sister.

"Lady Stewart is correct, Jeannie. If ye stay with me, ye will be thought no better than I am. Ye must remember that ye are Hays, not common folk. If ye are raised in Lady Stewart's household, ye'll retain yer respectability. Ye’ll be considered for fine husbands one day." She spoke carefully as if she were struggling to maintain her composure, which indeed she was.

Janet wanted to smack her brother. This was all Angus's fault. If he were not so unreasonable, so bloody unyielding, this whole situation might have been avoided. All he had had to do was pretend to believe Fiona Hay when she said the cattle were hers, but no! Angus would be ruled by his pride. No one must believe for a single moment that the laird of Loch Brae had a kind heart. When she considered what the Hays of the Glen had done for her brother! Janet swallowed back her outrage. "I'll take good care of yer sisters, Fiona Hay," she said. "Ye have my word on it."

"Then it's settled!" the laird said jovially, secretly relieved to be rid of the two younger Hay sisters. He hadn't been quite certain what he would do with them, and Jeannie, he could see, was going to prove quite a handful.

"I'll not take the lassies today," his sister said sweetly. "Ye’ll need a week or two to see they are properly outfitted for my household, and their servants as well, brother dear. And ye'll pay me an ounce of gold each year for their keep, and I'll expect a declaration in writing from ye regarding the size of their dowers." She turned to Fiona. "Four cattle was it? Each?"

Fiona nodded, slightly astounded by Janet Stewart's manner.

"Four cattle or the equivalent in silver coin, plus linens, clothing, and a piece of jewelry," Janet concluded.

"Ye ask a great deal for two little lasses from the ben," the laird said.

“Ye got a great deal from their grandsire that by rights should have been theirs, and let us not forget what ye've taken from their eldest sister," Janet responded sharply.

"Agreed," he replied grudgingly.

"Oh, thank ye, my lady!" Fiona said, catching up Janet Stewart's hand and kissing it fervently. "I shall ever be in yer debt."

"Fall in love with him, lassie," Janet said softly, "and make the arrogant devil love ye so much he suffers when out of the sight of yer splendid green eyes." She winked at Fiona, then said to no one in particular, "Fetch my cloak! I must be off to Greymoor to tell Mary and Annabella that they will soon have two new friends to play with."

"Yer visit, sister," said the laird, "has, as always, been interesting. Let me know when ye would fetch Jeannie and Morag to Greymoor."

"Don't be paltry in their accoutrements, Angus," his sister said sharply as she departed.

Fiona couldn't help but laugh. "She is like the wind. Blowing in, sweeping clean, and then blowing out again."

"She is more like a plague," the laird grumbled. "Ever since we were children she has been telling me what to do-and what not to do. Yet her husband thinks the world of her, and her children adore her. I don't understand it, lassie." Then, forgetting that the two younger Hays were with them, his glance softened briefly, and he said, "How do ye feel this morning?" His big hand reached out to tilt her face up to his, and leaning down, he brushed her lips gently.

Fiona stared back nervously, admonishing him with a shake of her head and a glance toward Jeannie and Morag. "My lord!"

Angus Gordon laughed softly. "I think I shall outfit those two as quickly as possible so I am able to kiss ye whenever I choose, lassie. Last night but whetted my appetite for ye."

Fiona blushed, a fact that irritated her, for she did not think of herself as some milk-and-water wench.


***

The laird did not visit Fiona's bed for the next few days, and she was grateful, as she was much too busy preparing her sisters for their entry into the household of Hamish and Janet Stewart. Hamish Stewart, the master of Greymoor, was a distant cousin of the king's. While there was no real court under the protector, the noble families did visit back and forth. The Hay sisters would need at least two fine gowns with matching surcoats. Their everyday gowns were rather tight-fitting and had long waists. The fine gowns were made of velvet, and the surcoats were embroidered with colored beads and tiny pearls.

" 'Tis verra pretty," Jeannie noted. "Do ye think Jamie-boy will like me in it?" She pirouetted for her sisters. "Do I look older?"

"Don't be in such a hurry to grow up," Fiona admonished the girl.

"Why?" Jeannie asked. "Do ye not like being a woman? They say the laird is a bonnie lover." She carefully removed the gown.

"Don't speak of things ye don't understand," Fiona said.

"But I do understand," Jeannie replied. "I know all about how a man and a woman make love. Did ye not know that Margery and Elsbeth were sneaking out to meet their laddies in the weeks before their wedding? Margery is already with child. She was terrified that ye would learn of it before she wed her Colly. They told me everything I wanted to know about men and women so I would not tell you or Flora about their mischief," Jeannie concluded smugly.

"They are only lucky I was able to procure their dowries," Fiona said grimly, "else Margery's bairn be a bastard."

"What is a bastard?" Morag asked innocently.

Jeannie giggled, and even Fiona was unable to keep from laughing. "Don't fret yerself, our Morag," Fiona told her baby sister. " 'Tis not a word a proper young lady would use."

"Are ye not proper, Fi?" Morag asked.

"No, I am not proper anymore, sweeting. That is why ye and Jeannie are to go and live with Lady Stewart. Look at all the fine clothes the laird has provided for ye. Yer a verra fortunate lass."

And indeed the women brought in from the laird's cottages had worked hard to produce new wardrobes for Jean and Morag Hay. Besides their fine gowns, surcoats, and everyday gowns, there were sleeved camisias for sleeping, shertes, sewn stockings, and garters. Each had, too, a sturdy wool cape lined in rabbit's fur. The cobbler had come, measured their feet, and produced fine leather ankle boots. There were gauze head veils, and the laird presented each girl with a ribbon sewn with pearls for her hair. Neither would be embarrassed by her garments in the household of Hamish and Janet Stewart.

Flora and Tam had arrived from Hay Tower, and to Fiona's surprise Flora fully approved of Janet Stewart's decision to take the two younger Hay sisters into her keeping. She never asked Fiona about her relationship with the laird, and she slept with her husband in a room next to the two littler girls.

The night before they were to depart for Greymoor, Fiona sat with her old servant by the fire in the hall, her head against the old lady's knee.

"Do ye not love me anymore, Flora Hay? In the week since ye came down from the ben ye have not scolded me once, and tomorrow ye will be gone."

Flora caressed the raven-black hair on her young mistress's head. "What is there to say, lambkin? Ye set yer path that day on the ben when ye made yer infamous bargain with this laird."

"Ye know I had no other choice. He would have taken the cattle without a moment's thought. Jeannie tells me Margery and Elsbeth met secretly with their laddies all the summer long, and that Margery was with child on her wedding day. 'Tis true I didn't know all that, but what else could I do, Flora?"

"There was nothing ye could do, my lamb. Ye remembered yer promise to yer own sweet mam to care for her lasses. She knew ye would have to sacrifice to keep yer promise."

"Would she be proud of me, Flora?"

"Aye," the old lady said, "but I canna help but think she would have hoped that ye wed with the laird. He has a good heart, my lamb."

"The laird doesn't want a wife, and he doesn't want me in particular. He said I would besmirch the honor of the Gordons of Loch Brae. As if I wanted to wed the arrogant fellow!"

"Ye must make him wed ye, lambkin," the old servant said. "No other will have ye now that he has robbed ye of yer virginity."

"Is that all a woman's worth is valued at, Flora? Her virginity and her ability to bear bairns? I want a man who will love me for more than those qualities, and Black Angus doesn't love me at all. To him I am no more than a thief. A thief who is now his mistress. When he is done with me, I shall return to the ben, but Anne, Elsbeth, and Margery are properly wed, and Jeannie and Morag will have fine husbands one day."

"And ye have provided for my Tam and me as well," Flora said quietly. "I am happy to be off the ben. I never liked it, but yer mam was our lady, and then when she died, we could not leave her bairns."

"I know," Fiona said, "but now yer old bones will have warm fires for ye to sit by while ye watch my sisters grow up. I would not have left ye on the ben."

"There are things I must tell ye before I leave," Flora said to her mistress. "There are certain precautions that ye can take to prevent yerself from having a bairn if ye don't want one. The seeds from the wild carrot, the plant with the lacy white flowers, will keep ye from mischief. Take a spoonful of the seeds, followed by a goblet of warm water. Or chew the seeds if ye will. A dose of pennyroyal can help, too. Don't bear the man a bastard if ye can prevent it, lambkin."

"Greymoor isn't far," Fiona said. "I'll come to see ye for advice as I have always done. I'm learning to ride a horse."

Flora nodded. "Still," she said, "I should have told ye before the laird bedded ye. If ye find yerself with a bairn, come to me, and I will help ye to rid yerself of it."

Fiona was surprised by Flora's knowledge, but she was grateful for it. "How often do I take the seeds?"

"Once daily, and I'll give yer Nelly a bag of them to tide ye over until next summer when the plants bloom again. Yer mother used them when she wanted to defeat yer father of a son, though 'twas not often enough. She feared he would learn of her deception, for he scattered his bastards far and wide."

"Aye," Fiona agreed. "He would have been suspicious, for he so wanted to regain the lands in the glen." Arising from her seat upon the floor, she shook her skirts out, then offered Flora a hand, pulling her from her bench. " 'Tis past time we were in bed, old woman."


***

Hamish Stewart came for the two Hay sisters. "Yer sister, clever lass she is," he said to Angus with a pleased grin, "seems to be breeding again. I hope it is another lad, for we surely have a houseful of lassies, and here we are adding more." He chuckled. Brown eyes twinkling, he glanced from his brother-in-law to the two girls. "Are these the little Hay girls, Angus?"

Amazed, Jeannie and Morag looked at Hamish Stewart. He was the largest man that they had ever seen. He stood at least six inches over six feet, and his big round head with its mop of hair was as red as fire, as was his bushy beard. "Be he a giant, Fi?" little Morag said, eyes wide.

Hamish Stewart's laughter rumbled forth. Lifting the little girl up into his arms, he grinned at her. "No, no, lassie. My mam and my father just grew me big." A thick finger tickled her, and she giggled. "Be ye Mistress Morag Hay?" he asked her.

"Aye, sir," Morag said, and then, surprising everyone, she demanded of Hamish Stewart, "Will ye be my father?"

"Morag, what a thing to ask," Fiona gently admonished her littlest sister. "Lord Stewart will be yer guardian."

"I want a father!" Morag said adamantly. "I have never had one!"

"She was only a wee bairn when our father died," Fiona explained.

Lord Stewart's eyes were warm and sympathetic. "I'll be happy to be yer father, lassie," he replied. He set the little girl down again.

Fiona pushed Jeannie forward, and the girl made her curtsy to the big man. "I am Jean Hay, my lord," she said.