He turned suddenly, alerted perhaps by her stillness. “What are you thinking, Wife?”
She shrugged slightly. “Oh, I was just looking at you … wondering if I will look as well as you do when I reach your age.”
Earl Robert grinned. “God, lass, that’s fourteen years away. We could all be dead by then. You are but seven and twenty. Enjoy that while you can, for it won’t last long. I would wager you can’t imagine being thirty, let alone forty, can you?”
She laughed and lapsed into Scots. “That’s true, and I hae to remind myself sometimes that I’m wed to an auld man, for thank God there’s that lusty part of you that hasna aged the slightest bit. Makes me wonder how many mair bairns ye’ll hae got on me by the time I’m forty.”
“A few more, I hope. But in ten years’ time you’ll be too old to have any more.”
She was on the point of telling him that she was quickened again, but she stopped, recognizing that there would be time enough ahead, once their royal guests had departed and he had time to enjoy such news. Instead, she tilted her head back and looked down her nose at him. “I’ll be too auld? By then you’ll be a dodderin’ five and fifty, Robert Bruce. Ye’ll be lucky if ye’re able to throw a leg across a horse, let alone a willin’ woman.” His mouth opened to protest, but she leaned across and stroked his cheek. “But that’s fourteen years i’ the future, dear yin, and by then I’ll no’ begrudge ye your rest. In the meantime, though, ye’re still hale and hearty.”
“Aye,” he growled, half laughing, then gazed at her, his look sharpening, “and ready for you, too, this minute.”
She pushed him away fondly, switching back to English. “Curb yourself, my love. We have the whole night ahead of us. And before we bed we have things to talk about. Were you pleased with how matters went today?”
“I was.”
“What about tonight’s supper?” They had had upward of thirty guests in the hall, including the Kings and their retainers, the Islesmen, and the various bishops, abbots, and priests, and the entertainment throughout had been non-stop, provided by a trio of harpists who accompanied the Kings and interspersed with bagpipe music, plus an old saga provided by the bard from Arran, brought in especially for the purpose.
“It could not have been better, lass. Even your Islesman behaved himself perfectly.”
“My Islesman? Why would you call him mine?”
“Because he is here, and so are you, my love—not the wife and mother but the countess, presiding as hostess, in all her tawny-haired glory, over the affairs of mere men. I doubt there’s a man alive who could resist being your slave, seeing you thus.”
Marjorie sat silent for a moment, digesting that, and then dipped her head. “That, my lord, was the perfect thing to say to ensure a pleasant … welcoming, before you go to sleep this night.”
“Excellent. Then let’s be about it, woman.” He reached out for her, but she caught his hand before he could grasp her breast. “In a minute, I promise. Just be patient with me. Did you speak to Murdo?”
“No, not yet. I will tomorrow.”
“Will you have time?”
“Why would I not?”
“I was thinking about the King. Will he not require your presence at his meeting with Angus Mohr?”
“I doubt it. The proceedings will all be in the Gaelic and you know how useless I am with that. No, he’ll have Gaelic-speaking witnesses enough for what he is about, without my being there. I’ll probably attend him for a while in the morning, to make sure they have everything they need, but I doubt I’ll be expected to stay, any more than Edward will.”
“What will they need that they might not have already? What’s to happen there, anyhow, between Alexander and Angus Mohr?”
“Talk … Little more than talk.”
“Talk aimed at what? Are you allowed to tell me, or is it a dark secret?”
“It’s no secret. At least it won’t be after tomorrow. In the meantime, though, few people know what Alexander intends.”
Marjorie straightened in her chair. “And what does he intend?”
“To honour Angus Mohr.”
“To honour him … The King of Scots seeks to honour Angus Mohr MacDonald? Honour him in what way and to what end?” She held up a hand. “Bear with me. I’m trying to answer my own question, but all that’s coming to me is another: why now? It seems to me our King might find better things to do for the good of the realm than go out of his way to meet and honour a man he barely knows— and one, forbye, who shows little affection for him.”