Page 78 of The Refuge

The abbey’s table that had earlier comfortably accommodated the queen’s party was now crowded and seating on the benches cramped, but no one seemed to mind. Laughter echoed around the chamber, followed by Rhodri’s songs of the sea and ships, which lulled them all into a contented state.

Happy to have been spared the further attentions of the king’s captain, Catrìona sipped her wine and leaned toward Fia. “However did you manage to be included while the other ladies were not?”

“’Twas simple. I asked the king.” At Catrìona’s look of incredulity, Fia added, “I told him you and I are quite close and I knew you would want to see me. ’Tis true, is it not?”

“Aye, I am glad you are here.”

“Then I thought of what you might say, so, I told the king that I had never been on a ship and I was certain my father would be pleased should I have the experience.”

Barely able to control her laughter, Catrìona exclaimed, “Fia, you did not!”

“I did. ’Tis likely true. And you know you would have said it. Besides, I had no intention of being left behind when the king called for Rhodri. If Malcolm had not given his consent, I might have stolen aboard with the boy.” Glancing at the end of the table where Steinar and Giric sat together talking, Fia asked, “What has happened with the scribe? He wears a grim expression whenever he looks at you.”

Catrìona shrugged. “In truth, I do not know, but he has been in an unpleasant mood ever since he came upon me in the woods with the king’s captain. I was furious with both of them.”

Fia raised her brows.

“Not here,” whispered Catrìona. “I will explain later when we are alone.”

“You tease me beyond measure.”

* * *

Giric rambled on excitedly about his trip on the king’s ship. All the while, Steinar watched Catrìona, desperate to know what happened between her and Colbán before the king arrived. Had she succumbed to the king’s captain as so many women did?

Interrupting his thoughts, Giric asked, “Have ye ever sailed with the king?”

Steinar looked down at the boy’s face, shining with the joy of his adventure. “Nay but mayhap I will for the return to Dunfermline.”

“I liked the ship,” said the boy, “and I was not ill either.”

“If you are to one day be a great warrior and travel to the distant parts of Scotland, ’tis good you are at ease on the sea.” Already, Steinar knew he wanted the boy to come with him when he claimed his lands in the vale, but mayhap Catrìona would want the lad to go with her. Steinar could not bear to think of her staying behind with the king’s captain.

* * *

As soon as the door to their chamber closed, her husband pulled Margaret into his arms. He smelled of salt and the sea and she was very glad to have him with her. His strength was a comfort she had learned to draw upon. “You dismissed my maidservant,” she said teasingly, as she fumbled with her laces.

A slow smile spread across Malcolm’s face, his dark eyes twinkling. “You will need no servant tonight for I have much experience with your laces, madam.” With his arms wrapped around her, he reached to pull the laces free as he kissed his way down her throat, sending shivers coursing through her.

“You will wake the babe,” she said in feigned objection.

Malcolm turned her in his arms so that her back was to his chest and placed his large palms on her rounded belly. “Aye, he will have no sleep for a while, mo cridhe. But I have learned to pleasure you with only a slight jostling of the babe.” Sliding her gown from her shoulders, he helped her to step from it as it sagged to the floor and led her to the bed, the bishop’s own she suspected, for it was large.

He removed his crown and then hers, setting them and her headcloth aside.

She sat on the edge of the bed cushion, watching as Malcolm shed his clothes, providing a feast for her starving senses.

“How goes the contest to win the affections of the redhead?” Malcolm asked as he pulled off his tunic and began to unwrap the leather strips crossing his hosen.

“Catrìona and Steinar have exchanged words more than once and, in the last few days, he has paid little attention to her. But just this eve, she went most willingly with your captain on a walk along the shore. It may be that ’tis Colbán she would prefer after all.”

“Either man is worthy,” he observed.

He pulled his inner tunic off, revealing his muscled chest. At two score years, he was still a warrior to be reckoned with. Margaret swallowed as he began to loosen the ties that held his hosen to his waist.

“If I match the redhead with my captain,” said Malcolm, slowing his disrobing, which she was certain was intentional, “what think you of Duff’s daughter for the scribe? Might not such a gentle woman appreciate his lettered ways and his knowledge of so many languages? Together they could make a formidable pair in winning us the friendship of the western isles.”

“Yea, the match could work if Duff would agree to let Audra go so far from Fife. She is his only daughter and dearly beloved.”