Highland Legend (Scots and Swords #3) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,3
teach him a lesson in humility.
“Of course I’m worth every penny,” he said after a moment, moving in her direction. “Let us come tae know each other, sweetheart. What’s yer name?”
“Mary,” the woman said, her features lighting up with joy. “Lady MacMerry of Whitekirk Castle. My dead husband was lord of Whitekirk Castle. Surely ye’ve heard of Harry MacMerry.”
Magnus had. He might present the image of a man only interested in money and victory, but he was much deeper than that. It was a trait he kept well hidden. His father, Hugh Stewart, Duke of Kintyre and Lorne, was the king’s youngest brother and a prince of the Scottish royal family. Magnus had been born out of wedlock to a lady-in-waiting to the duke’s wife.
But being a royal bastard wasn’t information that Magnus spread around.
Royal blood had been a curse in Magnus’s case, but it also meant he kept abreast of the politics of Scotland. He was a sharp and astute man, and he knew who the enemies of the crown were. MacMerry had most definitely been an enemy.
Therefore, he was careful in his reply.
“What does it matter if I have or have not?” he asked, a twinkle in his eyes. “All that matters is that ye have the money and I have the time. Let’s have a drink before I wash the grime from my body.”
He was already moving for Clegg’s elaborate sideboard, brought all the way from Constantinople. Upon it sat a full pitcher of wine and cut-glass cups. Magnus set down the coin-filled hose he’d been carrying, the stockings he’d collected from the staging-area floor, and poured two full measures. He handed one cup to the old woman, who was gulping it down before he even took the first sip of his own.
He watched her drink, wondering what he was going to do with her. He wasn’t one to bed anything other than young and beautiful women, but he supposed a good lay was a good lay. Maybe a woman of Mary MacMerry’s age would have more experience than most.
Perhaps he’d even learn something.
“More, love?” he asked, picking up the pitcher again. “Let’s drink tae our good health and tae the sovereignty of Scotland.”
Mary eagerly took another drink. “’Tis fine wine, indeed.”
Magnus refilled her cup even though it wasn’t quite empty. “It is,” he said. “The finest wine for the finest women. Tell me, Mary. How did ye come here? I’ve not seen ye before.”
Mary was nervous. Magnus hadn’t noticed that before. He could see that her hands were trembling as she downed her wine.
“I’ve been here before,” she said. “I’ve seen ye fight many a time. Ye’re the prettiest man I’ve ever seen. A beauteous lad, ye are.”
Magnus grinned, flashing straight and white teeth. “And ye’ve never wanted tae meet me before now?”
Mary shrugged. “There are a hundred women waiting for ye every time I come,” she said. “I paid well tae have ye tae myself tonight because I’ve come with a purpose.”
“Oh?” he said, sipping his wine. “What is that?”
Mary took another gulp of wine that drained her cup. Oddly, she wasn’t as confident as she had been when he’d first entered the chamber. She seemed nervous and…forlorn. It was difficult to describe, but he was starting to feel some pity for her.
He filled her cup again.
“Tell me, Mary,” he said. “Why did ye come?”
She took another big drink before looking at him. “I came tae be with ye,” she said. “And I’ll give ye something in exchange.”
“Of course ye will. Money.”
She shook her head. “Something better,” she said. “I have no heirs. When I pass, Whitekirk Castle will return tae the king and I dunna want him tae have it.”
“I canna help ye, lady.”
She nodded eagerly. “Ye can,” she said. “Instead of money, I’ll make ye my heir. I’d rather have Whitekirk go tae a fighter than go tae the bastard on the throne. Will ye take the castle instead of money?”
Magnus almost started laughing. If the woman knew who he really was, she would not have made such an offer. It certainly wasn’t an offer he had expected.
At first, he wasn’t sure what to say, but the royal bastard in him who had been denied everything from birth wasn’t afraid to speak up. It was the entire reason Magnus had become a fighter for profit. He had to work for everything he ever had and ever would have. He’d been born illegitimate, held captive for years with the understanding that his father wanted