"Well, Mistress Hay? Will ye buy my cattle, or will I drive them back down the ben to their own meadow?" Angus Gordon demanded.
A proposal, outrageous but possibly workable, entered Fiona's mind at that moment. He could not accept, but he would certainly be shamed by it and leave her in peace. "I have only one thing of value that I might give ye in exchange for the cattle, my lord," she told him, refusing to admit even now that they were his. "It is my most precious possession. Will ye have it?"
"Take it!" James hissed at his elder sibling. "Honor will be satisfied, and none will call ye weak, Angus."
"I would know what this valuable property is first, Jamie-boy," the laird told his brother. He looked again at Fiona. "What is this most precious possession that ye would offer me in exchange for my cattle, Mistress Hay? A dozen head of cattle don't come cheap, lass."
"Eight, my lord," Fiona replied softly.
"Twelve, including the ones you stole from me last autumn," he answered her as softly, his eyes meeting hers.
"Twenty head total. I'll need eight more head to dower my two youngest sisters, but they're only seven and ten years of age now, so I would not want them until Jean and Morag are old enough to wed. I canna feed them."
She was the most outrageous lass he had ever encountered, Angus Gordon thought again, amused in spite of himself. She audaciously stole his cattle, yet when caught, attempted to bargain with him for more of them. He was not as hard-hearted as Jamie thought, but if he allowed the girl to evade the consequences for her thievery, he'd have no end of trouble. He managed to keep the look on his handsome face severe, but it was not easy. His brother was right. Fiona Hay was a very clever wench. However, he was no fool. "Twenty head of cattle is a costly amount, Mistress Hay. Ye must be certain that what ye offer me in exchange for them has an equal or even greater value. Just what do ye propose to give me in exchange for my beasties?"
"My maidenhead," Fiona said quietly, her gaze never leaving his. She stood tall and proud and defiant.
"Jesu!"
The laird's amazement was evidenced only in a slight widening of his dark green eyes. It was the most brazen proposal he had ever heard. Then he realized that the girl did not expect him to accept her offer. He was obviously supposed to be so taken aback by her boldness that he would demur and depart, leaving her with his cattle. He smiled wolfishly at her. "I accept yer offer, Mistress Hay. Yer maidenhead in exchange for twenty head of my cattle. It seems a fair bargain, although I think ye may have gotten the better of me."
He had accepted her! Fiona grew very pale with shock. What kind of a man was he that he had accepted her? What kind of a fool had she been to have even made such an offer? The laird of Loch Brae spit into his palm and held it out to her. Her knees were suddenly threatening to give out on her. The Hays of the Ben might be poor, but they were honorable, or so her mam had always said, and Fiona had no choice now, lest she bring disgrace upon her family name. Spitting into her own palm, she reached out and shook his hand. "Done, my lord!" she told him, never once looking away, although her stomach was roiling with nervousness.
"Oh, no, Fi! Ye canna do it!" two young voices cried in unison.
The two girls pushed through the Gordon clansmen to where their elder sibling stood. They were auburn haired, amber eyed, and identical in features. Their distress was more than evident.
"The bargain is now struck, sisters," Fiona said.
"But if ye give him yer maidenhead, who will have ye to wife one day?" asked Elsbeth, tears in her bright eyes.
"If I don't give him my maidenhead, who will have ye to wife, Elsbeth? Or Margery either?" Fiona asked. "The Forbeses and the Inneses will have their dowries or they will not have ye, I fear. Besides, by the time I see Jeannie and Morag safely wed, I'll be much too old to marry. I won't mind growing old here upon the ben." She patted her sisters, comforting them as best she could.
"But what if he gives ye a child?" asked Margery.
"The Gordons take care of their own, Mistress Hay," the laird reassured her. "If yer sister bears my bairn, I will not desert either of them."
The twins began to weep simultaneously.
"Flora," their elder sibling said, "take my sisters to our chamber and stay with them until I call for ye."
The older woman shepherded the two girls off, alternately scolding and cooing at them as they went. "Now, hush, ye two. Up the stairs with ye! Embarrassing yer sister. And her so brave and only looking out for yer happiness."
"Tam, where are ye?" Fiona called out to Flora's husband.
"Here, mistress." An old man shoved through the clansmen.
"Have we cider enough to quench the thirsts of all these men?"
"Aye," he answered dourly.
"Down the stairs and outside with ye, laddies," the laird ordered his men. "Tam will bring ye cider. Refresh yerselves while Mistress Hay and I make final our arrangement. Ye, too, Jamie-boy." Angus didn't need James appealing to his conscience.
When the hall had emptied, Fiona invited the laird to sit by the fire. "I canna offer ye wine," she told him honestly. "I have but two barrels left in the cellar. The Forbeses and the Inneses are mighty drinkers."
He nodded and raised the goblet. “This cider will be fine. The weddings are tomorrow?" He settled himself by the hearth, but the blaze was small, offering little warmth.
"Aye, Colin Forbes is to wed Margery, and Walter Innes will wed Elsbeth. They'll be here with their clansmen and pipers early in the day. A priest is coming from the abbey at Glenkirk to perform the ceremony. We don't have our own priest. My father didn't like priests, although my mother insisted on calling one each time she gave birth so we might be baptized, or buried. When she died giving birth to our Morag, he would not send for the priest. Morag is not baptized, nor was our mam shriven before she was buried. When our father died, I didn't call the priest for him, though he begged me to do so," she said with a fierce satisfaction. “I shall ask the priest to baptize wee Morag tomorrow after my sisters are wed. 'Tis not right she be a heathen."
"Ye’ll come with me to Brae Castle after the weddings," the laird told her. "And yer two little sisters, and the old servants. They can't remain here, Fiona Hay. I'm amazed this tower has not fallen in by now. Ye’ll all be safe with me." What on earth was he letting himself in for? Angus Gordon wondered. But of course he could not leave the two elderly servants alone to care for the two small girls in a dwelling about to tumble down about their ears.
"This is my home, my lord," Fiona said proudly. "It may not be as fine as yers, but I won't abandon it. Ye haven't the right to ask me. I have offered ye only my maidenhead. Though I know nothing about the business, ye can only take it once, I believe."
Angus Gordon had to laugh. She was as bold as brass, though he suspected she was afraid, even if she wouldn't show it. "Don't think for a moment, lassie, that I intend letting ye off for yer offenses, for I will not, but a maidenhead, even a royal one, is scarce worth twenty head of my cattle. Ye’ll come back to Loch Brae with me and live there as my mistress until 1 deem that ye have worked off yer debt to me," he told her. "I'm a fair man, Fiona Hay. Yer sisters will live with ye, and yer servants, too. They will be well treated. I will care for them as if they were my own family. You will have regular meals, for if the bairns are as thin as ye and the two brides, then good food will not be amiss."
"We don't need yer charity!" Fiona cried.
"Charity? Nay, lassie, 'tis not charity. Ye’ll pay me back for every penny, I promise ye." Reaching out, he took her hand, smiling slightly at her startled look when his fingers enclosed hers. "How old are ye, Fiona Hay?"