The Border Lord's Bride by Bertrice Small Page B

in respect for your host." He stalked her.
    Still giggling, Ellen jumped up, putting a chair between them. "I am most respectful of those deserving my esteem, my lord," she told him. "Your sister certainly has my admiration for her dexterity in the game of chess."
    "Ho! Now you have added insult to my wounded pride, mistress. You will have to pay the price for your impudence, I fear." And, swiftly yanking the chair between them away, he reached out and began to tickle her.
    Ellen squirmed in his grasp, laughing until her eyes teared up. "Stop! Stop!" she cried. "Ohh, I can bear no more! Stop, Duncan!"
    And suddenly he did. They stood staring at each other for a long moment. Ellen was flushed prettily. Her heart was beating too quickly, she thought. He wanted to kiss those cherry lips, the laird considered as he gazed down into her upturned little face. What would she think if he did?
    he wondered.
    "Well," Maggie‘s voice came breaking into the magic of the moment, "I think we have all had enough excitement for the night."
    "Aye," Ellen agreed, lowering her eyes from his. For the briefest moment she had been lost in his gaze. It had enveloped her like a warm coverlet, leaving her feeling weak.
    "Aye," the laird said. He wanted to protect her. To care for her. To cherish her. But Ellen MacArthur was the king‘s responsibility. Duncan had no rights to her.

Chapter 4
    The spring was coming. Work on the defensive walls surrounding Duffdour increased with urgent rapidity, for the milder weather and the melting snows would usher in a new season of border raids. The meadow nearest the keep was greening, and the laird‘s sheep and lambs were allowed from their pens. His small herd of cattle had been increased with the birth of several calves. And two of his mares had dropped foals, a filly and a colt. Large wooden gates banded and studded with iron were being built for the outer walls, which had been placed at the foot of the rise upon which the keep stood. Near the top of the rise the laird had decided to dig a moat.
    "Will you enlarge the keep?" Maggie asked, curious.
    Duncan shook his head. "Nay, but I shall erect a smaller inner wall about the house, which will allow us to withstand a siege should the outer walls be breached. The stream that cuts across the hill can be used to keep the moat filled. We will have a drawbridge with a portcullis, and smaller gates. We have a well already dug by the kitchens. My permission from the king says I may do all, whatever is necessary to secure Duffdour. The barn will sit in the larger outer courtyard, the stables within the smaller. If war comes—and it will certainly come again, given the current state of affairs between our King James and their King Henry—Duffdour will be safer than most. And the outer court is large enough for us to shelter my cattle, my sheep, and my cotters. I am tired of seeing them taken off by the English."
    "You steal from them," Maggie noted.
    "But I don‘t want to," the laird answered her. "I want to live in peace, with my wife and bairns about me."
    "You have no wife," Maggie said pointedly.
    "I will one day," he responded.
    "Duncan," his older sister said patiently, "has it occurred to you that you are no longer a youth in your prime? You are well past thirty. Well past," she told him sharply. "You need to take a wife.
    Now! You need an heir. Now! Not one day."
    "I won‘t marry until I find a woman to love," Duncan Armstrong said. "I well recall how my half brother Conal Bruce struggled to keep from surrendering to that tender emotion. We could all see he loved his Adair, but he could not bring himself to admit it to her. He thought to love was a weakness, but it is not. Love is an incredible strength, sister, and I would have that wondrous power for my own."
    "You surprise me, Duncan," the nun said.
    "Do I?" He smiled at her. "I am glad I can surprise you, Maggie. But tell me where I am to find a lass to fall in love with, and I will do my best to