Maddie sent him a puzzled look. “Of course not, Laird. She’s above stairs in her chamber. I brought her morning meal myself.”
“Then what about her?” Ewan growled.
Maddie let out a breath as if she’d run the entire way. “May I sit, Laird? For truly, ’tis not a short tale I’ll be telling you.”
Caelen rolled his eyes while Alaric looked bored. Ewan gestured her to sit.
She settled down and pressed her hands into a single fist before setting it on the table before her.
“The lass is Mairin Stuart.”
She dropped the announcement as if she expected Ewan to react in some way.
“I know the lass’s name is Mairin. I hadn’t known her family name, but ’tis a common enough name in the highlands. The question is how did you gain this information? She’s refused to tell anyone who she is. If Crispen hadn’t let it slip, I wouldn’t have known myself.”
“Nay, she didn’t tell me. I knew, you see?”
“Nay, I don’t see. Perhaps you better tell me,” Ewan said patiently.
“When I went up to bring her meal, I came in on her dressing. It was all quite awkward, and I apologized of course, but before she covered herself, I saw the mark.”
Maddie’s voice rose again and she sat forward, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
Ewan stared expectantly at her, waiting for her to continue. Lord, but the woman did love a good story. His brothers sat back, resigned to Maddie’s colorful retelling.
“The lass is Mairin Stuart,” she said again. “She bears the royal crest of Alexander. I saw it, branded on her leg. She’s the heir to Neamh Álainn.”
Ewan shook his head. “That’s a bunch of nonsense, Maddie. ’Tis naught but a legend circulated on the tongues of bards.”
“What legend?” Alaric asked as he sat forward. “I’ve heard of no such legend.”
“That’s because you never listen to bards,” Caelen said dryly. “You’re much too busy during festive times tossing up the skirts of some wench.”
“And you listen to these poets and singers?” Alaric mocked.
Caelen shrugged. “ ’Tis a good way to keep abreast of the current gossip.”
Maddie’s eyes gleamed as she turned her attention to Alaric. “The story goes that King Alexander had a child after his marriage to Sybilla, a daughter. And that at her birth, he had his royal crest branded on her thigh so that her identity could never be questioned. Later, he bequeathed Neamh Álainn to her firstborn child.” She leaned forward and whispered, “ ’Tis said, he did so so that she would be sure to secure a good marriage since she was a bastard born child and her mother was baseborn.”
Alaric snorted. “ ’Tis a well-known fact that Alexander never sired a daughter. He had no legitimate children and only one bastard son. Malcolm.”
“He did sire a daughter. A daughter named Mairin Stuart. And she’s just above stairs in her chamber,” Maddie insisted. “I’m telling you I saw the mark. I am not mistaken in this.”
Ewan remained silent as he mulled Maddie’s remarks and those of his brothers. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed any of this nonsense, but it would certainly explain why Duncan Cameron was so determined to marry the lass, and it would also explain why she was desperate to escape.
“Why not just acknowledge the lass?” Alaric argued. “A bastard of the king would have no trouble securing a sound marriage. Any number of men would line up, if for no other reason than to seek favor with the crown.”
“He didn’t want anyone to know,” Maddie said. “I can remember some years ago hearing the whispers that circulated. Alexander waited a full five years before making his bequest to the lass. He valued his marriage to Sybilla, and Malcolm was born before their marriage. It isn’t known how he explained the bequest, but soon after his death, rumors began going around about the existence of the lass.”
“With Malcolm still imprisoned, the existence of another descendent of Alexander could brew support for Malcolm’s followers,” Ewan said thoughtfully. “It could, in fact, be a large reason for Cameron’s determination to wed her. Taking over her inheritance would give him more power than he currently wields. Much more power. Scotland could be at war again, and David would face a renewed threat. With Alexander having sired not one, but two possible contenders to the throne, David’s position would be weakened. He can’t afford another lengthy war that will only divide Scotland once again.”
“A bastard cannot inherit,” Caelen reminded him. “This would never be accepted.”
“Think, Caelen. If Duncan Cameron had control of Neamh Álainn, he would be unstoppable. It would matter not the circumstances of Alexander’s children’s births. With that kind of wealth and power, if Cameron chose to ally himself with Malcolm, either could seize power.”
“Are you saying you believe this rubbish?” Alaric asked in astonishment.
“I’m not saying anything. Yet,” Ewan said calmly.
“Don’t you see, Laird?” Maddie burst in, excitement bubbling into her voice. “She’s the answer to our prayers. If you marry the lass, then your heir would inherit Neamh Álainn. ’Tis said she brings a rich dowry to her marriage in addition to the bequest of the lands for her firstborn.”
“Marry her?”
The question was all but shouted by all three brothers. Ewan’s mouth gaped open, and he stared at Maddie in astonishment.
Maddie nodded emphatically. “You have to admit, ’tis a sound plan. If you marry her, Duncan Cameron very well can’t.”
“There is that,” Caelen pointed out.
Alaric turned to Caelen, his expression questioning. “Now you’re going along with this madness?”
Ewan held up his hand to silence them. The throbbing in his head had escalated to a full-blown ache. He leveled a stare at Maddie, who had been listening to everything with rapt attention.
“You may go now, Maddie. I fully expect that everything that has been said here will remain strictly confidential. If gossip gets about the keep, I’ll know where it originated.”
Maddie rose and dropped a curtsy. “Of course, Laird.”
She hurried off and then Ewan turned to his brothers.