"Have you ever attended?"
"When Isabelle still lived with us we went," Margaret answered. "Cameron's been too busy to go since," she added with a shrug. "I always had a fine time."
"I understand Isabelle's married to Brodick's brother," Judith said. "Was it a recent wedding?"
"No, over four years ago now," Margaret answered.
The sadness in Margaret's voice was most evident. Judith quit stirring the meaty stew and leaned back from the fire so she could give Margaret her full attention. Odd, but although they were virtual strangers, she felt the urge to comfort the woman. She seemed to be terribly lonely, and Judith well understood that feeling.
"Haven't you had time to go and visit your daughter?"
"Not once have I seen my Isabelle since she wed," Margaret answered. "The Maitlands stay to themselves. They don't take to outsiders."
Judith couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But you're certainly not an outsider," she protested.
"Isabelle belongs to Winslow now. It wouldn't be proper to ask that she come to visit us, and it wouldn't be proper either to ask to go to her."
Judith shook her head. She'd never heard of anything so preposterous. "Does she send messages to you?"
"Who would bring them?"
A long minute passed in silence. "I would," Judith whispered.
Margaret looked over at her husband, then turned her gaze back to Judith. "You would do that for me?"
"Of course."
"I'm worrying it wouldn't be proper," Margaret said.
"Of course it would be proper," Judith argued. "It wouldn't be difficult, either, Margaret. If you have any messages you'd like me to give Isabelle, I promise I'll find her and give them to her. Then, on my way back to England, I'll give you her messages. Perhaps there will even be an invitation to visit," she added.
"We're going outside to see about the horses, wife," Cameron announced in a booming voice. "Shouldn't take us any time at all. Supper almost ready?"
"Aye, Cameron," Margaret answered. "It will be on the table when you come back inside."
The men left the cottage. Cameron shut the door behind them. "Your husband sounded angry," Judith remarked.
"Oh, no, he's not angry," Margaret rushed out. "He's a little nervous, though. It's quite an honor to have the Maitland laird in our home. Cameron will be boasting about this for a good month or two."
Margaret set the treachers on the table, then added another jug of water. The bread was sliced into wedges. Judith helped her ladle the stew into a large wooden bowl and put it in the center of the long table.
"Perhaps, during our supper, you could ask Brodick how Isabelle is doing," Judith suggested.
Margaret looked appalled. "It would be an insult for me to ask," she explained. "If I ask if she's happy, then I'm suggesting Winslow isn't making her happy. Do you see how complicated it is?"
It wasn't complicated, it was ridiculous in Judith's estimation. She could feel herself getting angry on Margaret's behalf. The Maitlands were being cruel-hearted with such an attitude. Didn't any of them have any compassion for relatives like mothers and fathers?
She didn't know what she would do if someone told her she could never see her aunt Millicent and uncle Herbert again. She got all misty-eyed just thinking about it.
"If you were to ask…" Margaret smiled at Judith while she waited for her to catch on.
Judith nodded. "Brodick might think that because I'm English, I don't know any better."
"Yes."
"I'll be happy to ask, Margaret," she promised. "Are all the clans in the Highlands like the Maitlands? Do they all isolate themselves from outsiders?"
"The Dunbars and the Macleans do," Margaret answered. "When they aren't fighting with each other, they stay to themselves," she explained. "The Dunbar holding sits between the Maitlands and the Macleans, and Cameron tells me they're constantly fighting over land rights. None of them attend the festivals, but all the other clans do. Are all the English like you?"
Judith tried to concentrate on what Margaret was asking. It was a difficult task, for she was still reeling from the woman's casual remark that the Macleans were the Maitlands' enemies.
"Milady?" Margaret asked. "Are you feeling ill?"
"Oh, I'm feeling very well," Judith replied. "You asked me if I was like all the other English, didn't you?"
"I did," Margaret replied, frowning over the notice that her guest's complexion had turned so pale.
"I don't know if I'm like the others or not," Judith answered. " 'Tis a fact I've led a rather sheltered life. Margaret, how in heaven's name do the men ever find mates if they never mingle with the other clans?"
"Oh, they have their ways," Margaret answered. "Winslow came here to barter for a speckled mare. He met Isabelle and took to her right away. I was set against the union because I knew I'd never see my daughter again, but Cameron wasn't going to listen to me. Besides, you don't say no to a Maitland, leastways I've never heard of anyone trying, and Isabelle had her heart set on marrying Winslow."
"Does Winslow look like Brodick?"
"Aye, he does. He's much more quiet, though."
Judith burst into laughter. "Then he must be dead," she remarked. "Brodick rarely speaks a word."
Margaret couldn't stop herself from chuckling. "They're a strange breed, the Maitlands are, but in their defense I'll tell you that if ever Cameron came under attack or needed any true assistance, he would only have to send word to Laird Iain.
"Before the marriage, every now and again a couple of our sheep would disappear. The thievery stopped as soon as word went out that our Isabelle married a member of the Maitland clan. Cameron's gained new respectability, too. Of course, his initial reaction to meeting you might have changed that status."
"Do you mean his surprise to find out I was English?"
"Aye, he was surprised all right."
The two women looked at each other and suddenly burst into laughter just as the men returned to the cottage. Iain was the first to walk inside. He nodded to
Margaret, then paused to give Judith a frown. She guessed he didn't think her amusement was proper behavior. That possibility made her laugh all the more.
"Go and take your place at the table," Margaret instructed.
"Aren't you joining us?"
"I'll serve first, then I'll join you."
Whether she realized it or not, she'd just given Judith an excuse not to sit next to Cameron. The men had all taken their same positions. Judith picked up the stool near the hearth and carried it over to the other side of the table. Then she nudged her way between Iain and Brodick.
If the warriors were surprised by her boldness, they didn't let on. Brodick even moved over so she wouldn't be crowded.
They ate in silence. Judith waited until the men had finished before bringing up the topic of Isabella's welfare.
She decided to ease into the discussion. "Margaret, this was a fine stew."
"Thank you," Margaret replied with a faint blush.
Judith turned to Brodick. "Do you see your brother very often?"
The warrior glanced down at her, then shrugged.
"Do you see his wife, Isabelle?" she prodded.
He shrugged again. She nudged him under the table with her foot. He raised an eyebrow over that boldness. "Did you just kick me?"
So much for trying to be subtle, Judith thought. "Yes, I did kick you."
"Why?"
Iain asked that question. She turned to smile at him. "I didn't want Brodick to shrug at me again. I want him to talk about Isabelle."
"But you don't even know the woman," Iain reminded her.
"I wish to learn about her," Judith argued.
Iain looked like he thought she'd lost her mind. She let out a sigh. Then she started drumming her fingertips on the tabletop.
"Tell me about Isabelle, please," she asked Brodick again.