Rivals for the Crown by Kathleen Givens

"Now come and join us, sir. I am Rory MacGannon." He raised his cup in salute to the other Scot.
    "Edgar Keith," he said, extending his hand. "You are Highlanders."
    "How could ye tell?" Rory said with a grin, pointing to Keith's clothing. "Ye think we look different than ye?"
    "A bit, sir."
    "That we are. Ye all look a bit strange to us, dressed improperly as ye are."
    Keith laughed. "Look around us. Who's dressed the same here?"
    "Aye," Kieran said. "Kieran MacDonald. From Skye."
    "Skye? Do you know Davey MacDonald? The one who was—"
    "Abducted by Norsemen," Kieran said. "Ye've heard the story?"
    "Who has not? And was rescued by a man named Gannon. Same man?"
    Kieran laughed. "Aye, and this is his son sitting here with us."
    "I heard something about this Gannon...," Edgar Keith said and shook his head. He raised a hand and the serving girl hurried over. "It'll come to me. Another round," he said to her, "if you would."
    Edgar Keith was the younger son of a cloth merchant in Lothian, he told them, and often came to Berwick. They talked of the death of the Maid and what those here were saying about Scotland losing its queen. He talked earnestly, expressing his concern about their country's future. His lank brown hair fell across his face as he talked, and he pushed it out of his eyes absently. Then suddenly his expression changed. He stared at someone behind Rory so intently, and for so long, his face ruddy now, that Rory turned to see who it was.
    As he'd expected, it was a lass, and a fine-looking one, with golden hair and a worried look directed at Mr. Keith. She was young, dressed modestly, but Rory could see the curves of her waist and hips.
    "Excuse me for a moment, sirs," Keith said and rose clumsily to his feet, hurrying away from the table before either of them had a chance to answer.
    "I wonder if all the lasses in Berwick are this bonnie?" Rory asked.
    "They seem to be," Kieran said, watching the dark-haired girl serving ale to a large group of men. "She looks a'right now, doesn't she?"
    Rory followed his gaze. The lass seemed to have recovered from the scuffle with the sailors. And for the most part, she was skilled at evading those who tried to touch her or hold her with conversation.
    "Ye mean her manner, or do I find her pleasing?"
    "I saw her first, lad," Kieran said.
    Rory held up both hands. "I willna infringe on yer territory. Just thinking she's worth watching."
    He turned to see how Edgar Keith was faring. The young Scot and the lass were deep in conversation, oblivious to those who moved past them. Rory finished his ale, put the cup on the table, and studied it.
    "More ale, sir?" the dark-haired lass asked, suddenly next to their table. "More for both of ye?"
    "Aye, and thank ye," Kieran said. "Miss...?"
    "And for Mr. Keith? Or has he left?"
    "No, he's there, talking with the lass," Rory said.
    The girl looked over at Edgar Keith and paled noticeably. "Excuse me," she said and hurried away toward the foyer.
    "Ye're wasting yer time," Rory told Kieran. "She won't even give ye her name."
    "I'll find it out." At Rory's laugh, Kieran held out a coin. "Wager? Match it?"
    "Wager," Rory said. "Before morning ye have to discover her name."
    "Done," Kieran said.
    They watched as the dark-haired girl approached Edgar Keith and the blond lass, the dark-haired girl's gestures agitated, the glances she threw over her shoulder almost fearful. The blond girl listened, then shook her head and smiled serenely, saying something that stopped the other girl's stream of words. The two girls stared at each other, then at Edgar Keith, who nodded. The dark-haired girl took a step backward, spun on her heel, and disappeared.
    "Grand," Rory said. He was hungry and thirsty, and had a feeling he'd stay that way for a while.
    "I am sorry, sirs," Edgar Keith said as he slid back into his seat. "Your cup is empty. Let's have another and finish our talk."
    "I ordered another," Rory said, "but she ran off to join ye. Are ye pleased