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ye naught but aggrava tion." This was from Gilbert, who had left his wife and three children to join MacLaren's campaign in France, only to return several years later to find he had acquired two more bairns. He had endured much hazing from his fellow soldiers about the amazing strength of his seed, which could impregnate his wife from hundreds of miles away—twice.
       "Now, Gilby, Meg is a right fine lass," said one man.
       "Aye, we all think so," rejoined another, followed by the bawdy laughter of the group.
       "Plague take ye all!" spat Gilbert.
       When the laughter subsided, Chaumont, who had been riding quietly next to MacLaren, listening to the questionable marital counsel of the Highland warriors, decided it was time to contribute to the conversation. "You all seem to be full of advice, most of it bad, and none of it addressing what is most important in a marriage." He spoke in his rich, smooth voice, the ever-present spark of humor in his eyes.
       "What might that be?" MacLaren asked warily. He wasn't beyond tossing him in another cold loch if he felt the need arise.
    "I speak of your husbandly duties in the marital bed."
       This got the attention of the men, and they rode in silence, listening to what the Frenchman might say on the topic. "You know it is your responsibility to give her pleasure so she can give you children." The Highlanders nodded. It was well known only a woman well pleased in the bedroom could conceive a child. Those who had never heard of this particular axiom also nodded wisely, believing the Frenchman to be an expert on all such matters.
       Yet MacLaren remained a skeptic, both of the state ment's truth and Chaumont's humor. "Do ye really ken that be true, or is it an old wives' tale?"
       Chaumont smiled broadly. "I am sure it is a tale told by many wives." More laughter rang forth from the men. What followed was more advice from the men on the subject of happily bedding a wife, which ranged from the crude to the poetic.
       After a while, one man turned to Rory, saying, "Do ye no' have a dozen bairns? Ye must know how to keep a wife well pleased."
       "That I do, laddie, that I do." He lowered his voice as if sharing a great secret. "I'll tell ye how to give the greatest pleasure a lass has ever known."
       The men leaned in their saddles, straining to hear the old man's words.
       "Take a bath."

    Aila was overwhelmed and touched by the expres sions of joy and celebration from those in the castle. All sorts of people, including many her mother would have found unacceptable, came to offer their congratulations. Their joy was contagious, and she soon shared their excitement about the union. Perhaps she had done the right thing after all. Soon the maids came swarming back, insisting Aila return to the tower to be properly bathed and dressed for the return of her master.
       Her maids prepared her bath and worked to modify a silver gown to be more in keeping with the current court fashion. The reality of her union to MacLaren began to sink in. After the bath, the maids attempted to tame Aila's wet, curly tangles into long ringlets.
       "Och, m'lady," said Maggie, one of the maids, "ye ne'er told us ye were to be wed."
        Nobody told me either.
       "And such a man," said another maid.
       "'Tis verra braw," said a third.
       "Aye, verra." The maids all made happy humming noises.
       "Too bad about his face. What an ugly scar."
       "Gained fighting against the English," Aila reminded them, though in truth she did not know how he had received the scar and was unsure why she needed to defend him.
       "Aye, m'lady," the maids acknowledged. They finished without further discussion and sent her up to dry her hair in the sun.
       Alone with her thoughts, Aila stood on the turret with her face to the sun. Pushing aside the doubts and worries, she considered what it might be like to be married to such a man as MacLaren, who had