Stefan expected Macoran's wife and sons to join them, but they were nowhere in sight. "Is yer wife unwell?"
"Nay, she prefers to keep to her bedchamber." He glanced up at a partially closed bedchamber door and frowned. "Take no offense, laddies. 'Tis me she hates."
Macoran motioned for each to sit on opposite sides of the table and then sat down at the head. He patiently waited for the servers to bring more food and extra bowls before he spoke again. "As I recall Diarmad, ye have not been in my company since ye got caught throwing rocks at…"
"Rosa," Diarmad put in. "I recollect it as though it were yesterday. Ye tanned my backside and then my father burned a hole clean through it when he got me home."
Macoran laughed. "Ye've not thrown a rock since, I venture to guess."
"I have not even skipped a pebble across the river since that day."
Again Macoran laughed, "And will ye warm yer son's backside when he does it?"
"Not if he throws it at Rosa, she deserved it."
"How so?"
"She called my mother a bletherskite."
At that, Stefan could not help but smile. "It seems to be a favorite word among the Macorans. Kannak calls me that when she be put out."
Macoran filled a bowl with mutton stew and handed it to Stefan. "Are yer families well?" He filled another for Diarmad and a bowl for himself.
The boys both answered and told of their ride, the visits and the places they had seen. Macoran noticed all the men they visited were unmarried and wondered why, but he let them finish eating before he asked, "Are the two o' ye thinking o' taking wives?"
Stefan nearly choked on his last bite of stew. "I dinna want a wife."
But Diarmad was far more serious. "At what age do ye recommend marriage, Laird Macoran?"
"There be no particular age, but a lad must be able to care for a wife and the children she will bear afore I give my permission. Why did ye not bring Kannak with ye, Stefan?"
"She builds a wall, which reminds me we should get back to help."
"My father took all his daughters to Jirvel," Diarmad added. "He thought she might as well get to know them. Of course it be to help build a pen for the chickens as well." He saw the look of displeasure on Macoran's face and caught his breath. "Did I talk out o' turn? My father said he already asked for Jirvel."
Macoran dared not let his jealousy be exposed particularly since he knew his wife was listening, as she always was. "Nay, laddie, ye did not talk out o' turn. I was just surprised yer father would take such a bold step. I have not yet given my permission. He be not the only lad who has asked for her."