Angel of Skye (23 page)

But now, everything was different.

The nun returned to Fiona.

“You are at an age when your future must be decided. Now that Torquil is gone and Lord Alec is here, the Isle of Skye is once again part of Scotland. So I sent a message to Lord Huntly and the nobles on the Council of Regents governing with him during the infant king’s minority. Lord Huntly is known to be a good man, and he was always loyal to your father, so I told him that you are with us, and of the proofs that identify you. He has written back to say that he has been able to negotiate two things in your interest.”

She handed the letter to Fiona. This was so much to burden the young woman with in one day, but Fiona had to know.

“But do I have any family left? Other than the infant king, I mean,” Fiona asked. Truthfully, she was not sure if she cared for this new identity. With her parents both dead, what purpose would all this trouble serve? Unless there was someone else. Family.

“Your last direct relation was your grandfather, John, Lord Drummond, but he died at Flodden. Your mother had two sisters, but they passed away before your grandfather. Since his death, everything has been held by Lord Gray, your great-uncle, with the condition that you would inherit everything if you were to reappear. Your grandfather never gave up hope, Fiona. I believe he must have felt some guilt about your mother’s death. I suppose he truly hoped that the Lord would take some pity on him and restore you to him one day. People often want to make amends the most when they feel they’ve lost their best chance. At any rate, Lord Huntly has now spoken with Lord Gray, who has agreed to accept you ‘with open arms’ when you arrive, should the proofs be valid in the eyes of the governing nobles. And should that be the case, he will restore Drummond Castle and all its lands to you. In fact, Lord Huntly sends word from Lord Gray that his daughter Kathryn is looking forward to greeting her ‘newfound cousin’ en route from Skye.”

Alec’s thoughts wandered disgustedly back to Kathryn. Fiona’s cousin. Now he knew why she had suddenly appeared at the Macpherson’s Benmore Castle. Why she was stopping at Kildalton. She had heard the bad news. What she had thought to be hers would now belong to her long-lost cousin. Greeting...ha!

“Lord Huntly has also communicated with Queen Margaret,” the prioress continued. “And she has agreed that should you renounce any claims regarding the ‘crown, crown lands, or rights of succession for any of your issue,’ she would acknowledge you as the daughter of the late king and formally welcome you in court.”

The prioress sat beside Fiona and took the young woman’s hand.

“I know it is not much compensation for the loss of a mother and a father, but what Lord Huntly has done is far more than we might have expected.”

Fiona sighed, looking down at the letter in her lap. She was not sure she was quite ready for all this. But there was one thing she was certain of: she had no interest in any of those things which were so important to the queen.

“And there is one more thing. Huntly has conveyed the queen’s wish that you go immediately to Sterling Castle.”

“She wants to be certain that you take a vow of allegiance to her son, King James, immediately,” Alec said from across the room. Before you get caught up in the politics of court, he thought to himself. And before you fall into the hands of such grasping courtiers as your uncle, Lord Gray.

Fiona looked up, startled at the news. Go? To the queen? Leave the Priory? Leave Skye? It’s impossible, she thought, getting up and crossing to the window. How can I?

“M’lady prioress,” she blurted out, whirling to face the woman who had crossed the room after her. “What of my work here? Malcolm and—”

“Fiona,” the prioress soothed, taking her hand. “We will survive. Some of the young nuns are quite capable of dividing up your duties.”

“But m’lady, I want to take my vows!”

“Fiona, my child, that is impossible.” Though the prioress’ wrinkled face was kindly, the quiet authority in her voice was unmistakable. “You are a lady, Fiona. Half-sister to the king. You have responsibilities that you cannot deny. Duties that take you beyond the walls of this Priory. We love you, child, and this has been your home, but you have another world that awaits you—a world we have, all along, been preparing you for.”

Fiona looked into the confident eyes of the prioress. For a moment she could almost feel the old woman’s strength and will flowing into her.

A world so different from her world here. A world where her mother had lived.

Fiona considered that world. A place where a young mother’s life could be snuffed out like a candle. Where her murderers could go free while the world would think she had committed suicide.

Fiona thought back on that night. Her mind swirled with the images of blood and men, of her mother rushing about the room.

And then suddenly she remembered the leather pouch and the loose stone beside the fireplace.

The prioress had mentioned rumors about her mother’s innocence. If she left the Priory at all, it would be for one thing: to prove the truth.

The only chance Fiona had lay hidden at Drummond Castle. She had to get there, and if the route took her first to the court at Sterling, so be it.

“But m’lady prioress, how do I get there?”

“That has been taken care of, my dear.” The nun looked over at a thoughtful Alec, who stood quietly, his arms folded across his massive chest. “Lord Huntly has asked Lord Macpherson to convey you to Sterling.”

Fiona turned her gaze to Alec, who quickly averted his eyes. He stared straight at the prioress.

She’ll need all the protection she can get, Alec thought. It would not be long before the entire country buzzed with news of her discovery. There was every possibility of someone trying to snatch her away for good as they crossed the Highlands. Every power-hungry laird in Scotland would want to have Fiona tucked away in his own castle. Royal blood is royal blood; and power and fortune would belong to the nobleman who could capture her, impregnate her with an heir, and keep her from giving up her claims on the Crown wealth at Sterling.

“Do you have any objection to that, m’lord?” Fiona asked, her eyes searching his steely face questioningly.

“No, m’lady, I know what I must do.” He straightened. “Please send word when you are ready to go. I’ll prepare my men.”

Alec strode toward the door and, without so much as a backward glance, disappeared into the dark corridor beyond the door.

What has marred thee in thy mood,

Makyne, that to me thou show?

And what rules love, or being loved?

That law I’d like to know.

—Robert Henryson “
Robene and Makyne
”

“Why does Alec hate me so much?” Fiona asked.

Ambrose stood momentarily speechless, unsure of how to answer such openness. Seeing Fiona here at Dunvegan had delighted him to no end. Truly, in spite of the fact that he had taken an immediate liking to her, she had more sense and spirit than Ambrose had given her credit for. And the late king’s daughter besides. Imagine that.

But Alec’s sulking was becoming difficult to bear, and Ambrose was certain that his brother could go on like this for quite a while. Because of his past mistake with Kathryn Gray, Alec would perhaps never be ready to talk to Fiona and bring his concerns out in open. In Alec’s mind, Fiona had finally discovered family, people who she never knew she had. He was not going to spoil it all by telling her the truth about the kind of people they were. And besides, he could only speak from his own experience with them.

But aside from all of this, she was entering a life of glamour and attention. A life Alec had run away from. He could just see it. With her beauty and wit, she would be the toast of the court in no time. This was not for him. He would not make the same mistake twice.

“I’m quite certain that Alec doesn’t hate you,” Ambrose assured Fiona.

“Then why is he behaving like such a boor?” Fiona paced back and forth before the small fire that was burning in the fireplace of Dunvegan Castle’s Great Hall. Outside, the gray day was damp and chilly, but Fiona had hardly noticed as she and David rode up from the Priory. She had told David that she wanted to be there to take Malcolm back after his day’s hunting with Alec, but her old friend knew better. She was angry, and when she went directly to Ambrose upon arriving at the castle, the prioress’ brother had discreetly excused himself with the pretense of wanting to look after their horses.

“Is he, Fiona?” Ambrose smiled. “I hadn’t noticed any change.”

Fiona stopped and looked directly at him.

“You know that’s not true, Ambrose,” she said with quiet authority. “Since we received word from Lord Huntly, he hasn’t come to see me even once. I sent him messages, told him that I needed to see him. But he hasn’t responded. Not a word.”

She resumed her pacing.

“At first I just thought he’s been busy preparing for our departure and all.”

He’s been busy, all right, Ambrose thought. Busy tearing Dunvegan Castle and its people apart for the smallest reasons. The men had practically hidden themselves away from him in order to stay clear of his wrath.

“Then I thought, he must be upset with Lord Huntly for making such a request.”

That was true, but a definite understatement. Alec’s mood has been the foulest that Ambrose could ever remember.

“But all in all, I was blind to the fact,” Fiona said bluntly.

“To what fact?”

“It is me. He hates me.”

Ambrose held back his laughter. Between her and Alec, the two of them needed help.

“Fiona.”

“It’s true! You didn’t see the look he gave me when he came for Malcolm this morning. I told him I was coming with them, but he just glared at me and said that he wanted to spend time alone with Malcolm before he had to leave Skye. You had to see him, his look. It as if I were nonexistent. His cold stare told me to stay away. To leave him alone. He hates me.”

Ambrose listened with some surprise as Fiona continued to vent her frustrations. Pacing back and forth, she told him of a wasted day, waiting, fuming over Alec’s unfeeling rejection. Whenever she glared up at him, Ambrose nodded gravely and compassionately. As she talked, he had a sense that she had come to him as an ally, though not against a common enemy. She had come seeking his support. Somehow, he was certain he would give it.

The sound of horses in the courtyard outside drew Ambrose’s attention.

“Robert!” Ambrose shouted, then turned to Fiona. “You are upset and in few moments this room will be full of men looking for their supper. How about if we continue this discussion in Alec’s study?”

She nodded in agreement and followed him toward an open doorway at the side of the hall.

“You called, Sir Ambrose?” Robert asked, approaching the two.

“Aye. Tell Cook to prepare a small meal for two and deliver it to the study.” Ambrose turned in the squire’s direction, adding almost as an afterthought, “And I don’t want just anyone coming in and disturbing us.”

Ambrose led Fiona into a small room lined with maps and books on one end. One wall was adorned with the Macpherson tartan and two shields, one bearing the the clan’s coat of arms. Fiona’s hand went unconsciously to her waist, to the dirk that was inscribed with the same markings, the one he had given her during the time when he was honest about his feelings. She swore under her breath.

She let her eyes travel to the other shield on the wall. That one bore the MacLeod clan arms.

Ambrose pushed the heavy oak door partially closed and pointed to a chair by the fireplace for Fiona to seat herself in. She shook her head and started pacing the room again. Ambrose went to the hearth and struck a spark into the prepared kindling. The small fire caught immediately, and he moved across the room, pulling a chair as far from the door as he could. He was not going to be too close to the action if he could help it.

“Aye, you were saying, Fiona,” he prompted, settling back comfortably. This should be good, he thought.

“If I knew he cared—” she began, whirling around as the door of the study crashed open.

In the doorway, Alec stood, his feet spread and his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes traveled from Ambrose to Fiona.

“Welcome home, Alec,” Ambrose said innocently. Robert had taken more time reporting to Alec than he had expected.

Alec’s glare turned only for a moment to his brother’s open expression before returning to Fiona.

“What are you doing at Dunvegan?” the warlord snapped, but he could not stop his eyes from slowly traveling the length of her. Damn it! Why must she look so fine? Why must she torture him this way? She was breathtaking. Damn it!

“I came here to talk to you,” she responded, using the same tone.

“About what?”

“About us.”

“There is nothing to talk about,” Alec said in the most even, unfeeling tone he could manage. Then he steeled himself against the anguish he saw building in her beautiful eyes. The color that rose in her complexion.

She held her breath and stared at him in disbelief. She knew he was lying. It couldn’t be true. Alec’s face was distorted with anger, but his eyes were betraying him. And then she felt another emotion pushing at the pain she felt at his words.

Ambrose cleared his throat and stood.

“I’d better leave you two alone to—”

“Sit down, Ambrose!” Alec ordered, his eyes never leaving Fiona’s. He hated himself for what he knew he had to do. But a clean break now would be infinitely less painful than waiting until they got to court. It would be only a matter of time before she would be swept away by the seductive lures of the court and her family. He wanted no part of that. And then there was the fact that she was King James’s daughter. Fiona deserved the best, the noblest of men. She would have the opportunity to wed to kings. She would have the chance to live as a queen. And what did Alec have to offer? A man who had not even been able to save her father’s life. It would be much better this way. He had to break it off now.

Ambrose watched in silence as Alec stepped into the room.