Betrayed (20 page)

She flushed beneath his hot gaze, biting her lip to hold back her cry. She didn't understand what was the matter with her. To her shame she found his hungry look exciting. Her breasts had matured in the last two years, becoming fuller and almost perfectly round in shape. The skin was milky white and very soft to the touch.

Colin MacDonald reached out to caress the two sweet globes of flesh. His fingertips touched her tenderly, brushing across the fullness lightly stirring up feelings she had not believed any but Angus Gordon could awaken.

“No more,” she pleaded with him. “Don't touch me, I beg ye, my lord. Why must ye shame me like this?” There were tears in her emerald-green eyes that glittered in the light of the quarter moon. She had known this morning what the king expected of her, but faced with the reality of it, she did not know if she could bear it.

His expression serious, he bent in answer to her plea, kissing the flesh of her bosom. “Yer mad, Fiona sweeting, if ye think I can stop now,” he told her. “What is between us is as unquenchable as a roaring fire. Ye canna stanch it any more than ye can stem the rising tide.”

“I will never yield my heart to ye, Colin MacDonald,” Fiona said honestly to him. To her despair a large tear rolled down her face.

“Aye, sweeting, ye will, given time,” he responded, a single finger reaching out to catch her tear, lifting it from her cheek to his lips. “I will honor ye as Angus Gordon never did. He took ye for his whore and paraded ye before all of Scotland, but I will wed ye, Fiona
Hay. Ye will be my wife, and I will be proud of it,” he said.

For a moment Fiona saw the vulnerability in his bright blue eyes, and her heart contracted. Did James Stewart in his righteous quest for a united Scotland have any idea of the terrible betrayal he had put into effect? He had forced her from the man she loved in order to betray a man who loved her. It was monstrous, but she had no choice in the matter else she, too, be destroyed. And there were others also to be considered. Her sisters. Nelly. And—oh, what did any of it matter any more! She would do her duty, and spend the rest of her life ashamed of her part in this secret deception that would destroy them all. And for what? Scotland?
Damn Scotland! Damn James Stewart and all his kind!
They knew only power and more power.

Suddenly and to her utter amazement Colin MacDonald began to lace up her blouse again. When he had finished, he raised himself from her body and lay next to her. Fiona was completely puzzled. What was the matter? Why was he not ravishing her as she assumed he meant to do? Had he suddenly found her distasteful?

He smiled gently at her confusion. “I will not take you until we are man and wife, sweeting. We high-landers honor our women, particularly those we intend to wed.” He took her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss her fingertips. “I will sleep by your side to protect you and so that my men understand the seriousness of my commitment toward you.” Then he drew his cloak about them, and pulling her closer so that she faced him, he closed his eyes.

Fiona stared at the sandy lashes brushing against his tanned cheek. For several minutes she couldn't bring herself to move as he appeared to slide easily into
a deep sleep. Finally she shifted herself into a more comfortable position, resting her dark head against his broad chest. His heart beat rhythmically beneath her ear. Her nostrils twitched at the mixture of scents emanating from him. Horse. Sweat. Soap? Aye, ‘twas soap she smelled beneath the other traces of male fragrance. A tiny smile touched her lips. So he was eager to please her, she thought. Considering his behavior, she found that interesting. She was surprised by his tenderness, for his reputation was that of a fierce, hard man, but then had not Maggie said all the lasses were mad for him? If he treated them all with such sweetness, it was no surprise. Her instinct was to reach out and caress his red-gold hair, but she restrained herself. It was such an outrageous color of hair for a man, and yet it suited him admirably.

She lay in his arms now, drained by all that had happened this day. She had awakened at Scone, ready to return to Brae. Now this night she lay upon a grassy knoll in the arms of The MacDonald of Nairn, her hoped-for future despoiled. She had a new future. She was the king's secret weapon against the MacDonalds. She would do her duty, even if her heart was broken into a thousand pieces.

She awoke, surprised that she had slept at all. It was still dark, although the sky was giving evidence of the new day in the fading of the stars above her and a glow along the edges of the horizon. Colin MacDonald's face came into her view. He kissed her mouth slowly, and she did not resist him. What was the point now?

“We had best get up,” he told her. “We canna tarry long here. Can I trust ye if I let ye ride yer horse today?”

“I don't know if ye should ever trust me, Colin MacDonald,” she said bluntly “but if ye are asking me if I will run away from ye, where would I go? I canna return to Brae.” She stood up, drawing close about her the cloak upon which they had lain. “Send Nelly to me with some hot water,” she told him. “I will not ride this day with the scent of ye upon me.”

“Hot water, eh? Have ye always been such a fine lady, Fiona mine, or did Angus Gordon make ye such?” His look was both curious and amused.

“Do ye not bathe regularly, then?” she demanded of him. “I do. I always have done so, my lord. A vessel of water over the fire will be enough for my ablutions this morn.”

He was dismissed, and he knew it. What a firebrand this woman was. She could obviously hold her own with him, but it amused him more than angered him. Such a strong woman would breed up strong sons
for Nairn. Colin MacDonald found Nelly wide awake and looking as if she had not slept a great deal.

“Good morning, lass,” he greeted her. “Are ye all right?”

Nelly nodded at him. “I'm not used to sleeping in the open, my lord,” she told him honestly. “I was a wee bit frightened.”

“We'll not let anything harm ye,” he promised her. “Now, fetch some hot water to yer mistress. Ye'll find her around on the eastern side of the castle's ruins.” He pointed to show the direction.

The fire had not been allowed to die completely away in the night. Nelly saw a small metal pot sitting upon the coals that was already filled with water. Sticking a finger in it, she determined the water was warm enough to wash in, and picking the pot up with the edge of her skirt so as not to burn her hands, she hurried to take it to Fiona, finding her mistress easily.

“Ye were safe in the night?” Fiona asked.

“Aye,” Nelly replied. ‘Just a wee bit cold and frightened, but none of the men came near me after his lordship's warning. I slept up in the cart atop our bedding with that Roderick Dhu fellow dozing right at the foot of the wagon, my lady.”

“I am grateful for yer safety. Do not even think of flirting with any of these savages, Nelly, unless ye seek to lose yer virginity. They will take the slightest thing as encouragement. Put the water down here.”

“I brought ye a scrubbing cloth,” Nelly said. “I was able to retrieve it from the luggage, my lady.” Handing it to her mistress, the girl then turned away to give Fiona her privacy. “I'll fetch you some food,” she said, hurrying off.

Returning in only a few minutes, she gave her mistress, who was now finished washing, a tin plate.
“There was a bit of cheese, bread, and some fruit remaining from our basket. Let me take yer cup, and I'll get ye some water from the stream which is nearby.”

Grateful for Nelly's thoughtfulness, Fiona sat down and began to nibble the food her servant had brought. Moments later Nelly rejoined her. Together they ate, sharing the cup of clear water the girl had fetched for them. They did not speak. There was nothing to say, and if there had been, there was the danger of being overheard. Everything was as the women had expected it would be at this moment.

Colin MacDonald came to them as they were finishing their meal. “Come and pick the clothing ye want to take with ye,” he said. “I'm sending the cart, and most of my men, home to Nairn.”

“Where are we going?” Fiona asked him, surprised.

“To Islay, to my brother, the Lord of the Isles,” Nairn said. “He'll want to know all about this king of the Scots,
and
he'll want to meet the lass who's finally turned my thoughts to marriage.” He grinned at her.

Fiona climbed to her feet and cocked an eyebrow at him. “I don't know if it is just yer person or yer foolish boasting that repels me the most, Colin MacDonald.”

“Did Gordon ever beat ye, sweeting?” he asked her. “Ye obviously need to have a hand taken to yer bottom.”

“If ye value that hand, my lord,” Fiona warned him darkly, “don't ever raise it to me. I will cut it off the first chance I get.” She smiled sweetly at him then and moved back to the encampment.

“Would she?” he asked Nelly.

“She'd try,” Nelly replied, “and if she failed, she'd try again.”

Nairn looked thoughtful, then laughed. “I don't
know her at all, do I?” he said. Motioning to the serving girl to follow him, he turned back toward their campsite, where his men were making ready their departure.

Fiona had gotten into the luggage. She pulled out some undergarments, two pairs of knit stockings, a clean shirt, and a comb for her hair. Seating herself on a nearby rock, she began to undo her plait to comb out her raven-black hair. She then sat quietly while Nelly re-braided her tresses. The girl handed her mistress her chieftain's cap with its eagle feather, and her clan badge, wrapping a warm cloak about her afterward.

“These few things are all I'll need,” Fiona said. “My court clothing would be out of place on Islay.”

“I’ll pack them,” Nelly said. She went to gather her own things as well.

The MacDonald of Nairn had overheard Fiona. Following after Nelly, he caught her arm and drew her aside. “I will not argue with yer mistress, for she is filled with anger now and verra stubborn. Pack at least one fine gown for her and some jewelry. My brother's hall is every bit as fine as the king's. I don't want her embarrassed when she sees it.”

“A houppelande would be simplest, my lord. The green velvet is her finest, but I think the violet damask will pack better in a small space,” Nelly told him politely. “Are ye certain we canna keep the baggage cart? My mistress has some lovely things.”

He chuckled, “life love her, do ye not, lassie? Aye. I can see yer loyalty, and ’Tis good. The cart will slow us, Nelly. We are closer to Nairn than we are to my brother's castle on Islay. Without the cart it will take us a week to reach there. Ye don't want to be on the road forever, do ye? Besides, we will not stay with Alexander. I have my own lands to look after, and I have been away long enough in my brother's service. The cart
must go to Nairns Craig. Once we have finished our business on Islay, we'll go home. Then yer mistress can show me all her finery.” He patted Nelly's cheek. “Quickly now, lassie. The sun is already rising, and we must be on our way as soon as possible. Ye understand?”

“Are ye afraid the king's men will come after ye and rescue my mistress?” Nelly asked him slyly.

He grinned at her. “Aye, and that, too.”

Nairn chose six men to accompany them, including the trusty Roderick Dhu. They would travel west and just slightly south across Scotland. The countryside they journeyed through was mountainous, forested, and lake-filled. They rode from sunrise to sunset, stopping briefly only twice. Their dainty food from Scone Palace's kitchens gone, Fiona and Nelly subsisted on what the men ate: oatcakes, whatever small game could be caught and cooked, and water. The second night of their journey they camped by a small, nameless loch.

“Why do we not stop at a religious guest house or at the home of one of yer brother's allies?” Fiona asked her captor.

“Because there are few religious houses in this area,” he told her, “and besides, I don't want ye seen by anyone. Those poor frightened men-at-arms who fled, leaving ye to my tender care, didn't know who we were. Therefore it will not be known who has taken ye or where ye have been taken. I don't want yer former lover coming after us simply to kill me because his pretty mistress is now to be my wee wifie. Besides, what good would it do ye? Did ye not say he wouldn't take ye back after thinking I'd had ye?”

She felt the tears beneath her eyelids and quickly blinked them away. She had said it, and it was true. Angus would never want her again. Anger overwhelmed her once more. Throwing herself at him, she scratched
his handsome face, hissing at him, “I hate ye! I hate ye! Ye have ruined my life!” To Fiona's great shock he picked her up, and tossed her, fully clothed, into the loch. She screeched curses at him in the Celtic tongue, and his men howled with laughter. Fiona was not certain if it was her colorful expletives that amused them, or the sight of her flailing about in the shallows.

Colin MacDonald put his hand to his cheek and then, taking it away, gazed at the blood on his fingers. There would be a slight scar. She was an absolute little wildcat. He was beginning to wonder if he hadn't taken on more than he could, or wanted to, handle, but it was too late now. He had her.