It was a small room with paneled walls and a coffered ceiling. There was a stone fireplace, flanked with stone greyhounds, within which burned a bright fire. Beyond the single window the rain poured down, graying the day. A table with a silver tray, a carafe of ruby-colored wine, and two silver goblets stood before the window. The only other furniture in the room were two chairs that faced each other on either side of the hearth.
"Come in, Lady Grey," the king said. His hand motioned to her from one of the chairs.
The doors closed behind her as she slowly made her way to stand before James Stewart. Maggie curtsied low, amazed her legs could still function so capably. "My liege," she said softly.
"Sit down, Lady Grey, and I shall tell ye why I have asked ye to come visit with me in private." Then, seeing her pale visage, he arose, saying, "Ye’ll have a wee bit of wine, of course. 'Tis a wickedly dank day." He poured two goblets of wine, handed her one, and returned to his place by the fire, then sat facing his visitor.
Maggie tried hard not to gulp or spill her wine, but until she knew what the king wanted of her, it was difficult to control her nervousness. Had she somehow offended the monarch or his queen? Why was she here?
The king observed his companion furtively. Would she tell him the truth? Would he know it if she did? "Lady Grey," he began, focusing his eyes directly upon her pretty face, "I would have ye tell me why yer cousin of Nairn has come to court."
“Because his half-brother, the Lord of the Isles, would know the sort of man ye are, my liege. He has not decided whether he will swear fealty to ye." Maggie felt a wave of relief sweeping over her. She hadn't offended the king or his wife. She was in no difficulty, nor was she a danger to her husband.
The king had recognized immediately that Maggie MacLeod was being truthful with him. It was as he had suspected. Colin MacDonald had come to reconnoiter for his elder brother. “Why did ye leave the north, Lady Grey?" he suddenly asked her.
"Because I was tired of all the fighting. I didn't want to spend my life burying my men and living in fear of rapists and looters." She sighed deeply. " 'Tis so beautiful, my liege, but the beauty of the countryside canna make up for the constant danger."
"I don't suppose ye would consider a short visit to yer relations to introduce yer husband to them," the king ventured.
"I am with child, my lord," Maggie replied softly. "Besides, my relations would not accept Ben Duff, for to them he is a Sassanach, a southerner, and not even worthy of their scorn."
"The Lord of the Isles has sent his agent to spy upon me," the king said. "I need someone to spy upon him. I had thought if ye went north with yer husband, I would have a better idea when ye returned of what Alexander MacDonald plans."
"My liege," Maggie said, placing her hand protectively over her belly, "I would help ye if I could. I have no loyalty to the Lord of the Isles, despite the fact that my father is his vassal. When I departed the north, I left it and its chaos behind. I am loyal to ye, but I could not possibly travel so far over such rough terrain in my condition. Ben Duff is forty and has no legitimate heir but the bairn I now carry in my belly. Please understand."
The king nodded. "I do, Lady Grey," he said in kindly tones, "and ye need have no fear of offending me. Nevertheless, I have the problem of placing someone I can trust, whom The MacDonald will not suspect, in the north. I can gain certain information from peddlers and those dissatisfied with the power of the MacDonalds, but it is not enough." He grew silent for a long few minutes while Maggie sat nervously. Then the king pierced her again with a look. "Nairn is quite taken with Mistress Hay, is he not?"
Maggie nodded slowly, her look now a fearful one. Kings could do whatever they pleased. Their subjects had to obey or be guilty of treason. Margaret MacLeod Grey was not a stupid woman. She now divined the direction that James Stewart's thoughts were taking. It was plain to her he had never intended for her to go north. That had been but a ruse to frighten her and extract her cooperation.
"Now," the king said, considering, "if Mistress Hay were in the north with yer cousin, I should have in her a perfect agent." His thumb rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His amber eyes glittered in the firelight. "She is a verra bonnie lass, Fiona Hay, and clever, too."
"Oh, my liege! She is in love with Angus Gordon," Maggie said desperately. "They surely will marry. It is Fiona's dearest wish. Besides, my liege, she detests Colin MacDonald!"
"Scotland's future, Lady Grey, is far more important than any future Angus Gordon and Fiona Hay may have together," the king said coldly. "If he intended to wed with her, he would have already done so."
"Each waits for the other to admit their love!" Maggie cried. "Please, my liege"-she fell awkwardly to her knees-"don't do this terrible thing, I beg ye!"
James Stewart lifted Maggie up gently and set her back in her chair. "Ye cry yer loyalty to me, Lady Grey, yet ye would try to turn me from the only means I have of getting information from the north, of knowing just what Alexander MacDonald is planning. Perhaps yer clan loyalty is greater than yer loyalty to me."
It was as if an icy hand had touched her. Maggie shuddered, looking at the king with hopelessness in her eyes. "I am yer vassal, sire," she said, beaten.
The king smiled a slow smile. "I would have ye taunt yer cousin of Nairn as only a woman can torture a man's pride. Tease him into stealing Mistress Hay for himself and taking her back to the north. The perfect time would be when she is returning to Brae. I will send a small troupe of men-at-arms with her. Their orders will be to desert her at the first sign of Nairn's attack, leaving her helpless."
"But how will ye get Fiona to agree to this, my liege?" Maggie asked him. "She dislikes my cousin verra much. Besides, her heart is with Black Angus. She may die before she allows herself to be taken. Then ye have lost yer advantage, sire."
"Fiona Hay is a patriotic young woman," the king said smoothly, "but even I would not depend on her patriotism in view of her passion for her laird. But what if she believed he was to be wed to another at my command, Lady Grey? What would be left for her then? Of course I would not force my friend, Angus Gordon, to the altar, but if Mistress Hay believed it so"-he chuckled, and Maggie shivered at the sound- “then I believe she would turn her heartbreak to a more useful purpose. I don't want a woman who will fall in love with The MacDonald of Nairn. I want a woman filled with anger and hate who will seek a means of easing her broken heart by helping me to destroy the power held by the Lord of the Isles and his ilk. I need Fiona Hay! She is clever and will not falter even under the worst pressure."
Maggie began to weep. The thought of Fiona being deceived into doing the king's bidding, of her friend believing that Angus Gordon was faithless and would wed another on royal command, was acutely painful. Maggie knew what love was. She had met her own husband when he had come north several years ago on a mission for the old Duke of Albany, and had fallen deep in love with him.
The king was a very cruel man, Maggie thought, sniffling. He had his beloved Joan. Would he sacrifice their love as easily as he was sacrificing Angus Gordon and Fiona Hay? Somehow, looking at him beneath her wet lashes, Maggie thought he would. His greatest passion was Scotland. Unlike his predecessors he was not satisfied with just part of it. He wanted firm control over it all. He would do whatever he had to do to gain that control.