"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 highlanders 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 lo 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.
Chapter 8
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.