'Aye,' she told him. 'A wee bit, Colin MacDonald.' She shifted to find a more comfortable spot, for he was lying half across her.
He nuzzled her neck. 'Ye know what I want, sweeting,' he said suggestively. His hands were caressing her gently.
'Colin,' she chided him, 'ye have to go before the king in the morning. If ye don't get some sleep, yer head will ache ye something fearful, I guarantee ye. Ye’ll shame us all.'
His knee was levering her thighs apart as he attempted to slip between her legs. 'I'll sleep all the better and awake happier if ye'll love me, Fiona mine,' he wheedled tenderly.
'Yer worse than Alastair when he wants a shortbread,' she scolded him, but the hardness probing against the insides of her thighs was exciting. She slid her arms about his neck and drew him down. His breath was pungent with wine. 'If ye fall asleep on me before 'tis finished, Colin MacDonald,' she warned him ominously, 'I swear I'll do to ye what we did to that bull calf born last year.'
His laughter was low and smoky. 'When, Fiona mine,' he asked her, 'when did I ever not finish what I began?' Then he thrust into her warm body, pleasuring them until both were near unconscious with a mixture of exhaustion and contentment.
When she awoke in the early hours just before dawn, he was snoring softly by her side, his red head against her round shoulder. Fiona crept from the bed, making a great effort not to awaken him. Slipping out into the living space of the tent, she saw Roderick Dhu and Nelly curled together for warmth and companionship. Gently she shook them both.
'Wake yer master,' she told the clansman, 'and get him down to the river to bathe. I will not have him before James Stewart smelling of stale wine and passion. Then bring me some hot water so I may make my own ablutions and yer master can scrape the fur from his face.'
Roderick Dhu was on his feet, nodding at her. 'Aye, my lady.'
'Fetch Johanna, and I'll feed her,' she instructed Nelly.
The encampment was beginning to stir. Nairn returned from the river, bleary-eyed but clean, to find his wife still nursing their daughter. For a moment he stopped to watch her, enjoying the scene. 'She's got a head like mine,' he noted proudly.
'So does Mary,' Fiona reminded him, and handed the infant to Nelly to return to her cradle. 'Put on a clean shirt,' she instructed her husband. 'I'll fetch ye some mulled wine and bread.'
The king had called the gathering for ten in the morning. The Lord of the Isles and the other chieftains of the highland clans were invited into the king's hall along with the Countess of Ross. They came to the monarch's castle, flags flying, pipes playing. The castle was set by the edge of the river Ness, a broad blue waterway that flowed into Beauly Loch, and finally Moray Firth. Only the lord, his mother, the clan chieftains, and their women were invited into the king's hall. The clansmen were asked politely to remain outside as neither the castle nor its hall was big enough to contain them all.
Led by the Lord of the Isles, the men entered the hall. It was a good-sized room of gray stone but had no windows. At its far end was a dais with a gilded wooden canopy, beneath which the king sat upon a throne. He watched through narrowed eyes as the highlanders made their way toward him. Although he had never met the Lord of the Isles, he recognized him immediately, not simply because he preceded all the others but because he looked like a dark-haired version of The MacDonald of Nairn, who strode behind him.
Alexander MacDonald bowed before King James. 'My lord,' he said, 'I welcome ye to the highlands. May yer stay be a pleasant one, and may ye return often here.' It was a gracious speech, graciously spoken.
The king stood, looking down on all of them. 'Ye are late in coming to render me yer obedience, my lords.'
'We but awaited yer call to this gathering, my lord,' the Lord of the Isles replied. 'Ye were slow in issuing it.'
'I am told there are some among ye who would have my life,' the king answered. 'It was necessary that I decide what course of action I would take in the face of such perfidy.' Raising his hand, he signaled his guards. Alexander MacRurie and Ian MacArthur were hauled forth from the ranks of their companions and flung at the foot of the dais. 'Ye two spoke on my murder. I canna trust ye. Yer deaths will provide an example to yer companions.' Again the king signaled, and before anyone realized what was happening, the two unfortunates were pinioned and swiftly beheaded with well-sharpened swords that had been prepared for just this occasion. The heads hardly rolled, but blood gushed from the severed necks of the two men, spilling across the floor, sending the women assembled within the room shrieking and seeking a place where the blood would not reach.
Fiona stepped forward and cried, ' 'Tis dishonorably done, James Stewart! The lord and the chieftains have come unarmed into yer hall this day to make their peace with ye. Is this how ye treat those who would pledge loyalty and friendship to ye?
The king looked across the hall at the woman who had spoken. She was tall for a woman, and he was sure he knew her. She was certainly very fair. A chieftain's wife by the look of her. Then he recognized her. 'Once, madam, ye pledged yer loyalty to me,' he said meaningfully.
'I have kept my pledge, even to speaking on yer behalf, my liege, in The MacDonald's hall. If he is here today, it is partly because of me. How dare ye break the laws of hospitality to unjustly imprison these men? Ye who love justice above all things. Is this yer justice?'
'She is as brave as she is bonnie,' Alexander MacDonald whispered to his brother, Colin MacDonald. 'If she weren't yer wife, and if I did not have a wife myself, I would wed her this day!'
'Leave my hall, madam, and don't come back!' the king roared. 'Do ye dare to instruct me? A little cattle thief and a whore?'
The Lord of the Isles gripped his brother of Nairn's arm in a tight grasp. 'Don't move, Colly, or the bonnie Fiona will be a widow. He only insults her because she has pricked at his conscience.'
'Better an honest whore,
The king opened his mouth with the full intent to order Fiona's arrest, but in the shadow of his throne his cousin, Ninian Stewart, said softly, She is a woman with three bairns, one new and at her breast. She would make a magnificent martyr, cousin. The highlands would be aflame for years to come. Let her go.'
The king's mouth snapped shut audibly.
There was another within the room who, shocked, had also recognized Fiona. Hamish Stewart in a show of family loyalty had accompanied his cousin north. He had known Fiona instantly. Her skirmish with the king had been more than it seemed to the watching court. Slipping from the hall, he hurried after the retreating clanswomen, catching one by the arm, and asking her, 'Who was the woman to beard the king, lady?'
' 'Twas The MacDonald of Nairn's wife, sir,' the woman replied, pulling away from his grasp to dash after her companions.
Hamish Stewart was amazed. How had Fiona Hay become The MacDonald of Nairn's wife? He would have sworn she would have moved heaven and earth to return home to Brae and Black Angus. Why had she not? Hamish Stewart followed the clanswomen outside, where a roar of disapproval greeted the news that their chieftains were imprisoned on the king's orders. The highlanders moved back from the castle grounds to their encampment just up the river. Hamish Stewart followed along at a discreet distance. He had to find Fiona. He had to know what had happened.
Chapter 14
