sweeting.'
Fiona climbed from their camp bed. 'So yer brother, having sworn fealty to the king, breaks that fealty and strikes back at James Stewart. What, pray tell, do ye think the king will do, Colly? Do ye believe that he will let it go? Or will he strike back, too? And then it begins anew. The highlands aflame. Crops and cattle destroyed. Women, bairns, and old folk driven from their homes, hounded to their deaths. For what, my lord? Will this redress either your brother's pride or the equally vast pride of James Stewart? Why must we all suffer the conceit and arrogance of those who rule us?'
Putting his arms about her, he tried to comfort her. 'Ye don't understand, Fiona mine,' he said gently.
She pulled away from him, outraged.
'Hurry and dress, sweeting,' he said, ignoring her logic, for it conflicted with his own, and he was certain he was right. 'I want to get home to Nairns Craig as quickly as possible. There is much to do to get ready.' He cinched a wide leather belt about his waist.
Tipping her chin up, he brushed her lips lightly. 'Don't be long,' he said with infuriating charm, and then he left her.
Fiona shook her head. What mischief were the MacDonalds up to, and what would the cost to ordinary folk be? Pulling on her skirts and footwear, she called to Nelly to bring Johanna so she might nurse the bairn before they departed. What would be would be. Her main goal was to protect her children and Moire Rose from the chaos that would undoubtedly come.
She thought as they rode that day of how relatively peaceful her childhood had been despite just this sort of squabbling going on about her. She remembered that Black Angus had once told her Hay Tower and Brae escaped the general mayhem because of their relative isolation. Nairns Craig, while inaccessible to direct attack, was near enough to the town of Nairn, the seat of the head of the Rose family, and Cawdor Castle, which had once been home to an evil king called Macbeth, to not be overlooked in any factional fighting between the king's forces and the highlanders, should it come to that. She hoped whatever the Lord of the Isles was planning would not be so dreadful that the king would feel bound to retaliate by setting the highlands aflame. Especially with the autumn coming. She hoped the king would go to Islay to take his revenge should he need to, but she knew he wouldn't. Punishing the highlands would be easier than taking to sea to reach Islay.
She was frightening herself needlessly, Fiona decided. Alexander MacDonald was an honorable man. He had sworn his loyalty to James Stewart. His brief sojourn as the king's 'guest' had certainly angered and embarrassed him, but his retaliation would more than likely be a firm protest the king would understand. James Stewart would let it stand, knowing the Lord of the Isles meant nothing more by it than having the last word. Certainly the king would comprehend that, and they would all go on living in peace. Aye! Of course! That was how it would be. No one wanted to rip apart the fragile peace that they had sought for so long between the king and the lord. The king was clever. He would fathom the subtleties of it all.
It was good to be home. The servants had not slacked off in their duties while their mistress was away. The hall was sparkling, a bowl of roses on the high board, the fireplaces clean, the plate shining. Alastair ran happily about, delighted to be free of the confines of the tent, from which he had rarely escaped. His personal nursemaid greeted him joyously, and the two hurried off hand in hand to see the little boy's pony in the stables. Mary would have followed after her brother, but her own personal servant swooped her up for a nap after the long ride. The baby was nursed in the comfort of her own hall, by her own log fire, then turned over to her servant.
Moire Rose sat in her own familiar place opposite her daughter-in-law. 'I've done all the traveling I ever hope to do,' she said firmly, 'and I've seen a Stewart king. Ye were right, Fiona, he was not much to see.' She chuckled. ' 'Tis good to be back by my own hearth with Nairn safe. I would have died myself had the king executed him like he did MacRurie, MacArthur, and that devil, James Campbell.'
'The Lord of the Isles is plotting some revenge on the king for the insult he believes James Stewart visited upon him,' Fiona said.
'Aye,' Moire Rose answered. 'He would, of course.'
'It is wrong!' Fiona's voice was near to shouting.
Her mother-in-law looked surprised by the tone. “Why, Fiona lassie, 'tis the way of the highlands to revenge a slight. We have always done so and always will do so. To do less would be weakness.'
'If every time someone looks cross-eyed at another someone,' Fiona said, trying to master her emotions, 'a fight will ensue, how will we ever stop feuds, madam?'
'We will not, Fiona. It is our way.' She reached over and patted her daughter-in-law with a bony hand. 'Nairns Craig has never had its defenses breached in all the years it has stood here on this spine of rock. It has been here my whole life, my father's life, and long before him. I've waited out a few sieges in my time, lassie.'
Nairn made love to his wife. It was a long, sweet bout of tender touches, hot mouth fusing on hot mouth, and skin that tingled in the wake of a thousand kisses. Twice they made each other cry out with pleasure, but afterward, his head upon her breasts, his ragged breathing finally slowing to normal, he sensed her unease.
'What frightens ye so about the normal course of events, Fiona mine?''
'If Alexander is planning something dreadful, don't answer his call, Colly,' she begged him.
'He is my brother, sweeting.'
Fiona sat up, suddenly forcing him from his comfortable pillow. 'I am yer wife,' she said quietly. 'I am the mother of yer bairns. Do ye not owe me a greater loyalty than ye owe him?'
'Alexander and I are bound by blood, sweeting.'
'We are bound by God,' she replied. 'Would ye place the Lord of the Isles above God, Colin MacDonald? Would ye dare?'
'Aye, I would,' he said. He hated it when she spoke to him with such logic. It wasn't womanly. 'I would put my brother above God because I shall have to answer to my brother in this life. I shall not have to answer to God until I die, and I shall make my confession repenting my sins, including my loyalty to Alexander MacDonald, before that event takes place.'
“If ye have the good fortune to die in yer bed, and how many of ye highland warriors do?' Fiona asked him with devastating effect.
'Don't speak on it,' he gently scolded her. 'Ye will bring bad fortune to us all.'
'I canna help it,' she told him. 'I have this great sense of foreboding, Colly. It follows me about like a dark cloud. I canna rid myself of it, though I would. Don't go if the lord calls ye!'
He flung himself from their bed. 'Yer being foolish,' he told her. 'I will not disappoint my brother, for I am pledged to him.'
'Yer pledged to the king, too,' she said angrily.
'The king is not my blood kin,' he shouted at her. 'Besides, Nair has never fallen, Fiona mine. Ye and the bairns will be safe.'
'So yer mam has told me,' Fiona snapped, arising also.
Their views were too disparate for them to come to agreement on the matter, and so for the time being they avoided it altogether. Nelly and Roderick Dhu handfasted themselves in the hall before their lord and lady as well as the castle folk. When the priest came, they would repeat their vows, but they did not wish to wait any longer. Nelly, her carrot-red hair loose to signify her maiden state, cried happily when her new husband laid a length of his plaid across her chest, fastening it with a fine pewter pin. Fiona had provided a small celebratory feast, and Nairn honored the two valued servants by declaring a half holiday for all his people. It was a happy time.
Outside in the hills about them autumn had come. The trees blazed with scarlet, gold, tawny orange, and sunny yellow. The loch near them and the lochs they could see in the distance as the leaves fell from the trees, leaving naught but bare branches, were a wonderful shade of bright, deep blue. There seemed to be a peace upon the land.
