He laid her upon the bed, and for a moment she regained her equilibrium. 'Wait!' she begged him urgently. When he acquiesced, Fiona leaned over him, her dark hair caressing his hip, and she covered him with sweet hot kisses. To his surprise she took his manhood in her mouth, teasing it with her tongue, caressing his pouch with tender fingers, suckling upon him until he thought that he would die of the pure pleasure. She seemed to understand when he had reached the limit of her delicious torture, and rolling upon her back, she drew him down so they might kiss once more.
Fiona let herself melt into his strong, fierce embrace. She spread herself open to him and, with a cry of undiluted happiness, welcomed him into her body. Wrapping her legs about him, she encouraged his appetite until they were both senseless with the hot pleasure that engulfed them. He rode her with a sense of familiarity, and yet she was a different woman. She felt the hardness of him driving into her very depth, and cried aloud when her pleasure blossomed and burgeoned, and engulfed the two of them in a soaring spiral of fiery passion.
And afterward as they lay sated, their bodies relaxed and replete with pleasure, Fiona said, 'Don't think ye can win me over so easily, Angus Gordon. I'm not yer mistress any longer, nor will I ever be again. I have been a wife, and a wife is what I will once more be.'
'And a countess, too, lassie,' he told her. 'Ye were given a hard task to complete for the king, but I, his friend, was given an earldom for what I believed was my loyalty. 'Tis ye, my darling, whom I think more deserving of such an honor than I ever was. Now, don't be difficult with me, lassie.' Positioning himself upon his elbow, he looked down into her beloved face. 'Come home to Brae with me, Fiona. 'Tis where we all belong, and ye know it, even if yer too stubborn to admit it.'
She looked up into his face. His dear, dear face. He was the man she loved, although it would be best, she thought, if he were kept just a wee bit in doubt of that. 'Oh, verra well, Angus,' she said to him. 'If ye insist, I suppose we must go home to Brae. But be warned, I'll not go to court even if the king were to beg me upon bended knee. 'Tis too dangerous a place, even for a brazen wench like me.'
'Ye’ll have no time for the court,' he told her firmly.
'And why is that?' she asked, laughing up at him.
'We have a great deal of time to make up, Fiona Hay,' he said. 'First the priest to marry us. And an earldom needs more than one heir and two wee heiresses. Ye and I have a great deal to do, lassie. I fear there will not be a moment for court or kings or anything else.'
'No time but for our love, and for our bairns, and for Brae. 'Tis more than enough for me, my lord. Now,' Fiona told him, her hand teasing him in a most sensitive spot, 'if we're to service yer earldom with more bairns, my lord, had we best get started?'
'Brazen,' he murmured, his lips brushing against her mouth. 'Yet the most brazen woman I have ever known.'
'And ye would not have me any other way,' Fiona declared, kissing him hungrily. 'Ye would have me no other way.'
Afterword
In October 1430, Queen Joan bore twin sons. One survived and was called James, after his father. There were no other sons, although the queen bore a total of six daughters. As a king, James was respected and loved by the commoners. Sadly the jealousy, rapacity, and ambition that was the hallmark of the Scots nobility did not wane with his leadership. James I was assassinated on the night of February 20, 1437, in a plot devised by members of his own family. He was succeeded by his six-year-old son, James II.
As for Alexander MacDonald, Lord of the Isles, he was finally released from Tantallon. He served the Stewart king as Justiciar of Scotland faithfully and with diligence. Dying in 1448, he was succeeded by his eldest son, Ian, fourth and last Lord of the Isles.
Author s Note
Surnames were not really in use until the sixteenth century, nor were kilts, as we know them today, worn until the sixteenth century. Instead, a length of plaid was wrapped about a man. For clarity's sake, however. I have used surnames and put my men in kilts. As I pride myself on being historically accurate, I did want to be forthcoming with my readers.
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Bertrice Small
