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The MacDonald of Nairn snorted. “Maggie, ye know that as well as I do. My brother does not know if he will swear fealty to this Stewart king. We may be better off as we are in the north allied to the English.”
‘James Stewart is allied to England now. This king will not let the highlands run wild,” Maggie warned him. “He will, I suspect, destroy ye all first, Colly. I know ye love Alex and are his man, but look to Nairn and its future before ye decide yer own course.” She eyed him appreciatively. “God's boots, I had forgotten how handsome ye are, cousin of mine.” She chuckled at his suddenly cocked eyebrow. “Don't get any wicked ideas in yer head, Colin MacDonald, for I'm a respectably married woman now.”
“And who is the fortunate man?”
“Andrew Grey of Ben Duff,” she said, “and, aye, he's the borderer I left the north with because I was sick of all the killing and clan warfare. I wanted a quiet man who would love me and give me bairns. I'll have my first wee laddie or lass in the coming winter.”
The MacDonald of Nairn took his cousin's hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “If yer happy, Maggie MacLeod, then who am I to say no to ye? I'll want to meet yer husband, of course, but now tell me who that beautiful lassie ye were with is.”
“Fiona Hay, the laird of Loch Brae's mistress, but don't even consider a seduction. Angus Gordon would kill ye, for he is fearfully jealous of any man who evenlooks at his Fiona. Besides he intends to wed her, I am certain. The queen wants it, and his family wants it.”
“Does she want it?”
“Aye, verra much,” Maggie said. Then she laughed softly. “Have ye any idea of how those long legs of yers poking from beneath yer kilt are affecting the ladies here? Why even Atholl's wife has a lustful look in her eye, and I thought her dried up long ago.”
“Present me to Mistress Hay,” The MacDonald of Nairn said, ignoring her teasing remarks.
“Colly, she will have none of ye, I swear it!” He hadn't changed at all from the heedless boy she had known as a child, Maggie thought. He saw something, he wanted it, and nothing would satisfy him until he had it. “Did ye hear nothing I said to ye? Angus Gordon is mad for her! And jealous.Verra, verra jealous.”
He grinned. “I don't blame him, for Mistress Fiona Hay is the bonniest lass I have ever seen, but I will meet her, Maggie, even if ye will not present me in a proper manner.”
“Not now,” Maggie MacLeod said, knowing that she was beaten.
“When?”
Damn him, he was so stubborn! “In a more casual setting than the Great Hall at Scone,” Maggie said. “I promise.”
“Good. Now, Maggie, let us find yer good lord so we may be introduced, eh?”
As he escorted her across the hall to where Andrew Grey of Ben Duff stood, the eyes of many of the women in the hall followed admiringly, their heads swiveling shamelessly. Colin MacDonald was a striking man who stood six feet four inches tall. Everything about him was long. His arms. His legs. His face withits high cheekbones and squared chin with its deep dimple. His eyes were, like Maggie's, sparkling bright blue. But it was his shoulder-length hair, a flaming red-gold, that attracted almost as much attention as his great height. He wore the ancient hunting tartan of the MacDonalds. The green, gray, and white wool was wrapped about his loins in a kilt; a second length of it was slung across his broad chest and shoulder and affixed with a clan badge.
“Who is that?” the king asked his uncle, the Earl of Atholl.
“I don't know,” Walter Stewart said, “but I will find out.”
Amused, the king watched the open interest of the women in his hall and, turning to his queen, said, “I think, my Joan, that ye and Fiona Hay are the only two women in the chamber not yearning after yon fiery-headed giant. He looks to be a highlander by his dress.”
“Why would I long for another when I am wed to the best man in all of Scotland?” the queen replied with a sweet smile.
Walter Stewart's son, Alan, came onto the dais and whispered into his father's ear. The Earl of Atholl turned and said to the king, “The big highlander is Colin MacDonald, known as The MacDonald of Nairn, nephew. He's a bastard of Donald of Harlaw and half-brother to the current Lord of the Isles. I cannot help but wonder why he is in here at yer court.”
The king caught the laird of Loch Brae's eye, and when Angus Gordon had come over to him the king said, “Angus, the big highlander with the flaming pate speaking with Lady Grey and her good husband is The MacDonald of Nairn. Bring him to me.”
The laird nodded and turned away, silently approving Fiona's actions, for she had come to stand bythe queen's side when he had answered the king's summons. Hurrying across the hall, he approached Andrew Grey, his wife, and their companion. Bowing to them, he said, “The king would speak with The MacDonald of Nairn.”
Maggie MacLeod paled. “What does he want of my cousin, Angus?”
“Yer cousin, is he?” The laird looked The MacDonald of Nairn directly in the eye although there was a difference in their heights. “I think the king is but curious. ’Tis not often we are treated to the sight of red-haired giants in kilts in the Great Hall of Scone.” His tone was slightly mocking, for there was something about The MacDonald of Nairn that annoyed him, although he could not put his finger on the source of the irritation. “Will ye come with me, then, man?” he asked brusquely.
“Aye, I'll come,” Colin MacDonald drawled, “although I am not a man used to following another, but for my brother.”
“Oh, Colly, do mind yer manners.” Maggie fussed at him.
Colin MacDonald laughed, his long finger touching her cheek. “Don't fret, sweet coz, I'll not offend the king, for in doing so I would offend Alex, who has yet to make up his mind in the matter.” He turned and walked away with the laird.
“A dangerous man,” Andrew Grey murmured softly. “Is he really yer cousin, Maggie? And just how well did ye know him?”
“Our mothers were cousins,” Maggie answered her husband, “and I know Colly as well as any cousin knows another cousin. He is at least eight years my senior, and I was hardly of interest to him except as a relation, Andrew.” She clutched suddenly at his arm. “Ah!I think I felt the bairn move, my lord, or perhaps it was my belly rumbling, for I am ferociously hungry these days.”
