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“A houppelande would be simplest, my lord. The green velvet is her finest, but I think the violet damask will pack better in a small space,” Nelly told him politely. “Are ye certain we canna keep the baggage cart? My mistress has some lovely things.”
He chuckled, “life love her, do ye not, lassie? Aye. I can see yer loyalty, and ’Tis good. The cart will slow us, Nelly. We are closer to Nairn than we are to my brother's castle on Islay. Without the cart it will take us a week to reach there. Ye don't want to be on the road forever, do ye? Besides, we will not stay with Alexander. I have my own lands to look after, and I have been away long enough in my brother's service. The cartmust go to Nairns Craig. Once we have finished our business on Islay, we'll go home. Then yer mistress can show me all her finery.” He patted Nelly's cheek. “Quickly now, lassie. The sun is already rising, and we must be on our way as soon as possible. Ye understand?”
“Are ye afraid the king's men will come after ye and rescue my mistress?” Nelly asked him slyly.
He grinned at her. “Aye, and that, too.”
Nairn chose six men to accompany them, including the trusty Roderick Dhu. They would travel west and just slightly south across Scotland. The countryside they journeyed through was mountainous, forested, and lake-filled. They rode from sunrise to sunset, stopping briefly only twice. Their dainty food from Scone Palace's kitchens gone, Fiona and Nelly subsisted on what the men ate: oatcakes, whatever small game could be caught and cooked, and water. The second night of their journey they camped by a small, nameless loch.
“Why do we not stop at a religious guest house or at the home of one of yer brother's allies?” Fiona asked her captor.
“Because there are few religious houses in this area,” he told her, “and besides, I don't want ye seen by anyone. Those poor frightened men-at-arms who fled, leaving ye to my tender care, didn't know who we were. Therefore it will not be known who has taken ye or where ye have been taken. I don't want yer former lover coming after us simply to kill me because his pretty mistress is now to be my wee wifie. Besides, what good would it do ye? Did ye not say he wouldn't take ye back after thinking I'd had ye?”
She felt the tears beneath her eyelids and quickly blinked them away. She had said it, and it was true. Angus would never want her again. Anger overwhelmed her once more. Throwing herself at him, she scratchedhis handsome face, hissing at him, “I hate ye! I hate ye! Ye have ruined my life!” To Fiona's great shock he picked her up, and tossed her, fully clothed, into the loch. She screeched curses at him in the Celtic tongue, and his men howled with laughter. Fiona was not certain if it was her colorful expletives that amused them, or the sight of her flailing about in the shallows.
Colin MacDonald put his hand to his cheek and then, taking it away, gazed at the blood on his fingers. There would be a slight scar. She was an absolute little wildcat. He was beginning to wonder if he hadn't taken on more than he could, or wanted to, handle, but it was too late now. He had her.
Fiona struggled from the water, furious. “These are the only clothes I have, ye fiery-headed oaf!” she shouted at him. “How the hell am I supposed to get them dry by morning?”
“Then ye'll ride wet,” he shouted back, “and next time don't use yer claws on me, Fiona mine! I'll not be marked again by ye!”
Nelly was appalled. “Ye have to get out of these things, my lady. Ye'll catch yer death if ye don't. Ye've another chemise, and we'll dry the rest by the fire. Ye'll not travel damp, I promise.”
Fiona's glare of fury silenced the chortling clansmen. “Since I'm soaked through,” she said to Nelly, “I might as well bathe. I stink of the horses.”
“Thank God ye didn't have yer cloak on,” Nelly said. “The skirt will be hard enough to dry, and yer wool stockings as well. Come along then, my lady. Just down the shore we may have a wee bit of privacy.” She turned to the men about the fire. “And don't any of ye skulk along after us!”
They grinned, and Roderick Dhu said blandly tohis master, “They be two strong wenches with blazing tongues, my lord.”
The MacDonald of Nairn grinned back at his companions. “Aye, and ye'll all treat them with respect. The raven-haired lady is to be my wife, lads, and wee Nelly, as her servant, must be esteemed, too.”
The two women could feel the men's eyes upon them as they moved down the shore, but shortly a large clump of greenery obscured them. The ground beneath their feet was sandy. They stopped, and Nelly helped Fiona out of her wet clothing. She spread the garments over the bushes and emptied the water from her lady's boots. Then she laid her mistress's cloak upon the ground and seated herself upon it, watching as Fiona entered the water.
“Ye braver than I am, my lady,” she said with a small giggle.
“’Tis cold,” Fiona admitted, “but I'm beginning to smell the horses less and less.” She paddled about. The water in the loch was so clear that she could see her legs and feet just above the sandy bottom. “What will I dry myself with, Nelly? We have no toweling.”
“We'll use yer wet chemise, my lady. I've wrung it out. ‘Twill do no more than take the droplets away, but wrapped in yer cloak, ye'll soon be warm and dry again. When ye are, I have yer other chemise for ye to put on.”
Fiona stepped from the water. As she did, Colin MacDonald came upon the two women. Fiona grit her teeth in annoyance, saying to Nelly, “Pay him no heed, lassie, the oversize oaf!”
“I came to see what was keeping ye,” he said. “Ye haven't been swimming, have ye?” His eyes swept over her naked body.Jesu! Mary!he swore to himself. She was absolutely magnificent! He hadn't realized it untilnow, for his passion had been for the woman herself, but by the rood she had a wonderful body!
“I told ye I am accustomed to bathing daily,” Fiona said loftily, finishing her drying and wrapping her cloak about her lush form. “Since we carry no tub for me to bathe properly, I have made my ablutions in the loch. Nelly, lass, run back and fetch my dry chemise for me, please.” She looked critically at the man before her. “Twould not hurt if ye would wash yerself. Ye, too, reek of the horses.”
“Wash? Every day?” He sounded slightly horrified.
“Twill not harm ye, my lord,” she told him sharply.
“Yer a verra high-handed wench, I'm thinking, Fiona Hay.” He stood before her, back to the water, hands upon his hips, legs spread wide in a show of authority.
Fiona met his gaze, thinking at the same time it was just too delicious an opportunity not to take. She let her cloak fall open and walked toward him. He tried valiantly to maintain eye contact with her, but the temptation to look upon her luscious breasts and white, white body was too strong. He succumbed, and in the moment his eyes left hers to fasten hungrily upon her bosom, Fiona shoved him hard backward into the waters of the loch, laughing so hard that she almost collapsed as he scrambled to his feet in the knee-deep water, sputtering with outrage. “How the hell am I supposed to get a wool kilt dry by the morrow?” he roared at her.
“Ye'll simply have to ride wet, my lord,” she mocked him, disappearing into the greenery to come face-to-face with the startled Nelly. “Quick!” she said, “Give me my chemise, lass!” She flung off her cloak, slipped on the chemise, and drew the cloak back about her shoulders.
“What have ye done to him?” Nelly asked, hearing a string of colorful oaths from the beach behind them. “He sounds as if he would kill ye if he could but get his hands about yer neck, my lady.”
“I just gave the bastard a taste of his own medicine” Fiona laughed. “I pushed him in the loch, and he's verra wet, I fear. Offer to dry his kilt for him, will ye, Nelly? I don't want to kill him-at least not yet.” She smiled. She might not like the task the king had set her to, but there was no reason she couldn't have a little fun while she was about it.
