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“How do ye know such a thing?” the lord asked her, fascinated to hear so intimate a disclosure.
“My lord,” Fiona said, “I told ye that I lived within the royal residence. Neither the king nor the queen were shy about speaking their minds within the privacy of their own apartments. We all heard the king planning.”
“Would none warn Duke Murdoch?” the Lord of the Isles asked.
Fiona laughed. “No, my lord. None would dare betray this king for fear of the civil unrest that would follow,andin far greater fear of what the king would do to the tattler. Besides, those of us who served their majesties love him.”
“Would ye swear yer fealty to this king, Fiona Hay?”
“I already have done so, my lord,” she told him honestly. “As chieftain of my family it was my duty to do so. My lands, poor as they are, have been reconfirmed mine by the king. The laird of Loch Brae holds my grandfather's lands in the glen, but the ben is mine.”
“Do ye think I should pledge my loyalty to this James Stewart?” Alexander MacDonald asked her craftily.
“I think, my lord, that ye will come to yer own decision, and do what ye believe right for yer own clan.”
The Lord of the Isles burst out laughing. “Nairn,” he said to his brother, “ye had best beware this lass ye are so determined to take as a wife. She is far cleverer than ye are. I believe I am content to see ye in such competent hands. She will bear yer bairns, control yer mam, manage yer household, and keep ye from yerown folly so ye may continue to be of use to me. Ye have chosen well, although ye chose her with yer randy prick, and not yer head.”
“I chose her with my heart,” Colin MacDonald said quietly. He was pleased that Fiona met with his brother's strong approval, and prouder yet that she would be so candid about the Stewart king with Alex.
“Take her to yer apartment, brother,” the lord said, “and prepare for the handfasting in the hall tonight.”
They departed the lord's privy chamber. Nairn led her with unerring familiarity through the castle to a comfortable apartment that had been prepared for them. To Fiona's delight a large oaken tub stood in the bedchamber before a roaring fire. Nelly was grinning.
“I asked, and they brought it, my lady,” she said, pleased.
“Ye'll have to brush my skirt well, though I doubt we'll ever get all the dust from it,” Fiona said. She turned to Nairn. “If I had the cart, I would have a respectable gown to wear into yer brother's hall this night.” She sighed. “Praise God yer sister-in-law is not here, or ye should be truly shamed.”
“Yehave a decent gown, my lady!” Nelly crowed. “The lord Colin suggested I pack one gown for ye along with yer jewelry. The violet damask was the one I thought would pack best. I've already hung it out, and it has hardly a wrinkle in it.”
Fiona turned to Nairn. “Twas clever of ye,” she said by way of thanks. “I would not embarrass ye, my lord. Not in public.”
He nodded, saying gruffly, “Have yer bath, sweeting. I can wash when ye are through. I'll fetch a clean shirt from my brother.”
“Ye could bathe with me,” she said softly. Her smile was enticing.
“We'd not reach the hall this night if I did,” he told her, his look smoldering. Then he left her, closing the chamber door firmly behind him.
“He truly loves ye,” Nelly said to her mistress.
“Don't say it,” Fiona told her. “If I can but do what the king requires of me without betraying him or his family, I will count myself fortunate. Do ye think I don't see the way he looks at me? Ah, Nelly, if I had not been so stubborn, I should be at Brae with my own Black Angus now.”
“Don't take all the blame upon yerself, mistress,” Nelly said in practical tones. “The laird was just as stubborn as ye. He has always been a difficult man, my aunt Una said. ’Tis mostly his fault.” As she spoke, she helped Fiona divest herself of her clothing, then settled her in the large oaken tub. “Soak yerself a moment,” she told her lady. “I want to go brush this skirt for ye and fetch yer clean chemise.”
Fiona nodded and closed her eyes. The water in the tub was actually hot, and it felt wonderful. How many days had she washed herself in the cold waters of highland lochs or icy running mountain streams? This was absolute heaven. She sighed with bliss and let the heat penetrate her body. It seemed a hundred years since she had been really warm, and she believed she could remain there in the hot water forever. Finally, however, she opened her eyes, taking up the little scrubbing cloth and tiny cake of soap Nelly had left her. Fiona washed her face, appalled at the dirt that came off it.
Nelly returned, laying the clean chemise across the bed, then washed her mistress's long black hair and scrubbed her back. She pinned the wet hair upon Fiona's head and urged her to finish her bath. When Fiona stepped from the tub, Nelly dried her off briskly,wrapped her in the toweling, and began to dry her lady's dark hair, rubbing and brushing the water from it near the heat of the fire. Satisfied at last, she helped Fiona into her clean chemise and tucked her into the bed.
“Now ye rest a bit,” she counseled. “I'll dry the toweling before the fire for his lordship when he comes to bathe.”
Fiona never heard her, for she had fallen fast asleep. The lord's fine wine, the hot water of the bath, the heat of the fire had conspired to lull her. She awoke to the sounds of splashing, and Nelly's giggles.
“Oh, my lord, yer a wicked laddie, and that's for certain!” Nelly said. “Now cease yer teasing, and let me get that fiery head of yers clean. I vow ye have enough soil in it to grow cabbages.”
“’Tis true,” Fiona heard Colin MacDonald say. “Ye have stolen Roderick Dhu's flinty heart, little Nelly. He'll be wanting yer hand in marriage, mark my words. I can only hope yer not toying with him.”
“I'm not toying with the big dour ox at all, my lord,” Nelly protested vehemently. “Why, the man doesn't know me!”
“He knows ye have a sweet smile and pretty titties,” Nairn teased.
“My lord!”Nelly's indignant voice was enough to wake the dead. “’Tis a shameful thing to say, and I'd not have any man who didn't walk out with me, and court me proper-like. I'm not some kiss-me-quick and under-the-hedge-with-ye kind of lass, ye know!”
Nairn roared with laughter, suddenly cut off when Nelly dumped a small bucket of clean water over his head to rinse it. From her bed Fiona listened to them and chuckled softly. Her conscience was beginning to plague her again. If only The MacDonald of Nairn were not such a charming man … but he was. In ashort while she would handfast herself to him in marriage only because she could not bear to contract an honest union with him, for whatever her fate, and despite the fact that Angus Gordon would marry Elizabeth Williams to please the king and queen, Fiona Hay loved the laird of Loch Brae.
She would never be his again, and it would have been so easy to draw the warmth of Colin MacDonald's love about her, but she would not. She hated the lie that James Stewart was forcing her to live, but she could not compound it by marrying this man in God's name when one day she might have to betray him. The handfast marriage was to please Nairn. To allay his suspicions.To give a name, and legitimacy, to Angus Gordon's child, who was even now growing beneath her heart—andwhom she would pass off as The MacDonald of Nairn's bairn when she eventually announced her delicate condition.
