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“Aye, I helped her to undress and settled her down,” Nelly said. “She ought to take a young woman in service, for she needs one. Her poor old Beathag can barely walk now, let alone come on such a trip.”
“Beathag has been with Moire Rose her entire life. I think she lives on simply because her mistress needs her,” Fiona said. “Go to bed now, Nelly. Tomorrow we'll get to see the king.”
“I have seen him,” Nelly said sourly. “I do not think much of James Stewart. I think the clans foolish totrust him.Yetrusted him, and look what he did to ye, my lady.”
“Hush, Nelly, do not be angry anymore. I am content with Nairn, and we have fine bairns. What more can a woman want but a good man and children?” Fiona patted her servant comfortingly.
“Ye do not really love him, and ye have a right to love,” Nelly said.
“I do not love him like Black Angus, ’Tis true,” Fiona admitted, “but I love him in another way, and he loves me. Oh, Nelly, what if Colin MacDonald had been a brute and not the kind of man he is? Neither of us could have borne it these last three years. I have more than I ever expected to have, and ye do, too. When will ye marry Roderick Dhu? He is desperate for ye to become his wife. Ye've courted for two years.”
Nelly sighed. “I love the great gawk,” she said, “but what if one day we could go back to Brae, my lady? I could not go with ye if I were wed to my high-lander. Better I remain a maid.”
“Nelly, we will not be going back to Brae. Black Angus has wed with the queen's cousin. I would not be welcome there. I have my own husband, and ye have a chance of a good husband, too. Take it, lassie!”
Nelly bid her mistress good night and went out into the living space, where her pallet was located by a charcoal brazier.
Fiona lay down upon the bed that had been made up of fir boughs covered with a feather bed. Pulling up the fox coverlet, she fell asleep. She awoke to hear her husband swearing softly as he stumbled about in the darkness. “Colin! Ye'll waken the bairn,” she cautioned him.
The sound of her voice drew him to the bedding.He yanked his boots off and almost fell upon her. “Ah, sweeting, there ye are,” he said, his hands fumbling to find her breasts.
“Yer drunk!” she accused him, but she couldn't help laughing softly. She had never seen him this way.
“Just a wee bit drunk” he assured her. “My brothers could not walk to their beds, and had to be carried,” he bragged, placing a wet kiss on her lips. “Jesu, yer sweet,” he muttered against her soft hair. “Do ye not love me a little bit, Fiona mine?”
“Aye,” she told him. “A wee bit, Colin MacDonald.” She shifted to find a more comfortable spot, for he was lying half across her.
He nuzzled her neck. “Ye know what I want, sweeting,” he said suggestively. His hands were caressing her gently.
“Colin,” she chided him, “ye have to go before the king in the morning. If ye don't get some sleep, yer head will ache ye something fearful, I guarantee ye. Ye'll shame us all.”
His knee was levering her thighs apart as he attempted to slip between her legs. “I'll sleep all the better and awake happier if ye'll love me, Fiona mine,” he wheedled tenderly.
“Yer worse than Alastair when he wants a shortbread,” she scolded him, but the hardness probing against the insides of her thighs was exciting. She slid her arms about his neck and drew him down. His breath was pungent with wine. “If ye fall asleep on me before ’Tis finished, Colin MacDonald,” she warned him ominously, “I swear I'll do to ye what we did to that bull calf born last year.”
His laughter was low and smoky. “When, Fiona mine,” he asked her, “when did I ever not finish what Ibegan?” Then he thrust into her warm body, pleasuring them until both were near unconscious with a mixture of exhaustion and contentment.
When she awoke in the early hours just before dawn, he was snoring softly by her side, his red head against her round shoulder. Fiona crept from the bed, making a great effort not to awaken him. Slipping out into the living space of the tent, she saw Roderick Dhu and Nelly curled together for warmth and companionship. Gently she shook them both.
“Wake yer master,” she told the clansman, “and get him down to the river to bathe. I will not have him before James Stewart smelling of stale wine and passion. Then bring me some hot water so I may make my own ablutions and yer master can scrape the fur from his face.”
Roderick Dhu was on his feet, nodding at her. “Aye, my lady”
“Fetch Johanna, and I'll feed her,” she instructed Nelly.
The encampment was beginning to stir. Nairn returned from the river, bleary-eyed but clean, to find his wife still nursing their daughter. For a moment he stopped to watch her, enjoying the scene. “She's got a head like mine,” he noted proudly.
“So does Mary,” Fiona reminded him, and handed the infant to Nelly to return to her cradle. “Put on a clean shirt,” she instructed her husband. “I'll fetch ye some mulled wine and bread.”
The king had called the gathering for ten in the morning. The Lord of the Isles and the other chieftains of the highland clans were invited into the king's hall along with the Countess of Ross. They came to the monarch's castle, flags flying, pipes playing. The castle was set by the edge of the river Ness, a broad bluewaterway that flowed into Beauly Loch, and finally Moray Firth. Only the lord, his mother, the clan chieftains, and their women were invited into the king's hall. The clansmen were asked politely to remain outside as neither the castle nor its hall was big enough to contain them all.
Led by the Lord of the Isles, the men entered the hall. It was a good-sized room of gray stone but had no windows. At its far end was a dais with a gilded wooden canopy, beneath which the king sat upon a throne. He watched through narrowed eyes as the high-landers made their way toward him. Although he had never met the Lord of the Isles, he recognized him immediately, not simply because he preceded all the others but because he looked like a dark-haired version of The MacDonald of Nairn, who strode behind him.
Alexander MacDonald bowed before King James. “My lord,” he said, “I welcome ye to the highlands. May yer stay be a pleasant one, and may ye return often here.” It was a gracious speech, graciously spoken.
The king stood, looking down on all of them.“Yeare late in coming to render me yer obedience, my lords.”
“We but awaited yer call to this gathering, my lord,” the Lord of the Isles replied. “Ye were slow in issuing it.”
