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“I don't owe ye any explanations, Angus Gordon,”Fiona said. “Now put my son down. Where did ye get him?”
“Like his mother before him, in my meadow, stealing my cattle, though he says the bull is yers,” the earl taunted her.
“The bull is mine, and ye know it, Angus Gordon,” Fiona snapped. “Now give me my son, damn ye!”
“Ye mean my son, do ye not, lassie?” he replied. “Am I a fool that I canna see myself in the lad's face?”
“Put Alastair down,” Fiona said quietly. “I will not stand upon the step arguing with ye, Angus. We will talk, but not here.”
“Aye, we will talk, lassie,” he said, “but we will talk at Brae. I am taking the lad with me, and when ye are ready to give me an explanation as to where ye disappeared to, and whymyson thinks he is a MacDonald, ye will be welcome at Brae.”
“My lord!” Hervoice was anguished. “Don't shame the lad!”
“What are ye talking about?” he demanded. “This child is my son, and my heir, and ye have kept him from me by deception. I want to know why, and by God, madam, ye will tell me!”
“So,” she snarled at him, “yer fine English wife has not been able to give ye an heir, Angus! How unfortunate, but she will not havemyson to call hers. Set him down, or I will kill ye!”
“My English wife?” He looked absolutely puzzled. “I have no wife, English or otherwise, Fiona Hay.”
“No wife?” Fiona looked astounded. “They said ye had a wife. That ye were wed to Elizabeth Williams.”
What the hell was going on? “Who said?” he asked her.
“Angus, if ye ever really loved me, get down off that great beast of yers and come into my hall,” Fionapleaded. “We must speak, and it must be now. Please!” She held out her hand to him.
He looked at that hand, once soft and white, now roughened with work, and he felt tears pricking at the back of his dark green eyes. Lifting his son from his saddle, he handed him to the gangling, serious-faced clansman, then dismounted. “Verra well, lassie,” he told her, his voice softening, “let us go into yer hall and speak of all of this.” Turning to give Nelly a small smile, he said, “Is this fellow yer husband, then, Nelly? Yer aunt and uncle will be glad to know yer alive and safe with a good man.”
“Aye, my lord, this is my husband, Roderick Dhu, and my stepson, Ian.” Nelly looked at her mistress. “I'll take the lasses to the kitchen, my lady. Alastair, go back out into the meadow with Ian and Roddy, and begin building that barricade. Ye don't want to lose Colla again.” Taking the little girls by the hand, she went into the tower while the men went out into the field.
“Come, lassie,” Angus Gordon said, and Fiona led him into the tower house. Looking about him, he thought little had changed. It was still a poor place, but it was clean and had an air of contentment about it.
Fiona indicated the single chair by the fire, and she poured him a goblet of wine from the carafe on the high board. “Yer throat will be dry from yer ride,” she said quietly, handing him the goblet before sitting on a stool before him.
“What happened?” he asked her, unable to restrain himself any longer. “Where did ye go, and why did ye leave me, lassie?”
“I didn't leave ye, Angus. I was tricked into it... told ye were to wed with the queen's cousin as a reward for yer loyalty to James Stewart. Told I was to allow The MacDonald of Nairn to abduct me, then to spyupon the MacDonalds for king and country. I was too afraid to refuse, and I was not certain then I was with bairn.”
“Then ye don't deny that the lad is mine?”
“Of course he is yers, but Nairn, bless him, was so in love with me that he believed the lad was his. He thought he took after me with his dark coloring. Then, too, Nairn's sire was dark. He was a good father to him, Angus. He loved Alastair above everything.”
“Except ye,” the earl observed. “The two wee lasses are his.”
“Aye, they are. He was my husband, Angus. After he took me, he brought me to his brother's hall in Islay and handfasted me. I agreed, because by then I knew my condition. I didn't want Alastair bastard-born. And afterward when I was told ye had wed with Mistress Williams, I married Nairn in the bonds of the church.”
“Who was responsible for all of this?” Angus Gordon asked her, but he already knew. There was but one person in Scotland powerful enough to have arranged this subterfuge.
“The king,” Fiona answered him unhesitatingly.
After a long silence the earl said, “He has always professed to be my friend. He is no friend to me now.”
“Don't condemn him too quickly,” Fiona said. “Let me tell ye all of it, Angus,” and she went on to explain every small detail of her life over the past few years. “I was verra angry and bitter toward James Stewart,” she said as she neared the end of her tale, “but now I can see that he had to do what he did in order to maintain control over all of Scotland. A king does not have the luxury of friendship, Angus. He must do what is best for his country. So James Stewart has done, even to executing his own relations.”
“Yer more forgiving than I am, lassie.”
“I don't say I forgive him, Angus,” Fiona said. “I simply understand now what he did better than I understood in the beginning. I will not forgive him for separating us. He betrayed us all. Ye, and me, and poor Nairn, may God assoil his good soul.”
“Did ye love him?” he asked her bluntly.
