“What are you afraid of?” Fiona asked gently.
“Afraid?”
“Aye. I can see the argument raging within you. And I can also see you are losing. But that’s not all I can see. I can see that you are not fighting back. Your fears are holding you back. You’ve dashed away your armor. You have no sword. No shield. I am no warrior, but even I would not step into this battle unarmed.”
“I did not think I said so much!” Alec smiled.
She touched his fisted hands. They opened and took hers. “Talk to me, Alec. Give me a chance. Perhaps I can help you win.”
“I wish it were so easy.”
“You’ll never know until you tell me. Perhaps it is. Perhaps you are making more out of this than you should.”
“I don’t think I am,” Alec said, letting his hand gather hers in. “It’s your future that worries me.”
“Is it that bad?” She smiled, drawing a half smile from him.
“Nay! It doesn’t have to be.”
“Good. Then help me. Show me.”
Alec’s face again grew grave. “I might not be the best man for it.”
“But I say you are. And we won’t know until you try, will we?” she asked.
“How about your future responsibilities? The people? The ones who will follow and admire you? Life has so much in store for you. You may want to wait and see.”
“I’ve seen where such admiration can lead. I am a product of it. And for that my mother paid a heavy price.” Was this the cause of his withdrawal, she wondered. She had to make him understand. “Alec, I want no part of it.”
“What happened to your mother is not going to happen to you, Fiona. You are the king’s half-sister. Your blood is royal. You will have position, power, and wealth.” Alec thought of the great matches that might be made for Fiona. Matches with men who were not running to the ends of the earth to escape the deceit of false lovers. With men who had never failed in their duty to their king. With men worthy of her. Better men than Alec Macpherson. “After you see all that brings, you may wish to choose another.”
“There will be no other, Alec. And those things mean nothing to me without you. I will not stay there.”
Alec fought off a surge of joy at her words. He would like nothing better than to build a life with her away from court. But he caught himself. She had not yet seen that life, and Alec was not certain she would still feel the same way, having experienced it. How could she? And who could blame her. He looked into her innocent face.
He knew then that he loved her as he had never loved before.
But he could not let her know. Not yet. Not while her uncle still had a say in her future. Alec was sure Lord Gray would have his own thoughts on the matter. And those thoughts were certain to exclude Alec Macpherson.
“Just tell me one thing,” Fiona said, pulling away and moving toward the hearth. “Do you want me?”
Alec gazed at her slender form as she turned to face him. A knock at the door drew their attention, but neither moved.
“More than life itself, Fiona.”
Chapter 12
In vice most vicious he excels
That with the vice of treason mells...
—William Dunbar “Epitaph for Donald Oure”
Malcolm was pleading with Fiona, to which she replied, “I’ve told you a hundred times. I would love to have you with me, but it is not time for you to leave Skye. And more importantly, it is not safe.” She looked at the unhappy lad, feeling in her own heart the same anguish she knew he was feeling.
It definitely would not be safe, Fiona thought. Word had come two days ago that their travel plans had changed. Instead of going by ship to Kildalton Castle, home of Alec’s friend Colin Campbell, the earl of Argyll, and then overland to Sterling, Alec had decided it would be best to go quickly overland to Benmore Castle. But this information had to be kept secret. There were dangers, and Alec felt they were not far off.
He had changed their plans because Walter’s grandson had returned with startling news. Adrian had indeed gone to Dunvegan Castle the day of the attack on Fiona. Arriving at the palisade-enclosed main stables outside the castle walls, he had spotted Iain walking toward the stables with Neil. Immediately recognizing Iain as the man who had attacked his grandfather, Adrian had secretly followed them, hiding himself in the loft and listening to their conversation. He had been surprised to hear smatterings of words about hurting Fiona and Malcolm, but from what he could hear, it was clear that Iain had acted on Neil’s orders in the attack on Father Jack. Then the boy had watched in horror as Neil cold-bloodedly murdered his accomplice when the warrior had turned his back.
Adrian had remained in hiding while men from the castle had bustled about below. He had listened while Neil lied to Ambrose Macpherson about everything that had occurred, and when Neil rode out shortly after, Adrian had crept out, determined to follow him and stop him from hurting his friends.
Neil had ridden north for a few miles, and then had turned east across the Isle of Skye. Adrian followed him, getting the help of a fisherman to ferry him after the MacLeod leader as he left Skye for the mainland. For four days Adrian followed Neil on foot into the Highlands. Finally he lost him in the land around Ben Nevis, where the Gregor clan lives. Adrian then worked his way back to the Isle of Skye, hungry and tired, but assured that Neil was nowhere close enough to hurt anyone.
Because of this information, Alec was now anxious to reach Benmore Castle as quickly and as quietly as possible. There were two reasons for his concern. One, word of Fiona’s survival had spread, and they would be more vulnerable going by boat on the open water. Two, Neil might be able to muster enough troops among the Gregors to try to take Dunvegan in Alec’s absence.
Alec had told Fiona and the prioress that a small force, traveling quickly and without advance notice, would have a better chance of reaching Benmore Castle without incident. And he also felt that, once at Benmore, he could get more Macpherson men to return directly to Skye, thereby reinforcing Ambrose. That accomplished, he would feel much more comfortable taking a larger group of warriors from Benmore to accompany them on the rest of their journey.
Now, with all the uncertainty about this trip, the last thing Fiona wanted was to expose Malcolm to the hazards of what lay ahead.
“You could take me,” Malcolm asserted, raising his head from the charcoal drawing he was working on. “I’m not afraid. Alec calls me a gallant young knight and says that I am as brave as any warrior he’s had.”
Fiona smiled at the angelic little face shining with pride. It was incredible to see the effect of Alec’s genuine attentions on the young lad. She felt her heart swell in her chest at the thought of the man.
Fiona shook her head in an attempt to clear it of all the daydreaming she knew would follow.
“So, what do you say to that, Fiona? I could come and take care of you.”
“Thank you, Malcolm,” she said affectionately. “But don’t forget, you promised Alec that you’d take care of his falcons for him. And I’ll come back as soon as I can. I promise.”
“You promise?”
“Aye.”
“But when?” Malcolm persisted. “When are you coming back?”
Fiona stared at the boy. Pulling him onto her lap, she hugged him fiercely. She would come back. Alec would bring her back. She’d make certain of that. Her thoughts drifted to what lay beyond their journey...to the court. But what would come after that journey haunted her. Drummond Castle. Yes, she needed to find the truth. Go she must.
“Tell me, Fiona. When?” The little boy’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“Malcolm, if you think that keeping me from my work will stop me from going...”
“Fiona, I don’t want you to go away,” the boy sobbed. All of Malcolm’s prior show of courage melted away as the reality of her departure descended upon him. He stood up and buried his face in her neck.
She held him tight, her own throat knotting at the thought of leaving him,
of leaving all that she held dear. Well, nearly all.
Alec had sent Robert with word. He was coming for her at dawn tomorrow. They had not seen each other since the day she had gone to Dunvegan. These past few days had been hectic ones for Fiona. Not because her own meager possessions were difficult to pack, but because of all the other things she needed to do. Dividing her duties among the nuns. Visiting the farms around the Priory. Helping the two young novices who had jumped at the chance to continue her work with the lepers.
But her trip to Father Jack’s cottage had been particularly difficult. True, Walter’s leg no longer caused him any pain and he was improving daily. Indeed, although he was anxious to try putting weight on it, he was obeying the curmudgeonly priest’s orders to stay put. So Fiona was confident her old friend would continue to heal properly. Walter would, at least, walk again.
But saying good-bye to these two good men had been truly painful, and now, sitting in her workroom, holding Malcolm to her, Fiona felt the tears, wet upon her face.
Alec stood in the open courtyard of the Priory amid a jostling crowd of subdued men and restless horses. The dawn was breaking clear and fresh, and in spite of their effort otherwise, the excitement of the coming journey pervaded the air. Stableboys ran between the stamping horses with buckets of water and feed, while villagers poured into the yard, mingling among the warriors with a growing cacophony of voices. Nuns and servants from the Priory also circulated among the men, distributing bread and skins of ale.
Malcolm had been standing beside him, taking in the bustling scene, but when Alec looked down, he saw the lad was missing. Scanning the yard, he caught sight of the boy talking with Ambrose, who was crouched before the boy, obviously involved in some deep and serious conversation. Alec smiled, wondering what trouble Ambrose was brewing now.
Ambrose had come to the Priory to see that all went as planned. And his part in the journey was pivotal. At the same time that Alec and Fiona were going off across the Highlands, Ambrose would be sending a boat with a number of Macphersons aboard as a decoy along the coast to Kildalton. Alec and he had decided that this could be enough of a distraction to guarantee safe passage to Benmore Castle.
“Alec, are you very old?” a small voice chirped worriedly beside him.
Alec looked down into Malcolm’s round eyes. The little boy slipped his hand into Alec’s.
“What has Ambrose told you now, Malcolm?”
“He’s worried about your health.”
“How so, lad?”
“He just said that such a long, hard ride with Fiona might be too much for your old heart to handle. He says Fiona is young and hearty, but that you’re getting old and soft.”
“Oh, he does?” Alec glared at his brother, who was innocently watching the two from a safe distance.
“Aye, he says what may lie ahead is not like holding hands in church.” Malcolm peered intently at his friend. “Do you and Fiona hold hands in church?”
“Nay, lad,” Alec responded, never taking his eyes off his brother. “Ambrose has a strange sense of humor.”
“Nay, Alec, he wasn’t joking,” the boy replied. “He was quite serious when he said he’d be glad to take your place on such a ride.”
“Excuse me, Malcolm,” Alec said through clenched teeth, taking a few steps after the retreating Ambrose. “I have a few things I need to discuss with my generous brother.”
But all thoughts of his brother disappeared when the old porter stepped in front of Alec. The warlord had looked for James when they rode in, but the place beside the gate had been empty.
“There’s a bairn in the castle, m’lord,” the ancient one cackled. His eyes were glazed, his face stern.
“What? A bairn?” Alec’s attention was riveted on the man. “At Dunvegan?”
“Nay. At a place where the angel waits. A bairn. She carries your bairn.” The seer gazed vaguely beyond Alec’s shoulder. “A mother…troubled…so troubled. So far away.”
“I don’t understand, James.” Alec placed a great hand gently on the man’s shoulder. It was nothing but bone beneath his fingers. “You must tell me.”
The porter turned his gaze to Alec’s face. His eyes burned into the warrior. “Beware, m’lord. The angel awaits, the devil lingers nigh.” Turning his nodding head, the seer backed away from the warrior.
“James, wait! I—”
“Take care of your bairn, m’lord,” the porter said, moving away. “I’ll tell ye more when I know.”
“Something wrong, Alec?”
The warlord glanced quickly at Ambrose, who had joined his brother.
“Nay.” Alec looked back at where the ancient porter was standing, but there was no sign of him. Pushing through the throng, the giant caught no further glimpse of the old man. He was gone.
Fiona pushed open the heavy oak door of the prioress’ workroom. Already a small fire flickered on the hearth, and she could see in the half-light the nun standing silhouetted by the light of the window.
The prioress had her back to Fiona, her hands clasped behind her. She appeared to be staring out at the activity in the yard.
“M’lady,” Fiona called softly, stepping into the room. “I’m ready to leave.”
The prioress turned partially at the sound of her voice, and Fiona saw her hand move quickly to her face, wiping away the tears that were rolling down her lined cheeks.
“Aye, child,” she answered, her voice clear. “I can see that they are ready for you.”
“Thank you for letting David come with us,” Fiona said. David had volunteered to accompany Fiona until she reached Drummond Castle. Fiona believed this last minute offer had a lot to do with Alec’s concerns for the propriety of her traveling with a group of men. Sister Beatrice, her initial traveling companion, simply could not travel due to her worsening cough. So David had stepped forward, the logical choice and one agreeable to everyone.
“He will do whatever needs to be done, child.” The prioress continued to look out the window. “He loves you like a daughter as much as I do.”
Fiona crossed the room, pausing hesitantly within a step of the older woman. The prioress turned and opened her arms to her, and the two embraced with unabashed affection.
“We will miss you, child,” the prioress exclaimed haltingly. “I will miss you.”
“Will you have me back if things don’t work out?”
“This will always be your home, Fiona,” the prioress asserted, taking hold of the young woman’s arms and looking into her face. “You will always be our beloved angel. Don’t you ever forget that.”
Fiona hugged the woman tightly to her again as the tears began to course down her face.
The two stood in silence, each thinking of the past they had shared, of the moments of joy, and of what each had learned from the other. The prioress could still remember the wild, little kelpie running the countryside, skirts pulled up to her scratched and bruised knees, her hair flying behind, with a satchel sometimes bigger than her on her shoulder. And she remembered the young girl sitting by her falcons’ empty mews the day Fiona had let them all loose. The prioress smiled, remembering the lass sitting there, fearful and yet brave in the face of certain punishment, but with a constant belief that she had done the right thing.
Fiona’s thoughts, too, dwelled on memories of the past. Of the many times when she had lain awake in her bed, banished from dinner and in disgrace for some disturbance she had caused, pretending to be asleep when the prioress would come to her, as she always did, with a plate of food and a gentle word of forgiveness. She thought of the older woman’s constant reminders of the things to be concerned with in the wicked world outside the Priory gates, all the while encouraging Fiona to experience what she could and to apply all that she was learning.
The prioress patted Fiona’s back and took her by the hands. The nun cocked an eyebrow at her.
“But don’t think these mainlanders are going to rush you off before I give you one last counseling session.”
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Fiona smiled at the prioress through misty eyes and obediently followed her across the room, sitting in one of two chairs by the fireplace.
“I want you to know, Fiona,” the prioress began, leaning forward and taking her hand again. “I have no fear that you will conduct yourself in a manner befitting the blood that flows in your veins.”
“M’lady, I am the same person,” Fiona began. She was uncomfortable about the reference to her parentage.
The prioress silenced her with a look and a squeeze of Fiona’s hand for emphasis.
“You can’t change who you are, child, but what I fear is this unknown past that you are riding into. You have a great, open, and loving heart. But don’t trust anyone, Fiona. There was a reason why your mother wanted to send you far away to the poet Henryson. The ones that hurt her, the ones she feared, they could still be there to hurt you.”
“Is there anything else that you know about that time, about my mother? Was there anyone else whom I could look to for help?”
The prioress thought for a moment. She wanted to give Fiona any information that might help her, but everything she had learned over the years was secondhand, gleaned from a procession of travelers and friends.
“Of course, there is always Lord Alec and his family. Alexander Macpherson, his father, is a good and decent man, Fiona. But he’ll not be at court to help you.” The prioress searched her memory. “I know very little about your uncle, Lord Gray, but there is someone else who could be a good friend.”
“Who, m’lady?” Fiona looked at the nun expectantly. She had a feeling she would be needing all the allies she could find to vindicate her mother’s reputation.
“Lord Huntly. The man to whom I sent word of your presence here. You should know this, Fiona. Because your half-brother, the king, is only a bairn, all the power in Scotland lies in the hands of a group of nobles...headed by Lord Huntly. He is the most influential man at court. More powerful than the queen. And though he has already done you great service, I believe he will do more if you ask him.”
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