"God help us!" Fiona whispered. Picking up her skirts, she began to run toward Nairns Craig while all about her the hills blossomed with fires.
Nelly, close on her mistress's heels, did not drop her precious basket of flower heads. They were going to need them, she suspected.
At the gates Fiona demanded of the man-at-arms on duty, "What is this fire being lit for-and the others as well?"
"Why, my lady, 'tis a call to arms from the Lord of the Isles," he replied. "We have been waiting for weeks for it to come. There is another signal fire behind the castle so those in that direction may know the time has come, too."
Fiona hurried past him, making directly for the castle's hall. There she found her husband, a large goblet of wine in his hand. “Why is the Lord of the Isles calling ye to arms?" she demanded. "What is he going to do to avenge his honor?" The last word was uttered scathingly. "Tell me, Colin MacDonald, or as God is my witness, I will cut out yer black heart, and ye'll not go anywhere!" Her dark hair had fallen loose from her caul, and her green eyes flashed angrily.
"Why, sweeting, there is nothing to fret about. We but go to burn Inverness, scene of our disgrace. That is all."
Chapter 15
The words slammed into her brain like a brand. Burn Inverness. For a moment she couldn't speak, and then a rage such as Fiona had never known overwhelmed her. "Ye would raze Inverness? Have ye lost what few wits ye have, Colin MacDonald?" she screamed at him. "I will not let ye go off blindly to be killed!" She stamped her foot angrily at him.
The MacDonald of Nairn burst out laughing. His poor sweeting had never known such a situation, and she was, of course, frightened. He stepped forward to put his arms about her, but Fiona jumped back, almost hissing at him like a feral beast. "Fiona mine," he said, pleading. "Don't distress yerself. I will leave on the morrow and be back in a few days' time at the most. There is naught to be fearful of, my darling."
"Do ye not understand, Colly?" she demanded of him. "Are ye so thickheaded that ye don't understand? The king will retaliate!'"
"James Stewart is not in Inverness any longer, sweeting. We waited until he was south of the Tay, returned safely to Perth." He smiled at her. "There is no danger. We mean the king no harm, but the insult done to the Lord of the Isles must be avenged or he will be thought weak by the clans."
Fiona shook her head wearily. His loyalty to his brother was so deep and so blind that he could not see the terrible peril they would all be in when the king learned that Inverness had been burned by the Lord of the Isles and the highland clans. "Why would ye burn Inverness?" she asked him. “What have the people of that fair town done to ye that yer brother would destroy all they have? 'Twill not hurt the king. 'Twill only displace the poor townsfolk-and with winter coming on, too!"
“They hosted the king, sweeting. The people of Inverness rebuilt the hall where our disgrace was publicly displayed. We have sworn our fealty to James Stewart, but not to the people of Inverness," Colin MacDonald explained to his disbelieving wife.
"The king believed it necessary to make an example of yer brother," Fiona said to her husband. "I do not agree with him, but then I know Alexander MacDonald a wee bit better than James Stewart did. If he had known yer brother, he would have taken his hand in friendship two years ago instead of attempting to force the clans to his royal will and embarrassing them when he finally called a gathering. But yer brother, who has ruled here in the north, should know that the king believed he must be publicly harsh in order to convince ye that he means to rule all of Scotland and not just south of the Tay. He has executed two bad chieftains and a murdering Campbell for causing the wrongful death of a MacDonald kin. James Stewart favored neither one side nor the other, instead being impartial. Why can Alexander not simply accept what has happened? It is past. Let us have peace."
"Not without the honor of the MacDonalds being restored," Nairn said stubbornly. "This king must surely understand that."
“James Stewart will take the burning of Inverness as an insult upon his honor, Colly," she told him. "He will come north to punish us. Remember, he has learned all he knows from the English, and they are mean fighters, tacticians, and rulers. Yer brother, in his arrogance, is about to poke a stick into a bees' nest. When this is over, we shall all be badly stung, but The MacDonald on Islay less so than those of us here in the highlands. I don't call that just. Yer brother commands us to war, and then we suffer for it."
"Yer a woman, Fiona mine," he said. "Ye canna possibly understand," he told her, but he found that her words discomfited him greatly.
“Yer a man, Colin MacDonald, and canna help yer childish behavior that would put a brother ahead of yer bairns."
He held out his arms to her. "Come and kiss me, sweeting, and let us quarrel no longer."
Fiona shook her head. "I'll not kiss ye, or cuddle ye, or couple with ye until ye are safe home to me again," she told him. "Sleep in the hall tonight, my lord, with yer men. I will not share my bed with ye."
"What if I am killed, sweeting? Will ye not regret yer harsh decision then?"
"Yer hide is too thick for an arrow to pierce, and besides, what danger do ye face from poor frightened townspeople, my lord?" she mocked him. Then she left him.
Eventually, he knew, she would understand the ways of a highland chief. His duties not just to his own people, but to his overlord. He had indeed sworn fealty to the king, but he knew in his heart that his first loyalty would lie, as it had always lain, with the MacDonalds. They were his family, his clan, and he regretted that Fiona could not comprehend it. He would teach Alastair the same loyalty soon, and the sons that would come afterward, too.
Fiona knew her duty. In the morning she stood, her two eldest children clinging to her skirts, her infant daughter in her arms, watching as her husband and his retainers marched off down the castle hill to the road leading to Inverness. Unlike many of the chieftains who could muster two thousand or more men, The MacDonald of Nairn had but two hundred, and they were Rose family clansmen-his mother's people, for although he was a MacDonald by birth and acknowledged by his father, his inheritance had belonged to a lesser branch of the Rose family.
"They are like little boys playing," Fiona said grimly as the piper led the troop off, banners flying bravely.
"Will they all come back, I wonder?" Nelly asked.
"I believe so," Fiona said. "This is not a war they go to fight. They go to burn, pillage, and loot a hapless town of women, bairns, and shopkeepers. They should be ashamed of themselves, but they are not. They will all return to their homes boasting of their victory."
"Yer hard on him," Moire Rose said, coming up next to Fiona, smiling down at Alastair and Mary.
"Do ye agree with yer son then, lady?"
"No, I don't. I always thought the warfare foolish, but unlike ye, I didn't dare to say it aloud. It is our way and will not change."
"Ye must say it aloud now," Fiona told her. "James Stewart will not take this act of terror lightly. He will retaliate, lady. When he does, I would have Nairn align himself with the king, and not the Lord of the Isles. If both of us nag at yer son, my husband, then perhaps we may turn him from his path of self-destruction."
"He'll not listen," Moire Rose said fatalistically. "When Colin went to live with his father on Islay, he was taught the first rule of life was total loyalty to the Lord of the Isles. All Donald's children were taught that. Not one of them would break that rule, Fiona. Not one. Ye have no hope of changing a lifetime's habit, I fear."
"Then it is unlikely Colly will live to see his bairns grown," Fiona replied sadly. "They will burn Inverness, and the king will strike back at them. He will bring fire and death to the highlands."
Alexander MacDonald carried out his purpose and burned Inverness to the ground. His highland army of ten thousand strong slaughtered the inhabitants of the town and looted everything they could. The MacDonald of Nairn returned home laden down with booty on a cold, rainy day. It had been raining for three days straight, and
the barren branches of the trees were black against the gray sky as the men rode up the castle hill.
Fiona had grown calm with her purpose over the short time her husband had been away. By the time the king learned of the carnage in Inverness and could prepare a force to come north again, the winter would have set in. It was unlikely the king would strike during the winter months. He would wait until spring. And in those intervening months she intended to convince Colin MacDonald that his first loyalty must be to the king to whom he had sworn fealty. She would use whatever means she had to, to attain her goal. Fiona greeted her husband warmly.
Pleased, he grinned boyishly, certain she finally understood his reasoning. He flung his booty at her feet; two bolts of fine soft wool-one the gray-blue color of a winter sky, the other a soft purple heathery tone. There was a forest-green-and-gold-brocade surcoat and several gowns. A length of sheer lawn for making veils. Several gold chains and a jeweled rosary. For his mother he had fetched back a bolt of wool in beige and cream tones to flatter her hair, several strands of agate, and a gold ring. For Alastair there was a miniature claymore, and for Mary, a pretty blue gown. This last sent a shiver through Fiona. What little lass had the dress belonged to, and had she been slaughtered?
He read her thoughts. "1 took it from the shop of a cloth merchant," he told her. "It had been newly made, probably by his wife, who is a seamstress and earned a living sewing."
She nodded, not wanting to know any more. "Come, my lord," she said softly, "ye will be hungry, and I have the meal ready. Then ye must bathe, for I will wager ye have not done so since ye left me."
He flashed her a quick smile. "There is not usually time to bathe when a man is pillaging and looting, Fiona mine." He was pleased when she laughed aloud at his sally.
They sat down to table, and he ate heartily of the game pie, the capon with the lemon ginger sauce, the freshly caught trout, and the ham. He had grown used to the greens she insisted be served, and actually felt better for eating them. Tonight she served him braised lettuce and cress, small beets, and onions in a dilled cream sauce. The bread was soft and fresh, the butter sweet, the cheese sharp. And best of all, his meal was hot. He hadn't eaten any hot food in the time he had been away. He had missed it, although he had chided himself for growing soft. Nodding at the hovering servant wanting to know if he wished his goblet refilled, he savored the sweet wine. His mother and his wife smiled at each other over his appetite. His piper began to play softly, and Colin MacDonald sat back, content and mellow, glad to be safely home again after his sortie to Inverness.
"Is the whole town gone?" his mother finally ventured.
He nodded. "We burned the king's hall first. 'Twas a fine sight, and now the memories of the Lord of the Isles' shame are no more."
"Come, my lord," Fiona said before the conversation could become more detailed. "Ye will want to get out of those stinking garments and bathe yerself before ye go to bed."
"I'll not bathe if I am to be confined to the hall again," he threatened her mischievously.
"Oh, Colly," she told him, "I was angry with ye then, but not now. Indeed, I am relieved to have ye safely home again." She smiled softly at him. "I have missed ye in our bed." She held out her hand to him. "Come along, my lord."
"Good night, madam," Nairn said to his mother, who nodded pleasantly in his direction at his words and smiled as they departed the hall, knowing full well her daughter-in-law's intentions. Alas, Moire Rose thought, she would not be successful.
***
They lay, bathed and aroused, on a sheepskin before the fire. Fiona touched his manhood, and Colin groaned.
"Ye like it when I use my tongue on yer little love button, do ye not, sweeting?" he asked. When she nodded slowly, he said, "Give me the same kind of pleasure, Fiona mine. Take me in yer mouth." His voice was almost strangled with the request.
The truth was, she had wondered about doing such a thing, but had not dared for fear he would be shocked. She was curious and had been for some time. Slowly she began to absorb him, sweetly sucking upon him with slow deep strokes. He moaned, but she did not cease, for the sound was one of utter pleasure. Fiona was fascinated that she was able to render him so helpless by her actions. Inquisitively she ran her tongue around the ruby head of his member, and again, and yet again. Holding him in one hand, she let her other hand wander to fondle his twin pouch. A single finger strayed innocently beneath him and touched the flesh beneath the pouch. He cried out softly. She pressed the spot again. He cautioned her in a tight voice that he was near to spilling his seed, and she must cease.
Fiona's head was spinning with the erotic sensations she had received by using him in this fashion. He came over her, his big body covering her, and he was like iron as he entered her. She opened to him, taking in his love rod, closing her flesh around him, wrapping her legs about him so he might delve his deepest into the soft hot swamp of her welcoming sex. Fiona sighed deeply, feeling her breasts give way beneath the muscle of his chest. "Oh, Colly!" she whispered. It had never been quite so good between them. Not like this. "Oh! Ohhhhh!"
She was magnificent. She was incredible. He had never known her so totally unsparing of her passions with him. He began to move upon her, his buttocks tightening and releasing, tightening and releasing as he built to a crescendo of passion.
Beneath him Fiona writhed as he plunged within her, arousing her to a fever pitch of excitement such as she had never before experienced. She could feel him throbbing, and she ached for release. Her nails raked down his back. "Please! Please!" she whimpered. His body thrust harder and harder. She could feel the approaching maelstrom. She gasped, struggling desperately for air. Her whole body, her very brain was afire, and in a moment she would explode into a thousand fragments of pure pleasure. She screamed as the wild wave burst over her. His responding cry of utter joy shattered her. They had denied themselves for too long.
Afterward they lay naked before the fire. Smiling, he ran a finger down her length. "Ye have never yielded to me like that before," he said softly. Bending, he kissed her shoulder.
"Ye have never yielded to me like that before," she countered. "It was wonderful, Colin MacDonald." She turned her head so that their eyes met, and kissed his mouth. "Ummmmm."
"Do ye finally love me, Fiona mine?"
Her green eyes twinkled. "Possibly, I am beginning to have a wee bit of a tendre for ye, my lord."
"Brazen vixen." He chuckled, pressing her back against the sheepskin rug. The firelight played across their bodies, its heat adding to their own. He licked up the column of her slender throat. "Yer delicious, sweeting," he murmured into the hollow of her neck, nibbling delicately at her sweet flesh. Drawing his tongue over her chest, he lapped at her breasts, his mouth closing over a nipple, drawing her milk into his mouth and swallowing it.
Her fingers threaded themselves through his thick red-gold hair. Fiona smiled. She had forgotten to wash it, and it was dusty with his travels. Tomorrow would be time enough. She abandoned herself to the pleasure of his passion, and it was even better than before. Finally in the middle of the night they managed to leave their place before the fire for the warmth of their bed, cuddling beneath the down coverlet. Something had changed. They both realized it as they slid into a contented sleep.
The winter came, and the news that filtered into Nairns Craig from south of the Tay was ominous. The king had been furious to learn that the Lord of the Isles had burned the town of Inverness. Its survivors had trekked to Scone to plead with the king for revenge and reparations. Only the snows kept the highlands safe for the present. In the spring they knew the retaliation would come. Fiona tried to force it from her mind, but Nairn would not let her.
"We had a good harvest last year," he said. "Ye must conserve what is in the granaries and cold storage, for we may not get to plant a new crop in the spring. If we do, it may be destroyed before ye can harvest it. Ye will have to be responsible for Nairns Craig while I am away, sweeting. My mother will help ye."
"When my brother calls, I must follow him into battle," Colin MacDonald said quietly. "Ye know it, sweeting. Don't hide from the truth. If Alexander goes to war, I must follow him."
"Ye must pledge yerself to the king," she said, working hard to keep the desperate tone from her voice. "If yer brother chooses to fight with James Stewart, don't follow him. Ally yerself with yer liege lord. In the end James Stewart will triumph over the lord. I know it! If ye fight by the lord's side, the king will punish ye, too. If ye fight beneath the royal banner, we will all be safe. I know ye love yer brother and feel a deep loyalty to the clan as yer father taught ye, but times are changing, Colly. This world we live in is not yer father's world. Once the lords of the Isles ruled unchallenged, but now their authority is in dispute. James Stewart claims all of Scotland. Even the lord's allies waver in their loyalty. Unless yer brother will accept the king's authority, he and all those who follow him will be made to suffer. We have three bairns, my lord. Yer mother is old. Must we suffer for yer misguided sense of devotion? Please, I beg of ye, don't follow yer brother into battle!" Her eyes were filled with tears as she pleaded with him, and The MacDonald of Nairn was moved by her words, yet he refused to yield to her plea.
"I canna refuse the Lord of the Isles' summons when it comes, sweeting. Do not fear. Ye’ll be safe within Nairns Craig, and the bairns, too. The king will not take any revenge against ye and my mam."
“James Stewart would take revenge against a saint if that saint stood in his way, Colin MacDonald. Don't say ye were not warned. I know what I must now do. If ye leave us, I will take the children, and yer mam if she will come with us, and go home to Hay Tower. There I know we will be safe from the chaotic games ye men play."
Betrayed Page 29