Betrayed (22 page)

They walked along the beach, and the air from the sea was fresh and invigorating. Above them the gulls swooped and mewled raucously, scanning the waters below for food. As they gazed out to Islay, they could see a large flat-bottomed vessel making its way toward them.

“Fraoch Eilean!” They
heard the cry.

Nairn grinned, and stamping down to the sea's edge, he cupped his big hands about his mouth and called out, “Fraoch Eilean!”

“What is it?” Fiona asked him, puzzled.

“What?”

“Fraoch Eilean. I know the words. It means ‘the heathery isle,’ but what does it signify?”

“It's the war cry of the MacDonalds of the Isles. My brother himself is coming to meet us!”

The barge was finally anchored in the shallows off Jura, and a ramp was lowered. A man leapt forth into the waves, wading ashore to join them. He was every bit as tall as Colin MacDonald, but his hair was a dark brown to match his eyes. He embraced Nairn warmly.

“So yer safely back,” he said, sounding faintly relieved.

“Aye, and I've much to tell ye, my lord,” Nairn replied.

“Let us to Islay, then, brother,” Alexander MacDonald said, pausing when Fiona caught his eye. He smiled winningly at her, the look identical to Nairn's. “What have we here, Colly? Have ye brought me a wee giftie from Perth?” His look was both admiring and
lustful as he took in the girl, who gazed boldly back at him.

“No, Alex, ’Tis not a gift for ye that I have brought to Islay, but the lass I am to wed with. This is Fiona Hay. Sweeting, my brother, Alexander MacDonald, Lord of the Isles.”

Fiona curtsied politely but said nothing.

“Ye can tell me of this on the way,” The MacDonald of the Isles said, surprised.

The horses were led into the surf and up the ramp onto the barge. As the winds were light, the sea was relatively calm, and the journey was a gentle one. Nairn had warned her that it could also be rough, with waves crashing over the barge and soaking them. Fiona was thankful it was not that sort of day, since her wardrobe was scant and could take no more damage.

“So ye've finally found a woman who satisfies ye enough to wed,” Alexander MacDonald said, sounding pleased. “’Tis past time ye were married. I am three sons up on ye already Colly.”

“I stole her,” Colin MacDonald said quietly.

“Ye stole her?”
Alexander MacDonald laughed in delight. “I'm glad to see yer heart is all MacDonald, brother. ’Tis rare in these days that we steal our wives. Why was it necessary for ye to do so? Has she a hardhearted guardian who could not see that young lovers will not be denied, and attempted to keep her from ye so he might wed her to some rich old lord? If that is the case, ye were wise to steal her.”

“He stole me from the man I love,” Fiona said suddenly. “Even if Black Angus knew where I was, he would not have me now that yer brother has had his hands all over me, my lord. I can only hope Angus Gordon thinks me dead.”

“Colly?”The
Lord of the Isles was serious now. He
listened to his brother's explanation, nodding in satisfaction when it was concluded.

“No one can connect Mistress Hay's kidnapping with me, my lord,” Nairn said. “I left court several days before she did. Although I did attempt once to gain her favor there, she would have none of me. No one will suspect that I took her. There is no danger to ye or to the Isles over this matter. I would not bring trouble to ye, Alexander.”

“So there is little or no harm done, then,” the Lord of the Isles said. He looked again at Fiona. “I canna blame ye, Colly. She is verra bonnie. I'm sorry this is one we canna share.”

“No harm done?” Fiona was outraged. “I have been taken from the man I love, and mistreated, and ye say no harm is done, my lord?”

“Ye have but exchanged one husband for another, my bonnie,” the Lord of the Isles said reasonably.

“Angus Gordon is the king's good friend.”

“Then surely he will find his friend another bride,” Alexander MacDonald answered her with perfect logic. “Even if it were known where ye were, there is little likelihood they would come after ye, unless, of course, ye are a great heiress. Are ye?”

“I am a chieftain in my own right,” Fiona said proudly. “I am the Hay of the Ben, my lord.”

“A steep hillock with a tumbled-down tower-house,” Colin MacDonald said matter-of-factly, “and don't deny it, sweeting. Maggie told me.”

“Maggie MacLeod is a wretched gossip!” Fiona muttered balefully.

“Ye saw Margaret MacLeod, brother?”

“Aye. She has wed with her bonnet laird, and is with bairn,” he answered. “She is happy, Alexander,” he finished meaningfully.

“So be it, then” the Lord of the Isles replied. “Besides, the old lord they were to wed her with has died. They wouldna want her back, considering the shame she brought on her family by running off as she did. She cost them a dowry they could ill afford, though, for the old man would not give it back to them. He considered it damages for the insult done his fine old name. She was always a wild lass, our cousin Maggie MacLeod was.” He laughed at his memories.

Fiona was fascinated. Maggie had never spoken about exactly why she had fled her home on Lewis. And in learning her friend's story, her own anger cooled. Fiona chided herself for appearing to be eager to escape Nairn. What if the Lord of the Isles had believed her and sent her back? She would be no use to the king then. She had to learn to better temper her apparent outrage with her actual purpose in being here. She moved to the far end of the barge and watched as the shore came closer.

“When will ye wed her?” the lord asked Nairn.

“I'll handfast her in yer hall tonight.”

“Not with a priest, Colly? Why will ye not wed her properly?” Alexander MacDonald asked him, disturbed.

“She is still angry at having been taken from Angus Gordon,” Nairn replied. “I have spared her my attentions each night that we have traveled for I swore to myself I would not have her without a wedding. The term of a handfast marriage is a year. I will have brought her around in that time, and I will then wed her before a priest.”

“Will she agree to a handfast union?” the Lord of the Isles wondered. “She appears a hot-tempered lassie.”

“Aye,” Nairn grinned, “she is, but she will, for she has no choice. Within a year she will declare her love for me, brother.”

The Lord of the Isles looked his younger sibling in the eye. “I can see yer already in love with her, Colin. Love is a dangerous condition for a man. Ye know it to be true. A man in love does not think clearly. Are ye certain ye will not wed her before a priest? I have one temporarily in residence. Father Ninian. He could do the deed.”

Nairn shook his head. “I would have to coerce her before a priest, and I will not do that.” He chuckled ruefully. “I am not certain I could force her. When we stand before a priest it will be because she wants to do so. No, a handfast marriage will have to do us now. Under a handfast any child we produce will be legitimate, brother”

The barge bumped onto the island of Islay. Leaping out, the men-at-arms drew it up onto the shore. The ramp was lowered, and the horses and riders made their way off the vessel. Fiona looked about her. Whereas Jura had been mountainous, Islay was a fertile, green pastureland of softly rolling earth. In the distance she could see a castle, obviously their destination. She moved her horse forward and found herself between the two brothers.

“Welcome to Islay, sister,” the Lord of the Isles said graciously. “I hope yer stay with us, short though my brother says it is to be, will nonetheless be a pleasant one for ye.”

“I thank you, my lord,” Fiona responded politely.

As they rode toward their destination, Fiona could not help but be impressed by the large herds of fat cattle grazing in The MacDonald's green meadows. When she commented upon it, Nairn laughed mischievously.

“Fiona has been a cattle thief, though not a successful one, in her time,” he told his elder brother.

“I never admitted to such a thing!” Fiona said indignantly. “Why do ye all assume that the charges Black Angus made against me were true? Why does no one believe me?” she demanded.

He chuckled. “Because ye were a brazen little liar. Ye could not feed yer sisters, let alone the fat cattle that Gordon found grazing in yer pastures” he told her. “Maggie said-”

“Maggie MacLeod again?” Fiona snapped. “If I ever see her again, I'll have to pull her wagging tongue out, the gossip!”

Donald MacDonald was now laughing. “Tell me the story, brother” he said, “and don't fret yerself over it, Fiona Hay. Cattle-stealing is an old and honorable custom, as ye know. The trick is to not get caught, as ye obviously did, but I admire yer spunk, my bonnie. Yer going to breed up fine MacDonald sons for my brother.”

Pretending irritation, Fiona fell back to ride with Nelly, who, though reluctant, had been mounted upon Fiona's mare since the departure of the cart. “Men are mad,” she said to her servant.

“These MacDonalds are certainly big handsome fellows, are they not?” Nelly commented. “The lord looks like his brother of Nairn, I'm thinking, despite their different coloring.”

“Ummmm,” Fiona answered her absently. She was far more interested in the castle that they were now approaching, for it appeared even from a distance to be larger and grander than she would have expected. Everyone always said that the MacDonalds were savages, but the Lord of the Isles had hardly appeared that, and his castle looked very impressive. It stood upon the highest point on Islay, a low rocky hill slightly larger than the other few hills on the island. There were four
square towers, one at each compass point of the dark stone walls, which were unmarked by any opening. Its entry, with walls half as high as the main walls, had two small rounded towers halfway up the stone. There were massive oaken doors over which was drawn an iron yett, or grille, each night.

As they drew closer, Nelly remarked, “It looks a fearsome place, my lady. I think I am glad we will be here but a short while.”

“It may be paradise compared to Nairns Craig,” Fiona said in reply. “It is surely not Brae.” There was a wistfulness in her tone.

They rode through the gates into a small courtyard. After dismounting, the women followed the MacDonald brothers through another heavy gate into a larger courtyard. It was like going from night into day. Here there was a camomile lawn beneath their feet, and a garden blooming with late roses, Mary's gold, and fragrant herbs. A slope-roofed house was built into two sides of the wall. They mounted the steps and entered the house.

“I'm sorry my wife is not here to greet ye, my bonnie,” The MacDonald apologized, “but she is off with my lady mother to their estates in Ross. I fear ye will be gone before they return, but perhaps when ye bring yer first son to Islay ye will meet them.” Then he swiftly directed the servants who came at his entrance to take Fiona and Nelly to their apartment and give them whatever they desired. “Come with me, Nairn,” he said to his brother. “I would hear what ye have to tell me before ye take yer ease. I would know all about James Stewart.”

“If ye would know
all
about him,” Fiona interjected, “then ye should speak to me, too, my lord. I know the king well, as he was Black Angus's best
friend. I was also in the service of the queen, and count myself among her friends. Women speak of more than gowns and household matters.” She smiled prettily at him.

“Ye are obviously loyal to James Stewart, madam,” The MacDonald said. “Why would ye help me?”

“My lord,” Fiona said with perfect logic, “I would help ye better understand the king so that ye will swear yer fealty to him. Nairn can give you but impressions of what he saw and thinks. I lived within the royal enclosure. I was with the king and queen for several months. Yer brother has stolen me from the laird of Loch Brae. Since I canna go back, I must make my peace with what I have. Tonight I will handfast myself to Colin MacDonald. Aye, I heard you tell your plan, my lord of Nairn.” She looked from Colin to his brother. “I will one day bear his bairns.
MacDonald bairns,
my lord. I don't want to see my lord, his family, and my own offspring sacrificed in the unending warfare that has wracked Scotland these many years. If I can help ye to make yer peace with the king, I would do so for the sake of Nairn and for our unborn children.”

“She's clever as well as bonnie,” The MacDonald said to his brother. Then he beckoned Fiona. “Verra well, lass, come with us. I'm a fair-minded man and will listen to what ye have to say.”

“Go and unpack what little we have,” Fiona instructed Nelly, and then she followed after the two men.

In the Lord of the Isles’ privy chamber, a small stone room with a fireplace flanked by stone griffins, a fine tapestry hung from the wall opposite a window with a view of the garden. They ensconced themselves—the lord in a high-backed chair with a tapestry seat, and his companions on an oak settle facing him. A servant
brought them each a silver goblet of pungent wine, then discreetly withdrew.

“First,” Alexander MacDonald said, “tell me what he looks like, Nairn. I heard he is a wee man.”

“He is of medium height but strongly built.”

“He is a skilled warrior who fought in France with Henry V,” Fiona said. “That king personally trained James Stewart in the arts of warfare. He is proficient with weapons of all kinds, including a crossbow.”

“The crossbow?” The lord cocked a dark eyebrow.

“Aye, my lord, and the king has made it law that all young men must learn to use such a weapon so that Scotland quickly will have an armed force like the English,” Fiona said.

“’Tis cleverly done,” the lord noted, “and not a bad idea at all. What kind of a man do ye ascertain him to be, Nairn?”

“A verra determined one, brother. He is not a feeble-minded weakling like his father before him was. He is strong-willed, and bound to rule Scotland as it has never before been ruled.”

“Is he like old Albany, then?”

“Many compare him to The Bruce,” Fiona said quietly. “A great soldier but a better governor in that he already knows how to rule.”

Colin MacDonald nodded in agreement with her.