Betrayed (32 page)

In the hall that night Fiona looked particularly beautiful. She wore a gold-and-copper surcoat over her orange tawny undergown. When the meal was over, she said, “Nairn, do ye still fancy to keep me as yer wife, or have ye changed yer mind?” She smiled seductively at him, her emerald eyes glittering in the candlelight.

“Ye know I will never let ye go, Fiona mine,” he said seriously.

“Then we had best let Father Ninian bless our union while he is here. Our handfast time will be up in another few weeks, but the priest will long be gone by then. If ye would wed me in God's eyes, then let us do it and be done with it so we may get on with our lives.”

“Ye have but to name the day!” Nairn said enthusiastically

“On the morrow, love, before the mass, with all the castle folk as our witnesses,” Fiona told him boldly.

“Agreed!” he cried, his eyes overflowing with his happiness. “Then ye do love me, Fiona mine! I knew ye would one day.”

“I must love ye,” she lied to him, “or I should not wed ye properly within the sanctity of the church. Now, Nairn, I would be alone tonight. Take a bath before the ceremony, and don't come drunk to yer marriage, my lord. ‘Twould not please me at all.” She then stood up and departed the hall.

To her surprise Moire Rose came to her chambers shortly afterward. “Why are ye doing this?” she asked Fiona in a quiet voice.

“Because it is time,” Fiona said. “Ye know that sooner than later he'll get another bairn on me, and
without a marriage the poor wee mite will be bastard-born. Did ye like bearing a bastard?”

The older woman looked directly at Fiona, her blue eyes serious. “Be warned, Fiona Hay, that if ye should ever shame him—”

“Madam, I will not shame him, nor bring shame upon Nairn. On that ye have my word. The word of the Hay of the Ben.”

Moire Rose nodded. “I believe ye,” she said, and left.

“Why?”
Nelly asked her, near to weeping.

Fiona told her of the priest's words and then said, “Do ye want to go home to Brae, Nelly? It makes no difference now if he knows where I am. I will send ye back if ye truly desire it.”

Nelly shook her head. “No, my lady. My place is with ye.”

The two women embraced, and Fiona instructed her serving woman, “Go and fetch the priest to me. If my lord or his mother asks why, say I wish to speak to him about the wedding.”

When Nelly returned with Father Ninian, they crowded into the servant's little chamber, where they might speak in privacy. Nelly remained outside the door to guard them.

The priest wasted no time demanding an explanation. “Why have ye instigated this marriage, lady? Is it wise?”

“Today,” Fiona said, “part of the king's message, a part that seemed innocent to ye but that ye did not understand, although the words were straightforward enough, told me something I did not want to hear. The queen's cousin has been wed to the man I love. The true father of my bairn. There is no going back now for me, good Father. I must therefore do what is best for
me and for my son. Colin MacDonald loves me, and he adores his son, Alastair.

“The king has used me like a common whore with not a thought for my heart. He claims that my sacrifice is for Scotland. Well, I will sacrifice no more. Why should I? If I canna wed the man I love, then I will wed the man who loves me, and who loves
our
son. Tell James Stewart that I will spy no more for him. He thinks to make the clans quail or crawl to him by not calling a gathering at Inverness. Well, some like the Campbells may do his bidding, but the Lord of the Isles will not give the Stewart king loyalty until he is ready to do so—and the majority of the clans will wait for the MacDonalds before going on their knees before James Stewart.

“Ye
may tell the king that he can frighten me no longer with threats against my kin. I no longer care. Am I not entitled to some happiness, too? Besides, what excuse could he possibly use now for persecuting innocent young women and two little girls? I have done his bidding, and I will tell the world I have done it if he presses me further. Does he think Brae will remain loyal knowing what he has done to us? Knowing that
his
son bears the name MacDonald and not Gordon? I will be used no more by this Stewart king. Tell him I do not break my oath of fealty to him, but that I am a woman and can bear no more.”

The priest could hear the raw pain in Fiona's voice. There was nothing he could say that would comfort her. Her assessment of the situation was correct. She had been used. He could not blame her for washing her hands of the situation and marrying Nairn. She was a softhearted female. The king should have realized that she could take only so much. The poor lass had reached her limit, and so he would say when he saw the
king in Perth this winter. Fiona was no threat to James Stewart. She was simply a woman.

“I believe ye have chosen the right road, my daughter,” he told her. “Marriage or the church is the best route for a woman to take.
Ye
have a fine son and the hope of other children. This difficulty between the king and the MacDonalds will eventually sort itself out. As the king gains firmer control of the rest of Scotland, Alexander MacDonald and his ilk will seem less important and will rub less against James Stewart's pride. Time is a great healer of all wounds.”

“Is it, good Father?” Fiona's voice cracked slightly. “I pray God and his Blessed Mother that ye are right.”

Then, giving her his blessing, Father Ninian left her.

“I have not gathered enough of yer special seeds, my lady,” Nelly fretted. “The summer has been wet, and the flowers are slow to bloom, and many of the flower heads have rotted before going to seed. I have barely enough for two months’ use.”

“Don't fret yerself, Nelly,” Fiona told the girl. “I owe Nairn a child, do I not?”

Poor Nelly's eyes threatened to spill over again with her misery. If the laird of Loch Brae had repudiated her, she could not have felt worse than she did. Her kindly heart ached for Fiona.

Fiona put her arms about her servant, comforting her. “Ohh, Nelly, I was a bairn to believe that it would all work out as I wanted it to despite everything that has happened. I must try to be more practical from now on, Nelly. We are hardly in a wretched situation, are we? Nairn loves me even if I don't love him. I will be a good wife to him, Nelly, for he is good to me. I owe him that much, do I not? He has been hoodwinked by the Stewart king every bit as much as I have been. I will not tell him, though. Let him believe that he has won me
over.” She laughed ruefully, but then, looking at her companion, she said, “Ye, too, have a reason for remaining, do ye not, my little Nelly? Roderick Dhu would court ye in earnest, I believe.”

Nelly's tears had quickly passed with her mistress's comforting words. She actually blushed at the mention of Roderick Dhu.

“Aye,” she admitted. “The skinny creature seems to have honorable intentions toward me now, my lady. Do ye disapprove?”

“Nay,” said Fiona. “If ye love him, then ye will not want to go back to Brae. I am selfish and want ye happy, too.”

“I have always been happy to be in yer service, my lady,” Nelly replied sweetly. “Now,” she said briskly, “what will ye wear on the morrow for yer wedding? I will need to see the gown is fresh.”

Fiona thought a moment, then said, “I will wear the dark green velvet houppelande with my husband's plaid across the front and my own clan badge holding it. I would do Colin MacDonald honor.”

In the morning while Fiona was dressing, Moire Rose came again to Fiona's chamber.

“I have seen to a wee feast this morning,” she said.

Fiona thanked her. “Today we all begin anew with each other. There is dissension in the world all about us, but here at Nairns Craig, ye and I will make a place of peace for our family, for when my sons must go to war, they will understand how truly valuable peace is, and fight all the more for it.”

“I was verra bitter when my Donald left me,” Moire Rose told Fiona frankly. “I knew he was wed to another. I knew he would not leave her, and yet I foolishly thought I might hold him with his son. But he had
other sons.” She sighed deeply. “I was a verra foolish lassie. I would not listen to my father, and I rejected my own son until finally my Donald took the boy from me, allowing him to visit only my father each summer. Seeing my own bairn return from Islay so happy and thriving only compounded my bitterness. And after my father died, I continued my intemperate behavior.”

“But since Alastair was born ye have changed, Moire Rose,” Fiona said.

“Aye, yer coming at first angered me, and then my wee grandson came into this world. I looked at him, Fiona, and realized then that I could not waste any more time in anger. I let myself lose my only child even before he was born. I have no one to blame but myself. Donald MacDonald was honest with me. I accept yer proposal that we all begin anew today. Ye have brought happiness into this house, although I realize it has not been easy for ye. Ye loved another once, I believe, but I will ask ye no questions. I already have yer word that ye will not bring shame to my son, and I believe ye.”

To Fiona's surprise her mother-in-law enfolded her in a bony embrace. “Thank ye, my child, for what ye have done for all of us and for the gift of love ye have brought us all.”

Fiona gently hugged Moire Rose back, kissing her on the cheek before breaking off the embrace. “I had best finish dressing,” she said softly.

The older woman nodded. “Aye. They're already waiting on ye in the hall. Nairn is so nervous, ye'd think this was the first time he was marrying ye.” She chuckled. “I offered him a wee dram of wine, but he refused me, saying that ye had bid him come sober to his marriage.”

Fiona could not help but smile at the woman's
words. “I also bid him bathe himself,” she said mischievously.

“He smells like a bouquet of flowers,” Moire Rose assured her. Then with a nod she left.

Fiona pulled on her clean white stockings and a pair of soft leather ankle boots. Nelly tipped a soft cotton chemise over her mistress, followed by the forest-green velvet houppelande. Next the servant brushed her mistress's long black hair, fitting it into the silver caul. She affixed over it a silver brocade and green velvet fillet with a single green stone in its center that rested in the middle of Fiona's forehead. Lastly, Nelly carefully draped the length of plaid called Hunting MacDonald, which Colin MacDonald favored. It was a leaf green with both narrow and wide white stripes, and here and there within the pattern were woven blocks of a darker green. At her mistress's shoulder Nelly pinned the silver brooch of the Hay chieftain. The badge was circular with a falcon rising out of a crest coronet. Engraved upon the badge was the clan motto: Serva Lugum, Keep the Yoke. Fiona smiled. She had, it seemed, been yoked since birth. There was little chance she would ever be unyoked.

She descended into the hall with Nelly by her side, Nairn's piper leading them as he played. To her surprise the sun was shining through the high windows. It was a good portent, she thought. There were branches of colored leaves decorating the room, and all the castle folk were assembled. She heard Alastair whimper from the arms of the girl chosen to watch over him. Upon the high board were Father Ninian's traveling crucifix and a pair of silver candlesticks, and in them burned good beeswax tapers. The piper ceased.

“Are ye ready to proceed, my daughter?” the priest asked her.

Fiona nodded, reached out to take Colin's hand, and drew him before Father Ninian. The priest began, but Fiona heard little of what he said. The man by her side should have been Angus Gordon, but Angus Gordon had so easily given her up for dead, or lost, and taken a milk-and-water English wife to please his king.
Damn him for it! No,
she told herself fiercely, she had to put her anger behind her. She could not, would not, start this real marriage to Nairn with a heart filled with bitterness. Colin was a good man, and he loved her. He deserved a wife who was faithful not only in body but also in mind.

Farewell, my Black Angus.
She would think of him no more.

They were wed. Nairn kissed her heartily, then turned about and declared a holiday for the castle folk and all his clansmen.

“What will ye have of me, Fiona mine? For this day I will give ye anything it is in my power to give ye. I love ye that much,” he declared loudly before everyone in the entire hall. “Ye have but to name yer gift, and it is yers!”

“Make peace with yer mam,” Fiona said quietly, but everyone heard her and looked in surprise from the bride to Moire Rose. Fiona beckoned her mother-in-law to them. “I will have peace in my house, Colin MacDonald. Yer mam and I have made our peace, but we will have no true peace until ye make it, too. That is the gift I would have of ye, my lord and husband.”

Mother and son looked at each other, neither certain of what to say, but then Moire Rose said softly, “Fiona had said this would be a new beginning for us all, Nairn.” Tears filled her blue eyes. “Ye look so much like
him,
my son.”

“Now there is something we already have in common, madam,” Nairn told her gently. “We both loved Donald MacDonald.” He enfolded her in his big embrace while those in the hall erupted into cheers.

“Ye have performed a miracle, my lady,” the priest told Fiona sincerely. “God will bless ye for it. It was surely fated that ye come to Nairns Craig.”

“Be certain ye tell the king that when ye see him,” Fiona whispered. Hearing her son howling, she started to leave the high board to go and feed him. “I will be back after I have let yer son drink his fill,” she told her bridegroom, who, she had to admit, looked very handsome in his kilt and white shirt.

He grinned, calling after her, “He will need a playmate shortly, sweeting. We must think on it.”

Fiona turned, saying, “A puppy, perhaps, Colly?” Then, laughing, she hurried to fetch the child.

“Ye are a fortunate young man, Colin MacDonald,” the priest said. “Many cases of handfast, or bride-stealing, don't end as happily as yers has. Remember the tragedy of yer wife's parents. Don't forget to thank our good Lord when ye pray this night. I shall say compline before ye seek yer beds. And tomorrow after the mass I shall be on my way. I will not return until the spring.”