Betrayed (33 page)

“Are ye certain,” Nairn asked Father Ninian, “that ye will not stay with us, good Father?
Ye
would be more than welcome.”

“Nay, my son,” the priest replied. “I will renew myself at Glenkirk Abbey this winter, immersing myself once more in the religious life of my house. But come the first wind from the south, the sight of the snow melting on the bens, a violet beneath my foot, and I shall be on my way once more to bring what Christian comfort I can to these highlands. Perhaps when I am
older I will settle in one place, but not now, my lord, although I thank ye for the offer.”

The remainder of the day was spent in feasting and dancing. When the afternoon came, they went outside into the castle's big grassy courtyard, where the men stripped their shirts off and hurled javelins and heavy round stone balls to see who could gain the greatest distance. Kegs of ale were set up, and shortly the men's aim was less than accurate. The piper began to play, following them back into the hall as the day waned. Fiona once again danced the bridal dance with her husband, after which the men began to dance, and Roderick Dhu was suddenly prancing boldly before Nelly, holding out his hand to her.

For a long moment Nelly hesitated, but finally she accepted his invitation, and they danced together. Everyone in the hall knew what it meant. In his invitation to the dance Roderick Dhu had made plain his intentions to court Nelly formally. Until she either accepted him or rejected him, no other man would seriously seek the girl's company. The look upon Nelly's face made clear there was no happier lass in the hall that night.

“Do ye approve?” Nairn asked Fiona.

Fiona nodded. “’Tis her choice. I offered to return her to Brae, but she insisted upon staying with me, and not alone for yon laddie. She is my servant, but she is also my friend, Colly. Nelly will have her own will in this matter.”

“As ye didn't,” he said softly.

“Oh, in the end I have gotten my own way, Colin MacDonald. I would not have wed ye in the church if I didn't want to. Now, let me go, for the bairn needs his nourishment before he is put to bed.”

“We must find a wet nurse for the laddie.”

“Not yet.”

“Soon,”
he said through gritted teeth. “My son encroaches upon our time together. I find I am growing jealous.”

“In a few months we will choose a healthy lass to nurture our laddie. By then I will undoubtedly be with bairn again, my lord, if ye can but do yer duty by me.” With a mischievous wink she rushed off.

He watched her go to their son, her sudden change in attitude making him intensely curious. Turning to the priest, he said, “Since yer arrival she has turned about. What did ye say to her, Father?”

The priest looked up reluctantly, for his plate was filled with the sort of fine foods he would not see once he had reentered his abbey for the winter, contemplating how he should answer.

“From the beginning I have counseled marriage within the precincts of the holy church, my lord. Yer wife was angered at ye when we first met almost a year ago, for she was newly stolen. But in that time the bairn has come and suckled at her breast. She is content at last. She has made her peace with herself. Do not question yer good fortune. She is a fine woman and has brought calm to yer house.”

“I suppose ye are right, Father,” Nairn replied, thinking that the priestly counsel was good. Fiona's heart seemed to be turning toward him, as he had wanted all along. Yet, suddenly, in the midst of his happiness, a tiny worm of doubt began to writhe within him.

“In yer regular travels ye pass near Brae,” he said. “What news of the laird? Did he seek after Fiona?”

“Aye, he did,” Father Ninian replied, “but you covered your tracks well, my lord, and he found no trace of her.”

“So he simply gave up? I'd not have thought it of him.”

“The king gave him a wife,” the priest said, remembering what Fiona had told him—and wishing to turn Nairn's thoughts. “The laird's wife is with child.”

“Is she? Then may she have a son as fine as mine.”

Colin remained in the hall after it emptied, watching his wife go about her evening duties. The trestles had been cleared and put back against the walls. She went from candle to lamp, snuffing them out. She banked the fires in the fireplaces neatly, then called to him. Colin rose and accompanied his wife up the stairs to their bedchamber.

“I have sent Nelly to bed,” she said softly as he barred the door behind them. “We can help each other to undress, can we not?” She sat down and, holding out her foot, said, “Unboot me, my lord.”

He drew the boots off and followed with her knitted stockings. He sat down so that she might do the same for him.

“Stand up,” he said.

Fiona obeyed the command, facing him and unlacing his shirt as he unlaced her gown. Her hands smoothed across and up his chest, pushing the garment off his shoulders. He pulled the houppelande from her, letting it puddle about her ankles. Swiftly Fiona stripped her chemise off, then unbuckled the wide leather belt he wore. His kilt fell to the ground. His fingers were clumsy as they undid her fillet, then her caul, which he put aside upon a table.

“Tell me, Nairn,” she said in a low, seductive voice, “have ye ever made love to a woman slowly?” She drew the word out so that it sounded like
slooowly.

“Aye,” he told her, fascinated by this new woman she had suddenly become.

“Ye have not made love to me slowly,” she told him. “It has always been a battle between us. Ye were always quick.”

“I feared if I didn't take what I could of ye quickly” he said honestly, “I would not get anything of ye, Fiona mine.”

She slid her arms up about his neck, pressing her nakedness into his nakedness. “I told yer mam that we would all make a new beginning, Nairn.” She pulled his head down so that their lips were almost touching. “Wouldn't ye like to have a new beginning with me?” The tip of her tongue ran across his mouth as she reached around him and squeezed his buttock.

‘Jesu, yer brazen!” He groaned, feeling the heat of her thighs pushing against him. “I want ye, Fiona mine!”

“Slowly, Nairn, go slowly with me.” Her lips brushed teasingly against his lips. “I would spend the night in pure pleasure within yer strong arms. ’Tis our wedding night.”

She was driving him wild with her seductive bedevilment. He drew a long, deep breath to clear his head, to regain control of this situation. Her faint smile mocked him. “I didn't know ye could be such a witch,” he finally said with a chuckle. “Ye have been most restrained until now, sweeting. If ye loose the beast in me, ye must pay the consequences. Are ye prepared to do so, Fiona mine?”

She laughed low. It was a smoky sound. “I will tame the beast in ye, Colin MacDonald,” she told him boldly. “But can ye truly tame the beast in me is more to the point.” Arms about his neck, she vaulted herself
lightly, wrapping her slender, strong legs about his waist.

He met the challenge, his mouth fusing against hers with a fierce passion. Tongues intertwined sensuously. Her flesh against his was afire. Fiona threw her head back, and, bending, he plunged his tongue between her breasts, drawing it slowly upward between the twin hillocks, across the flat of her chest, sliding over the pulsing flesh of her straining throat to the tip of her chin. She vibrated beneath his touch, and he mocked her, “Yer already hot to be sheathed, sweeting, but we shall go slowly, as ye have requested of me.” Then, walking across the floor with her, he set her upon the edge of the bed, drawing her legs up and over his broad shoulders, spreading her to his view.

Fiona was shocked, but she did not protest. She would meet his every desire openly and honestly. Still, she was hardly prepared when his fiery head disappeared between her thighs. She felt just the very tip of his tongue touch her little sugar button and begin to flick voluptuously back and forth over it. So acutely foreign yet thrilling was the sensation, that for a moment she lost her breath. To her surprise she felt a small flame of excitement beginning to lick at her awareness. She gasped, and the feeling spread until she was engulfed, almost suffocating with the pleasure he was giving her.

“Colin! Oh, holy Mother, yer killing me!”
She tried to writhe away from him, for it was becoming too much to bear, but his big hands gripped her hips in an iron grasp, holding her firmly.

“Give yerself to me, Fiona mine.” He groaned, then his mouth and tongue were working upon her sentient flesh again.

She had never really allowed herself to trust so
completely. She had never truly given up total control of herself. But now he tempted her, dared her, enticed her to entrust herself to him completely, as she had never before trusted anyone, even Angus Gordon. For a moment her body stiffened with guilt, but then she relaxed once again. Colin MacDonald was her husband. Fiona inhaled, and when she exhaled she gave herself over totally to this passionate man. Almost instantly she was rewarded as wave after wave of delight poured over her until she was mindless with pure, unadulterated enjoyment.

Raising his head, Colin saw upon her lovely face the satisfaction that he had given her. His manhood was hard as iron and quite ready to be equally satisfied. Drawing her up upon their bed, he lay next to her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her deeply, his tongue pushing into her mouth so that she might taste herself on it. Fiona shuddered, and her eyes fluttered open. He moved to fondle her breasts. The twin orbs were firm, the nipples thrusting forth defiantly. His mouth closed over one of those nipples, drawing hard upon it, his mouth filling with her milk, which he swallowed eagerly.

“Colly!
” Her tone was half shocked.

Slowly he lifted up his head, saying, “Why should our son have one of the best parts of ye, and I be denied, Fiona mine? By morning yer breasts will be full enough again for the bairn.” He moved to her other breast.

Her fingers entwined themselves within his red-gold hair. His actions somehow made them more a part of each other than they had ever been. She caressed the nape of his neck.

Once again he raised his head, his blue eyes meeting her green ones. “I canna go slowly any longer, sweeting,”
he said in a thick voice. Then he covered her body with his, entering her with great restraint.

“Ah, my lord, I want ye deep within me, Colly. Fill me full with yer loving!”

Pushing her legs up and back, he plunged further within her than she could ever remember taking a man inside her. Finding a rhythm, he moved upon her until both of them were almost demented with their passion, and at its pinnacle both cried aloud with release.

Afterward he cradled her within the circle of his arms, stroking her dark hair, crooning aimlessly to her. “Never have I known such a lass as ye, Fiona MacDonald,” he said admiringly.

She chuckled weakly, exhausted by their bout of eros. “In the battle of love,” she told him, “I think we are more than well matched, my lord husband. I have never been loved before as ye loved me tonight.” She sighed happily and nestled against his chest.

Colin smiled in the darkness of the room. He had, he firmly believed, finally eradicated the ghost of Black Angus Gordon. “I love ye, sweeting.”

“I know.”

He waited for the words he so longed to hear from her. Would she finally say them tonight? Or did he have to wait?

Fiona debated with herself. Did she love him? She didn't know. He was certainly a magnificent lover, but he was also a romantic at heart. He needed to hear her declare herself. “I feel differently about ye than I have in the past,” she said. “I think I could love ye, Colin MacDonald. Mayhap I already do, but when I finally have the courage to speak those words, my lord, ye will have no doubt that I mean them with all my heart and with all my soul.”

“Then I will wait, sweeting, for I know ye to be an
honest woman who would not deceive me.” He kissed the top of her head.

For the briefest moment Fiona was flooded with guilt, but she overcame it. She had done nothing to harm the MacDonalds. She had told Father Ninian before she spoke her church vows that she was through spying for James Stewart. In the morning she would return to the priest the king's coin. She was the lady of Nairn now, and would have no further use for it.

James Stewart watched the rain drizzling down the window. Outside in the courtyard the day was gray and windy. It was only the beginning of December, but winter was already setting in around them. He watched the horseman who had but recently entered the courtyard dismount, handing the animal over to a stableboy. There was something familiar in the rider's stature, and then the king smiled. He shouted for his page, and when the boy came said, “A priest, one Father Ninian, has just arrived. He is but newly dismounted and coming through the north door from the courtyard. Fetch him to me, and then bring mulled wine.”

The page bowed and ran off quickly.

The king rubbed his hands together and hummed a little tune. He had known that Ninian would come soon, but with Ninian one, never could be quite certain of exactly when he would arrive. Ninian Stewart, humble priest, only son of Euphemia Ross's elder son, David, the Duke and Earl of Strathearn. He was illegitimate and was born five months after his father's death. His mother had lived only six years following the lad's birth. At her death James Stewart's father, King Robert III, had placed the boy in the abbey at Scone to protect him. He would become a priest, thus removing him from the Stewart family's internecine warfare over who would rule Scotland. Few, if any, of James Stewart's
relations would remember David Stewart's bastard. Perhaps Atholl, but he would never connect him with Father Ninian, having seen his brother's son perhaps a few times in his infancy and childhood, but not since.