Betrayed

by Bertrice Small

  She flushed beneath his hot gaze, biting her lip to hold back her cry. She didn't understand what was the matter with her. To her shame she found his hungry look exciting. Her breasts had matured in the last two years, becoming fuller and almost perfectly round in shape. The skin was milky white and very soft to the touch.

  Colin MacDonald reached out to caress the two sweet globes of flesh. His fingertips touched her tenderly, brushing across the fullness lightly, stirring up feelings she had not believed any but Angus Gordon could awaken.

  "No more," she pleaded with him. "Don't touch me, I beg ye, my lord. Why must ye shame me like this?" There were tears in her emerald-green eyes that glittered in the light of the quarter moon. She had known this morning what the king expected of her, but faced with the reality of it, she did not know if she could bear it.

  His expression serious, he bent in answer to her plea, kissing the flesh of her bosom. "Yer mad, Fiona sweeting, if ye think I can stop now," he told her. "What is between us is as unquenchable as a roaring fire. Ye canna stanch it any more than ye can stem the rising tide."

  "I will never yield my heart to ye, Colin MacDonald," Fiona said honestly to him. To her despair a large tear rolled down her face.

  "Aye, sweeting, ye will, given time," he responded, a single finger reaching out to catch her tear, lifting it from her cheek to his lips. "I will honor ye as Angus Gordon never did. He took ye for his whore and paraded ye before all of Scotland, but I will wed ye, Fiona Hay. Ye will be my wife, and I will be proud of it," he said.

  For a moment Fiona saw the vulnerability in his bright blue eyes, and her heart contracted. Did James Stewart in his righteous quest for a united Scotland have any idea of the terrible betrayal he had put into effect? He had forced her from the man she loved in order to betray a man who loved her. It was monstrous, but she had no choice in the matter else she, too, be destroyed. And there were others also to be considered. Her sisters. Nelly. And-oh, what did any of it matter any more! She would do her duty, and spend the rest of her life ashamed of her part in this secret deception that would destroy them all. And for what? Scotland? Damn Scotland! Damn James Stewart and all his kind! They knew only power and more power.

  Suddenly and to her utter amazement Colin MacDonald began to lace up her blouse again. When he had finished, he raised himself from her body and lay next to her. Fiona was completely puzzled. What was the matter? Why was he not ravishing her as she assumed he meant to do? Had he suddenly found her distasteful?

  He smiled gently at her confusion. "I will not take you until we are man and wife, sweeting. We highlanders honor our women, particularly those we intend to wed." He took her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss her fingertips. "I will sleep by your side to protect you and so that my men understand the seriousness of my commitment toward you." Then he drew his cloak about them, and pulling her closer so that she faced him, he closed his eyes.

  Fiona stared at the sandy lashes brushing against his tanned cheek. For several minutes she couldn't bring herself to move as he appeared lo slide easily into a deep sleep. Finally she shifted herself into a more comfortable position, resting her dark head against his broad chest. His heart beat rhythmically beneath her ear. Her nostrils twitched at the mixture of scents emanating from him. Horse. Sweat. Soap? Aye, 'twas soap she smelled beneath the other traces of male fragrance. A tiny smile touched her lips. So he was eager to please her, she thought. Considering his behavior, she found that interesting. She was surprised by his tenderness, for his reputation was that of a fierce, hard man, but then had not Maggie said all the lasses were mad for him? If he treated them all with such sweetness, it was no surprise. Her instinct was to reach out and caress his red-gold hair, but she restrained herself. It was such an outrageous color of hair for a man, and yet it suited him admirably.

  She lay in his arms now, drained by all that had happened this day. She had awakened at Scone, ready to return to Brae. Now this night she lay upon a grassy knoll in the arms of The MacDonald of Nairn, her hoped-for future despoiled. She had a new future. She was the king's secret weapon against the MacDonalds. She would do her duty, even if her heart was broken into a thousand pieces.

  Chapter 8

  She awoke, surprised that she had slept at all. It was still dark, although the sky was giving evidence of the new day in the fading of the stars above her and a glow along the edges of the horizon. Colin MacDonald's face came into her view. He kissed her mouth slowly, and she did not resist him. What was the point now?

  "We had best get up," he told her. "We canna tarry long here. Can I trust ye if I let ye ride yer horse today?"

  "I don't know if ye should ever trust me, Colin MacDonald," she said bluntly, “but if ye are asking me if I will run away from ye, where would I go? I canna return to Brae." She stood up, drawing close about her the cloak upon which they had lain. "Send Nelly to me with some hot water," she told him. "I will not ride this day with the scent of ye upon me."

  "Hot water, eh? Have ye always been such a fine lady, Fiona mine, or did Angus Gordon make ye such?" His look was both curious and amused.

  "Do ye not bathe regularly, then?" she demanded of him. "I do. I always have done so, my lord. A vessel of water over the fire will be enough for my ablutions this morn."

  He was dismissed, and he knew it. What a firebrand this woman was. She could obviously hold her own with him, but it amused him more than angered him. Such a strong woman would breed up strong sons for Nairn. Colin MacDonald found Nelly wide awake and looking as if she had not slept a great deal.

  "Good morning, lass," he greeted her. "Are ye all right?"

  Nelly nodded at him. "I'm not used to sleeping in the open, my lord," she told him honestly. "I was a wee bit frightened."

  "We'll not let anything harm ye," he promised her. "Now, fetch some hot water to yer mistress. Ye’ll find her around on the eastern side of the castle's ruins." He pointed to show the direction.

  The fire had not been allowed to die completely away in the night. Nelly saw a small metal pot sitting upon the coals that was already filled with water. Sticking a finger in it, she determined the water was warm enough to wash in, and picking the pot up with the edge of her skirt so as not to burn her hands, she hurried to take it to Fiona, finding her mistress easily.

  "Ye were safe in the night?" Fiona asked.

  "Aye," Nelly replied. "Just a wee bit cold and frightened, but none of the men came near me after his lordship's warning. I slept up in the cart atop our bedding with that Roderick Dhu fellow dozing right at the foot of the wagon, my lady."

  "I am grateful for yer safety. Do not even think of flirting with any of these savages, Nelly, unless ye seek to lose yer virginity. They will take the slightest thing as encouragement. Put the water down here."

  "I brought ye a scrubbing cloth," Nelly said. "I was able to retrieve it from the luggage, my lady." Handing it to her mistress, the girl then turned away to give Fiona her privacy. "I'll fetch you some food," she said, hurrying off.

  Returning in only a few minutes, she gave her mistress, who was now finished washing, a tin plate. "There was a bit of cheese, bread, and some fruit remaining from our basket. Let me take yer cup, and I'll get ye some water from the stream which is nearby."

  Grateful for Nelly's thoughtfulness, Fiona sat down and began to nibble the food her servant had brought. Moments later Nelly rejoined her. Together they ate, sharing the cup of clear water the girl had fetched for them. They did not speak. There was nothing to say, and if there had been, there was the danger of being overheard. Everything was as the women had expected it would be at this moment.

  Colin MacDonald came to them as they were finishing their meal. "Come and pick the clothing ye want to take with ye," he said. "I'm sending the cart, and most of my men, home to Nairn."

  "Where are we going?" Fiona asked him, surprised.

  "To Islay, to my brother, the Lord of the Isles," Nairn said. "He'll want to know all about this king of the Scots, and he'll wan
t to meet the lass who's finally turned my thoughts to marriage." He grinned at her.

  Fiona climbed to her feet and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I don't know if it is just yer person or yer foolish boasting that repels me the most, Colin MacDonald."

  "Did Gordon ever beat ye, sweeting?" he asked her. "Ye obviously need to have a hand taken to yer bottom."

  "If ye value that hand, my lord," Fiona warned him darkly, "don't ever raise it to me. I will cut it off the first chance I get." She smiled sweetly at him then and moved back to the encampment.

  "Would she?" he asked Nelly.

  "She'd try," Nelly replied, "and if she failed, she'd try again."

  Nairn looked thoughtful, then laughed. "I don't know her at all, do I?" he said. Motioning to the serving girl to follow him, he turned back toward their campsite, where his men were making ready their departure.

  Fiona had gotten into the luggage. She pulled out some undergarments, two pairs of knit stockings, a clean shirt, and a comb for her hair. Seating herself on a nearby rock, she began to undo her plait to comb out her raven-black hair. She then sat quietly while Nelly re-braided her tresses. The girl handed her mistress her chieftain's cap with its eagle feather, and her clan badge, wrapping a warm cloak about her afterward.

  "These few things are all I'll need," Fiona said. "My court clothing would be out of place on Islay."

  "I'll pack them," Nelly said. She went to gather her own things as well.

  The MacDonald of Nairn had overheard Fiona. Following after Nelly, he caught her arm and drew her aside. "I will not argue with yer mistress, for she is filled with anger now and verra stubborn. Pack at least one fine gown for her and some jewelry. My brother's hall is every bit as fine as the king's. I don't want her embarrassed when she sees it."

  "A houppelande would be simplest, my lord. The green velvet is her finest, but I think the violet damask will pack better in a small space," Nelly told him politely. "Are ye certain we canna keep the baggage cart? My mistress has some lovely things."

  He chuckled. "Ye love her, do ye not, lassie? Aye. I can see yer loyalty, and 'tis good. The cart will slow us, Nelly. We are closer to Nairn than we are to my brother's castle on Islay. Without the cart it will take us a week to reach there. Ye don't want to be on the road forever, do ye? Besides, we will not stay with Alexander. I have my own lands to look after, and I have been away long enough in my brother's service. The cart must go to Nairns Craig. Once we have finished our business on Islay, we'll go home. Then yer mistress can show me all her finery." He patted Nelly's cheek. "Quickly now, lassie. The sun is already rising, and we must be on our way as soon as possible. Ye understand?"

  "Are ye afraid the king's men will come after ye and rescue my mistress?" Nelly asked him slyly.

  He grinned at her. "Aye, and that, too."

  Nairn chose six men to accompany them, including the trusty Roderick Dhu. They would travel west and just slightly south across Scotland. The countryside they journeyed through was mountainous, forested, and lake-filled. They rode from sunrise to sunset, stopping briefly only twice. Their dainty food from Scone Palace's kitchens gone, Fiona and Nelly subsisted on what the men ate: oatcakes, whatever small game could be caught and cooked, and water. The second night of their journey they camped by a small, nameless loch.

  "Why do we not stop at a religious guest house or at the home of one of yer brother's allies?" Fiona asked her captor.

  "Because there are few religious houses in this area," he told her, "and besides, I don't want ye seen by anyone. Those poor frightened men-at-arms who fled, leaving ye to my tender care, didn't know who we were. Therefore it will not be known who has taken ye or where ye have been taken. I don't want yer former lover coming after us simply to kill me because his pretty mistress is now to be my wee wifie. Besides, what good would it do ye? Did ye not say he wouldn't take ye back after thinking I'd had ye?"

  She felt the tears beneath her eyelids and quickly blinked them away. She had said it, and it was true. Angus would never want her again. Anger overwhelmed her once more. Throwing herself at him, she scratched his handsome face, hissing at him, "I hate ye! I hate ye! Ye have ruined my life!" To Fiona's great shock he picked her up, and tossed her, fully clothed, into the loch. She screeched curses at him in the Celtic tongue, and his men howled with laughter. Fiona was not certain if it was her colorful expletives that amused them, or the sight of her flailing about in the shallows.

  Colin MacDonald put his hand to his cheek and then, taking it away, gazed at the blood on his fingers. There would be a slight scar. She was an absolute little wildcat. He was beginning to wonder if he hadn't taken on more than he could, or wanted to, handle, but it was too late now. He had her.

  Fiona struggled from the water, furious. "These are the only clothes I have, ye fiery-headed oaf!" she shouted at him. "How the hell am I supposed to get them dry by morning?"

  "Then ye'll ride wet," he shouted back, "and next time don't use yer claws on me, Fiona mine! I'll not be marked again by ye!"

  Nelly was appalled. "Ye have to get out of these things, my lady. Ye’ll catch yer death if ye don't. Ye've another chemise, and we'll dry the rest by the fire. Ye’ll not travel damp, I promise."

  Fiona's glare of fury silenced the chortling clansmen. "Since I'm soaked through," she said to Nelly, "I might as well bathe. I stink of the horses."

  "Thank God ye didn't have yer cloak on," Nelly said. "The skirt will be hard enough to dry, and yer wool stockings as well. Come along then, my lady. Just down the shore we may have a wee bit of privacy." She turned to the men about the fire. "And don't any of ye skulk along after us!"

  They grinned, and Roderick Dhu said blandly to his master, "They be two strong wenches with blazing tongues, my lord."

  The MacDonald of Nairn grinned back at his companions. "Aye, and ye'll all treat them with respect. The raven-haired lady is to be my wife, lads, and wee Nelly, as her servant, must be esteemed, too."

  The two women could feel the men's eyes upon them as they moved down the shore, but shortly a large clump of greenery obscured them. The ground beneath their feet was sandy. They stopped, and Nelly helped Fiona out of her wet clothing. She spread the garments over the bushes and emptied the water from her lady's boots. Then she laid her mistress's cloak upon the ground and seated herself upon it, watching as Fiona entered the water.

  "Yer braver than I am, my lady," she said with a small giggle.

  " 'Tis cold," Fiona admitted, "but I'm beginning to smell the horses less and less." She paddled about. The water in the loch was so clear that she could see her legs and feet just above the sandy bottom. “What will I dry myself with, Nelly? We have no toweling."

  "We'll use yer wet chemise, my lady. I've wrung it out. 'Twill do no more than take the droplets away, but wrapped in yer cloak, ye'll soon be warm and dry again. When ye are, I have yer other chemise for ye to put on."

  Fiona stepped from the water. As she did, Colin MacDonald came upon the two women. Fiona grit her teeth in annoyance, saying to Nelly, "Pay him no heed, lassie, the oversize oaf!"

  "I came to see what was keeping ye," he said. "Ye haven't been swimming, have ye?" His eyes swept over her naked body. Jesu! Mary! he swore to himself. She was absolutely magnificent! He hadn't realized it until now, for his passion had been for the woman herself, but by the rood she had a wonderful body!

  "I told ye I am accustomed to bathing daily," Fiona said loftily, finishing her drying and wrapping her cloak about her lush form. "Since we carry no tub for me to bathe properly, I have made my ablutions in the loch. Nelly, lass, run back and fetch my dry chemise for me, please." She looked critically at the man before her. " 'Twould not hurt if ye would wash yerself. Ye, too, reek of the horses."

  "Wash? Every day?" He sounded slightly horrified.

  " 'Twill not harm ye, my lord," she told him sharply.

  "Yer a verra high-handed wench, I'm thinking, Fiona Hay." He stood before her, back to the water, hands upon his hips, legs spread
wide in a show of authority.

  Fiona met his gaze, thinking at the same time it was just too delicious an opportunity not to take. She let her cloak fall open and walked toward him. He tried valiantly to maintain eye contact with her, but the temptation to look upon her luscious breasts and white, white body was too strong. He succumbed, and in the moment his eyes left hers to fasten hungrily upon her bosom, Fiona shoved him hard backward into the waters of the loch, laughing so hard that she almost collapsed as he scrambled to his feet in the knee-deep water, sputtering with outrage. "How the hell am I supposed to get a wool kilt dry by the morrow?" he roared at her.

  "Ye’ll simply have to ride wet, my lord," she mocked him, disappearing into the greenery to come face-to-face with the startled Nelly. "Quick!" she said, "Give me my chemise, lass!" She flung off her cloak, slipped on the chemise, and drew the cloak back about her shoulders.

  "What have ye done to him?" Nelly asked, hearing a string of colorful oaths from the beach behind them. "He sounds as if he would kill ye if he could but get his hands about yer neck, my lady."

  "I just gave the bastard a taste of his own medicine." Fiona laughed. "I pushed him in the loch, and he's verra wet, I fear. Offer to dry his kilt for him, will ye, Nelly? I don't want to kill him-at least not yet." She smiled. She might not like the task the king had set her to, but there was no reason she couldn't have a little fun while she was about it.

  Reaching the comfort of the fire, she gratefully accepted a plate of oatcakes from Roderick Dhu. When he handed her a steaming cup, she looked surprised. "What is it?"