Bertrice Small - Betrayed

Maggie curtsied and departed the king's presence. She knew what his page was about. He would find Fiona Hay-whose nightmare would then begin. Maggie blanched and the child stirred in her womb. She rushed to find her husband.

"I want to go home, Ben Duff," she said vehemently. "Court is no place for a woman with a belly."

Andrew Grey put a comforting arm about his wife. He knew that something was disturbing her, for she had recently gained a haunted look, and she was not sleeping well at night. Whatever it was, Maggie chose not to confide in him, which hurt him on the one hand, but on the other he knew that she would eventually entrust him with her thoughts. One had to be patient with Maggie. She was a highlander, and they were a moodier, different people than the Scots living in the south.

"When do ye want to leave, my dear?" he asked her.

"By week's end," she responded. "We can be packed by then, if I tell the servants now. Send a messenger to Ben Duff to say we're coming home to stay. I canna abide the hubbub of Perth any longer."

"Aye," Fiona said when she saw her friend in the hall later on and learned their news. " 'Tis better ye go home now, Maggie. First bairns are tricky, I'm told. They don't always come when ye think they will. Ye want to give yer man his heir in yer own home. I'll be glad to get back to Loch Brae with my Black Angus. I'll tell ye a secret. I may already be with a bairn, Maggie. Before my Black Angus left, he was more passionate than I have ever known him to be. Somehow I think I may have conceived, but of course, it may just be wishful thinking on my part. Still, we will have a lovely long winter ahead of us to make a bairn if my hopes are dashed this time." Then Fiona's face filled with concern. "Maggie, are ye all right? Ye look pale. Shall I get ye some wine? Shall I get Andrew?"

"No, no! I will be all right," Maggie managed to gasp, swallowing back the bile that had risen in her throat. She had to change the subject, and then she saw her cousin of Nairn. "Look, Fiona, my cousin is staring at ye again. He is so taken with ye. I have never seen him behave this way with a lass. Admit it. Do ye not think him handsome?"

"His features are pretty enough," Fiona said, glancing briefly at Colin MacDonald, "but he has a hard look about those blue eyes of his. Yer eyes are the same color, Maggie, and yet yer eyes are filled with warmth and compassion. I see little kindness in The MacDonald of Nairn's eyes. And look at his mouth. It is much too sensual. I would not want to be his woman. 'Twould be a hard life with a hard man."

"Yet the lasses all adore him," Maggie said. "I know that I did when we were younger. He has quite a reputation with the lassies."

"So you've told me, and I have no doubt that he wields his weapon well," Fiona said, "or he would not have gained such a reputation, but ye know there is more to a man than just the bedsport, Maggie. Ye didn't wed with Ben Duff for only that. Not at his age."

"I only remember Colly from when we were younger," Maggie said finally.

"I'm certain he was utterly fascinating to a lass with no experience," Fiona said, not wanting to insult her friend, but she didn't think she would have ever been enamored of The MacDonald of Nairn. There was a wildness about him that did not appeal to her.

Colin MacDonald watched Fiona Hay furtively. The mere sight of her set his heart racing. He had never seen a more beautiful woman, nor one who carried herself so proudly despite the shame inflicted upon her by the laird of Loch Brae. Black Angus Gordon would not have her for a wife, Colin thought, pleased. No. He had had his chance, and had she been his lawful wife, Colin never would have resorted to stealing her, but Fiona was not the laird's wife, nor even his betrothed. There was no legal or moral impediment to Colin MacDonald's kidnapping Fiona Hay and making her his wife, for his wife was what he intended that she be. He had never wanted a wife before he had seen Fiona, but now he knew she was what had been missing in his life. He would have her!

It would be difficult at first, he knew. She would hate him for taking her from the man she believed she loved. She would hate him for possessing her body. He would woo her despite it all-and he would teach Fiona Hay to love him as she had never loved Angus Gordon. No. It would not be easy, but once the children came, he was certain she would come to the realization that her life with him was the fate she was meant to have.

***

Fiona Hay looked about the bedchamber she had shared with her laird for the past few months. The fireplace had been cleaned. The bed hangings, feather bed, coverlet, and linens were gone, and all the trunks packed. It had been an exciting time, but she was relieved and happy to be going home, as was Nelly.

"We must make our good-byes now," Fiona said as they departed the apartment. "I'll not be long, for 'tis early and we have the whole day before us. The earlier the start, the sooner we're there."

She had already bid Maggie and the queen farewell the previous evening, but the king had said she was to come to him just before she left. It was to his privy chamber she now made her way. James Stewart was an early riser, a man who slept little. Bidding Nelly wait for her outside of the royal chamber, she entered.

"Good morrow, Mistress Hay," the king said, taking her hand and leading her to one of the two chairs by the fire. To her surprise he pressed a goblet of fragrant wine into her hand and seated himself opposite her. "I will come immediately to the point, Mistress Hay," he began. "Do ye love Scotland and want peace throughout the land?"

"Aye, my liege," she said fervently.

"There will be no peace in Scotland until the northern clansmen honestly offer me their fealty, forswear their damned independent thoughts, stop warring among themselves, and cease their general mayhem. Would ye agree with me, Mistress Hay?" The king's amber eyes pierced her.

"Aye, my liege, I would certainly agree with ye," Fiona said, wondering what this could possibly be about.

"I have agents in the north watching and sending me word as to the activities of the Lord of the Isles and his allies," the king said, "but I need someone to observe them from a closer range. I need ye, Mistress Hay."

"Me?" Fiona was astounded. "How on earth could I possibly help ye in the north, my liege?"

“The MacDonald of Nairn is verra taken with ye, Mistress Hay. He is, as ye know, Alexander MacDonald's bastard half-brother. Nairn is devoted to him, and the Lord of the Isles to his brother as well. If ye were with Nairn, ye would be privy to what was happening, and could share yer information with me. Yer verra fair, Mistress Hay. Were I not a happily married man meself, I should be tempted by ye."

Fiona was dumbfounded by the king's words, but she was also suddenly afraid. "I hope to wed with my Black Angus one day," she tried to explain calmly to the king. "What ye are asking me is impossible. Surely ye see that?" Her heart was hammering, for James Stewart didn't look at all as if he was sympathetic to her view.

"Do ye know why I sent the laird to England?" the king asked her.

"Why, to fetch the queen's cousin," Fiona replied. Everyone knew that.

The king nodded. "The queen is verra fond of her cousin, Elizabeth. She would like her to remain in Scotland, which means Mistress Williams must have a Scots husband." He let his words sink into Fiona's consciousness before continuing. "The lady has a small but respectable dower. A wee bit of plate, some gold coins, and a nice flock of sheep. As an orphan she must depend upon her relations to find her a good husband. She is a tender virgin of just the right age for matrimony. Do ye understand what I am saying, Mistress Hay?"

Fiona swallowed a gulp of wine to calm herself.

“Mistress Williams has put herself in the loving care of myself and the queen, and trusts us to settle this matter of a husband for her. She will accept our decision in the matter. Angus Gordon is my friend, and a good man. We would bind him closer to us."

For a long moment Fiona could not speak, she was so shocked. At last she was able to utter, although her throat felt constricted with her effort, "Are ye saying that ye will not allow me to wed with my Black Angus, my liege?" She could hear her heart in her ears now.

"Mistress Hay," James Stewart answered her, "ye are a woman who always puts the good of others ahead of yer own desires. Ye risked yer life to dower yer sisters when ye dared to steal Angus Gordon's cattle. When ye were finally caught, ye paid yer debt with the most precious possession a lass has, yer maidenhead. Ye have seen also to the welfare of yer two youngest sisters. Jean, I am told, is to marry the laird's brother, and the littlest girl-Morag, is it?-has a fine dowry and will be well matched when she is old enough.

"Yer a woman who understands the realities of life. I need a united Scotland. I canna have it unless the northern clans are loyal, and they will not be loyal until The MacDonald of the Isles is faithful to me, or I destroy him. I don't know yet what I must do to bring this chieftain to heel, but having an agent near him will give me a greater advantage than he can possibly have over me." The king paused a moment to give her time to absorb all of his words. Then he continued.

"Ye are my advantage over the Lord of the Isles, Fiona Hay. Nairn's desire for ye is heaven-sent. Help me! Were ye not one of my first adherents even before we met? I cannot prevent ye from returning to Brae, but what would yer place be there now? Only think of the lives that could be saved by my knowing in advance what tack the Lord of the Isles will take. The agents I have planted in the north canna gain information like that. They can but sift the gossip for me. Only someone like you can learn what I need to know. A man's pillow talk is oft times valuable. Will ye not sacrifice yerself for Scotland? Think of yer sisters, Mistress Hay."

Those four words were innocent enough, Fiona thought, but she heard the menace in them. She thought of Anne and Elsbeth and Margery with their proud but powerless highland husbands, more apt than not to side with the Lord of the Isles in any dispute with James Stewart. She thought of Jean's joy over her betrothal to James Gordon, and little Morag, who would one day want her share of happiness, too. This king, so capable of forfeiting Fiona's future for his country's good, was capable of anything. Why had she not seen it before? Then she thought of Angus Gordon, the only man she would ever love. He deserved better than a Hay of the Ben for a wife. Worse, she had brought him nothing but responsibilities.

Elizabeth Williams would bring a dowry worthy of Angus Gordon. And when she saw how loving and gentle he could be, she would surely fall in love with him. And Angus? In time, and with the love of Mistress Williams, he would forget the Hay of the Ben, the brazen daughter of Dugald Hay. The king said she might make the choice, but he also made it impossible for her to do anything but obey his will. She could feel her heart breaking.

"Mistress Hay?" The king wanted her obedient attention.

"It is not necessary for ye to couch yer wishes in pretty terms, my liege," Fiona said sharply. "Ye need a spy who can gain the information ye need by whoring for ye. I am not a whore, and ye know it, yet ye would still betray yer best friend to gain yer own ends, James Stewart.

"Verra well. Ye give me no real choice in the matter, but if it salves yer conscience to believe ye do, I canna prevent ye, can I? Since I am not skilled in such matters as spying and whoring, ye will have to give me careful instructions, for I eventually intend returning alive from The MacDonald's lair. And, of course, there is the matter of payment. If ye would destroy my future, ye must pay verra dearly for it, my liege." She looked directly at him.

Her eyes were like green ice. They made James Stewart exceedingly uncomfortable. But if she was hard, he was yet harder. "Yer to have an escort of a dozen of my men-at-arms," he began, and she nodded. "Somewhere along yer route, and I suspect it will be today or early tomorrow, Nairn and his men will attack yer wee train. The men-at-arms have been ordered to flee as quickly as possible, leaving ye and yer maid helpless. Nairn will, of course, carry ye off into the highlands."

"Ye are certain of this?" Fiona said softly. "Perhaps all he wants to do is have a quick coupling. Will he not be suspicious if my escort flees so quickly? And how can ye be certain Nairn will kidnap me, my liege? If ye have not arranged this, too, then yer plan may well be futile."