"Ah!" The sound escaped her before she might stop it. Dear Holy Mother! She must surely have the heart of a whore to be so aroused by this man. Suddenly she wanted to weep, but she forced back her tears. Tears were a luxury she couldn't afford. Then all the anger she had been bottling up these past weeks overcame her, and she began to beat him on his chest and shoulders with her small fists.

"Nah, han, hinny lamb," he murmured, catching those little hands, kissing them, and then pinioning them behind her back with one great paw. With his other hand he began to caress her, stroking her like a pet cat, knowing he could have gone on all night simply touching her, but realizing that until he possessed her completely, she would continue to fight him. "Don't struggle against me, Fiona mine, for you know I mean to have you. You are my wife, sweeting, and I love you."

Damn him! How easily he said those words to her, and he did not have to, simply to take her. Damn him! Why couldn't Angus Gordon have said those words to her? She struggled against Colin MacDonald, swearing at him most colorfully in their native Gaelic tongue, a language that made her maledictions even more threatening.

Another man might have hit her, but The MacDonald of Nairn put a gentle hand over her mouth, admonishing her, "Do you want the entire castle to hear ye, sweeting?"

Fiona bit the hand that covered her mouth. Now it was he who swore, slapping her lightly, his blue eyes finally darkening with anger, and seeing it, she grew still at last. This big man could kill her if he chose, and then where would she be? Certainly no help to the king.

"Hush now, Fiona mine," he said softly, his anger easing. "Listen to me, sweeting, for I don't want to harm you. You see I am a big man in every aspect. I do not want to injure you. You must be still. Let me love you. You will find that I can give you great pleasure, even as you will give me pleasure."

He turned her about again, wrapping a single arm about her torso, drawing her back against his hard body. His hands pushed the mass of her hair aside so he might place kisses upon her neck. The fragrant scent of her newly washed hair excited him further. His hand wandered the length of her, caressing and fondling the soft skin. A single finger insinuated itself between her nether lips, finding with unerring aim the tiny jewel of her sex.

Fiona couldn't look away from the great mirror. She was mesmerized by the sight of this man making love to her. Unable to help herself, she let her head fall back against his shoulder. She sighed as he elicited sweet pleasure from her. She could feel his manhood raging against the flesh of her buttocks, but she could not contain the grinding of her hips into his hot loins.

"You belong to me now, sweeting," he murmured thickly in her ear.

"I belong to no man," she managed to gasp. "I will be owned by neither you nor Angus Gordon. I will not be owned by any man!"

Laughing softly, he kissed her angry mouth.

"I hate you!" she raged.

"Hush, lambkin," he said low.

He turned her once again to face him, and cupping her buttocks in his palms, he lifted her up to impale her upon his throbbing love rod. Then to her amazement he turned them both about so she might see as he pistoned her.

The sensation of him within her was overwhelming, almost too much for her to bear. He filled her so full that her body felt stretched beyond all bearing. Completely sheathed, he leaned forward to kiss her lips, to brush kisses across her face and throat, to whisper of how much he adored her. Then her body seemed to widen to accommodate him.

Colin MacDonald knew how to give a woman pleasure, and he gave her extreme delight despite her resistance to him. The subtlety of his movement reached out to Fiona, cajoling her to cease her opposition to his tender blandishments; in spite of herself her body responded to his. His big manhood delved deeper and deeper within her softness. She felt as if she were melting layer by layer. The hard thrusts of his loins grew sharper and quicker. Her eyelids felt heavy and threatened to close. She let her gaze stray to the large mirror in which they were reflected. Had it not been so intriguing, she would have swooned at this sight of their bodies locked together in amorous combat.

Fiona clung to him, her legs wrapped about his waist, her hands clutching his thick neck as he brought her to a pleasure peak. He withdrew from her, still hard, still eager, and dragged a small table before the mirror. He had her bend, her palms flat upon the oaken surface of the table. Then, grasping her hips to steady them, he slowly slid into her sheath again. She was unable to look away as he thrust back and forth within her; she felt bewitched and almost detached from her body as she watched the alluring tableau they made in the mellifluous glass. Honeyed fire was pouring through her, over her, and then she shuddered as his pulsing manhood saluted her with its love juices.

Her body was wet with perspiration. Her heart was pounding wildly. Enchanted, she watched as his manhood retired from the field of battle. Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her passionately over and over again until finally her knees gave way, and he lifted her up to lay her on their bed. He pulled the table away from the cabinet and closed the doors, hiding the mirror from their view.

" 'Tis a wicked thing, that glass," Fiona managed to say as the bed sagged with his weight. "I could not take my eyes from it."

She was half-stunned, half-shocked, not simply by the erotic tableau she had just observed, but by the fact she had actually felt pleasure, keen pleasure, with this man. He was her kidnapper. A virtual stranger, despite the fact he was now her handfasted husband. Angus had been right. She was brazen. She wanted to cry, but she didn't. She would show Colin MacDonald no weakness.

He looked at her with curious eyes. "Did ye enjoy what ye saw, sweeting? Did ye like seeing our bodies locked together in a tender bout of passion?"

"Aye," she told him, realizing that it had but added excitement to their lustful combat. “To see us was… was… intoxicating, like a rich wine. I don't think I should want to drink such wine all the time, would ye, my lord stallion?"

"Ye were quite drunk with yer lust," he teased her, bending to kiss her lips. "Ye were like a bitch in heat, sweeting, and I really felt ye were mine, for ye held back nothing."

She was shocked by his words, but she quickly realized that he was right. She had been so fascinated by the sight of them coupling, reflected in the mirror, that she had not resisted him even subtly. "I was not aware I resisted ye, my lord. How could I possibly resist ye, for ye are bigger and stronger than I am," she said, feigning innocence.

He laughed. "I have known too many women, sweeting, not to know when one withdraws into herself while I'm laboring over her."

She sat up, glaring at him. "Did ye expect me to declare undying love to a man who kidnapped me from my love? When the year is up, Colin MacDonald, don't expect me to stand before the priest with ye! I'll not do it!"

"In a year ye'll love me," he mocked her. "Ye’ll cry for love of me, Fiona mine. I swear it!" Then he began to kiss her again, and she fought him angrily as she had that first night when she thought he meant to rape her. Her fists were flying, her nails raking at his back in her fury, but Nairn only laughed at her. He pinioned her beneath him, brushing off her attempts to do him a mischief. Within moments her anger had turned, despite her best efforts, to a steamy passion again. They were well and truly mated several times before the dawn broke over Islay Island.

They remained for several days on the island. Each night the mirror reflected their unchecked desires before Nairn closed it. He had it turned toward the bed so she might watch them as they shared their lust among the tangled sheets. Fiona remained as enthralled by the big glass as she had been when she first saw it. Colin MacDonald had told his brother how much Fiona enjoyed the mirror, much to her embarrassment. She had never been a woman to discuss such things, even with an intimate.


***

She had been with him for over a month. Her appetite was growing peakish, and he noticed it immediately. "My seed has taken root in yer womb, sweeting," he said, well pleased. "Ye have not had any show of blood since I took ye. Do ye not realize yer with bairn?"

"I was not certain," she told him, "since I've never been with child."

Nelly gasped, her face white with shock, and Fiona went to her. "Mistress?" was all the girl could say.

"Leave us," Fiona ordered her husband. "I must calm poor Nelly, for she has obviously sustained a shock by this news."

When Nairn had departed and Fiona had made certain he was gone from their apartment, she led Nelly into the tiny inside chamber where the girl slept. Her voice was low as she spoke. " 'Tis not his bairn, Nelly! Do ye understand me? Had I been certain, I would have refused the king, but I was not certain. I dared not spurn a royal request only to learn I was not with bairn. What if he had revenged himself on my Black Angus? I could not take the chance. Do ye understand?"

"What if the lord Nairn finds out?" Nelly asked, her voice quavering.

"How?" Fiona said scornfully. "If the bairn is born with dark hair, he will think the lass or laddie favors me, that is all. Nairn thinks because Black Angus had two years with me and did not put a bairn in my belly that his seed is feeble. Ye must keep the secret, Nelly."

Nelly was recovering. "I know," she said. "But what of the other bairns he will get on ye, my lady?"

"Hopefully by the time I have this bairn, we will be free to escape Nairn and return to our own home. The king said a year," Fiona murmured, almost to herself. "Are ye all right now?"

"Aye," Nelly said, "but ye gave me quite a turn, my lady. Why did ye not tell me before now?"

"Because I wanted that great oaf of Nairn to come to the conclusion before I said anything," Fiona answered. "Ye see how pleased he was. Undoubtedly he has gone off to his brother to crow over his prowess."

"They're all like that, these MacDonald men. Roderick Dhu is forever telling me what a fine upstanding cock he has, and 'tis meant just for me if I would but say the word." She giggled, and her carrot-colored braids bobbed up and down with her mirth. "I've told the great gawk I'm a good lass, and will not give my cherry to any man but the man who weds me. That sends him off, I can tell ye. Oh, they like a good time with the lasses, my lady, but mention marriage and they flee. All but yer lord. He said from the first he would wed ye, and he did."

" 'Tis only handfast, Nelly. In a year it will be over," Fiona said. "If I canna have my Black Angus, I want no husband."


***

They departed Islay on a gray morning, crossing over to Jura on a choppy sea. Alexander MacDonald accompanied them, for he intended to hunt deer upon Jura. He bid his new sister-in-law a fond farewell.

"I am glad," Fiona told him, "that ye will keep the peace, my lord brother. It comforts me now that I know I am to bear my lord an heir. War, I think, is as hard on the women and bairns as it is on the men who fight the battles." She kissed his cheek.

"I have said I will but bide my time, my bonnie," the Lord of the Isles reminded her. "We will see what the spring brings."

"I have heard the king say he would call the northern clans to Inverness next year," she reminded him. "Can ye not bide yer time until then, my lord brother? If James Stewart does not challenge ye, why would ye challenge him?" Men, she thought! They were such children even in their maturity. This unspoken warring between the king and The MacDonald of the Isles reminded her of nothing so much as two lads attempting to see who could piss the farthest. It was ridiculous.

"If yer king will keep the peace until we meet in Inverness, then I will try to keep my peace; but remember, my bonnie, one of the clans could swear fealty to James Stewart before Inverness and then make war on me. If that happens, I canna stand by merely because that clan is yer king's ally. I will strike with all the power at my command."

"As well ye should," Fiona said. "Such craven behavior would merit the severest penalty, my lord brother."

"Take good care of yer bride, Nairn. She is a clever lass, and ye would not be foolish to seek her counsel in times of trouble, and on other matters." Then he bid farewell to Father Ninian, who would travel with Colin MacDonald part of the way north before turning south. "Godspeed, good Father, until we meet again," the Lord of the Isles said.