His knee was levering her thighs apart as he attempted to slip between her legs. "I'll sleep all the better and awake happier if ye'll love me, Fiona mine," he wheedled tenderly.

"Yer worse than Alastair when he wants a shortbread," she scolded him, but the hardness probing against the insides of her thighs was exciting. She slid her arms about his neck and drew him down. His breath was pungent with wine. "If ye fall asleep on me before 'tis finished, Colin MacDonald," she warned him ominously, "I swear I'll do to ye what we did to that bull calf born last year."

His laughter was low and smoky. "When, Fiona mine," he asked her, "when did I ever not finish what I began?" Then he thrust into her warm body, pleasuring them until both were near unconscious with a mixture of exhaustion and contentment.

When she awoke in the early hours just before dawn, he was snoring softly by her side, his red head against her round shoulder. Fiona crept from the bed, making a great effort not to awaken him. Slipping out into the living space of the tent, she saw Roderick Dhu and Nelly curled together for warmth and companionship. Gently she shook them both.

"Wake yer master," she told the clansman, "and get him down to the river to bathe. I will not have him before James Stewart smelling of stale wine and passion. Then bring me some hot water so I may make my own ablutions and yer master can scrape the fur from his face."

Roderick Dhu was on his feet, nodding at her. "Aye, my lady."

"Fetch Johanna, and I'll feed her," she instructed Nelly.

The encampment was beginning to stir. Nairn returned from the river, bleary-eyed but clean, to find his wife still nursing their daughter. For a moment he stopped to watch her, enjoying the scene. "She's got a head like mine," he noted proudly.

"So does Mary," Fiona reminded him, and handed the infant to Nelly to return to her cradle. "Put on a clean shirt," she instructed her husband. "I'll fetch ye some mulled wine and bread."

The king had called the gathering for ten in the morning. The Lord of the Isles and the other chieftains of the highland clans were invited into the king's hall along with the Countess of Ross. They came to the monarch's castle, flags flying, pipes playing. The castle was set by the edge of the river Ness, a broad blue waterway that flowed into Beauly Loch, and finally Moray Firth. Only the lord, his mother, the clan chieftains, and their women were invited into the king's hall. The clansmen were asked politely to remain outside as neither the castle nor its hall was big enough to contain them all.

Led by the Lord of the Isles, the men entered the hall. It was a good-sized room of gray stone but had no windows. At its far end was a dais with a gilded wooden canopy, beneath which the king sat upon a throne. He watched through narrowed eyes as the highlanders made their way toward him. Although he had never met the Lord of the Isles, he recognized him immediately, not simply because he preceded all the others but because he looked like a dark-haired version of The MacDonald of Nairn, who strode behind him.

Alexander MacDonald bowed before King James. "My lord," he said, "I welcome ye to the highlands. May yer stay be a pleasant one, and may ye return often here." It was a gracious speech, graciously spoken.

The king stood, looking down on all of them. "Ye are late in coming to render me yer obedience, my lords."

"We but awaited yer call to this gathering, my lord," the Lord of the Isles replied. "Ye were slow in issuing it."

"I am told there are some among ye who would have my life," the king answered. "It was necessary that I decide what course of action I would take in the face of such perfidy." Raising his hand, he signaled his guards. Alexander MacRurie and Ian MacArthur were hauled forth from the ranks of their companions and flung at the foot of the dais. "Ye two spoke on my murder. I canna trust ye. Yer deaths will provide an example to yer companions." Again the king signaled, and before anyone realized what was happening, the two unfortunates were pinioned and swiftly beheaded with well-sharpened swords that had been prepared for just this occasion. The heads hardly rolled, but blood gushed from the severed necks of the two men, spilling across the floor, sending the women assembled within the room shrieking and seeking a place where the blood would not reach.

"Seize them all!" the king's voice thundered as he pointed to the Lord of the Isles and his companions. "Throw them in the dungeon prepared for their arrival!" Stepping over the river of blood, he held out his hand to a now stony-faced Countess of Ross. "Come, madam, for ye are to be my guest for the interim."

Fiona stepped forward and cried, " 'Tis dishonorably done, James Stewart! The lord and the chieftains have come unarmed into yer hall this day to make their peace with ye. Is this how ye treat those who would pledge loyalty and friendship to ye? Shame! Shame!"

The king looked across the hall at the woman who had spoken. She was tall for a woman, and he was sure he knew her. She was certainly very fair. A chieftain's wife by the look of her. Then he recognized her. "Once, madam, ye pledged yer loyalty to me," he said meaningfully.

"I have kept my pledge, even to speaking on yer behalf, my liege, in The MacDonald's hall. If he is here today, it is partly because of me. How dare ye break the laws of hospitality to unjustly imprison these men? Ye who love justice above all things. Is this yer justice?"

"She is as brave as she is bonnie," Alexander MacDonald whispered to his brother, Colin MacDonald. "If she weren't yer wife, and if I did not have a wife myself, I would wed her this day!"

"Leave my hall, madam, and don't come back!" the king roared. "Do ye dare to instruct me? A little cattle thief and a whore?"

The Lord of the Isles gripped his brother of Nairn's arm in a tight grasp. "Don't move, Colly, or the bonnie Fiona will be a widow. He only insults her because she has pricked at his conscience."

"Better an honest whore, my liege, than a dishonorable king!" Fiona said with devastating impact, then turned and walked from the hall, the chieftains' wives following behind her.

The king opened his mouth with the full intent to order Fiona's arrest, but in the shadow of his throne his cousin, Ninian Stewart, said softly, She is a woman with three bairns, one new and at her breast. She would make a magnificent martyr, cousin. The highlands would be aflame for years to come. Let her go."

The king's mouth snapped shut audibly.

There was another within the room who, shocked, had also recognized Fiona. Hamish Stewart in a show of family loyalty had accompanied his cousin north. He had known Fiona instantly. Her skirmish with the king had been more than it seemed to the watching court. Slipping from the hall, he hurried after the retreating clanswomen, catching one by the arm, and asking her, "Who was the woman to beard the king, lady?"

" 'Twas The MacDonald of Nairn's wife, sir," the woman replied, pulling away from his grasp to dash after her companions.

Hamish Stewart was amazed. How had Fiona Hay become The MacDonald of Nairn's wife? He would have sworn she would have moved heaven and earth to return home to Brae and Black Angus. Why had she not? Hamish Stewart followed the clanswomen outside, where a roar of disapproval greeted the news that their chieftains were imprisoned on the king's orders. The highlanders moved back from the castle grounds to their encampment just up the river. Hamish Stewart followed along at a discreet distance. He had to find Fiona. He had to know what had happened.

Chapter 14

Hamish Stewart walked slowly through the highland encampment. Already the men were gathering about the fires, not certain what they should do. Hamish knew the Lord of the Isles' pavilion would be in the very center of the camp and he hoped that the tent housing The MacDonald of Nairn would be nearby. Finally, as he sighted the lord's pavilion, he stopped a young clansman, asking him, "Can ye direct me to the tent of The MacDonald of Nairn, lad?"

"What would ye be wanting with him?" the young man asked. "Have ye not heard? Nairn, the lord himself, and all the others who went into the hall to pledge their good faith to James Stewart, were arrested by that king." He spat scornfully. " 'Twas a craven act!"

"I am kin to Nairn's wife," Hamish told the clansman smoothly. "I wish to offer her my aid should she need it."

"Nairn's wife? A courageous woman," said the young man. "My mother says she spoke out verra bravely and to the king's face in the hall, but he insulted her, calling her a cattle thief and a whore. 'Tis what all those south of the Tay think of us, damn them! They are not true Scots, with their Anglicized speech and their English wives."

Hamish nodded in apparent agreement. He had spoken in the Gaelic language of the highlands to the clansman, and the plaid he wore was the ancient Stewart plaid, a mix of deep blue, black, and green with a thin red stripe that was similar to several of the northern clans' colors. "Ye know where my kinswoman is?" he gently prodded the young man.

"Oh, aye," came the reply. "That tent, next to the lord's great pavilion, is Nairn's."

Thanking him, Hamish Stewart walked over to it, lifted the flap, and entered the living space. A tall clansman came forward.

"My lord?"

"Is this the tent of The MacDonald of Nairn?"

"Who would know?" demanded the man.

"I am Hamish Stewart, a friend of his wife's."

"I have never seen ye before," Roderick Dhu said suspiciously.

"Nor have I seen ye. Tell yer mistress that I wish to see her, that I saw her in the hall this day and bring news of her sisters, Jeannie and Morag Hay."

" 'Tis all right, Roddy," Fiona said, stepping forth from behind a curtain that separated the living space from the bed space. "How are ye, Hamish? 'Tis been a long time."

"What happened?" was all he could say. The promise she had shown as a young girl had been more than fulfilled. Fiona was an absolutely beautiful woman with a calm assurance he never would have imagined she could possess. When she had spoken out so boldly in the hall this morning, he had actually felt a swell of pride.

"Sit down, Hamish," she told him. "Ye look as if ye have seen a ghostie. Roderick Dhu, fetch some wine for Lord Stewart. Then tell Nelly to keep Moire Rose amused. I would speak with my old friend privately."

The tall clansman nodded and went off to do her bidding.

Fiona put a finger to her lips. Then she said in deceptively quiet tones, "Tell me of my sisters, my lord. Are they well?"

"Jeannie has finally wed with Jamie-boy, just last year," he said, trying to keep his voice from betraying his excitement. "She is with bairn. 'Twill be born in early winter."

" 'Tis past time, for Jeannie is sixteen now," Fiona noted. "I am happy for her. I know how much she loves her Jamie-boy. Is he good to her, my lord? It would break my heart if 'twere not so."

"She has him wrapped quite securely about her little finger, Fiona Hay," Hamish Stewart said with a small chuckle.

"And my Morag? Have ye found a husband for her?"

"She and my son have taken to each other," he replied. "Like all (he Hay women, she seems to hold a fascination for the gentlemen."

"And Janet? She is well? Ah, Roderick Dhu, here ye are. Set the tray down, then leave us."

The clansman obeyed her, albeit reluctantly, but when he had slipped behind the curtain, Nelly said to him excitedly, " 'Tis Hamish Stewart! What is he doing here?"

"Ye know him?" Roderick Dhu was surprised.

"Of course," Nelly said pertly. "He comes from near the place where I was born, Roddy. How did he know we were here, I wonder."

"He said he had seen our lady in the hall today," Roderick Dhu told the girl. "Be he a good man?"

"Aye!" Nelly averred. "Perhaps he can help our lord. He is distantly related to the king. That is why I think he has come to Inverness. He would want to offer a show of support for his kinsman."

“Where is Moire Rose?'' Roderick Dhu asked.

"The old woman is asleep. This morning was too much of a shock for her. She was not a good mother, I know, but she loves our master with all her heart. She is verra frightened for him. 'Tis better she lie in her bed and rest until we know what we are to do."

Fiona popped her head through the curtain. "Lord Stewart and I are going to walk by the river," she said. Then she was gone.

"Let her be," Nelly said, putting a restraining hand on her husband-to-be's strong arm. "There is nothing amiss. Lord Stewart is like a brother to my lady. He is the first of her old friends she has seen since she came north with our lord. She will want to explain to him in private how this all came to be."