Bertrice Small - Betrayed

"Brazen as ever," he said, a twinkle suddenly in his eye. Then to her surprise he rose from the chair, pulling her up from the stool. "Where, madam, is yer chamber?"

"Yer… yer… yer shameless, no, insolent, no, much too bold, my lord!" Fiona cried. But memories, long dormant, memories of lying in his arms were surfacing, and the blood rushed to her cheeks, staining them a bright pink.

"Yer chamber, lassie," he growled, taking a step even closer to her, then sweeping her up in his arms.

Fiona began to struggle in the cradle of his arms, even as he began to mount the stairs. "Put me down, ye great fool!" she said. "Do ye think I can be won over by yer manhood alone? I'm not some innocent and breathless lass." She squirmed. "Put me down!"

Angus Gordon began to laugh. He had missed her. God, how he had missed her! He reached the top of the stairs. "Which door?" he demanded of her.

"That one," she pointed, wishing she were not so weak-willed, but oh, she had missed him! She had never before allowed herself to even think of it. Not since Nairn had stolen her. Particularly when she had been his wife. But her husband was dead, and she was alive. Holy Mother, she was very much alive. Her heart was pounding as he set her on her feet, looking directly at her as he pulled off his garments. Fiona bit her lip in vexation. She had to make a decision. She could either run, or… She began removing her own clothing, and then they were both naked, standing before each other, and it was as if the years that they had been separated never existed.

Angus Gordon stepped forward. Taking her heart-shaped face between his hands, he bent his head, his lips brushing tentatively over hers. She was drowning in his dark green eyes, unable to look away, his name sounding over and over again in her head. His mouth closed over hers finally in a long, hard kiss. Fiona didn't know if her own eyes had closed or if she was just lost in his gaze. With a deep sigh she slid her arms up about his neck.

He drew her against him, his head spinning at the touch of her round, full breasts upon his chest. He had never forgotten the wonderful feel of her body against his. Her thighs pressed against him, her soft belly.

"Fiona," he murmured, his fingers swiftly undoing her plait, loosening the night cloud of her hair, which fell like a curtain about them. He caught up a fistful of it and sniffed it. "Heather," he said as the remembrances overcame him. "I can never smell it without thinking of ye, lassie." His mouth foraged over hers once again, their tongues exploring each other, renewing their acquaintance with each other.

His kisses were the headiest she had ever experienced. His lips moved over her face and her throat. His tongue teased within the shell of her. ear before his mouth moved onward. He inhaled the very scent of her. Knees weakening, Fiona fell against his arm, exposing her bosom to his eager touch. His tongue licked at her; his teeth nibbled on her; his mouth suckled upon her flesh. Each sweet new assault brought a tiny cry of pleasure from her. She wanted to do naught but rest in his arms being adored.

He laid her upon the bed, and for a moment she regained her equilibrium. "Wait!" she begged him urgently. When he acquiesced, Fiona leaned over him, her dark hair caressing his hip, and she covered him with sweet hot kisses. To his surprise she took his manhood in her mouth, teasing it with her tongue, caressing his pouch with tender fingers, suckling upon him until he thought that he would die of the pure pleasure. She seemed to understand when he had reached the limit of her delicious torture, and rolling upon her back, she drew him down so they might kiss once more.

Fiona let herself melt into his strong, fierce embrace. She spread herself open to him and, with a cry of undiluted happiness, welcomed him into her body. Wrapping her legs about him, she encouraged his appetite until they were both senseless with the hot pleasure that engulfed them. He rode her with a sense of familiarity, and yet she was a different woman. She felt the hardness of him driving into her very depth, and cried aloud when her pleasure blossomed and burgeoned, and engulfed the two of them in a soaring spiral of fiery passion.

And afterward as they lay sated, their bodies relaxed and replete with pleasure, Fiona said, "Don't think ye can win me over so easily, Angus Gordon. I'm not yer mistress any longer, nor will I ever be again. I have been a wife, and a wife is what I will once more be."

"And a countess, too, lassie," he told her. "Ye were given a hard task to complete for the king, but I, his friend, was given an earldom for what I believed was my loyalty. 'Tis ye, my darling, whom I think more deserving of such an honor than I ever was. Now, don't be difficult with me, lassie." Positioning himself upon his elbow, he looked down into her beloved face. "Come home to Brae with me, Fiona. 'Tis where we all belong, and ye know it, even if yer too stubborn to admit it."

She looked up into his face. His dear, dear face. He was the man she loved, although it would be best, she thought, if he were kept just a wee bit in doubt of that. "Oh, verra well, Angus," she said to him. "If ye insist, I suppose we must go home to Brae. But be warned, I'll not go to court even if the king were to beg me upon bended knee. 'Tis too dangerous a place, even for a brazen wench like me."

"Ye’ll have no time for the court," he told her firmly.

"And why is that?" she asked, laughing up at him.

"We have a great deal of time to make up, Fiona Hay," he said. "First the priest to marry us. And an earldom needs more than one heir and two wee heiresses. Ye and I have a great deal to do, lassie. I fear there will not be a moment for court or kings or anything else."

"No time but for our love, and for our bairns, and for Brae. 'Tis more than enough for me, my lord. Now," Fiona told him, her hand teasing him in a most sensitive spot, "if we're to service yer earldom with more bairns, my lord, had we best get started?"

"Brazen," he murmured, his lips brushing against her mouth. "Yet the most brazen woman I have ever known."

"And ye would not have me any other way," Fiona declared, kissing him hungrily. "Ye would have me no other way."

Afterword

In October 1430, Queen Joan bore twin sons. One survived and was called James, after his father. There were no other sons, although the queen bore a total of six daughters. As a king, James was respected and loved by the commoners. Sadly the jealousy, rapacity, and ambition that was the hallmark of the Scots nobility did not wane with his leadership. James I was assassinated on the night of February 20, 1437, in a plot devised by members of his own family. He was succeeded by his six-year-old son, James II.

As for Alexander MacDonald, Lord of the Isles, he was finally released from Tantallon. He served the Stewart king as Justiciar of Scotland faithfully and with diligence. Dying in 1448, he was succeeded by his eldest son, Ian, fourth and last Lord of the Isles.

Surnames were not really in use until the sixteenth century, nor were kilts, as we know them today, worn until the sixteenth century. Instead, a length of plaid was wrapped about a man. For clarity's sake, however. I have used surnames and put my men in kilts. As I pride myself on being historically accurate, I did want to be forthcoming with my readers.

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