Angel of Skye (31 page)

And dreams of Alec were all she had as she fell deeply asleep.

Wealth, worldly glory, and rich array

Are all just thorns laid in thy way,

O’ercovered with flowers...

—William Dunbar “
All Earthly Joy Returns in Pain
”

“Are you certain you are not rushing Fiona?” Alec’s father asked him.

Alec ran his fingers through his hair and smiled wryly as he leaned back heavily against the top of the open hearth of the fireplace. He certainly had rushed her. From the beginning. From the moment when their paths had first crossed. He could see now that he’d wanted her from that moment, and he admitted to himself he’d used everything he knew about women, every bit of his experience with women, to make Fiona his. And it had happened. He thought of the magical night they’d shared as lovers in the ruins of the tower. She now belonged to him and Alec held that dear.

He’d wanted that, and now he would secure it. What was left was to seal their love, their future, by marrying before anything or anyone could get in their way. And Alec would not let anyone get between them.

He’d thought it would be appropriate to break his and Fiona’s engagement news to his parents first. But then, he should have known better. Alexander Macpherson always had at least a hundred questions that he wanted answers to, and for each answer he had another ten questions more.

“Father...” Alec took a deep breath as he continued, “if it looks to the rest of the world as though I’m rushing her, then the world be damned. I love her. I almost made a great mistake once, but this is no mistake. This is the woman for me. And I know when you meet her, every question you have will be answered.”

“But have you thought out all the ramifications of such a union?”

“The hell with ramifications, Father! What good did that kind of thinking do last time? I almost married the devil’s own mistress!”

Alexander Macpherson eyed his wife’s attempt at a serene expression. Sitting across the room, she was trying to look busy tending to the needlework on her lap. But he’d been watching, and she had not completed a single stitch. She was listening to his questions, and from the blush on her beautiful face, Alexander knew that if he didn’t ease up on Alec soon, she would surely pounce on him. My God, how he loved this woman! Thirty-two years of marriage and he still felt like a schoolboy when she turned those cobalt-blue eyes of hers in his direction. And now he realized that his questioning stance was taxing her patience. Alexander knew from experience that the next time she looked up, she would be glaring at him.

“Don’t get me wrong, Alec,” the laird boomed. “I’m not questioning your judgment. But even if I were, you know how I feel about your mother’s judgment, and she thinks this Fiona Drummond Stuart is the finest young woman ever to walk on Scottish soil. ”

Alexander turned to Elizabeth once more, and this time he noted the curt nod of approval from her.

“She is, Father,” Alec agreed wholeheartedly. “But aside from that, she is the most disruptive thing that has ever happened to me, something I’m quite certain Mother would approve of. No woman has ever been able to get under my skin the way she does. She continually bewilders me. She is a rebellious, impish, high-spirited kelpie. Finally, there in Skye, I thought my life was taking on some serious purpose. But then she walked into it and suddenly I realized I was just running away from life.”

Alec noted the glimmer of a smile that was tugging at the corners of his mother’s mouth. She had always said that her son would only be truly happy with a woman of extraordinary spirit and temper. A woman who could rile him up.

“You do love her,” Elizabeth put in quietly from where she sat. She nodded with satisfaction. “Well, I probably don’t have to tell you that she’s in love with you, too. This afternoon—the time we spent together—all she cared about, every question she asked, had some connection with you. We walked through every building, and her conversation kept coming back to you. And the nice part of the whole thing was that she was not even aware she was doing it.”

Alec smiled just thinking of her. He wondered if she was still sleeping. He’d peeked into her room before coming to see his parents, and Fiona had been curled up in the massive bed, her hair fanned out like a fiery sea around her. He’d had to use all the self-control he could muster to keep himself from gathering her in his arms.

“Have you told her about Kathryn?”

Alec’s face darkened at his father’s mention of the name.

“Do you always have to bear such unpleasant thoughts, Alexander Macpherson?” Elizabeth asked her husband sharply. Truthfully, it was a question she’d wanted to ask herself. Fiona had a right to know before any formal betrothal.

“Nay, my love. It is just a simple question!”

“I planned to tell her one time during the journey, but, I didn’t get the opportunity. But I will tell her.”

“I’d say in the long run it would be a wise move,” the laird put in. “Based on what we know of your former betrothed now, one never knows how the demise of that relationship would be recounted if the Gray girl’s the one doing the telling.”

“Well, from what I can see, that young woman upstairs will not be believing any word said to her by the likes of Kathryn...be she family or no!” Elizabeth looked at her son and husband straight on. “Fiona is an intelligent woman who will not be fooled by the vixen’s double-edged words; her warped, one-sided stories; nor by her openly slanderous accusations, either.”

“Have you forgotten how conniving Kathryn Gray can be, my love?” Alexander asked. “Have you already forgotten the tears, the heart-wrenching words, the way she pretended to pour her heart out to you after the breakup?”

“Nay, I have not forgotten. But I was able to see past all that. And so will Fiona. I know she will.”

Alec moved across the room to the window behind his mother. He desperately hoped so, too. He would tell Fiona about his past, about Kathryn. But he knew that even a full accounting of what had happened would not be enough. Somehow he had to find a way to make sure Fiona would see Kathryn Gray for who she really is. For sometime soon Fiona would be encountering Kathryn, and when that happened, Alec could not be certain of what would happen. In spite of his mother’s confidence, he just didn’t know what Kathryn would say or do.

Outside, the light had taken on the golden hue of early evening, and Alec thought vaguely about how good the weather had remained. Turning, he seated himself on the wide sill, leaning his broad back against one side of the open window and putting one foot up against the far edge. His thoughts wandered back to Fiona. He had to talk to her before dinner. Alec knew his parents would not stand in his way. His mother clearly liked Fiona already. With some prodding his father would come around.

Alec was determined. He had to get her to agree to announce their engagement tonight to Lord Huntly and the others.

Lord Huntly. How surprising it was that the most powerful man in Scotland had come so far to meet and escort Fiona back to the court. Huntly had always been a friend to Alec’s father, but the purpose of his visit this time was clearly not social. Huntly certainly could have waited for Fiona to arrive at Sterling, but he hadn’t.

Well, that was reason enough why Alec wanted his and Fiona’s engagement announced. Friend or not, if Huntly had come to Benmore Castle to protect Fiona from Alec, there would be trouble. Alec had no intention of letting Huntly separate him from Fiona. He would stay at her side until their marriage. He would remain by her side forever.

He looked past his mother to where Lord Alexander sat at the small trestle table, absently sharpening the blade of the new, lightweight sword he’d received as a gift from Huntly. He was busy at his task, but Alec knew from his father’s long pauses that he was deep in thought.

Alec could not help but smile at these two people, so well suited, so obviously committed to each other. He wondered if their feeling for each other, when their relationship began, was anything like what he and Fiona felt. They had always supported Alec and his brothers in everything they’d done or attempted, but he knew his parents could never really understand Alec’s difficulty with finding one woman to whom he could truly commit himself. For life. Alec supposed that he’d always been looking for a relationship like the one he’d seen in his parents’ marriage. He’d nearly given up. And he’d nearly made a grave mistake.

Then he’d met Fiona. And he knew he’d found the mate he’d always been searching for.

Alec’s eyes wandered about the room. It was so very much like them.

The fine stonework, the ornate oak paneling, the heavy carved furniture that graced the room, all spoke of solid Scots tastes. Of his father, so solidly a northerner, so proudly a Highlander. But the other touches were there in the room as well, the feminine touches—the wreathes of woven flowers, the colorful tapestries that covered the walls. That was Alec’s mother, so staunch in her gentler, broader view of the world. They had come from different worlds and backgrounds. And they had made a home. A happy home. That’s what Alec wanted, as well. For Fiona and for himself.

“Well, I say if you’re so much in love with this lass,” Alexander Macpherson proclaimed, looking up from where he sat, “then marry her. Forget about a public betrothal and all that nonsense. Just marry her. Marry her now! Immediately!”

Elizabeth turned her gaze to her husband in sheer surprise. Alec stood and moved back to the fireplace.

“Would you care to explain that?” Elizabeth asked, voicing the question Alec was about to ask. She knew her husband, and she knew there was something he was not telling them. “What do you know, Alexander?”

“What makes you ask that, love?” he responded casually. “I agree. That’s all.”

“Father,” Alec interjected. “You’ve just spent an hour giving me hell about wanting Fiona and rushing Fiona and thinking first and on and on. Don’t take me wrong, I’ll marry her now if she’s ready—”

“While we were hunting today, Huntly and I talked about Fiona,” the laird broke in. “He gave me some information that I don’t believe you’re aware of.”

“About Fiona?” Alec asked shortly. “What does Huntly know about Fiona?”

“It’s not so much about her as it is about her future. Huntly told me that Fiona’s uncle, Lord Gray, is already making noise about appropriate matches for her.”

“Nay!” Lady Elizabeth erupted. “He’s not even seen the lass yet.”

“Nonetheless, he knows an opportunity to boost his family’s stature when he sees one, and Huntly believes the queen will grant Lord Gray leave to marry Fiona off as he sees fit, once she’s got the assurances she wants from the lass about the Crown and the succession.”

Alec stared at his father. If he let Huntly take Fiona, he could lose her. He was going to lose her.

“And don’t think Gray will marry her off to just anyone,” Alexander continued. “He’ll find a highly suitable match, perhaps even a royal one. But it will be one that will serve his own power-hungry desires quite nicely.”

The old laird looked at his wife and back at Alec.

“And you can wager every sheep on Macpherson land, Lord Gray will never agree to a marriage between Fiona and you, Alec! After all, you publicly rejected his own daughter, and he’s a man who never forgets an injury.”

Alec smashed his fist into his open palm and turned toward the open hearth. This had been his fear from the moment he’d learned her true identity. His mind raced, searching for other possibilities. He could not let this happen. He whirled on his father.

“What would happen if she were to marry before Lord Gray formally recognizes her? Before she reaches the queen at Sterling?”

“Aye, lad. That’s the spirit.” The laird nodded, glancing over at the affirming look on his wife’s face. “Huntly is the most powerful man in Scotland today, and you know he’ll stand behind you. I said before, and I say now: Marry the lass.”

Fiona looked at herself in the silvered glass that stood against the wall.

Never in her life had she worn such a fine gown. The ivory-colored dress laced with threads of gold clung to her slender frame and then flared to a long, full skirt below the curves of her hips. The tight sleeves hugged her arms while the velvet cuffs extended over her fingers. Fiona eyed the neckline. It was way too low for her liking. She took hold of the velvet-collared neckline and tried to pull the burgundy-colored trim higher over the top of her breasts. Oh, God, she thought, everyone will be able to see all this skin. She moved to the side of the bed and removed her mother’s cross from the side-table, hanging the jeweled ornament around her neck. Looking in the mirror again, she gathered her long red hair and pulled it over one shoulder, trying to hide some of her exposed skin. Fiona caught the curious look of the young maid in the mirror. She was getting all worked up over nothing. Nobody will even notice it, she told herself. But would Alec?

She had awakened to the sound of Claire, the young maid, knocking lightly before entering Fiona’s room. Fiona had been amazed, upon opening her eyes, at the bountiful array of beautiful dresses, gowns, and accessories that had somehow—in an incredibly short span of time—been so masterfully created and then delivered to her room.

Fiona looked up at Claire as the lass busily reorganized the room, hanging dresses and quickly putting everything in order. Fiona picked up a fine silk nightgown, marveled at the soft suppleness of the material and the finely stitched handiwork. Running it across her hand, she noticed the thinness of the fabric and how it molded to her outstretched fingers beneath. She wondered with a suppressed sigh if Alec would want to see her in that. She wondered if he would come to her here at Benmore—tonight—and share her bed. Suddenly feeling ashamed of herself for harboring such thoughts, Fiona began to refold the nightgown quickly and put it away.

“Did you make these clothes, Claire?” she asked softly, looking over all the finery which lay about.

“Oh, no, m’lady,” the young woman responded. “Lady Elizabeth’s seamstress and all her helpers have been making up these clothes. I’m not so talented with a needle.”