Betrayed (3 page)

“This is my home, my lord,” Fiona said proudly. “It may not be as fine as yers, but I won't abandon it. Ye haven't the right to ask me. I have offered ye only my maidenhead. Though I know nothing about the business, ye can only take it once, I believe.”

Angus Gordon had to laugh. She
was
as bold as brass, though he suspected she was afraid, even if she wouldn't show it. “Don't think for a moment, lassie, that I intend letting ye off for yer offenses, for I will not, but a maidenhead, even a royal one, is scarce worth twenty head of my cattle. Ye'll come back to Loch Brae with me and live there as my mistress until I deem that ye have worked off yer debt to me,” he told her. “I'm a fair man, Fiona Hay. Yer sisters will live with ye, and yer servants, too. They will be well treated. I will care
for them as if they were my own family. You will have regular meals, for if the bairns are as thin as ye and the two brides, then good food will not be amiss.”

“We don't need yer charity!” Fiona cried.

“Charity?
Nay, lassie, ’Tis not charity. Ye'll pay me back for every penny, I promise ye.” Reaching out, he took her hand, smiling slightly at her startled look when his fingers enclosed hers. “How old are ye, Fiona Hay?”

“Fifteen,” she told him. Her hand trembled in his.

“When did yer mam die? I remember her long ago. She was to have been my father's second wife. The twins are her mirror image, but for their brown eyes.”

“She died when Morag was born. I was but eight, but I became the woman of the house then,” Fiona told him. “Our father died when I was ten.”

He was astounded. Except for her two old retainers, she had been alone up here, raising her sisters since she was ten years old. “How did ye manage to make matches for yer sisters?”

“We went to the games last summer,” she told him. “Anne met Duncan Keith there, and they were married last autumn. Margery and Elsbeth met Colin and Walter then, but they were too young until now to wed. Thirteen is a good age to marry, I think. Anne will not be here tomorrow, for her bairn is due to be born soon, and she has not been wed even a year. Duncan is verra pleased that she is such a good breeder.”

He smiled at her. “Yer mother was, too.”

“Aye, but Mam only birthed live daughters. Her three sons were born dead, or died soon after birth. ‘Twas my grandmam's curse on our father, ye see,” Fiona told him solemnly. “,Tis why ye have the glen lands that belonged to my grandfather Hay. Did ye know him?”

“Aye. Ye didn't?”

“My father would not allow us to go into the glen, or our mam either, after he took her forcibly from her parents,” Fiona explained. “He said our grandfather was a stubborn old man who would not see reason and would give away Hay lands rather than admit that he was wrong. He never forgave our grandfather and cursed him with his dying breath.”

“Ewan Hay never forgave yer father for stealing his daughter away, but he was a fair man, proud and good. He would have liked ye, lassie, although I don't think he would have approved of yer bold ways.”

“Would he approve of yer bold bargain with me, my lord?” Fiona asked him slyly. “I may be brazen, but I have done what I had to do in order to see to my sisters’ futures. They have only me to look after them and protect them.”

“Ye'll not shame me, Fiona Hay, with yer goodness,” he teased her. “Ye must see, however, that I canna allow ye to go unpunished for yer crimes against me. If I did, I should open myself up to all sorts of difficulties from our neighbors, who would think me a weakling. I must help to keep this region peaceful for the time when the king returns to Scotland. I canna do that if I am thought ineffectual or craven. No, lassie, ye'll have to pay the piper.”

“Do we have a king?” she asked, surprised. “I thought the Duke of Albany was our ruler.”

“He was regent in the king's name, for King James has been held captive in England since before ye were born,” he explained. “When the duke died two years ago, his son, Murdoch, took his place, but he is a weak fool. Negotiations are under way even now to bring the king home at last. I have spent time in England
with the king. We are kin. Both our grandmothers were Drummonds.”

Fiona managed to extract her hand from the laird's gentle but firm grasp. It was difficult to think, she found, when she could feel the heat of his skin. “Why has the king been in England instead of here in Scotland, my lord?” Her curiosity was overcoming her nervousness.

“Because he was captured by the English when he was but a wee lad. Ye see, his father, old King Robert, was not a strong king. He was past fifty when he came to the throne, neither sturdy of body nor majestic of presence, and he was given to deep black moods. He was truly unfit to govern, but he was a decent prince, and ‘twas thought it better to proceed with the coronation. After he was crowned, however, his brother, the Earl of Fife, was made Governor of the Realm by the lords. There was much corruption, with lawlessness increasing daily. The king, a good man even if he was ineffectual, finally recommenced his responsibilities with much urging from the queen, Annabella Drummond, my grandmother's own sister. For the next few years he tried to rule, but ‘twas not easy, for the high lords were used to having their own way.

“Then, two years before the queen died, she attempted a small coup. She saw the danger her brother-in-law posed. She wanted to be certain the oldest of her sons was secure in his position as heir to Scotland. The eldest of the royal sons, Prince David, was created Duke of Rothesay, and made Lieutenant of the Realm. The king's brother, however, objected so strenuously that the king felt he had to name him Duke of Albany. The queen died. Then David Stewart died mysteriously while he was with his uncle.

“The king feared for his only surviving son,
Prince James. He decided to send him to France for safety's sake. Unfortunately, the merchant ship upon which the prince traveled was captured by the English. The wee prince was sent to King Henry. The shock of learning of his son's capture killed old King Robert. His uncle, now Scotland's ruler, didn't try verra hard to regain the laddie's person, which was, perhaps, the best thing that could have happened. He surely would have killed the little king. The English, however, took good care of the lad.”

“So now the king is coming home to Scotland?”

“Aye, he is. And Scotland will be the better for it, lassie. King James is a strong man. He'll keep a tight rein on his kingdom.”

“He'll not be able to tell the clans what to do,” Fiona said wisely. “The old chieftains don't like being told what to do. My father always said that those in the south never understood those of us here in the hills. And those in the highlands, he said, were even more independent. No king can rule all of Scotland in truth, I fear, my lord.”

“King James will do his best,” Angus Gordon said, allowing himself a small smile at her rather astute assessment of the political climate in their country. It seemed that as each year passed, the peoples in the south and those in the north grew further and further apart.

Old Tarn came in, bringing a pitcher of cider. He refilled the laird's cup and poured one for his mistress, then disappeared again.

“You know the king,” she mused.

“The English didn't mind the visits, for in a sense all of us who came to be with the young king were hostages for Scotland's good behavior. We came to keep company with our liege lord and to be certain he
did not forget his own country, for the English captured him when he was verra young.” He suddenly changed the subject. “Where am I to sleep tonight?”

“Surely ye don't mean to—” Fiona stopped, pale of cheek.
“Not tonight!”

‘Jesu, no, lassie!” Looking closely at her, he said, “Yer a sly wench, Fiona Hay. If I find yer not a virgin, I'll kill ye, I promise ye. Do ye swear to me that ye never have been with a man?”

“I am a virgin, my lord, and not dishonest, I promise ye. It's just that the house is small. My sisters and I sleep in the room above the hall, while Flora and Tarn have their bed in the attic above us. Ye may sleep in the hall by the fire. There is no other place for ye but the stable. Yer men may rest there.”

“When I take ye to my bed, Fiona Hay,” he told her seriously, “it will be a pleasant experience for ye, I promise—and ye will not be afeared.” He tipped her face up, looking intently at her with his dark green eyes. “Yer a pretty lass, but I see none of yer mam in ye.”

“I look like my father, I am told,” Fiona replied. “It is not surprising, for I was conceived, my mother told me, the day of her marriage to my father. She didn't love him, ye know, nor he her. He wanted her for the glen, but he didn't get it. He loved me, or so he said, for I was his firstborn, but then when my sisters kept coming and my brothers kept dying, he became impossibly cruel. The night our Morag was born, he took one look at her and howled his outrage. My mother lay dying, yet she somehow found the strength to laugh at him. He had taken her from the only man she always told me she loved, and only for the glen, but in the end she beat him, and he knew it. I believe my mam died a happy woman, my lord.”

“My father never stopped loving her,” he said, releasing her chin from his hold.

“I might have been yer sister,” she said softly.

“But ye are not my sister, Fiona Hay. Yer a defiant little thief who will shortly be my mistress, though why I even accepted yer offer I'll never know. Ye will, I suspect, be more trouble than ye are worth. Still”—he chuckled- “ye'll not bore me, I'm thinking.”

“No, my lord, I'll not bore ye.”

He wasn't certain whether her words were a threat or a promise, and that in itself was intriguing. Standing, he stretched his long frame. “I must see to my men, Fiona Hay. May I take supper with ye?”

She nodded. “Ye may, and yer brother, too, my lord.”

Finding Jamie, he proffered the invitation, but his brother refused.

“I want to return to Brae Castle and bring back our piper for the wedding,” Jamie explained.

“Also bring back two casks of my best wine and two sheep ready for roasting, Jamie-boy. Mistress Hay will not be embarrassed by the scantness of her hospitality tomorrow. If I am to have the responsibility of the lass and her sisters, a poor reception would reflect badly on the Gordons of Loch Brae. Go now, and come right back in the morning, for the bridegrooms are due early.”

Angus Gordon joined the Hay sisters for supper. It was a simple meal of rabbit stew, bread, and cheese, but it was served upon a polished high board on pewter plates with silver spoons. Fiona, very well mannered to his surprise, had introduced him formally to the two brides-to-be, Elsbeth and Margery. Then she had presented him to her two younger sisters, Jean, who
was ten, and Morag, who was seven. Like the twins, Jean was auburn haired and amber eyed. She had a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her elegant little nose.

“Are ye
really
going to make my sister yer mistress?” she asked him bluntly.

“Aye,” he drawled, amused. Turning to Fiona, he inquired, “Are all the Hay women as brazen as ye, lassie?” To his great amazement he saw that Fiona had blushed at her sister's inquiry.

“Jeannie, mind yer tongue!” she scolded her sibling.

“Well, Margery says ye are,” Jean replied. “Didn't ye think we ought to know such a thing, Fi?”

Fiona ignored the query and introduced the youngest of the sisters. “This is our wee Morag, my lord”

Morag Hay was but a younger version of her eldest sister. Her emerald-green eyes surveyed the laird of Loch Brae. Then, following Jeannie's example, she curtsied carefully. “How do ye do, my lord,” she lisped prettily.

“I do very well indeed, lassie,” he answered her, enchanted.

Morag favored him with a brilliant smile, and when he grinned back at her she giggled. It was a wonderful sound, like water tripping over small rocks on a clear bright day.

“She does not usually take to strangers, particularly men,” Fiona observed, surprised. “She isn't used to men. By the time she could distinguish between men and women, most of my father's clansmen had run off back to their relatives in the glen.”

“I was raised with two sisters, and they have daughters, although not as old as Mistress Morag. I believe yer sisters will like Brae Castle,” he told Fiona. “It
is set upon a small island in the loch, and connected to the shore by a causeway. The lasses can learn to swim, and row their own boats.”

“Ye speak as if we have some permanent arrangement,” Fiona said to him, “and we don't, my lord.”

“For now it is permanent. Afterwards, who knows? No matter, I don't believe yer grandfather, Ewan Hay, would approve of my leaving ye here upon the ben now that I've found ye. I think if he had but known ye, the lands in the glen would have been yers, and ye an heiress.
Yer
father was not just a cruel man; he was a foolish one as well, I fear. Ye could easily be in danger now that so many are aware of yer existence. Keiths, Innes, and Forbes all know ye live here upon the ben, alone and unprotected with but two elderly servants. Any of them could attack ye and steal yer lands, poor as they may be.
Ye
and yer sisters will be safer with me. Tomorrow I will make certain that yer brothers-in-law and their clansmen know that ye are under the protection of the laird of Loch Brae.”

“I wonder, my lord, who is more dangerous? My brothers-in-law or ye?”

Angus laughed. Then, reaching out, he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “In due time, Fiona Hay, ye will learn the answer to yer question. For now I would but ask that ye trust me.” He kissed the hand in his, turning it over to press his lips upon her upturned palm, his eyes never leaving hers.

Fiona felt as if she had been struck in the belly. She couldn't breathe, and she could feel her heart leap suddenly, then pound wildly in her ears. Startled, she pulled her hand away.

He gave her a slow smile. “Don't be afraid, lassie,” he murmured so only she might hear him, and not be embarrassed. “I will not hurt ye. Harming ye is the furtherest
therest thing from my mind.” This morning, he thought to himself, suddenly bemused as to his softening in attitude, he had wanted to hang the thief who had stolen his cattle. Now all he wanted to do was cover her face with kisses. What sorcery was this wench practicing upon him? She had made a bold bargain with him that he fully intended she keep. She would pay in full for the cattle she had so daringly pilfered from his meadows. There would be no escape for Fiona Hay from Angus Gordon's bed.