Highland Surrender (33 page)

F
IONA SAT BEFORE
Scotland’s king in a humble alehouse, surrounded by wenches and drunkards. She had never dreamed to meet him, and most certainly not under such unassuming circumstances. She wore a simple woolen dress with not a jewel or an adornment, save her emerald wedding ring. She fought the urge to smooth her hair, for little good would it do other than to display her sudden agitation.

This was the man who banished her family to the North, who ensured they were the enemy of many, and who stripped her father of his titles and his wealth. Yet this was also a man who professed to be a friend to her mother. Who allowed a marriage and a truce between her clan and the Campbells. What divergence in his nature allowed such contrary behavior?

Perspiration prickled at her skin, and Myles squeezed her hand again.

“I see I have surprised you. I’m glad.” King James chuckled into his cup. “I love a good surprise. As to details about your mother, that shall have to wait until another day. The drink has made me drowsy and I’ve need of rest.” He directed his next words to Myles, leaving Fiona feeling hollow and dismissed.
Surely he could understand her eagerness to learn more? But the king was done with her.

“Myles, I shall send my man with instructions to the groom. Take the gray whenever you wish. I’m heading toward Ballachulish in the morning, but after my visit there, I shall stop by Dempsey before heading back to Linlithgow. I shan’t make a long visit of it, for my new wife awaits me. Tell your mother not to make a grand fuss.”

Myles smiled, yet Fiona sensed some tension in his posture. Still, his voice was smooth and easy. “I will do as you command, Your Highness, but well you know my mother. You might expect some fanfare.”

The king laughed, along with Robert and Vivienne. It seemed they were all jovial once again, but Fiona could not join them. Too many questions, too many mixed emotions, churned in her gut. If he left on the morrow, when would they discuss her mother?

She looked to Myles, her eyes imploring him to press on her behalf. But he gave his head a tiny shake. There would be no more answers on this night.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Fiona demanded once she and Myles were alone in their tiny room at the inn. Her nerves were frayed as an old rope, and she could not begin to decide how she felt about any of this.

“He travels incognito of his own choosing, Fiona, and I’m not at liberty to reveal him. To do so is treason.” Myles sat down and began to unlace one boot.

“The rest of you knew his identity. It did not seem such a secret among you.”

“Robert and I have both traveled with him in such a manner. And Vivienne seems privy to much information with no obvious
means of obtaining it. I am quite certain I don’t want to know her methods.”

“He is the king, Myles,” Fiona persisted. “What if I’d said something that offended him? And why does he go about dressed one step above a peasant?” She paced to the window and then back to the door, chewing her thumbnail to a nub.

“James has an odd sense of humor, I’ll admit. But it’s far easier for him to slip about and do his business without the royal trappings. It’s a game for him and helps him understand the common folk. He’s beloved by the people, you know.” He unlaced the second boot and let it fall to the floor with a thud.

“Beloved by the people? You see only what you choose to see. Where I am from, he’s much maligned, for he thinks nothing of snatching land away from the northern clans. By his own admission, my mother was a friend, and still he sent her to a place with nothing but rocks.” She stopped her pacing to stare at him. “And what business was that about her risking her life?”

Myles’s chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh. “Fiona, he could have thrown your father into prison, or worse. The king spared his life for your mother’s sake. And now he’s given you the horse. Perhaps it’s you who only sees what she wants to see.”

He sat in the chair in his stocking feet, calm as a loch at daybreak. Of course he was calm. He’d known all along they were in the presence of the king. He’d not had a rug pulled out from under his feet, as she had.

He’d not spent his life listening to a father constantly railing against King James’s ferocity and malevolence either. Tears burned at her eyes, but she would not shed them.

“I don’t know what to make of this.”

Myles stood and crossed over to her, sliding his hands up her arms. “Accept it. He is the king. What’s done is done. And at least he had the wisdom and grace to marry you to me.” His tone
was as teasing as his touch. He squeezed her shoulders, and she fought the urge to step closer.

“’Twas my mother’s wish we marry. The king had nothing to do with it.”

Myles closed the narrow gap. “Then commend his generosity of spirit for agreeing to it.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Truly, Fiona. Think on it. James could have smote your father from history, and yet he chose to let him live. He did not even banish him from Scotland, as he did so many others. True, James is not merciful in all things, and perhaps your father had good reason to despise him, but in the end, it could have been much worse. So now the decision falls to you. Will you be your mother’s daughter, or your father’s?”

“I am both,” she whispered, letting the tears slip down her cheeks unhindered. “I cannot turn my back on everything Sinclair. I was raised to loathe this king.”

“And yet your mother sought to see him on the throne. Surely, any man she’d risk her life for deserves some respect from you.”

“But how was she at risk? What happened?”

He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I know nothing of that. But I shall ask my father when we return home. Perhaps he knows. Until then, will you withhold your Sinclair judgments?”

His words confused her, and his nearness made her body relax, even when her mind remained in turmoil. His chest pressed tight against her breasts, and he leaned down to murmur against her throat.

“Honestly, Fiona, I don’t care what you think of this king. But if you choose to harbor ill will, hide those thoughts. He’d turn on his own mother if he thought she disrespected him.”

She tilted her head, the warmth of his breath melting her defenses. He pressed a kiss below her ear, and she sighed, the
edge of her frustration softening. “You ask me to pledge loyalty to a man who’d turn on his own mother?”

Myles lifted his head and smiled down at her. “His mother is English. ’Tis reason enough.”

A soft chuckle bubbled up from her throat. She could not stay angry when he smiled at her and teased like that. His desire was a tangible thing, weaving a web around her. She had neither the will nor the inclination to fight it. “Well, perhaps I am gracious enough to admit he provided me an adequate husband.”

Myles frowned. “Adequate? Is that all you think of me?”

She gave a tiny shrug, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “At the moment. But with some effort, you might change my mind.”

His furrowed brows relaxed. “Mm. And how might I do that, Lady Fiona?” His voice became a husky whisper.

She turned her head to kiss his mouth, but he tilted away and locked his hooded gaze on hers. “No. Tell me. How might I please you?”

Her cheeks flamed hot, lust bridled by embarrassment. The list of naughty things she hoped he’d do with her, and to her, was long and sinful. Thoughts of the king evaporated like mist, replaced by bold images of her and Myles tangling in the sheets. But she could not explain such things.

Instead, she pulled him toward the bed and whispered, “Surprise me.”

CHAPTER 35

I
N THE WEEKS
since returning from Oban, Myles’s wife had blossomed. Vivi and Alyssa adored her, and even his mother had taken to using a less frosty tone in her presence. Fiona’s smiles came as fast and easy as her willingness to tumble into his bed. The thought made his head spin and his groin tighten. His wife was a vixen and an angel melded into one enticing form.

Now, nearly a month since getting her the pony, they had finally received news the king was soon to arrive at Demspey.

His mother had left no detail to chance. Every nook and cranny of the castle was free of grime, every horse brushed to a sheen, and each Campbell within the bailey walls dressed in his or her finest.

Banners waved and heralds trumpeted as James passed under the gate and rode to where Myles and his family stood. The earl stepped forward using a cane and greeted James warmly after the king dismounted.

“’Tis good to see you up and well, Cedric. You look fit and hale to me.”

“I am, Your Grace. Thank you for saying so. Welcome back to Dempsey.”

The king made his greetings to each of them, pausing in front of Myles and Fiona. He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

“We meet again, my fair Fiona. How is your horse?”

Her color rose, and she smiled. “Spirited, Your Grace. We are a fine match.”

James laughed and nodded. “I am glad to hear of it. We shall speak more later, you and I.”

He moved on, but Myles watched his wife’s face. He knew she was thinking of her mother once more.

His father had been reluctant to discuss with Fiona his involvement with Aislinn. And as to the rest, he would only say it was the king’s story to share, and so she must wait for his visit. And now it had come.

This evening, they would dine and dance, and be regaled by minstrels and musicians. His wife’s eyes sparkled in anticipation, and he felt a swell of pride that he could provide her with such a life. She was one of them now, with no trace of past hostility lingering in her nature.

Still no word had come of who’d been behind the ambush in the forest, but Myles felt confident her brothers were no part of it. Over these last few weeks, Fiona had shared with him more stories of her youth, revealing her relationship with Simon and John. The elder sounded simple and brutish, but by all accounts, her brother John was sensible. ’Twas Myles’s hope that, without their father’s malice to nudge them toward revenge, perhaps a time of peace between their clans had truly come. But the situation was tenuous at best, for there were murmurings of unrest stirring in the North.

The view before Fiona was spectacular. The great hall glimmered with banners and fine linens. Gold plates adorned the
tables, which groaned beneath the weight of so much food. Musicians played a lively tune from behind a screen while every member of Clan Campbell displayed manners befitting such an auspicious visitor.

King James sat between Cedric and Marietta, with Robert and Myles on either side of their parents. Tavish was there, and Vivi and Alyssa too. Even Darby, his unruly hair combed into place, sat dressed in a fine new doublet. He looked quite the young man, but tugged at the collar as if it were a noose.

Fiona leaned closer to her husband. “Has the king said how long he plans to stay?”

Myles turned and met her eyes. “A day or two. James moves about on a whim unless he has some purpose in mind. He said you’d speak, and so you shall. But you must wait for him to ask.”

She was impatient for an audience. She’d waited weeks now, and curiosity of how her mother had helped this king claim his throne gnawed at her. She took a bite of venison, but suddenly, it tasted sour. She swallowed anyway and washed it down with wine.

The evening went on with jugglers and troubadours and more food and talk, until at last the king indicated he was finished with his dining. With a whispered word from Lady Marietta, servants cleared the tables with practiced speed, and soon the hall was transformed for dancing.

Fiona wiped her hands across her lap, suddenly nervous. Over the last few days, she’d practiced with Vivi and Alyssa, who had found it delightfully funny she did not know how to dance. But there had been no teacher at Sinclair Hall, nor any occasion for such a frivolous pastime.

Perhaps it was the king’s presence, or just the idea of being on display for all the Campbells, that made her palms moist and her
stomach quell. Regardless of the reason, a surging wave of nausea rolled through her. She swallowed down the bile and reached for her husband’s hand.

He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “Are you unwell? You’re pale as a ghost.”

Fiona gave a tiny shake of her head and took a deep, slow breath. Her stomach settled after a moment. “No, I’m fine. I think the sauce on the venison was a bit much.”

He pressed a glass of wine into her hand. “Here, drink this. I will take you upstairs if you’ve a need to lie down.”

She was not feeling so unwell she could not take that bait. “How wicked you are, trying to seduce me away from an evening with the king.”

Myles chuckled. “I should let you enjoy a dozen such evenings with the king if that was your wish, but you were green as moss there for a moment. Are you truly fine?”

Fiona took a sip from the cup and let the warmth of the wine spread over her. “Yes, much better now. I cannot let my dancing lessons go to waste.”

Myles offered a dubious expression, and she was wounded. “Don’t you think I’ve mastered any steps? Alyssa is a fine teacher.”

“Then perhaps she should have spent some time with me.” His cheeks flushed pink, and she smiled. It was not often her husband had a cause to blush. Or admit to any inability.