He grinned at her. "Aye, and that, too."

Nairn chose six men to accompany them, including the trusty Roderick Dhu. They would travel west and just slightly south across Scotland. The countryside they journeyed through was mountainous, forested, and lake-filled. They rode from sunrise to sunset, stopping briefly only twice. Their dainty food from Scone Palace's kitchens gone, Fiona and Nelly subsisted on what the men ate: oatcakes, whatever small game could be caught and cooked, and water. The second night of their journey they camped by a small, nameless loch.

"Why do we not stop at a religious guest house or at the home of one of yer brother's allies?" Fiona asked her captor.

"Because there are few religious houses in this area," he told her, "and besides, I don't want ye seen by anyone. Those poor frightened men-at-arms who fled, leaving ye to my tender care, didn't know who we were. Therefore it will not be known who has taken ye or where ye have been taken. I don't want yer former lover coming after us simply to kill me because his pretty mistress is now to be my wee wifie. Besides, what good would it do ye? Did ye not say he wouldn't take ye back after thinking I'd had ye?"

She felt the tears beneath her eyelids and quickly blinked them away. She had said it, and it was true. Angus would never want her again. Anger overwhelmed her once more. Throwing herself at him, she scratched his handsome face, hissing at him, "I hate ye! I hate ye! Ye have ruined my life!" To Fiona's great shock he picked her up, and tossed her, fully clothed, into the loch. She screeched curses at him in the Celtic tongue, and his men howled with laughter. Fiona was not certain if it was her colorful expletives that amused them, or the sight of her flailing about in the shallows.

Colin MacDonald put his hand to his cheek and then, taking it away, gazed at the blood on his fingers. There would be a slight scar. She was an absolute little wildcat. He was beginning to wonder if he hadn't taken on more than he could, or wanted to, handle, but it was too late now. He had her.

Fiona struggled from the water, furious. "These are the only clothes I have, ye fiery-headed oaf!" she shouted at him. "How the hell am I supposed to get them dry by morning?"

"Then ye'll ride wet," he shouted back, "and next time don't use yer claws on me, Fiona mine! I'll not be marked again by ye!"

Nelly was appalled. "Ye have to get out of these things, my lady. Ye’ll catch yer death if ye don't. Ye've another chemise, and we'll dry the rest by the fire. Ye’ll not travel damp, I promise."

Fiona's glare of fury silenced the chortling clansmen. "Since I'm soaked through," she said to Nelly, "I might as well bathe. I stink of the horses."

"Thank God ye didn't have yer cloak on," Nelly said. "The skirt will be hard enough to dry, and yer wool stockings as well. Come along then, my lady. Just down the shore we may have a wee bit of privacy." She turned to the men about the fire. "And don't any of ye skulk along after us!"

They grinned, and Roderick Dhu said blandly to his master, "They be two strong wenches with blazing tongues, my lord."

The MacDonald of Nairn grinned back at his companions. "Aye, and ye'll all treat them with respect. The raven-haired lady is to be my wife, lads, and wee Nelly, as her servant, must be esteemed, too."

The two women could feel the men's eyes upon them as they moved down the shore, but shortly a large clump of greenery obscured them. The ground beneath their feet was sandy. They stopped, and Nelly helped Fiona out of her wet clothing. She spread the garments over the bushes and emptied the water from her lady's boots. Then she laid her mistress's cloak upon the ground and seated herself upon it, watching as Fiona entered the water.

"Yer braver than I am, my lady," she said with a small giggle.

" 'Tis cold," Fiona admitted, "but I'm beginning to smell the horses less and less." She paddled about. The water in the loch was so clear that she could see her legs and feet just above the sandy bottom. “What will I dry myself with, Nelly? We have no toweling."

"We'll use yer wet chemise, my lady. I've wrung it out. 'Twill do no more than take the droplets away, but wrapped in yer cloak, ye'll soon be warm and dry again. When ye are, I have yer other chemise for ye to put on."

Fiona stepped from the water. As she did, Colin MacDonald came upon the two women. Fiona grit her teeth in annoyance, saying to Nelly, "Pay him no heed, lassie, the oversize oaf!"

"I came to see what was keeping ye," he said. "Ye haven't been swimming, have ye?" His eyes swept over her naked body. Jesu! Mary! he swore to himself. She was absolutely magnificent! He hadn't realized it until now, for his passion had been for the woman herself, but by the rood she had a wonderful body!

"I told ye I am accustomed to bathing daily," Fiona said loftily, finishing her drying and wrapping her cloak about her lush form. "Since we carry no tub for me to bathe properly, I have made my ablutions in the loch. Nelly, lass, run back and fetch my dry chemise for me, please." She looked critically at the man before her. " 'Twould not hurt if ye would wash yerself. Ye, too, reek of the horses."

"Wash? Every day?" He sounded slightly horrified.

" 'Twill not harm ye, my lord," she told him sharply.

"Yer a verra high-handed wench, I'm thinking, Fiona Hay." He stood before her, back to the water, hands upon his hips, legs spread wide in a show of authority.

Fiona met his gaze, thinking at the same time it was just too delicious an opportunity not to take. She let her cloak fall open and walked toward him. He tried valiantly to maintain eye contact with her, but the temptation to look upon her luscious breasts and white, white body was too strong. He succumbed, and in the moment his eyes left hers to fasten hungrily upon her bosom, Fiona shoved him hard backward into the waters of the loch, laughing so hard that she almost collapsed as he scrambled to his feet in the knee-deep water, sputtering with outrage. "How the hell am I supposed to get a wool kilt dry by the morrow?" he roared at her.

"Ye’ll simply have to ride wet, my lord," she mocked him, disappearing into the greenery to come face-to-face with the startled Nelly. "Quick!" she said, "Give me my chemise, lass!" She flung off her cloak, slipped on the chemise, and drew the cloak back about her shoulders.

"What have ye done to him?" Nelly asked, hearing a string of colorful oaths from the beach behind them. "He sounds as if he would kill ye if he could but get his hands about yer neck, my lady."

"I just gave the bastard a taste of his own medicine." Fiona laughed. "I pushed him in the loch, and he's verra wet, I fear. Offer to dry his kilt for him, will ye, Nelly? I don't want to kill him-at least not yet." She smiled. She might not like the task the king had set her to, but there was no reason she couldn't have a little fun while she was about it.

Reaching the comfort of the fire, she gratefully accepted a plate of oatcakes from Roderick Dhu. When he handed her a steaming cup, she looked surprised. "What is it?"

"A wee bit of wine mixed with water and heated in the fire, my lady. Ye must be chilled after yer swim," he told her, the ghost of a smile hovering about his lips.

"Ye had better fix a similar draught for yer master," Fiona said sweetly. "I fear he, too, fell in the loch." She turned away, sipping the heated drink thankfully, for it was strong, and set her blood to warming beneath her cloak.

She sat herself on a small outcropping of rock, daintily eating the oatcakes and sipping her wine, Nelly beside her. Colin MacDonald came grimly into the clearing, taking the cup of hot wine from Roderick Dhu. He was soaking wet, his hair hanging lankly about his shoulders, the droplets sluicing off his kilt. He drank the wine down in several gulps, accepted his portion of oatcakes, and ate. He was stonily silent, speaking to no one.

Finally, when he had finished eating, Nelly dared to approach him. "If ye like, my lord, I'll dry yer garments by the fire with my mistress's."

"Aye," Nairn answered her, standing up. He beckoned to the two women. "Follow me," he said shortly. "Roderick Dhu, ye have the responsibility of Nelly's virtue until we reach Nairn."

"Aye, my lord," the clansman answered, looking menacingly at his companions.

Fiona and Nelly followed Nairn back to the little beach, where he stripped his garments off, heedless of Nelly's gasps and blushes. Handing them to the serving girl, he said, "Your mistress and I will sleep here tonight, lassie. Lay yourself next to Roderick Dhu. He will protect you."

Dismissed, Nelly hurried back to the campfire.

"We'll sleep wrapped in your cloak," The MacDonald told Fiona.

Mesmerized, she stared at his big, naked body. Everything was large, arms, legs, torso. His back and shoulders were very broad. His buttocks were rounded and tight. She was unable to prevent her gaze from dropping to the fiery red bush between his thighs from where his male member hung, a thick, pendulous length of pale flesh. Even chilled from the water of the loch, it was a formidable and impressive sight.

He pulled her chemise-clad form against his nudity, nuzzling her ear. "Fiona mine," he murmured, "do you know how very much I desire you? How difficult it is for me not to possess you?" His teeth gently worried her earlobe.

She could feel the maleness of him against her; she could tell how much he strained to curb his fierce lust. She swallowed hard, saying, "It really makes no difference to me when you effect your rape of my person."

"When we finally couple," he told her evenly, "you will be my wife."

"I will be unwilling nonetheless," she hissed at him.