
"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 Tam 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?"
