"Ava prepared food for us," she said, indicating a table laden with fowl and roast beef, dark bread and clotted cream, and a great silver bowl of apples she had brought from Laggan.

"These are from your own orchard," she said, touching the bowl. She indicated the chair drawn up to the table. "Will you sit and eat?"

"Must I eat by myself?" he asked, taking his place. "Will you not join me?"

"I will serve you."

He realized that they were completely alone, all the servants gone. The room was still, with a heavy expectancy in the air. He cut a piece of beef and began to eat. She poured mead into a golden goblet for him. The honey-rich fumes infiltrated his senses with subtle pleasure as he drank.

He could not concentrate on food. He could only think of the woman who stood before him in the fullness of her rich, moist femininity. He pushed his wooden plate aside. When he stood, she backed away a few steps, toward the bed. He picked up the silk-covered package he had laid on the table, and followed her.

"This is for you," he said, and tossed the package into the center of their bed.

She turned her head to look at it, a smile curving her lips. "What is it?" she asked. "Open it and find out." She knelt on the bed and reached across it to pick up the parcel. Every lushly rounded line of her body showed through her shift. He thought he would die if he could not take her at once. With a great effort he controlled himself. She had been through a difficult childbirth. He ought to be gentle with her, as if it were the first time all over again.

She unfastened the silk wrapping and brought forth a heavy gold necklace set with garnets.

"Talcoran, how beautiful." The midnight-blue eyes she raised to him were full of love. "Oh, my darling, thank you." "You deserve more than gold for what you have given me." Her arms were around his neck, her sweet mouth close to his. "Elen," he groaned, wanting her kiss, yet fearing that if he took her offered lips he would no longer have the strength to withstand the desire that now drove him. He desired her with a burning, unquenchable need that had made it impossible for him to think of any other woman. This woman, and this one alone, had insinuated herself into his heart and his mind, but nothing in Talcoran's life as a warrior had prepared him for the feelings Elen had awakened in him. Now that she was mother as well as wife and lover, he hardly knew how to treat her. He backed away from the bed.

Elen read something of his confusion in Talcoran's face.

"Will you put it on for me?" she asked, holding out the necklace. When he hesitated, she added, "The clasp is difficult. I don't know how to work it."

She had moved into the center of the bed, so that he had to kneel on the covers to reach her. She lifted the ma.s.s of her straight black hair away from her neck, revealing the fragile nape.

She felt him fumble as he draped the heavy gold links about her neck, then fumble again with the clasp. How odd for Talcoran, who was always so sure of himself. When the necklace was on, she sat unmoving, still holding her hair away from her neck, feeling his breath on her skin, waiting, her head bowed.

At last, at long last, she felt his lips on her neck, moving gently down her spine, while his hands caressed her shoulders. She moved languidly, leaning back and rubbing against him with lazy, cat-like motions.

His mouth slid to that spot at the base of her throat where the pulse beat, and the heavy, throbbing sensation began in her veins, as all of her senses came alive in one warm, intoxicating wave of pleasure.

She tugged at her shift, pulling it up. She felt his hands helping her, lifting it over her head. He tossed the flimsy linen aside, leaving her with nothing on but the gold and garnet necklace. She heard his robe slide to the floor, but she did not see it, for he was kissing her back and she felt molten fire licking up and down her spine.

She caught his hands and pulled his arms around her. When she sat back she was aware of

his erect manhood prodding at her b.u.t.tocks. She wriggled against him and heard his delighted exclamation.

There was no need to coax him further. She had finally succeeded in convincing him that she was not a fragile flower he might crush. She gave herself up to the delirious onslaught of his pa.s.sion.

He pulled her around to face him and his mouth touched hers. How long it had been since they kissed, more than a month, and then it had been nothing like this. His lips ground upon her again and again, moaning and gasping, his tongue plunging into her, urging her to meet him with equal need.

He bore her back onto the bed, his hands and his mouth searching hungrily, seeking out all the remembered special places, the warm, dark crevices, the soft mounds and curves, exploring her richly altered body as though it were a freshly discovered land he was determined to claim for himself.

Her newly rounded belly, her hips now curving in a more womanly line, her legs unchanged in their slender length, all received his most fervent attention as he covered her delicately sensitive skin with kisses, stirring in her a storm of vibrant, utterly shameless pa.s.sion that matched his own.

She caught at his head, held him to her so she could kiss and tease, her hands stroking and luring him until he begged her to stop lest it end too soon. She clutched at him to pull him closer to her, wept and moaned in frustration when he moved away, nibbled at his lips, kneaded his shoulders, locked her fingers in his hair and held his mouth against hers for long, searing, flaming, impossibly deep kisses.

She bent over him while he caressed her heavy, swinging b.r.e.a.s.t.s, stroking and pulling gently, his fingers circling the dark, sensitive nipples. She saw the milk begin to seep, coming slowly in pearly, translucent drops. He saw it, too, and fastened his hungry mouth on her and began to suck. An explosion shook her body as he tugged and suckled and swallowed, and she screamed in unbearable delight.

"Ah, Talcoran, Talcoran!" she cried, pulling him on top of her as she sank back onto the bed. "Love me, please love me now."

He plunged into her as a man dying of heat and thirst plunges into a cool lake. He was rough, almost violent, but it mattered not at all because she was with him, riding high on the crest of a pounding, growing wave, and at the same moment that she cried out in joy, he shouted with relief as their bodies exploded with the ecstatic release of months of frustrated denial. It went on and on, it would never stop, she knew they would both die of joy before this incredible, endless, surging sweetness was over.

"Elen." Above her Talcoran ground out the word, barely able to speak. "Elen, I ... love . . . you. Elen!"

The great, pounding wave had receded, leaving her limp, inert, on the beach that was their bed. She lay for a long time without moving. A deeply tanned hand caught her chin, forcing her face around until she met her husband's eyes.

"I do, you know," he whispered. "I love you, though I have never said it before. I will always love you. Always."

It was a small party, a private feast in the king's own chambers for fifteen or twenty friends. Elen wore her new gown of wine-colored silk and the gold and garnet necklace Talcoran had given her.

She smiled across the room at her husband. In the weeks since she had rejoined him at Macbeth's court, Elen and Talcoran had drawn closer to each other than they had ever been before. All of the doubts that had plagued her during the past summer were gone. At last she was certain of his love for her, and of her own for him. Their nightly lovemaking was deeper, richer, more pa.s.sionate than anything she had dreamed was possible. She thought childbearing had something to do with it. There was no question that

she was more receptive to his advances since their son had been born. "Elen, you are daydreaming again." Gruach laughed at her. "You are like a young girl, yearning over her first love.""Not young any more, but fortunate, certainly," Elen answered. "And happy.""So is Talcoran, if I am any judge of men. Would that my own husband were so happy." Gruach's lovely face darkened. "There will be trouble with England before long.""Well, my good thane." Macbeth had been strolling about the room, chatting with his friends. He paused before Conal mac Duff and took a long gulp of mead from a golden cup. "What news have you had fromthat accursed traitor, your brother-in-law?"Conal stiffened. Out of the corner of her eye, Elen saw Fionna edging nearer to her husband."I have no contact with Patric mac Keith," Conal declared."What, not even a letter inquiring after his sister's health? After two years' time? How thoughtless."

Macbeth glared at Conal and tossed down another swig of mead. The room had grownquiet. Everyone's attention was centered on the king and Conal."I am not so fortunate as you," Macbeth went on. "I have had news of him. Would you like to know what your brother-in-law is doing?"

Conal said nothing.

"He is attempting to stir up England against me!" Macbeth exploded. "He and that d.a.m.ned Siward, who

calls himself Earl of Northumbria, are trying to convince King Edward to send an army into Alba. And

young Malcolm now styles himself King of c.u.mbria, though he is but eleven years old."

"It was King Duncan who gave Malcolm that t.i.tle," Fionna said boldly. "You cannot blame that on Patric."

"Do you favor your brother and that puking infant over me, lady?"

"No, my lord, I do not," Fionna answered promptly. "My husband and I are loyal to you, as well youknow.""Do you let a woman speak for you?" Macbeth sneered at Conal."My wife knows my heart well," Conal said, putting a protective arm around Fionna's waist."See that you both show your loyalty," Macbeth muttered, and moved on to speak with the Thane of Atholl.When the party had ended, Elen and Talcoran strolled to Conal's chambers with their friends."I have some wine newly arrived from the Rhineland. Come in and try a cup," Conal said.Fionna was plainly still upset, but she seconded the invitation, and the four friends entered the mac Duff's chambers. But Elen saw Fionna wipe away a tear when she thought no one was watching.

"What is wrong with the king?" Conal asked. "Why did he speak to us that way in public? He knows full well I am loyal to him. I cannot help what Patric does."

"He was greatly angered at the news," Talcoran said. "He will think better of it, and tomorrow he'll say he's sorry."

"Aye, but in private, and those who heard him attack me publicly will never hear the apology."

"It is a difficult situation for both you and him," Talcoran said soothingly.

"It is impossible!" Fionna cried, no longer trying to hide her tears. "Do you know how hard it is to have my beloved husband on one side of this quarrel and my dear brother on the opposite side? Sometimes I feel as though I'm torn in two, and I fear for them both."

Elen went to her friend, but Fionna shook off her comforting arms.

"What are we to do, Talcoran?" Fionna asked. "What will happen if the English attack Alba with the intention of putting Malcolm on the throne?"

"That is not likely to happen soon, my love." Conal patted his wife's hand. "Edward of England has enough problems at home just now. I doubt he'll start a war in the near future, no matter how persuasive Patric and Siward are."

There was a silence, broken finally by the sound of Talcoran clearing his throat. Elen looked at him in surprise. She had not heard him do that for a long time. He looked nervous, as he sometimes used to do before they were married.

"This is more than just a quarrel," Talcoran said. He leaned forward in his seat, intense and serious, his dark face shadowed. "I, too, am torn by it. I will tell you something that perhaps I should not say. Macbeth has ordered me to report to him any sign that your loyalty to him has lessened.

"I owe Macbeth everything. He raised me from common soldier to the rank of thane. He has given me riches, land, and my dear wife. I would never betray him. But Conal, you have been my friend since the very first day I spent as Macbeth's aide. In the name of our friendship, I beg you, do nothing that will force me to report ill of you to him."

Conal clapped a hand on Talcoran's shoulder.

"I promise you, on my oath sworn to him at his invest.i.ture, that I am loyal to my king. The only thing that could possibly change that would be a betrayal of his kingly oaths by Macbeth himself-if he betrays this Alba, this land to which he was wed at Scone. Or, if he unjustly harms me or my wife and children, then vengeance must be taken. I know Macbeth, and I do not think either of these things will ever happen. Macbeth may be angry right now, but he is a fair man, a good king and, more important, he is not a fool. You have nothing to worry about, my friend."

"And you," Talcoran said to Elen later, when they were alone in their bedchamber. "Must I worry about your loyalty, too?"

"How can you even ask such a thing?"

"You loved Patric mac Keith once. You were betrothed to him."

"Are you jealous? Of a traitor?" Elen stared at her husband in amazement.

"I want to know what you feel for him."

"Has Macbeth asked you to spy on me, too? I don't know what has happened to that man. He has changed in the last year."

"The duties of kingship weigh heavily on him."

Elen threw off her robe and got into bed.

"I don't know about that," she said, "but I do know that he and the queen are not so close as they once were. Gruach is often lonely."

"You are changing the subject," Talcoran said, climbing into bed beside her. "Tell me what you feel for Patric mac Keith."

"I have forgotten him." Elen put her arms around her husband. "It is you I love. I had not thought of Patric for months until Macbeth mentioned his name tonight. But I will very quickly learn to hate him if he comes between us. I want nothing between us, Talcoran. Nothing at all."

"There is nothing between us, not even your shift." He chuckled, diverted by the knowing exploration of her nimble fingers. He groaned with pleasure. "You are a witch. I never should have taught you to do that."

Later, when he finally slept, Elen lay with her arms around the lover who was her husband and thought about Patric. She had spoken the truth when she told Talcoran she seldom remembered Patric. So much had happened to her since last she and Patric met. She could not even clearly recall his once beloved face. She wondered briefly if he were well and what he was doing at that moment, before consigning him once more to the dead past and forgetting him.

14 June 1042 to May 1043. In the early summer of 1042, Elen and Talcoran returned to Laggan. There had been some trouble with an outlaw band in the northern shires, and Talcoran was commissioned to lead the king's patrols to destroy the outlaws.

Young Fergus of Lochaber went with them at Bancho's request.

"The boy will get himself into trouble yet," Bancho told them. "He has been moping about and drinking too much ever since that lady of Gruach's was married."

"You mean Crania," Elen said.

"That's the one. Fergus imagines he is in love with her. Love!" Bancho snorted. "Did you ever hear anything so silly?"

Behind Bancho's broad back, Elen and Talcoran exchanged smiles.

"I think it was cruel of Macbeth to marry her to that old man," Elen replied. "He is seventy if he's a day, and she loathes him. And now her husband has taken her from court to live in his fortress on a mountaintop somewhere."

"You sound just like Fergus. I want him away from court before he does something that cannot be fixed. If he should meet the king some night when he is drunk, G.o.d knows what he might do or say for the sake of his precious Crania. Take him to Laggan, I beg you. With any luck you'll keep him there until Crania is a widow, and then if he is still interested in her, I'll see what I can do for them."

Elen was with child again. She expected the baby to be born in mid-November.

"How wonderful," Fionna said when Elen told her. "My baby is due in December. We are staying at

court this time, so we can help each other. You will return from Laggan in time?"

"Talcoran promises we will be back at court by late August."

But the outlaw band would not be caught, and the departure from Laggan was repeatedly postponed.

The autumn storms began early that year, bringing days of rain and sleet so heavy that the men-at-arms

could not leave the castle.

Elen was distraught. She was heavier and more awkward than she had been with her first pregnancy, and this time she had been sick nearly every day. To make matters worse, her household seemed to be in constant uproar.

There were too many men cooped up by the bad weather. Fergus tried to help Talcoran, but he was desperately unhappy without his Crania, and frequently got drunk and quarreled with the

soldiers.

Briga was trying to wean Colin in antic.i.p.ation of the new baby she would have to nurse. She was ill and irritable from her aching b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and Colin, not happy at being made to drink from a cup, cried almost constantly.

It was with a feeling of utter defeat that Elen ordered the room in which Colin had been born cleaned and aired so she could move into it.