by Brenda Joyce
Godfrey was shaking. “You are with him now? Is it true?”
Alana wet her lips and nodded. “We are lovers,” she said.
Godfrey turned red. “God! So did you ride off into the night to be with him? Is that what happened, Alana? You chose your lover over me? Over Brodie? Over your family?”
“I still care about Brodie the way that you do,” she began.
“Liar!” Godfrey shouted. “You rode off to be with him after, what? One night at Nairn?” He was furious.
Alana was not going to discuss her relationship with Iain. “You know how I feel about Brodie,” she cried.
“Do I? I thought I did! I thought I knew you! The woman I knew would never hand Brodie over to the enemy!”
Iain wasn’t her enemy, yet she did not dare say so. Nor did she dare tell him the truth—that the moment he surrendered, Brodie would be hers.
“Godfrey!” Iain shouted. “I am losing my patience, and my men will attack at dawn if ye do not surrender.”
Godfrey looked wildly at Iain, with panic and fear.
“Godfrey!” Alana said. “I am begging you! Iain will attack and he will destroy Brodie if he has to. You know that is his way. He will have Brodie, even in ashes, just as he now has Nairn. So please. Surrender to him.”
Godfrey looked at his archers and suddenly every bow was drawn again, the dozens of arrows pointing at her. Alana froze as she heard Iain’s men unsheath their swords.
“Don’t fight,” Alana cried. “You are my friend! I do not want you to die!”
A terrible silence fell. The only sound to be heard was the horses blowing, their bits jangling, their saddles creaking.
Iain broke it. “My army is in the woods. I am three hundred strong. Ye have thirty-five men.”
Godfrey gave Alana a disbelieving look. She winced. He straightened and stepped back from the crenellations. He did not look at Alana now. His voice rough, he said, “Open the gates.”
* * *
ALANA RUSHED INSIDE Brodie’s great hall behind Iain and forty or fifty of his men. It was several hours later. Iain’s army now surrounded the castle, while his men were occupying the walls.
Godfrey was sitting at the table there, his hands clasped upon it, staring in a strange, almost horrified manner at the hall’s threshold. A handful of serving maids stood behind him, each one ashen and afraid. As Alana entered, she finally saw Eleanor, who came rushing toward her from the shadows.
Alana hugged her grandmother hard. “I have been so worried about you,” Eleanor said.
Alana smiled through tears of relief. “I am fine.”
Eleanor took a good look at her. Clearly, her grandmother could see that she was pleased and well.
Iain had paused before Godfrey, who did not stand up. “Ye have done the right thing, Godfrey.” He flung his fur cloak aside, one hand on the hilt of his sword, his posture commanding and aggressive.
Godfrey made a derisive sound. “So you will not take me prisoner?” He was mocking and angry. Now he finally looked past Iain at Alana.
“When yer ransom is paid, ye will be released.” Iain also turned to look at her.
Alana’s cheeks were hot. There was no avoiding what must happen next. She slowly approached Godfrey. “Iain? I must speak with Godfrey. Alone.”
Iain’s gaze narrowed. “Ye may speak with him as much as ye like. But he is very angry now, and he will be under guard until his ransom is paid.”
“You will not let me speak with him alone?” Alana was incredulous.
Godfrey spat, “So that is the lover you have chosen?”
Alana trembled as Iain gave him a warning look. “Ye can hold yer tongue and speak pleasantly and remain here, with yer guard, or ye can be put in the dungeons with the rest of yer men.”
Alana was not going to allow Godfrey to be put in the dungeons! They had not even discussed his capture. And what of all of Brodie’s men? She was expecting them to pledge their allegiance to her—not to become prisoners of war or worse.
“Who is yer sergeant of arms?” Iain demanded.
Godfrey folded his arms. “Roger de Foret.”
Iain turned and ordered his soldiers to bring him de Foret. “I am going to inspect our defenses,” he said. “Angus, guard Godfrey. If he gives ye trouble of any kind, send him below.”
Angus was a middle-aged Highlander who was taller than Iain, his face rudely scarred, his gray beard so long that it reached his chest. He looked as if he had been at war his entire life. “Is that necessary, Iain?” Alana asked.
“He is the enemy, Alana.” He signaled a handful of the men in the room to join him, and he left.
“Are you pleased with yourself? Does betrayal suit you?” Godfrey asked.
Alana jerked. “I do not expect you to understand.”
“You have stabbed me in the back. You have stabbed your father and Buchan in the back. My God, Buchan will kill you for this.”
Alana trembled as Eleanor put her arm around her. Her grandmother did not speak, and she knew Eleanor agreed with Godfrey on his last point. But then, so did Alana.
“Why, Alana? Why? And do not tell me that you love that Highlander! No one forsakes their entire family for love!” Godfrey cried.
Alana sank down on the bench not far from him. “I do love him. I have never loved a man before.” She had forsaken her family for love, she thought, Godfrey’s word having a chilling effect. Yet Iain would one day be with another woman.
Godfrey began shaking his head. “I thought you were amenable to marriage to me. God, I am a fool!”
Alana shivered, rubbing her arms, wondering suddenly if she was the fool. “We are friends now. It is not the same.”
“Not the same as lovers?” He stood abruptly, causing her to leap up, as well. Angus drew his sword.
Godfrey raised his hands high, indicating he meant no harm. “And will you marry him, Alana? Is that it? You will marry him and become mistress here?”
Tears arose. “I will not marry him, that much has been made clear...but I am mistress here.”
Godfrey dropped his hands. “What?”
“I am sorry,” she whispered.
“What?” he roared.
Angus seized his arm.
“Bruce has given me my home,” she said. “The home that was my mother’s. It is to be my dowry.... I am mistress of Brodie now.”
“Bitch!” He screamed. “You have gone over to Bruce? Bitch!”
Angus began to drag him away. “Ye’ll sleep below tonight, my English lord.”
Godfrey struggled uselessly against the larger man. “I am not English, you savage ass! What did you do, Alana? And why? Why?” He was screaming, tears running down his face.
“Bruce will be king,” she gasped, and she realized she was crying, too. “Please, Angus, unhand him, we are only talking!”
“Iain said he is to go to the dungeons if he causes trouble,” Angus spat.
“He is not causing me harm,” Alana said. Godfrey laughed again, without mirth.
“And what will your lover think when he learns the truth about you?”
He meant to tell Iain about her sight? A weight dropped within Alana’s chest. “Godfrey!” She rushed to him. “There is no reason to say anything!”
“No reason? You have stabbed me in the back! You have stolen Brodie from me!”
“Don’t do this,” she begged. “We are friends.”
“Friends? Friends do not betray one another! Friends do not steal from one another!”
“Brodie was stolen from me!” Alana cried. “From me!”
Iain stepped back into the hall, saying, “The whole castle can hear ye screaming at one another.” He was dark. He looked back and forth between them, with suspicion.
Alana stared silently at Godfrey, begging him with her eyes to keep her secret.
His gaze filled with tears, Godfrey stared back. Then he turned to Iain. “Do you not want to know the truth about her?”
Iain glanced at Alana. She felt her gaze becoming moist, and she turned away, sinking back down onto the bench. Eleanor sat beside her and took her hand.
“What is he speaking of, Alana?” Iain asked, very quietly.
Alana made a helpless gesture. “There is something,” she began. She choked. How could she tell him? Images flashed in her mind, of times when he had looked at her with warmth, with affection, with lust or with admiration...and too many images then followed, rapidly, of other men, staring at her with horror, in fear, repulsed.
“She is a witch,” Godfrey said.
Iain started, glancing at Godfrey.
“Your lover is a witch. Everyone knows. Ask anyone.”
Iain seemed amused. He turned to Alana, who trembled, sick with desperation, her gaze glued to his. His amusement vanished. Puzzled, he said, “Alana? What does he speak of?”
She hugged herself. “He is telling you the truth.”
“What?”
“I have the sight, Iain. I am a witch.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he said, “Everyone leave us.”
* * *
AN ETERNITY SEEMED to go by then, as everyone left the hall, Angus pulling Godfrey with him, Eleanor shooting Alana a worried glance, as she, too, got up and left. When they were all gone, Alana remained seated on the bench at the table, alone. Iain stood before her, his stance braced, one hand on the hilt of one sword. The only sound to be heard in the chamber was the hiss and crackle of the fire and Alana’s heavy breathing.
“I dinna understand,” Iain finally said.
How calm he sounded. Alana bit her lip, fighting tears. She had dreaded this day since meeting him. “I can see,” she whispered.
“If ye were not so frightened, I’d think this a jest.”
She shook her head.
“What do ye mean, exactly, that ye have the sight?” His knuckles turned white.
“I have visions...of the future...sometimes.”
He made a disparaging sound, his gaze fixated upon her. “No one can see the future.”
“I can.”
Another silence fell. A log fell in the fire, popping and hissing. “Ye only think ye can see, Alana.” He was firm. “’Tis impossible.”
He did not want to believe her. She was almost relieved. She was so tempted to let him continue to think as he was doing—but they were at Brodie, and everyone knew of her visions. “My father gave me a small dowry when I was fifteen. But everyone here in Buchan knows the truth, and the real reason I am not wed is because of my power,” she said hoarsely. “No one would have me, not even with my dower lands.”
He continued to stare, his eyes wide and hard, his expression becoming aggrieved. “I dinna believe ye,” he finally said. “No one can see.”
She shrugged helplessly. “I have had visions since I was a child of five or six.”
Another terrible silence passed, in which neither moved. “What have you seen?” he finally asked.
She rubbed her cold arms. “I saw you, Iain, before we ever met, in battle at Boath Manor.”
“What?” he exclaimed.
“I saw every detail of the battle days before it happened. I saw your Highlanders battling Duncan’s soldiers, I saw the manor burning, I saw you rescue Mistress MacDuff and her children. I even saw that red-haired Highlander try to stab you in the back.”
“I dinna believe ye,” he said again, but with less certainty.
She could drop the subject, she thought, but the doubt was there, in his eyes, along with confusion and a determination to ferret out the truth. “When Eleanor and I were on our way to Nairn and we came upon the battle, I knew what was going to happen. So yes, I did shout at you in warning.”
“I heard ye,” he said, his mouth turned down. “But why did ye rush to me when I was stabbed? Why?”
“I don’t know why. I had to help you. I was terrified you were hurt, or that you would die!” She started to cry into her hands.
“Do not cry now,” he warned. He started to pace, wildly, with confusion and growing anger. Alana fought her sobs, but it was impossible. Her heart was breaking. He whirled to face her, seizing her wrists, and removing her hands from her face. “Yer tears will not move me, Alana,” he warned. “Why did ye help me? Why? Was there more to yer vision?”
“I don’t know why I helped you! It was as if I loved you already, I was that frightened for you!” she cried.
He shook her once and released her. “Ye couldn’t have loved me then. Were ye looking for me? Were ye sent to look for me?”
He was so suspicious, again! “My uncle sent for me, but no one knew of that vision except for Eleanor.”
He absorbed that. Then, “What other powers do ye have?”
She stiffened. “None.”
“I dinna believe ye! God—or the devil—gave ye but one power?” His blue eyes were wild now. “Have ye cast a spell on me?”
She gasped. “Of course not!”
“Because I have been bewitched, from the time we first met! Did ye cast a spell on Godfrey? He is smitten with ye! On Bruce? Who so easily gave ye Brodie, who so quickly allowed me to march on it?”
Alana staggered to her feet, reaching for him. He swiped her hands away. “Iain, I cannot cast spells! My only power is the sight!”
He stared at her for many moments. “Ye need to go to yer chamber, Alana,” he finally said. “I’ll send for ye when I am ready to speak with ye again.”
“Nothing has changed!”
He sent her a dark look. “Everything has changed.”
* * *
ALANA WENT INTO Eleanor’s arms as Angus shut the door upon them. She closed her eyes tightly and fought the incessant tears. She had expected Iain’s anger, but she had not expected him to think that she had used witchcraft on him.
“It will be all right, Alana,” Eleanor said.
“Will it? He is furious, and he has sent me away! He thinks I cast a spell on him, to make him want me! And have we been locked up again? Are we Iain’s prisoners?”
Eleanor stroked her hair. “You had to tell him. He was going to find out. And it is who you truly are.”
“But I didn’t tell him, because I have been a coward.” She wiped her eyes and stood, thinking of how Iain had told her she was brave. Now he knew that truth, too! “Godfrey told him—to spite me—and I do not blame him.” Her heart sank with more dismay. Poor Godfrey. Had he come to truly care about her? “I have hurt everyone.”
“You never meant to hurt anyone. You found love when you have been treated like a leper your entire life. You had Brodie returned to you, when it should have never been taken away. You have done nothing wrong, Alana.”
Alana did not believe her. She felt as if she had betrayed everyone, and for what purpose? For the sake of having Brodie returned to her? To spend a few nights in her lover’s arms?
She walked to the door and tested it. To her surprise, it was not bolted, and when she opened it, no guard stood there.
She sighed in relief. At least Iain was not keeping her prisoner...yet.
“I eavesdropped on you,” Eleanor said, patting the place beside her on the bed. Alana returned and sat down at her side, and they held hands. “He is shocked, as he should be. And he is angry. But the shock and the anger will pass.”
“He is filled with suspicion again. He is filled with doubt, when it was so hard to win his trust. And he sent me away.” She trembled, a knife stabbing through her heart.
“I heard an angry, shocked man in the hall tonight, a man trying to sort through his own c
onfusion, a man trying to comprehend you. A man who wanted to understand.”
“What are you saying, Gran?”
“Was he horrified? Frightened of you?”
She was afraid to have any hope, but she had not seen horror or fear on Iain’s face. “No.”
“You must give him some time, to realize what you truly are—a wonderful woman with a power that is at times a gift, and at other times, a curse.”
Her grandmother was the wisest person she had ever met. “Gran, do you think he might come to accept me as I am?”
“I think he is different from other men, Alana.”
Iain was different. The fourth and youngest son of a Highland lord, he was intelligent, shrewd and ambitious. He was powerful, and not just as a soldier. He was ruthless, but he could be kind. He was, truly, exceptional.
Alana shook herself free of her fanciful thoughts, her fanciful hope. “Even if he could accept me, he will marry someone else. I asked Bruce for Iain as a husband, and I was refused. Bruce has made it clear that Iain will have a great heiress for his loyalty, and Iain has been as clear that he expects as much.”
“There are worse fates than being a beloved mistress.” Eleanor smiled and touched her hair.
“I am not beloved now, Gran.”
“Are you certain?”
Did her grandmother think that Iain loved her? Alana was unable to speak, when a knock sounded on the door. “Enter,” her grandmother said.
The door was pushed open. Iain stood there on the threshold, staring at Alana, unsmiling and grim.
Her heart surged and she slowly stood up.
“Lady Fitzhugh, would you leave us?” Iain asked. But it was not a question, even if his tone was polite.
Eleanor hugged Alana once, and said to Iain, “She is precious to me—and to you, I suspect.” With that thinly veiled warning, she left.
Iain closed the door but did not step any farther into the room. “So ye have had visions since ye were a child,” he said quietly.
Her gaze riveted to his, she nodded. “Yes.”
“Visions, not dreams?”
“Visions,” she said hoarsely. Would they now calmly discuss her ability to see?