by Brenda Joyce
“I ken ye dinna keep yer secret to be malicious, Alana.” He kissed her temple. “Ye should have told me, but yer too independent fer yer own good.”
He had forgiven her for her deception! She clasped his jaw. “I also regret not sharing my heartache with you when we lost the child. We could have mourned him together.”
“Ye were grieving. So was I. I could not think straight.” He kissed her hand and studied her for a moment.
Alana was so relieved. Somehow, they had put this tragedy behind them.
Iain then grimaced, and rolled away from her, onto his back.
Alana adjusted her clothing, glancing at his face. He stared seriously up at the ceiling now. As he slowly turned to look at her, she thought, He knows about Lady Joan and her sisters.
He sat up. “Were ye planning to tell me about yer sisters and Lady Joan?”
Alana rose to sit as her heart sank. “I promised my father I would keep them safe,” she said carefully. “It is my duty to keep them safe.”
“Aye, but ye dinna answer me, Alana.”
She shook her head. “No. I was not going to tell you.”
He grimaced and stood, hands on his hips. “Yer a difficult woman,” he said. “Yer too independent, Alana.”
She stared up at him. “How angry are you?”
“I’m not angry. Yer family fights Bruce and yer position is perilous.”
She hugged herself. She did not like the sound of that. “How perilous?”
“Bruce has heard they are here, Alana. I must take them prisoner.”
She gasped.
“I am sorry,” he said. He turned and started from the room.
For a moment, Alana stared after him, sick with dismay. She had to keep Joan and her sisters safe! But she could not fight the man she loved—and she dared not alienate Robert Bruce. If she did, she would have two enemies, Buchan and Bruce!
She leaped to her feet and ran after him.
Iain was in the hall, standing outside the chamber she had given to Joan and her daughters. Joan stood in the doorway tensely, as Iain said, “I have no choice, Lady Joan. But ye will be treated well, I can assure ye of that.”
Joan’s expression was ravaged. She glared at Alana, as if she blamed her for their capture.
Alana slowed. Iain was staring into the bedchamber. She had no doubt as to what had caught his attention—as to who had caught his attention. Oh, God. How could he look at Alice now? After they had just made love?
She walked up to him.
Alice stood with Margaret before the bed they shared, their hands clasped. She was terribly beautiful, her hair in one long dark braid, draped over her shoulder, her complexion perfect and pale, her lashes long and dark, as she stared fearfully at Iain.
Iain stared back and said, “Lady Alice, why dinna ye and yer sister return to bed. I am sorry to have interrupted yer rest.”
Alice trembled, unmoving. She did not release her sister’s hand. Margaret stared at Iain, her eyes as huge as saucers. Then she looked at Alana.
Alana winced. Margaret had guessed that they were lovers. Either that, or she had been told.
“You will truly take us prisoner?” Alice asked harshly. She glanced at Alana now, fear in her eyes, as well as accusation.
“Aye. But ye will not suffer, I vow it. We will speak more on the morrow,” Iain added. He then stepped aside so Joan could return to the room. “Good eve,” he said politely.
“Good night,” Joan managed to respond. She gave Alana another dark glance and shut the door abruptly.
Alana did not move. Iain had finally seen her sister, who was beautiful and powerful at once. He had seen the woman whom Bruce hoped to wed him to. She was shocked when Iain put his arm around her. “What are you doing?” she asked, attempting to push him away.
He gave her a puzzled look. “I dinna come all this way to sleep alone.”
Alana was confused. “She is very beautiful.”
His brows lifted. “Are ye speaking of yer sister?”
“Yes.”
His stare was quizzical. “Margaret must be all of fifteen,” he finally said. “And she is not as beautiful as ye.”
Alana closed her eyes. “I was speaking of Alice and you know it.”
“Alana.” He pulled her into his arms. “I dinna want Alice, I want ye,” he said.
Alana pushed against him, staring up into his smoldering blue eyes, shocked. “She is an heiress—the greatest heiress in the north of Scotland!”
“So?” He began to kiss her.
Alana pushed at him, stunned. Iain wanted her! She could not decide what that truly meant. Even if he desired her above her sister, he might still wish to marry Alice—or Bruce might insist he do so, and only a fool would object. Iain was no fool.
“Why do ye resist?” he murmured, taking her wrists and restraining her. Now he claimed her mouth with his.
Alana could not move, and as his lips plied hers, as his tongue sought hers, her frantic thoughts finally ceased. She moved into his arms, returning his kiss wildly.
* * *
IAIN HAD NO plans to linger. The siege at Balvenie was going well, so well they expected the castle to fall within days. Bruce had ordered him to march toward Elgin. Once Balvenie fell, they would attempt to retake Elgin another time.
Alana watched him eating ravenously the following morning. She was seated with him, as was Godfrey. Iain had not questioned her about him, and she knew he had somehow already known that Godfrey was free to come and go as he pleased. The men had greeted one another cordially, but warily, a moment ago.
Alana had thought herself as famished, until she had learned he must immediately leave, and that Balvenie would soon fall. Now she feared for her father’s life again, but differently than she had from her visions. “Will Bruce spare my father when Balvenie surrenders?” she asked.
He stopped eating abruptly, laying his knife down. “I will do my best, Alana, to see that he does.”
She stared grimly at him. Prisoners caught by Buchan and King Edward were treated as traitors—they were executed, either by hanging or beheading. Her father could suffer the same fate, but he could also be exiled to one of Buchan’s English estates. She was about to speak when she saw Alice and Margaret entering the room.
Iain glanced at them. “Good morning.”
Neither woman spoke; both nodded hesitantly at him. Alana watched Alice closely now. She sat down as far from Iain as she could, at the other end of the table, near Godfrey, with Margaret beside her. Alana saw no sign of interest from her sister. She only saw fear and distrust—and tension.
But she was not relieved. Iain desired her over her sister, but in the end, that had nothing to do with a political marriage.
She could not worry about the future now. She had far more pressing concerns.
She faced Iain again. “If Balvenie falls, will you send word immediately?”
“Of course. And I’ll send word about yer father.”
She nodded, so frightened now, for Sir Alexander—and for herself. She glanced at Alice again.
She had been staring at Alana with intense dismay. Now, she ducked her head, and clasped a mug but did not drink from it.
Alana looked at Iain, expecting him to be observing her sister—but he was studying her, instead. “Walk with me,” he said, suddenly standing. Clearly he meant to depart.
Alana stood, glancing across the hall. Joan had yet to come down, and she assumed that she had no intention of doing so, not while Iain was present. “I wish you could stay another day,” she heard herself whisper.
“I wish I could, as well,” he said. He suddenly tilted up her chin. “I will send word, and I will do my best to protect yer father.”
He meant it, she thought, her heart swelli
ng, but there was no predicting the revenge Bruce would wish to take upon any member of the Comyn family. Alana was about to walk with him from the hall when she heard racing footsteps. There was no mistaking the urgency in the sound.
Angus rushed inside, so intent that he did not close the front door. “We have just received this!” He handed Iain a sealed missive.
Iain broke the royal seal and unrolled the parchment. He read it quickly, his expression becoming troubled. Then he looked grimly at Alana.
Her heart turned over with alarm. “What is it?”
He glanced past her at her sisters. “Sir Alexander has been wounded.”
Alana froze. The image from her vision, of her father as a bloody corpse, filled her mind. She fought to see Iain instead. “Oh, God.” She realized she had seized his arm.
“He is alive, Alana, but he has been badly wounded, and he escaped Balvenie. He is at Elgin now.”
Alana began to shake.
Her sisters ran up to them. “How badly?” Alice cried. “How badly is he hurt?”
Iain hesitated, his gaze on Alana. “He is dying,” he said.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MARGARET WAS STARTING to cry, and Alice held her, her own eyes red. Alana felt the same terrible grief, or perhaps she felt even worse, for she knew that Sir Alexander would die. Her visions always came true, and now this one would, as well. She glanced at Godfrey. He was pale. But then, he knew about her vision of her father’s death, too.
Suddenly Joan rushed into the hall with Eleanor. “What is happening? Why is Margaret crying? Who has come?”
Iain turned toward her. “I am sorry, Lady Joan, but Sir Alexander has been mortally wounded.”
Joan cried out, her knees buckling, her face draining of all color. Alice left Margaret, rushing to her mother and putting her arm around her. “No,” Joan whispered. “No.”
Alana gazed at Joan and her daughters and felt a terrible pain. They loved Sir Alexander—far more than she, an abandoned child, ever could.
Godfrey came over and steadied her. Alana was grateful, but she saw that Iain was not. His eyes were wide and hard as he stared at them.
Alice suddenly turned to Iain. “We must go to him!”
Iain was forbidding as he spoke. “I am leading the march on Elgin, Lady Alice. We will besiege it and this time, it will fall. It is not safe fer ye to go there.”
“I don’t care!” she cried. Tears began. She seized his arm. “I must see my father—he cannot die!”
Alana tensed, disliking the moment they were sharing. “It is not safe,” he repeated. “And as much as I dinna wish to add to yer grief, yer prisoners here.”
Alice cried, “He is our father! But you only care that we are your prisoners!”
Iain tensed with rising anger. “It is not safe—ye will wind up in the midst of a siege, and ye could die along with Sir Alexander.”
Alice trembled with dismay, releasing him. “I will never marry you,” she hissed.
Alana almost gasped. How had Alice learned of Bruce’s interest in their union?
“I dinna realize there was to be a union betwixt us,” Iain said coldly. “I am protecting ye, Alice, and I am protecting yer sister and yer mother, too.”
“No. You are keeping us from Sir Alexander as he lays on his deathbed!”
Alana could not stand to hear any more. She left Godfrey’s side, hurrying to Iain and touching his arm. “Iain. He is my father, too. I must see him. We all must go!”
Iain turned to her. “Alana, I cannot allow it.”
Suddenly it was as if they were alone in the hall. She laid both her hands on his chest. “I am asking, no, begging. Take Joan and my sisters to our father. Delay the attack on Elgin. Take me to my father.”
Iain inhaled, his gaze locked with hers, his expression grim. “They would take ye prisoner,” he finally said. “Buchan would have ye locked away for the rest of yer life!”
“I don’t care!” she cried, for in that moment, she was desperate.
“I care,” he said. “No one goes to Elgin, except for me.”
Margaret sank onto a bench and began to weep.
* * *
OUTSIDE, THE APRIL morning was sunny and bright, but Alana felt chilled to the bone as she stood beside Iain as he prepared to mount his steed and ride to war. The front gates were open, and she could see his Highland army, two hundred strong, milling about the ridge. His banner with its red dragon flew above it.
“Ye will forgive me,” he said.
Alana could barely speak. She felt dazed. Her father was dying, Alice had heard about the marriage and Iain had denied them a visit to Sir Alexander. She found her voice. “I will probably forgive you, one day,” she said hoarsely.
He seized her arm and pulled her close, kissing her roughly on the mouth. “I am going to war. I will think of ye every day, Alana.”
“And I will think of you, every single day.” His refusal to allow her to see her dying father did not affect her love. Nothing could affect her love for Iain, she thought. “And I will pray that God keeps you safe.” She felt almost no emotion now—she felt nothing but the need to see her dying father one final time, even if it meant risking capture by her uncle.
She had to see Sir Alexander before he died. There was no choice. He was her father, and she loved him, in spite of everything.
“I am keeping ye safe, Alana,” he said.
She could not smile at him. She knew what she must do. Part of her was afraid—of course she was. She had no wish to be captured by her uncle. Still cold, she hugged her light wool mantle closer to her chest.
He leaped astride his horse and galloped from the keep.
Alana did not wait to see him ride all the way through the entry tower; she whirled and ran into the hall, refusing to think, filled with determination. Joan sat at the table, weeping. Margaret held her hand tightly, red-eyed. Eleanor sat on her other side, offering comfort. Alice was standing with Godfrey, and they both whirled.
Alana halted. “We will ride to Elgin in an hour,” she said. “Godfrey, you will guide us.”
He paled.
* * *
NO ONE SPOKE during the hard ride to Elgin. They kept to the main road, but were prepared to veer from it and into the woods at the first sign of any other travelers—or of any soldiers. At noon, Alana insisted that they pause briefly to rest, for it was clear to her that her sisters and Lady Joan were not up to the task of such a rapid and hard ride. And in the midafternoon, they heard thunder in the near distance.
Godfrey halted everyone abruptly. Thunder boomed again. Alana flinched, in that moment realizing that it wasn’t thunder that they were hearing—it was the battering ram.
Iain had begun his siege.
The other women realized it, too, as they looked at one another with fright. “How will we get in during a siege?” Joan asked hoarsely. Her eyes were red from weeping. She had not been able to stop crying since they had left Brodie.
Now they could hear the frightened whinnies of horses, the shouts of men. They had not expected Iain to attack so swiftly. Alana rode up to Godfrey. “She is right. How will we get in?”
Godfrey gave her a look. “He will probably grant you anything.”
“I already begged him to allow us to go to Sir Alexander!”
“I doubt you begged enough.”
Alana began shaking her head. “We should tie the horses up in the woods and go on foot. Tonight, when the fighting stops, we can try to gain entry through a side door. You will be allowed in, Godfrey, surely, as will Lady Joan and the girls.”
They dismounted and led their horses into the forest. As they walked along a deer path, the sounds of the battle growing louder, Godfrey said, “What if Buchan is there?”
Alana prayed that was not
the case. “I have to see my father.” She did not know what she would do if she learned Buchan was within Elgin.
Alice suddenly seized her arm from behind, causing her to whirl. “Why? You do not even know him! You cannot love him! You betrayed us and pledged to Bruce!” Tears streamed down her face for the first time since she had learned of Sir Alexander’s wounds.
Alana cringed. “I do care. That is why I have risked Iain’s wrath to bring us here!”
Alice released her horse and started running through the forest toward Elgin and the siege.
Alana was about to set chase, but Godfrey restrained her. “You cannot possibly reason with her now. And she will not go far.”
He was right. She glanced at Joan and Margaret. To her surprise, Joan’s eyes were not filled with hostility or hatred. They only mirrored grief, enough so, that suddenly Alana had the urge to comfort the other woman. But she did not dare do so.
They paused when they reached the edge of the woods, where Alice sat huddled beneath a pine tree. The hill beyond was bare; Elgin sat upon the adjacent ridge.
Iain’s army was lined up there. Archers were firing upon Duncan’s men on the ramparts, as they fired back. Other Highland warriors loaded and shot missiles from three catapults. A dozen men were working the battering ram upon Elgin’s front gates. No one was yet attempting to climb the castle walls.
Joan and Margaret sat down with Alice under the pine tree. Alana now saw Iain upon his warhorse, riding back and forth along the ridge, directing his men. Some of the numbness within her faded. She watched a hail of arrows descend upon him and fear stabbed through her, but the arrows bounced off his shield.
Godfrey tied up their horses and turned to Alana. For a moment, he watched the battle, too. “He is right. You should not go within, Alana. You are a traitor. If my father is inside, if Buchan is, you will be seized the moment you are recognized.”
Alana knew he was right. And for one moment, she thought of heeding Godfrey. But then she knew she must see her father one final time. She had to know why he had chosen Alice and Margaret over her; she had to know if he truly loved her at all.