A Sword Upon The Rose (16 page)

As he kissed her, Alana gasped and he deepened the kiss deliberately. She tasted blood. Her hands were between them, and she brought them up against his chest. It crossed her mind that even if she protested, he would not heed her. He was so angry.

He walked her back a step and pushed her down onto the pallet, very abruptly.

His kiss was bruising and he was angry, but she loved him. She did not know if he meant to punish her, and even if he did, she would bear it. For surely sex would turn into lovemaking. Surely passion would bring them together again. She was desperate—she would do anything to get past his anger, to regain his love.

And she did not think she could resist him, anyway. Not when she loved him so. “Iain. I love you,” she said.

He broke the kiss to look at her, his eyes blazing. “This isn’t love.”

Tears arose once more. “Yes, it is,” she answered. Before she could protest further or plead with him he came down on top of her, kissing her again. He was determined to take her as coldly and as cruelly as possible, she thought. But she understood. Alana kissed him back, but not with passion. “I love you,” she whispered again.

He grunted in satisfaction. Now, their tongues entwined. Alana kissed him again, desire beginning in spite of his cruelty. She would always love him, want him, she thought. Desire flamed. Their mouths fused, she moved her bound wrists lower, brushing up against his manhood, and finding the hem of his leine. She tugged it upward, while hooking her ankles over his calves.

He inhaled harshly, found her skirts and moved them up past her waist, breaking the breathless kiss as he did so. In the dull candlelight, their gazes met.

His eyes blazed with lust—and anguish. “Would you untie me?” she managed to ask. She wanted to wrap him in her arms. She had never meant to hurt him this way.

His answer was to kiss her, hard, shoving one thigh between her legs.

Alana forgot about her wrists. He was hard and male between her legs, dulling the fear, the desperation, causing more urgency. He rocked against her and Alana heard herself moan.

And then he pushed deeply within her.

Alana lay still, unable to hold him, caught between grief and desire. He wanted to use her, and she knew it. As he began to increase his rhythm, Alana raised her bound wrists to touch his jaw. “Iain,” she whispered.

He trembled. “Ye betrayed me.”

“No.” She reached up with both hands and touched his cheek.

He kissed her now, deeply, otherwise unmoving. Deliberately Alana kissed him back. More desire surged. She welcomed it. Iain rose up over her, and she gasped. This time, he watched her as he moved deeply inside her.

She wanted to tell him again that she loved him, but now, she could not speak. She cried out, blinded by the growing pleasure.
She would always need him.
They pushed hard at each other, and harder, endlessly, until Alana felt the tide of ecstasy. It broke. Washed over her. Again and again.

She wept helplessly in his arms.

She drifted in contentment, unable to think. Cool air wafted over her.

Alana’s eyes flew open. Iain had left their bed.

She turned onto her side and levered herself to sit up.

Iain was reaching for his fur cloak. He put it on as he straightened. And not looking at her, he began snuffing out each candle.

Dismay began. What had just happened? She was stunned by their lovemaking. Except—it had not been lovemaking. And she was still tied up like a prisoner. Fear arose, clawing at her. “Iain.”

He snuffed out the last candle. The interior of the tent became dark. He did not answer her, and she could just make out his big body settling onto the pallet of hides across the tent from her.

Pain erupted in her breast. Alana lay back down, hugging her pillow tightly. It was a long time before she fell asleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HICK
CLOUDS
COVERED
the sky, making it gray. It would snow before nightfall, Alana thought, which was still hours away. She fought the urge to weep.

She was astride a small brown mare, a soldier on each side of her. Iain rode ahead of them, leading the way, Ranald beside him. They had ridden out of Concarn shortly after sunrise, and it was now midday. Alana suspected that they would arrive at Brodie shortly.

They were riding though the snow-covered forest on a well-used deer trail, most of the snow underfoot packed hard from the riders who used it. Alana held on to her saddle. She was so distraught that she felt faint, enough so to fall off of her horse.

She was sick in her heart. The passion she and Iain had shared last night had not changed anything. If anything, it had put an even greater distance between them. For it had been tainted with her fear, her desperation and his distrust. Even though she had found release in his arms, she felt used and abused, like a woman taken merely for the man’s pleasure, only to be cast aside the next day.

For hadn’t she been cast aside? He had awoken her that morning without a word, slitting the rope on her wrists, causing her to awaken in alarm, and then he had left the tent abruptly, before their eyes could even meet. A few moments later Ranald had come to get her, telling her that they were riding for Brodie now.

Tears crept into her eyes. If passion could not bring them together, then what would?

Iain suddenly raised his hand and halted. “Brodie,” he said.

He turned in his saddle and looked over his shoulder at her, his expression cast from stone. “Ranald will be going with ye. Ye will put him in the stables and disguise him as one of the village children.”

Alana somehow nodded. Dear God, was he going to send her on her way without a private word?

“Do ye think ye can bring me information when Mistress Alana sends it?” he asked the boy, his tone softening.

Ranald nodded eagerly. “Aye, my lord, ’tis an easy ride to Concarn.”

He smiled at him. “We will not be at Concarn for long. When ye hear an owl hooting at noon, ye will come out to the woods here to meet me, or my man. But only if ’tis at noon, Ranald.”

The boy nodded.

Iain slid off his stallion, handing the reins to Ranald. He stared at Alana. “I have instructions to give ye.”

She trembled, so sickened by the tension between them and what seemed to be his indifference. And now he would instruct her on how to spy? She started to dismount but he seized her bridle. “Ye can stay astride, as the orders are brief.” He led her horse aside from the rest of their group.

She did not want to stay astride. She wanted to dismount—and leap into his arms and demand he cease this nonsense. A man could not care for a woman one day and despise her the next! “I cannot part this way,” she said tersely.

He halted her horse by a small brook that was mostly frozen. Her mare lowered its head to sniff at it and find a place to drink. Iain looked up at her. “How many soldiers does Duncan have at Brodie? How many archers?”

“That is what you ask me? You ask me about Brodie’s defenses?” she cried. Holding the saddle, she flung one leg over it and hurriedly dismounted. “You do not ask me if I am happy, or sad or hurt?”

He quickly caught her before she fell. For one moment, his hands held her waist, and then he released her. “I told ye to stay astride,” he said darkly.

She stared up at him. “What happened last night?”

He flinched. “If I hurt ye, I am sorry.”

She could barely breathe. “You have broken my heart, Iain.”

“No. That is impossible.”

“You did not protect me from Bruce—and last night, you used me as if I were some common serving wench!”

“Ye seduced me, Alana,” he warned. “Ye came to me!”

“No. I did not seduce you. You thought to punish me, I think, by taking me as if I were some harlot—and not the woman you love.”

“I did not take ye aside to discuss last night!”

She inhaled, shocked and taken aback.

He flushed.

A terrible silence fell. She finally said, “I know you are very angry—that you feel betrayed. But my only betrayal was to avoid telling you about my father, because I was falling in love with you. I am not a spy.” She hesitated. “One day, you will believe me.” She thought of her sister Alice. “I only hope that when that day comes, it is not too late.”

For a moment, he was silent, his gaze unwavering. “We must speak of Brodie, Alana.”

She wet her lips. “Why do you ask about Brodie’s defenses?”

“One day I will command Nairn. Brodie will be significant to me, then.”

“How?” she cried. “It is a tiny place!”

“I will provision it well, and use it as my first line of defense for Nairn,” he said.

She instantly understood his strategy, which did not bode well for her home. “Brodie is
my
home. It belonged to my
mother.
By right, it should be mine—not Duncan’s, not his son’s.”

“Is that a warning?”

“Will you attack Brodie?”

“I am asking the questions, Alana. How many men does Duncan keep there?”

She hugged herself. He coveted Brodie now. She imagined Alice as his wife, as the mistress of Brodie. She could not bear to think of Alice in her home. “I cannot say, because I do not know.”

“Ye do not know, or ye do not wish to tell me?” he asked skeptically. “Ye spy for us now, Alana. Ye must tell me everything ye can about Brodie’s defenses.”

“Iain, do not make me do this! Brodie is my home! Surely you can understand that. And we are lovers, still.”

“I dinna know what we are, Alana.” He tugged on her mare’s reins, leading it forward and looping the reins about the saddle. Their interview was over. He wished for her to mount.

She stared at him as he held her horse, her vision blurred. Impatiently, he turned and looked at her.

“What will you do when you find out that I am not a spy? That my only sin was that of fear?”

His eyes widened.

“Will you still hate me?” she asked.

He breathed hard. “I dinna hate ye, Alana. But I dinna trust ye.”

She was so dismayed. She lifted her skirts out of the snow and walked over to him. He took her by the waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the mare. Alana picked up her reins.

“Make certain ye have the answers I seek in two days. Send Ranald to the woods here at noon.”

She would never tell him the precise nature of Brodie’s defenses, she thought. He would have to discover that himself. “Even though I am Sir Alexander’s daughter, I love you, Iain.” She nudged the mare with her heels, to go over to Ranald and out of the forest. Brodie sat atop the adjacent hill. “God keep you, Iain. God keep you safe in this war. I could not bear it if anything happened to you.”

“Wait.” He stepped up to her and seized the mare’s bridle. His gaze wasn’t angry now; it was searching. “I will always care that yer a Comyn,” he said harshly. “Always. For even if ye truly love me, ye will care for yer family and it will always strain yer loyalty.”

She gasped for breath. “What are you saying?”

He stared deeply into her eyes, as he had not done since learning her identity. He finally said, “If ye did not come to me at Concarn to spy, if ye came because ye truly love me, then mayhap I could forgive yer deception.”

Iain released her bridle. “Go.” He hit her mare on the rump.

The mare picked up a trot, hurrying toward the castle, Ranald urging his mount to join her.

Alana turned and stared over her shoulder at Iain. There was hope. It wasn’t over yet.

* * *

A
LANA
WASN
’
T
CERTAIN
of the reception she would get from Godfrey, and now she recalled asking Eleanor to invent the excuse for her absence that she had gone to speak with Sir Alexander. She had no wish to undo the fragile truce she had developed with Godfrey. She intended to be careful to maintain it, and not expose her deception, especially if Iain had some interest in acquiring Brodie.

The watch had identified them, and they were now passing through the castle gates. Alana stared across the courtyard, immediately alert. Several soldiers in English mail were leaving the stables. Her gaze veered to the front door of the great hall. She expected to see Godfrey come out to demand where she had been.

But the front door remained closed. Alana watched the soldiers head for the hall as they crossed the courtyard, still astride. “We have company,” she said to Ranald softly. “I have never seen those soldiers before.”

“I can find out who they are,” Ranald said with a grin.

Alana halted her mount and slid off, as did Ranald. The head stableman appeared from within, greeting her with a smile. “Mistress Alana.” He beamed. “Let me take that poor, tired mare from ye.” The groom—Seamus MacKinnon—eyed Ranald curiously.

Alana clasped the boy’s shoulder. “Thank you, Seamus. This is young Ranald, from Tor, and I have told his mother he can work here in our stables for a while. She has eight and she cannot feed them all.”

“Eight, eh?” Seamus lifted bushy gray brows. “Yer welcome here, boy, but only if ye do as I say, when I say.”

“He’s a good lad,” she said. She glanced past him into the stables, which were full. Her alarm increased. “Seamus, do we have visitors?”

“Aye, we do. The Earl of Buchan is in residence, my lady, with his brother.”

Alana stiffened.
Her father was at Brodie.
For one moment, she was paralyzed with disbelief.

“Are ye ill, mistress?” Seamus asked gruffly.

“I am surprised, that is all.”

“I had better feed and bed down these horses. Boy? Let’s go.”

Alana smiled at Ranald and watched him hurry off with Seamus, knowing he was in good and kind hands. Then her heart turned over hard.

She did not know what to expect when she went inside. The past twenty-four hours had been the worst of her life. She did not know if she could withstand any more conflict, or much more disappointment. And her uncle was with her father. She now feared the Earl of Buchan.

She left the stables resolutely. As she went up the front steps to the hall, Godfrey finally stepped outside, his expression grim.

Alana clutched her cloak tightly to her body. “Hello. What has happened?”

He remained unsmiling. “Did you find your father, Alana?” His eyes darkened.

So he was suspicious of her, and rightly so. “I should have told you what I meant to do, and I am sorry, but leaving to find him seemed like a good idea,” she said as evenly as possible. “But he wasn’t at Elgin—I had just missed him.”

Godfrey stared suspiciously and said, “He wasn’t at Elgin because he is here, with the earl.”

She pretended to be surprised. “Buchan isn’t flying his flag.”

“He’s at war! His presence here is a secret,” Godfrey snapped.

“Godfrey, what is wrong?’

“You should have stayed here so we could greet Buchan together. He was angry that you had left! He took it out on me—as if I can control you!” Godfrey exclaimed.

“I am sorry.”

“I am fortunate he did not send me to toil in the moat with the commoners and the foot soldiers,” Godfrey said. Then he came down the steps in a hurry and took her wrist. He lowered his voice. “They have been writing letters and sending messengers all over Scotland! They are worried about Bruce—they do not think Elgin will withstand a real attack. If Elgin falls, with Lochindorb gone in the south, we are surrounded.”

Alana trembled, thinking of what she had heard—that Bruce would march next week. But she did not know where he would go. And what of Iain’s new interest in Brodie? She no longer knew if she cared who won the war for Scotland’s crown, but she knew she must fight for Brodie, even against Iain, especially if he was awarded her sister. “Will we be given more soldiers?” she asked.

“No. My father remains at Elgin. We haven’t been given more men. No one cares about Brodie except for you and I.” He suddenly rubbed his face with his hand and cursed.

He was right, she thought. “I am sorry I wasn’t here when they arrived.”

He looked at her. “Buchan is angry. You had better give him a good vision, Alana.”

Inwardly she cringed. “I haven’t had any other visions.”

“Maybe you should make one up—one that will get us defenses!” He took her arm. “They’re in the hall. They know you have returned.” His gaze turned searching.

Alana began to shake. “My father...how is he?”

“He is well, Alana. He asked about you.”

“He did?”

“You cannot avoid this meeting, and isn’t this what you have been hoping for?” Godfrey pulled her toward the door. “He isn’t at all like Buchan,” he said, low.

Alana could not ask him what he meant, because at that moment she saw her father. He was seated with Buchan before the fire, but now, he looked over his shoulder at her. And eyes wide, he got to his feet.

She faltered.

Godfrey pulled her inside and shut the door behind them. “My lords,” he said. “Mistress Alana has returned.”

He was exactly as she remembered, Alana thought, her heart suddenly racing. He was tall, golden-haired, handsome. He looked more like a god from Greek mythology than a man, never mind the fine clothing he wore.

No wonder her mother had loved him.

The Earl of Buchan had risen and he strolled around both chairs and toward her. “We have been waiting for you to return, Alana,” he said.

She flinched and met his cool gaze. He was displeased with her. Her pulse pounded more swiftly. “I am sorry, my lord,” she said. “I had no intent to keep you waiting.” She slowly pulled off her fur-lined cloak.

“You are a brave woman, to venture off alone as you have,” Buchan remarked. He paused before her and lifted her chin. “So Iain of Islay took Nairn—and freed you.”

She flushed, wondering if he had somehow learned the truth about her and her relationship with Iain. Fear stabbed through her. In that moment, she knew that her uncle would ruthlessly destroy her if he ever learned that she had betrayed him and his cause by sleeping with his enemy. “He did not know I was your niece, my lord,” she managed to tell him. “Nor did he know about my ability to see.”