A Sword Upon The Rose (26 page)

It was the next morning. The sun was high, but she was alone at the table in the hall with Godfrey. Her guests had yet to arrive, and Eleanor was sleeping late, as she had begun to do recently.

“You cannot spare any men.” Godfrey was final.

Alana began shaking her head. “They are frightened. Having been a prisoner, I do not blame them. Bruce is at Balvenie—why can’t I spare a dozen soldiers?”

Godfrey reached across the table and took her hand. “I am afraid that your uncle would seize the opportunity to attack you, Alana.”

The Earl of Buchan might or might not be able to march on Brodie, and she did not want to take a chance that the former might happen. “They cannot wait out this war here. Iain will learn of their presence—so will Bruce. Alice would be a valuable hostage.” And it would be worse than that—she could then become Iain’s wife. If Bruce wished it, she would not be given a choice.

“I would go to Banf and speak with my father but he will not want to spare any men, either.”

Alana’s mind raced. “It would probably be too dangerous to send them with a guide, in disguise.”

Godfrey gave her an incredulous look.

“So we will remain here—very much as if we are prisoners?”

Alana leaped to her feet, whirling at the sound of Alice’s voice. Her sister stood on the threshold of the room, her face starkly pale. Clearly, she had been eavesdropping.

“You are not prisoners,” Alana said.

“If there is a choice,” Alice said, coming forward, “then I would flee south in disguise as farm women with a single guide.”

“That would be terribly dangerous!”

Alice’s eyes were wide. “And why would you care? Because we are sisters?”

“I would care because we are sisters,” Alana said. “And I promised Sir Alexander to keep you safe.”

“Even as you went over to the enemy—even as you bed the enemy,” Alice said harshly.

So her sister had heard the gossip, too. She squared her shoulders. “Unlike you, I am a bastard, and had no hopes of ever marrying.”

Alice folded her arms across her chest. “And that justifies your becoming Iain of Islay’s lover? That justifies your treachery to our family?”

“Brodie was a part of my mother’s dowry, Alice. It should have never been taken away from me.”

“Of course it should—you are illegitimate, and you could not inherit Brodie!”

Alana trembled. “You will never understand—you have everything, Alice. But Brodie is mine, now.”

“So you are pleased? So you wish for Bruce to triumph over our father?”

“I am in a terrible position,” Alana cried.

“So you do wish for Bruce’s victory—for Iain of Islay’s victory!” Alice accused.

“I fell in love with him!” Alana said, feeling her own cheeks warm.

“The way your mother fell in love with my father?” Alice snapped. “Is that why you swore your fealty to Bruce? Out of love for the enemy?”

“No! I did it for Brodie.”

They stared at one another. Alice’s gaze was hard, but searching.

“Finally, I have a dowry, Alice,” Alana said harshly.

Alice shook her head, her expression taut with disapproval. “So you will marry Iain MacDonald?”

Alana shook her head. If only Alice knew of Bruce’s plans for her and Iain! “He will be awarded an heiress, one greater than me. But Bruce promised to find me a husband.”

“Of course he did,” Alice said. She paused a moment, then, “I cannot trust you.” She turned abruptly and marched from the room.

Alana closed her eyes in dismay.

* * *

I
T
WAS
DUSK
the following day when the bell in the watchtower began ringing. Alana was in her chamber, braiding her hair, when she heard the alarm. She dropped her comb and ran into the corridor. As she did, Lady Joan appeared, her face white with fright, Alice and Margaret crowded behind her, everyone in their nightclothes.

Godfrey came racing up the stairs. “Iain has returned,” he said.

Blanching, Joan gave Alana an incredulous look, while Alice stared in accusation. And then Joan and her two daughters fled into their chamber, slamming the door closed.

Alana was in shock. Her heart thundering, she gasped, “Are you certain?”

“Very,” Godfrey said, his expression grim.

Alana ran past him, filled with disbelief—with excitement. Iain had returned! But as she ran barefoot downstairs, doubt began. She did not know how Iain felt about her now. Her first impulse was to believe he had come home to see her, but what if he had heard about Lady Joan and Alana’s sisters? Had he come to take them prisoner?

Her steps slowed as she reached the ground floor. She remained thrilled that he had returned, in spite of her promise to protect Joan and her sisters. The front door flew open and Iain strode in. His hair was longer now, and disheveled, tangling about his shoulders. His face was hard, his jaw covered with a growth of beard. Their gazes instantly locked.

Alana halted, filled with apprehension; his eyes blazed. Very aggressively, he strode to her.

He pulled her hard into his embrace, his mouth covering hers. Alana went still, shocked by his fierce passion and the explosion of desire within her. His tongue thrust deep as his mouth claimed hers.

Alana finally flung her arms around his shoulders and kissed him wildly back.

And when he broke the kiss, he said, “I have missed ye.”

Tears arose. Before she could respond, he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs. Alana clung to him and kissed his grizzled jaw. “I have missed you, too.”

“Good.” He strode into her room, kicked the door closed and laid her on the bed, coming down on top of her.

Alana reached for the hem of his leine. “Your swords,” she said.

“To hell with them,” he said harshly, spreading her legs with his knee. He jerked up her clothing, his mouth on hers, their tongues entwined. Alana became so hollow she felt faint. He drove hard into her.

And they mated as if it were the first time—blinded by desire, by lust. But unlike the first time, Alana was overcome with love.

When the pleasure and ecstasy had faded, when they were sated and exhausted, Alana lay in his arms, beyond relief. Iain kissed her shoulder, her temple, her hair.

She shifted so she could look up at him. “I am so sorry I lost our baby,” she whispered.

“Shh,” he said. “We will make another one soon enough.”

It felt as if he meant that he wished to remain with her, and be a father to her child—but that was impossible, wasn’t it? She wanted to cry. She clasped his rough cheek instead. “I wish I had told you about the child.”

“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.

* * *

I
AIN
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.”