A Sword Upon The Rose (30 page)

Their best hope was John MacDougall, Lord of Lorn, who was related to the family. His mother was a Comyn, the daughter of John Comyn, Lord of Badenoch. John had been fighting Bruce for the past two years, and had decimated his army two summers ago at Dalrigh. He had a great many ships in the eastern seas and Joan thought him their best chance of escape.

The next week began with heavy rain. It was pouring out when Godfrey walked into the hall, shaking the water from his mantle.

Alana had been repairing one of Iain’s leines. She threw it down with a glad cry and rushed into Godfrey’s arms. “I have been so frightened for you!”

He enclosed her hard in his embrace. Alana suddenly realized their position and she tensed, but he immediately released her. “So you have a care for me after all,” he teased.

“You know I do. We did not hear any word about your fate—what happened, Godfrey?” She took his arm and guided him to the table while ordering a maid to bring food and wine.

“Buchan accused me of being a traitor. But my father actually defended me. As it turns out, he cares because I am his only male heir.” He was grim. “And then Buchan fled the siege in the middle of the night. I was encouraged to leave.”

“Are you at odds with Duncan?”

“Terribly so, but I am his heir,” Godfrey said flatly. “I suppose he will forgive me, in time.”

Alana hoped so. “Where is Buchan now?”

“He is with John Mowbray, attacking Iain from his flank.”

Alarm stabbed through her. “I am so glad you are unharmed. Is Iain in danger?”

“Every battle is dangerous, for every man.” Godfrey turned to the women, greeting Lady Joan, Alice and Margaret. He then went to Eleanor and they briefly embraced.

When he sat down, Alana sat down beside him. “Will you stay long?”

“I cannot. I am joining Buchan and Mowbray, Alana. I have sat out this war for entirely too long.” He withdrew a rolled and sealed parchment from beneath his mail.

She did not recognize the seal; Joan did. She cried out. “That is the MacDougall crest!”

Alana glanced around—they were entirely alone in the hall, with no servants to witness them. “How did you get this?” she whispered.

“I met the messenger on the road, purely by chance. I believe Sir John must be eager to help Lady Joan and her daughters, for he is vehemently opposed to Bruce.” Godfrey took up a cup of wine and drained it.

Joan stood and took the parchment. Alana nodded at her. Joan hurried away to read it privately. Alana looked at her sisters and saw the excitement and hope on their faces. Alice inhaled and held out her hand. Alana took it and squeezed.

Godfrey glanced quizzically at her.

Alana whispered, “I must not be a part of this.”

“Of course not,” Godfrey said, smiling slightly.

Joan returned, without the missive. She sat down next to Alana, and whispered, “Can we get to Dunstaffnage? If so, John’s ships will take us to Carlisle.”

Alice and Margaret trembled with excitement; Alana looked at Godfrey. The stronghold was far to the southeast of them, just across from the isle of Lismore.

“If you are not captured by Bruce’s soldiers, the journey is easy enough, directly down the great glen,” Godfrey said.

“What will we do when we get to Carlisle?” Alice asked, flushing. Her eyes were bright with hope.

“I will write Sir Henry Percy again,” Joan said swiftly. “Surely, if Sir John can deliver us to Carlisle, Percy can arrange passage for us to one of King Edward’s estates.”

Alana faced Godfrey. “My soldiers are sworn to Iain,” she said, low. “They will have to travel in disguise—I have two men I trust, to escort them.”

“You have three,” Godfrey said instantly.

Alana seized his hand. “You would do this for me?”

“Yes, Alana, I would.” He turned to the three women. “There is every chance you will be discovered. Are you certain you wish to flee?”

“We must try!” Alice cried.

Alana trembled, thinking not of Bruce, but of Iain now. She would claim innocence to the king, but she would not deny her hand in this, not to Iain. “Lady Joan, please write to Sir Percy instantly, for as soon as we receive his vow of aid, we can reply to MacDougall, and accept his offer.” She breathed hard.

Godfrey looked at her. “You are a courageous woman, Alana le Latimer.”

She met his unyielding gaze. “I promised Sir Alexander I would see them safely to England.”

Godfrey stood. “Iain will forgive you. He would forgive you anything, as long as he has your love.”

He sounded envious, she thought. Alana hoped he was right.

* * *

A
LANA
POUNDED
THE
dough with her fists. They had not had a good loaf of bread in weeks, but yesterday she had gone to the market with a large escort of soldiers for more provisions, never mind that she and Eleanor hardly cared whether they had bread on the table or not.

Joan and her sisters had left three days earlier, and by now, they must be at Dunstaffnage—unless they had been captured. How she missed them, and how she missed Godfrey! Alana inhaled. Joan had promised to send word the moment they arrived at Sir John’s fortress. She was praying for a messenger at any time.

She began to roll the dough, sorrow sweeping through her.

She had become so quickly attached to her sisters, and when they had hugged and said goodbye, everyone had been in tears. Alice and Margaret had promised to write. Then Alice had seized her hand.

“No matter what happens, we will always be sisters and friends,” she had said hoarsely.

They had embraced, hard.

Alana sighed, shaping the dough into an oval. How she missed them all—even Joan.

“Alana?” Eleanor hurried into the kitchen. “There is smoke on the horizon.”

Alana stared at her grim grandmother, then removed her apron and hurried from the kitchen, Eleanor behind her and unable to keep up. She ran from the hall and outside, realizing that several of Iain’s soldiers had gathered atop the watchtower. She crossed the courtyard and rushed up the narrow stone steps.

“What is it?” she cried.

Angus faced her. “There is fighting close by,” he said.

It was a beautiful May day. The sky was the bright blue of a robin’s egg, with an occasional fluffy white cloud. The sun was high and strong. The hills bloomed with yellow wildflowers and purple thistle. But in the north, a dark pall hung over a distant ridge.

“Do we know who it is?” Alana asked. “Are we in danger?”

“I have sent a scout, my lady,” Angus said.

Could Iain be there, just miles away, in the midst of battle? She had not heard from him since he had retreated from Elgin. Word was that Bruce’s army was to the southwest, near Aberdeen, and that Buchan’s army was in hiding. But such news was not confirmed, and Alana did not know if another battle was imminent or not.

That night, the scout returned. Alana was seated with Eleanor before the fire in the hall when Angus came striding inside. “There is nothing to fear,” he said. “Kincorth has been razed to the ground. So has the village of Kinloss.”

Alana nodded, reaching for Eleanor’s hand. Those were Buchan lands. “Was it Iain?”

“We dinna ken, my lady,” Angus said.

She trembled, recalling his ruthless devastation of Nairn. But this was war, and until it was over, the innocent would pay, as well as the enemy. There was nothing to be done now, Alana thought, except to wait for word from Joan, a missive from Iain and the end of the damned war. If only he would come to her.

She had never missed him more.

* * *

T
HE
DAYS
GREW
warm. She received a letter from Joan—she and her daughters were safe at Percy’s Carlisle estate, awaiting word from King Edward as to their disposition. Alice and Margaret enclosed letters, as well. They were relieved to be safely in England, and prayed for Alana’s safety. Alice wished they could have a reunion in London one day. Alana read her words and felt close to tears.

Iain did not send word. He did not send a messenger, either.

“Why hasn’t he sent me a letter?” Alana cried in frustration to Angus. She was worried, as well.

“It is gossip, my lady, but it is said that Bruce is hunting Buchan now, fer he has finally recovered from the illness that plagued him all winter. I have heard his army has been seen near Inverurie,” Angus said. “Ye will hear from Iain soon, my lady, I am certain of it.” He smiled encouragingly at her.

And finally, a messenger came from Iain.

Alana ran into the courtyard, as fast as her legs would carry her. Angus and a dozen Highlanders stood there, next to a beaming soldier with long blond hair. Her heart felt as if it might explode inside of her chest. Clearly, the news was good!

“My lady!” The tall blond Highlander turned, smiling. “I have word from Iain of Islay.”

Alana halted, panting, hands clasped to her chest. “Is he well?”

“He is more than well, my lady! Bruce has defeated the Earl of Buchan—he has defeated the baron Mowbray—their army has been scattered to the four corners of this land!” the messenger cried.

Angus and his men began to cheer.

“What?” Alana gasped, in disbelief.

“Bruce has crushed the Earl of Buchan! And his army has been entirely dispersed. The earl has fled—he is in hiding—and we believe he will go to England.”

Alana reeled. “Buchan’s army is truly finished?”

Angus steadied her. “There is no army left, my lady,” he said.

Oh, God, she thought. “The war here in the north? Is it over?”

“It is over.” The messenger grinned. “And Iain wishes ye to know that he will come to ye here at Brodie as soon as he can.”

Tears blinded her. Iain was safe. Her uncle had no army left, and he was running away to England. “Thank you,” Alana whispered. “Thank you.”

* * *

I
T
WAS
A
late June day. Alana galloped a gray mare across the countryside with an escort of soldiers behind her. Buchan had been defeated a month ago, and Iain had not returned. Alana could not stand the waiting. She had taken to riding every day, galloping hard and fast across the countryside, jumping fallen trees and streams.

If only Iain would return!

The signs of the war were everywhere, just beyond Brodie’s walls. The ridges were scorched. Villages had been reduced to ashes, manors to rubble. Livestock wandered loose, seeking fodder. Beggars were on the roads. Forests that had been green were blackened and burned.

She wondered when the Harrying of Buchan would end, and if it ever would. Robert Bruce clearly meant to bring the defeated earldom to its knees. His vengeance knew no bounds. He would destroy every living thing, or so it seemed.

“Lady!” Angus cried.

Alana saw the banner on the horizon at the exact moment that he spoke. She pulled up her mare abruptly, her heart lurching with excitement. Oh, God! It was Iain!

A moment later he came galloping over the horizon upon his dark warhorse, a dozen Highlanders behind him, his banner with its red dragon whipping in the wind above them.

Alana bit her lip, crying.

He thundered toward her, his long dark hair flying about his shoulders. And then he halted beside her, his mount rearing.

“Iain,” she whispered, crying helplessly now.

He leaped from his stallion, reached her in two long strides and pulled her into his arms, embracing her as if there was no tomorrow. He kissed her deeply, for a long, long time.

And then she was smiling up at him and he down at her, while she remained wrapped in his arms. “You are home,” she whispered.

“I am home,” he said, pulling her even closer against his hard body. “I have missed ye terribly, Alana.”

“I have missed you.” She strained to kiss him again, and they kissed for a very long time.

When he pulled back his eyes were fierce with passion. Alana touched his rough cheek. “Is it over?” she whispered.

“Buchan is in England, Alana. He has no army now, and they say he is ill—very ill, perhaps dying.”

She recalled Buchan’s cruelty and shivered. She would not care if he died.

He stroked her hair. “Lady Joan has been openly claiming that Alice is the next Countess of Buchan. If Buchan dies, I believe there will be a great fight over the earldom.”

“But Bruce controls the Buchan lands.”

“Aye,” Iain said, his gaze holding hers.

There would be another war, she thought, with dread. “There will always be another war, won’t there?”

“’Tis the way of men,” he said.

She took his face in her hands. “I have missed you so!”

“Alana.” He was firm, attracting her entire attention. “I am home for a time, and I dinna wish to think about war.”

She gasped. “You called Brodie home!”

He slowly smiled. “Aye, I did...if yer here, then I am home.”

She clung to him in disbelief. “Iain—what are you saying?”

“I am saying that it is time we made another child. But not a bastard.”

She began to shake. She could not breathe properly. The love in her heart took her breath away, while the desire in her body made her feel faint. “Not a bastard?” she echoed, dazed.

“Ye wish to marry me, do ye not?” he said, smiling wickedly.

She inhaled. “You will tease me now about such a thing?”

“Ye asked the Bruce fer my hand in marriage,” he laughed.

“I did!” she cried, pounding a fist on his chest.

His smile faded. He caught her hand and raised it to his lips and kissed it. “I asked the Bruce fer yer hand in marriage, Alana,” he said.

She reeled. “But I am not a great heiress.... What about Alice—the next Countess of Buchan?”

“No. Yer no great heiress, just a small one, and I dinna care that ye only bring me Brodie.” He swept her hard against his aroused body. “I have loved ye fer a very long time, Alana le Latimer, and it’s time I made ye my wife.”

Tears of joy streamed down her face now. He swept her up and placed her atop his charger, and then leaped astride behind her. Clasping her firmly about the waist, he spurred his mount forward, toward Brodie—toward home.