Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T HE WOMEN ARRIVED at midnight.

Alana was expecting them. Her father's messenger had told her that Sir Alexander intended to send them to Brodie the moment he received word from her.

Alana held up a taper as the three women were escorted into the hall. Alana stared intently, but all three women wore their hoods.

Then she turned to Angus. She had sent him with six other soldiers to fetch the women. "Were there any problems?"

"No, my lady. We waited safely in the woods while Sir Percy took your answer to Sir Alexander. It took but an hour for the women to steal from the castle, using an underground tunnel. No one saw us."

"Thank you," Alana breathed, touching his arm. "Why don't you get some rest?"

As Angus and his men left, the smallest woman removed her hood. She was in her mid-thirties, strikingly fair, with very dark hair. Lady Joan stared at Alana. "I suppose I owe you a great debt." She did not smile and her blue eyes were hard and cold.

"You owe me nothing." Alana smiled, but as she spoke, she thought about how Joan had insisted her father have nothing to do with her when she was born. "I am Mistress Alana le Latimer."

"Even if we had met in different circumstances," Joan said, refusing to smile, "I would know who you are. You look exactly like my cousin Elisabeth."

Alana did not know if she was receiving a compliment, as clearly, Joan did not like her. Either that, or she was very angry. "This is Lady Fitzhugh," she said, gesturing to her grandmother, who came forward. "And Sir Godfrey, Duncan's son."

Joan nodded at Lady Fitzhugh and Godfrey.

Eleanor inclined her head. "You have hardly changed in the past twenty years, Lady Joan."

"Actually, I have changed a great deal," Joan said, glancing at Alana again.

Alana was now filled with tension. She realized she must be a constant reminder of her father's love for another woman during their betrothal. If Joan did not hate her, it was clear that she disliked her intensely.

"You could be mistaken for one of your daughters," Eleanor said with a smile.

Finally, Joan's expression eased. Her daughters were taking off their cloaks. Alana stared at the two young women, who stared as unwaveringly back.

Margaret was slender, blonde, not even sixteen and terribly beautiful. She was blushing as their gazes met, her eyes wide and curious. Alice stood beside her, holding her hand tightly, her expression frozen. She was fair-skinned, dark-haired and very attractive, as well. In fact, Alana felt a frisson of shock as she stared at Alice, for it was almost like gazing into a mirror. Their coloring and features were so similar—no one would ever mistake them for anything but sisters.

Dismay flooded her. Iain would find her very attractive, she thought. And she was Buchan's heir.

Godfrey touched her elbow as if to steady her. Alana was so grateful for his presence.

"As you know, these are Sir Alexander's daughters, Lady Alice and Lady Margaret," Joan said tersely.

Alana was acutely aware that Joan had referred to them as if they were Sir Alexander's only daughters, but it did not matter. They were her sisters. She did not know what to think or feel. Her sisters had been raised by her father in grand castles and fine halls, and they had had everything; she had been raised as an unwanted ward by a man who had molested her. Iain might marry Alice, who was a great heiress, when Alana loved him so—when she had nothing but Brodie. She was relieved that they were safe, but there was dismay in her heart, too, and even, perhaps, jealousy.

Why had Sir Alexander abandoned her?

She must not think of the differences in their lives now. "Welcome to Brodie," she said. "I am so relieved that you have escaped the siege at Balvenie." That much was true.

It was a moment before Alice spoke. "Thank you for giving us refuge," she said. Her gaze quickly moved over Alana from head to toe, before jerking back up. She flushed.

"I could not refuse," Alana said hoarsely. Alice was as interested in assessing her as Alana was. "We do not know one another, but we are sisters."

Alice seemed distraught, as well. Alana wondered if their expressions were as identical as their features. The tension between them felt impossible.

Margaret exclaimed, "Father only told us about you recently. What a surprise it was!" Margaret seemed excited by the fact that they were sisters, and Alana felt a moment of surprising warmth in her heart.

"He told us very recently," Alice said harshly.

The warm feeling vanished. "It must have been a shock." If Bruce lost the war, Alice would be the Countess of Buchan one day. And Alana would lose Brodie....

"Yes," Alice said tersely. "I had no notion that I had a half sister in the world."

"I know this is difficult."

"Do you?" Alice cried.

Alana felt like shouting back that this was as difficult for her, too. She had been abandoned by their father, she had been raised with nothing, and all she had was Brodie Castle and a lover who wished to marry her sister! "I am sorry," she said again.

Joan stepped between them. "My daughters are exhausted. It is very late, and they would like to go to their chamber. But I would like a private word with you."

Alana could not imagine what Joan wished to discuss with her. "Gran, could you show my sisters to their chamber?"

"Of course," Eleanor said. She smiled at the girls.

Margaret smiled back and turned to Alana. "I hope we can speak tomorrow, Alana."

She wondered if they would become friends. "I will make a point of it. Good night."

Margaret hesitated, then impulsively hugged Alana. Alice nodded, and Eleanor and the two girls left. Alana was stunned by Margaret's display of affection.

"Margaret is very young, and she is also naive," Joan said, clearly disapproving of her daughter's spontaneous outburst.

Godfrey glanced at her. Joan was clearly waiting for him to leave, and Alana decided she did not want to be alone with her father's wife. "Godfrey is privy to all my secrets," she said.

"Really?" Joan was cool. "Was he privy to the secret that you pledged your fealty to Bruce? And that you meant to take Brodie from him?"

Alana flushed. "Brodie belonged to my mother, as you well know. It should have always been mine, and I took back what belonged to me."

"You look exactly like Elisabeth, so why am I surprised by all that you have done? My cousin was capable of many things, so many things, to serve her own self-interest, that she probably would have gone over to the enemy, too."

Alana flinched. "My mother would not have had to swear fealty to the enemy," she said tersely. "My mother was mistress of Brodie Castle. She had lands, a title, a husband. I did what I had to in order to get my lands back."

Joan's eyes widened. "So you are too clever for your own good. You think to speak back to me?"

"I beg your pardon," Alana instantly said. Joan was her enemy, unfortunately, that much was clear. However, she was her father's wife and Alana had no wish to fight openly with her. "I did not invite you to take sanctuary here so we could argue. It is my wish to help my father and my sisters, Lady Joan. It is my wish to help you."

"Is it? I do not trust you, Mistress Alana. You betrayed us all—Alexander, myself, our daughters, Buchan and King Edward!"

"If you do not trust me, then why are you here?" She was beginning to regret having offered Joan and her sisters sanctuary.

"I did not want to come. I wanted to attempt to flee to England directly! But Balvenie is under siege, and such a journey was too difficult to quickly arrange. Alexander had no men to spare. He insisted we come here."

"If you wish to go to England immediately, I will attempt to arrange it."

"The sooner, the better." She turned and glanced at Godfrey. "You do not look like a prisoner."

Godfrey folded his arms, unperturbed. "I have known Alana since we were small children. I am not deserting her in a time of war."

Joan laughed with contempt. "Oh, God! Alexander was smitten with her mother, and you are smitten with her. And what of her lover?"

Alana froze, actually feeling the blood drain from her face. "What?"

Joan whirled. "The gossip is rampant, Alana. Everyone knows you are sleeping with Iain of Islay."

She swallowed hard. "And you believe the gossip?"

"Of course I do—not because he was at Brodie all winter long, but because you are your mother's daughter."

She felt as if she had been stabbed. "And my father?"

"He refuses to believe it—but he refused to believe that you had taken an oath of fealty to Bruce, too. Your confession sent him into his cups."

Alana walked away from her. She felt defeated. Joan had hated her mother and Joan hated her, but worse, Joan was making her feel ashamed.

"Will he come back here?" Joan demanded. "Are we in danger from Iain MacDonald? Will you protect us from him?"

Alana faced her. "I promised my father I would keep you safe, and I mean to do just that."

Joan stared searchingly now, with fear. "We must go to England as soon as possible," she finally said. "Before Iain learns we are here, before Bruce hears of it."

Alana nodded. Joan was afraid of being taken captive. In spite of her hostility, Alana felt sorry for her then.

"I am going to retire with my daughters," Joan said. "Good night."

Alana did not speak, watching her leave. Godfrey got up and walked over as she vanished from their sight. Alana began to shake.

"Well, she certainly hates your mother," Godfrey said.

"She hates me."

"Yes, that is obvious. Alana, what will you do if Iain appears here? I am fairly certain that, if he hears you are harboring Lady Joan and his daughters, he will attempt to take them all captive."

Alana stared in dismay. She did not want to add to the conflict between them, but she had promised her father that she would keep his wife and her sisters safe. "Let's hope they are gone before he finds out."

* * *

A MAID HAD stoked the fire in her hearth so it was roaring. Alana stood before it, clad for bed in a long linen shift, her hair in two braids. The sooner she sent Joan and her daughters to England, the better, she thought. Joan despised her and Alice was hostile, as well. At least Margaret was friendly.

A knock sounded on her door. Alana tensed. After the terrible interview with Joan, she did not know who or what to expect. She went apprehensively to the door and opened it.

Margaret stood there, clad in a sleeping gown, her long blond hair in a single braid. She smiled shyly. "I couldn't sleep. Can I come in?"

"Of course," Alana said, surprised. She stepped aside and Margaret hurried in. She sat down on the bed, tucking her legs beneath her.

"You are so beautiful!" Margaret exclaimed.

Alana sat down next to her. "So are you."

"You look so much like Alice, but you are the prettier one," Margaret exclaimed.

"I doubt that," Alana said, suddenly thinking again about the fact that Alice was a great heiress, and that Bruce was interested in marrying her to Iain. How the notion sickened her. "Alice is beautiful...and she is a great heiress."

"Yes. One day, she will be the Countess of Buchan. Even if Bruce fights this war for years, Father advised her to never give up her rights to the earldom."

Alana flinched. Did that mean that Alice would seek to claim the Buchan lands, even if Bruce defeated her uncle? Even if he defeated King Edward and remained King of Scotland? Slowly, she said, "She is his true and only heir."

"Yes." Margaret studied her frankly. "I was so excited to learn that we had a sister, Alana. Of course, I hate this war, and I am afraid for Father, being at Balvenie while it is besieged. But I was eager to meet you—and when he said we must come here, I was pleased."

Alana knew that neither Joan nor Alice had been pleased, and she remained silent.

Margaret took her hand. "I hope you can forgive my mother. She cannot accept that you are Father's daughter. She has said so. She told us that, once, she and your mother were friends. She felt betrayed when she learned that your mother loved the man she meant to marry."

Alana was grim. "It is hard to blame her. What about Alice? She doesn't like me, either."

"Alice did not want to come here. She did not want to meet you," Margaret said. Her blue eyes held Alana's. "She is still upset that our father was with another woman, even if it was before his marriage to Mother."

"I would probably be upset, too," Alana said.

"I'm not upset. It was so long ago. I think it's wonderful that I have another sister!" Margaret grinned. Then her smile faded. "Alice is a wonderful sister. Truly. I pray you will become friends soon. But...we are on opposite sides of this war."

Alana hesitated. "Margaret, maybe if you try, you could understand. My mother died when I was born, and I was raised by Lady Fitzhugh, who isn't even my blood grandmother. And because I am illegitimate, I had no status here, or anywhere else. Brodie was my mother's, but it was given to Duncan, who was also made my guardian. I have grown up a bastard with no means and no dowry; you have grown up with everything, including two parents who love you. We are on opposite sides of this war because I found a way to get Brodie back. But you are my sister, and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from my liege lord, and to get you to England."

"I am so glad we are sisters," Margaret said, squeezing her hand. She then yawned and stood up. "Mother doesn't trust you, but I do. And I hope we do not leave too soon!"

Alana stood, smiling. "I hope so, too. That way, we can become better acquainted."

Margaret hugged her impulsively. "I am suddenly tired. I had better go back to bed before I am discovered."

Alana walked her to the door, joy filling her heart. "Suddenly I am tired, too," she said, and hugged her youngest sister in return.

* * *

"H OW CAN WE get them safely to England?" Alana asked tersely.

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."

He meant it, she thought, her heart swelling, 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.