Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

A LANA PAUSED ON the threshold of the great hall the following day, clasping a wool mantle tightly to her chest.

Everyone had gathered for the breakfast. Buchan was eating with a hearty appetite, as was Godfrey. Her father was sitting back, not eating, clearly absorbed in thought.

Alana stared at him, trembling.

What did her vision of the night before mean? Was her father going to die—and would she be present when he did?

She had not slept at all last night, worried as she was about her father. She might be distrustful of him and his intentions, and she was hurt to the quick by his favoritism, but she had no wish for him to die.

As she had done when she had had her vision of the destruction of the Buchan earldom, she prayed this vision was a false one, too.

And if it was not? What was she going to do?

Her father saw her and smiled.

Buchan saw her, too. There was no turning back. Alana started forward with Eleanor, her insides churning. She wanted to do her duty, of course she did. The problem was, she no longer knew what that duty was, or to whom it was owed.

Alana sat down next to Godfrey, across from Sir Alexander. As she greeted everyone, all she could see was her father lying dead on that bed, the sheets soaked with his blood.

"Good morn, Alana." Sir Alexander was cheerful.

Alana somehow smiled. "Good morning."

"You are not eating," Buchan told his brother. "If my scouts come early enough today, we will ride out immediately."

Sir Alexander stabbed a piece of duck. "My appetite has suddenly improved." He smiled at Alana, but it quickly faded. "Do you not feel well today?"

Alana realized she could not smile back. In that moment, she understood why her mother had been charmed. His smile made him a beautiful man, and he had the ability to seem so concerned and caring. "I am fine."

She began to eat some bread with cheese, realizing she had hardly eaten in days. She stole a glance at Buchan. She had no intention of suffering his wrath another time. She was not going to bring him a vision he did not like.

"Are you all right this morning?" Godfrey asked, low.

She glanced quickly at him. Was he beginning to know her well, after all these years, so that he could see she was distressed? Or had he always known her well—and she had not wanted to see it? "I did not sleep well. You frightened me when you spoke of Elgin falling, and Brodie being surrounded. What happens here at Brodie when my uncle leaves?" she asked him.

"He is leaving us with twenty more men," Godfrey said.

Twenty extra men would not hold Iain back should he ever wish to take Brodie.

"I cannot spare more," Buchan said, having been listening to them. "I received a message from Mowbray last night. He wants to find Bruce, chase him from his lair and rout him, once and for all."

Alana laid her bread down. "Is that even possible?"

"It's possible if we can surprise him," Buchan said. "Did I not tell you the news? King Edward is sending us an army."

"So the fighting will not wait till the spring," Alana said.

"And that dismays you?" Buchan asked sharply. "Do you not wish for the goddamned mad King Robert to be captured and killed once and for all? Do you not wish for peace here in the north of Scotland?"

"Of course I do." She also knew she feared for Iain, should there be an ambush.

"If we can peel Iain of Islay away from Bruce first, so much the better," Sir Alexander said.

"I sent a scout to Concarn last night, with a privy message for him," Buchan said. He burped and pushed his plate aside.

Alana quickly stared at her plate, certain her cheeks were heating. Did her uncle's message concern a marriage offer to her sister Margaret? What else could it contain?

"You did not tell me," Sir Alexander said tersely. He pushed his food aside, uneaten.

"I was not aware that I must tell you of my actions," Buchan said.

"Are you making an offer of marriage in a letter?"

"Of course not." Buchan was contemptuous. "We need to have a privy meeting, Alex, without Bruce knowing, so I can offer him Margaret and her lands."

Sir Alexander rubbed his unshaven jaw grimly.

"Do not look so unhappy. If we can convince Iain to betray Bruce, to fight with us, I think we can end this war once and for all."

Would Iain ever betray Bruce? Alana did not think so, but she had seen how he coveted land and power. She was his mistress, but he was interested in a marriage to Alice. Alana was not naive. Men changed sides in war, they changed their politics all of the time, motivated by self-interest.

Maybe Eleanor was right. Maybe it was better this way—with Iain no longer caring for her. Perhaps she must stop caring about him now, as well. Otherwise she would never survive his marriage to one of her sisters.

Alana shot a glance at Sir Alexander and realized he was still staring, and very closely. He said to Buchan, "This talk of marriage is distressing for Alana."

"Is it?" Buchan said. "Then she must give us a vision or two so I can reward her appropriately with a husband of her own." He smiled at Godfrey.

Godfrey started, as did Alana.

"You want Brodie back, and you do have a claim," Buchan said. "Godfrey is meant to inherit here. Would that not be a good union, should you manage to please me, Alana?"

Alana gaped. She was shocked by the suggestion that she would marry Godfrey—her nemesis from childhood, and her recent, sudden ally. She glanced at him and he looked back, his cheeks pink, his eyes as stunned as hers must be.

"That is a very good suggestion," Sir Alexander said.

Alana breathed hard. In that moment, she saw the future, but it was not a vision. She would be Godfrey's wife, and Iain would be lord of Nairn and liege lord of Brodie—and married to one of her sisters.

"Alana? Surely you are pleased," Sir Alexander said.

Alana knew she was red. She turned to her uncle. "Thank you, my lord," she said.

But she had not even finished speaking when a bell sounded, shrilly, in warning. Every man at the table leaped up, reaching for their swords.

Alana leaped up, too. She seized Eleanor, wondering if they were under attack. Two soldiers in mail burst inside. A Highlander was in shackles between them.

They dragged him forward. "My lord, we found him in the woods, speaking with a boy, your messenger dead at their feet. The boy escaped."

Alana inhaled. The Highlander was familiar—she recognized him from Iain's tented camp at Concarn. He had been beaten and his nose was broken, blood spilling from it. His gray eyes met hers. Clearly he recognized her. But he looked away and did not speak.

Alana also looked away, horrified. Iain had sent this Highlander to meet with Ranald. But he had been caught while Ranald had escaped....

"He killed my messenger?" Buchan shouted.

One of the soldiers handed him a rolled parchment. "Your seal, my lord. We found it on this dog."

"Take him outside and when you come back make certain you can tell me exactly where Iain of Islay is, and where Bruce is."

Alana began to shake. They were going to beat the information out of the Highlander. And then, she suspected they would kill him. What about Ranald? Was he hiding in the woods? "I thought Bruce was at Concarn," she managed to say.

Everyone turned to look at her as if she were mad—which she was, for daring to speak.

"There is more, my lord," the soldier said. "The boy was from the stables here."

Buchan's eyes widened. "A boy was placed here to spy?"

Alana cringed.

"Find that damned boy, as well. And hurry," Buchan spat.

The soldiers left, dragging the Highlander with them.

Alana's mind raced. How could she stop the soldiers from killing that Highlander? She prayed Ranald had fled far into the woods, and that he would not attempt to return to Brodie! Not only would he be in danger if he returned, but her deceit might be revealed, as well.

"Come with me, Alex," Buchan ordered. The two men walked swiftly out.

Alana sat back down, shaking. At least Buchan's message to Iain, asking for a secret meeting, had been intercepted. But that seemed like her smallest worry now. For if he meant to marry an heiress, he would.

Godfrey was at the door, about to leave, but he turned and looked at her. "What is wrong with you, Alana?" He started back toward her. "You look ill."

She hated having to lie to him. "Did we have a spy here, in our midst?"

"I don't know. But I am going to speak to Seamus and find out where that boy came from." About to go, he suddenly paused. "This damned war could end, sooner than later, if we can turn Iain."

She wet her lips. "I do not know if he will betray Bruce."

"Because you met him once? Because he freed you from the tower?"

"He burned Nairn to the ground, Godfrey.... He is ruthless."

"If he is ruthless, he might very well accept Margaret and her lands, and betray Bruce." His stare was searching. "I know you well. There is more you are not telling me. But I cannot decide why you truly do not want your sister wed, especially if Buchan will allow you to wed, too."

She trembled. "You heard him," she whispered.

"Is the idea of a union betwixt us so repulsive?"

Tears finally came. "No. Once, maybe, but not anymore. But, Godfrey, I do not love you."

"Love has nothing to do with marriage," he said.

* * *

A LANA HUDDLED IN her fur on the steps outside the hall later that day.

It was snowing. The Earl of Buchan was mounting his dark steed. His best knights were already mounted and awaiting his command to leave. Alana stood with Godfrey and Eleanor, relieved that they were leaving, yet frightened for her father's safety, too.

Sir Alexander had not yet mounted. He led his gray warhorse over to her and smiled. "We have had such a short time to get to know one another," he said.

Alana realized that, as much as she needed Buchan gone, she was going to miss her father. She hurried down the steps. "It was a very short time," she said hoarsely. She did not point out that they did not know one another even now—that a few days could not make up for a missed lifetime.

"You seem sad," he said, clasping her shoulder.

"This war frightens me. Please stay safe."

"I will do my best. And, Alana? When the time is right, I will send for you."

Alana reeled in shock. "For me?"

"It is time you met Alice and Margaret." He hugged her briefly, surprising her even more. Then he turned and mounted gracefully.

Alana felt ill. She did not want him to die—she wanted to meet her sisters, and get to know her father.

She knew now she did not want to betray her father, even though she was forced to spy by Bruce, even though she remained worried for Iain. She did not want to betray Sir Alexander because he was her father.

But she had to know what was transpiring—because of her feelings for Iain and because she feared for his safety.

"Father."

He halted his horse abruptly, his eyes wide.

She hadn't meant to address him in such an intimate manner—it had just slipped out. "Did you learn where Bruce is?"

"Yes, we did. And that is why my brother is in a rush. We will surprise him with an attack—on Christmas Day."

Alana gasped. Christmas was eight days away!

"If you are worried, don't be. Our army has grown and we will have the element of surprise on our side."

She fought for air. "Where is he?" she whispered.

"He is at Slioch, Alana." Sir Alexander's gaze narrowed. "Why do you ask? Is this about your sister?"

She stiffened. She had not been thinking of Buchan's interest in marrying her sister to Iain until her father had brought the subject up. Had Buchan sent another message to Iain? She imagined so.

"Alana," he continued, "when you meet Margaret, you will come to love her. Your jealousy will pass. I am certain. She has not a single enemy in this world—everyone likes her."

She could barely assimilate his words. So everyone adored pretty Margaret! She almost told him she was not jealous, but she remained silent, because he was right. But she could not dwell on her sister now.

Buchan and her father rode to war—and they would ambush Bruce at Slioch Mountain in eight more days, when they would be the most unsuspecting.

She had to warn them.

Alana hugged herself, watching as the two men led the cavalcade of knights from the courtyard and through the entry tower.

It began to snow more heavily.

When they were finally gone, the castle gates outside the entry tower were shut and barred. Alana sank down on the bottommost step.

Godfrey walked down to stand beside her. "Why do you care if Margaret marries Iain?" he demanded. "You should be pleased if we can buy off that barbarian! You want this war to end as much as I do!"

She finally looked up. "I do want this war to end."

"What do you know that I do not?"

"Nothing."

"No, Alana, you are hiding something, and you are upset—extremely so. I know you are jealous of your sisters, but I also know that is not the reason for your distress." He grimaced. "We aren't enemies now. We have come to terms, or so I thought.... I am your friend, if you wish to confide in me."

Alana hugged her knees. She hated lying to Godfrey. She wished she could confide in him, but obviously, she could not.

He turned grimly and walked across the courtyard, then climbed the stairs to the watchtower.

Alana watched him until he had disappeared inside. She stood and met Eleanor's disapproving gaze. "You are going to warn them, aren't you?"

"I have to."

"Alana! If Buchan ever finds out that you are betraying him, he will not care that you are his niece, he will take your head."

Alana could not speak. She hurried past her grandmother, knowing she was speaking literally and that she was right.

* * *

A LANA SAT UP in her bed, then slid from it. The small bedchamber was cast in darkness, except for the remains of a fire, which burned in the grate. Eleanor also sat up and lit a taper.

Alana was grim, stepping into her boots. She picked up her fur cloak, not looking at her grandmother.

"Alana, don't do this," Eleanor said. "You cannot possibly get to Slioch Mountain! You cannot possibly traverse the northwest of this land in the winter, in the snow, even with Seamus's son to help you!"

"I do not have time to argue," Alana said.

Eleanor stepped from the bed and seized her wrist. "You put yourself in terrible jeopardy, if you are caught, whether leaving this castle, or while on the road, or afterward!"

Alana finally faced her. "Gran, I cannot stand by and let Iain be ambushed. He could die!"

"If the attack is not a surprise, your father could die," Eleanor shot back.

Alana had already thought of that. "I am in a terrible position. But if I have to choose, I choose Iain." She put on her fur cloak and started from the room.

"He doesn't want you," Eleanor said.

Alana faltered, then pushed open the door. "I will be back as soon as I can. I love you, Gran." She stepped outside and closed the door, her heart slamming.

It was silent in the corridor, the entire castle asleep. Alana crept down the hall, now worried that Godfrey might awaken and find her stealing out.

It was a windy night, and boughs scraped the castle walls, making her start, while shutters shook. A rat even raced across the stairwell, almost causing her to cry out. Eventually she reached the hall below. It was empty, as she had expected. If they had more soldiers, it would not be.

Alana hurried through it, feeling some guilt. She paused before the front door, glancing back, almost expecting to see Godfrey standing there, his look one of accusation and hurt.

There was no avoiding it. He would learn she was gone in the morning, and she would have to invent an excuse for her absence yet again before she returned to Brodie.

It was still snowing when she crossed the courtyard. Seamus met her in the stables, holding her horse for her. A satchel was tied to the saddle. Another horse was also saddled, and one of his sons held the reins. "I wish ye'd behave like other ladies," he said.

She touched his cheek. "I am not like other ladies, but you already know that. I will be back soon. And, Seamus? Thank you."

He shook his head, clearly unhappy. But Alana knew he would not ask her why she was leaving Brodie a second time. He had been the stableman when her mother was Brodie's mistress, and he was as loyal as a Scot could be. When she had told him she had a trip to make, he had offered one of his sons as a guide. Ranald had not returned and Seamus clearly did not suspect Alana of knowingly bringing a spy from Bruce's camp into their midst, as he was still willing to help her. Craig was one of Brodie's few soldiers, but just then, she needed him more than Brodie did.

They mounted up and set off.

* * *

A LANA WONDERED IF she would freeze to death, now that they were almost at their destination.

It had snowed for two entire days, on the one hand keeping the temperatures more reasonable, but on the other slowing them down considerably. They had only paused to rest for a few hours every night, taking shelter in passing farmhouses. Time was not on their side.

They were on the third day of their journey, and its last leg. They had reached Loch Maree, which was partially frozen, Slioch Mountain looming on its northwestern side. The snow had stopped the previous night, and the temperature had dropped. Alana's fingers and toes were frozen beneath her gloves and boots. So was her nose. The moisture from her eyes was solidified on her cheeks.

"We will be there in hours, Alana," Craig said, smiling. His nose was bright red, and ice clung to his beard. But he did not seem otherwise affected by the cold. "Do ye wish to stop? There is no one on the road. I can make a fire, to warm ye up a bit."

She shook her head. Bruce had to learn of the attack immediately. She shivered, her teeth chattering in a spasm that was occurring with more and more frequency. She caught Craig looking at her without his usual smile, very alarmed by her condition.

She tried to speak. "I am f-f-f-fine."

"We should stop and make a fire. Ye need to eat."

"N-n-n-no."

They were on the banks of the loch now, approaching from the southeast. Alana tried to see the topmost ridges of the mountain. Not only did it seem impossible to see all the way up it, she saw no sign of Bruce or his men.

Suddenly she was frightened. What if Bruce wasn't at Slioch? Had he moved? Or could Sir Alexander have been mistaken?

Buchan had spies close to Bruce, close to Iain. What if they knew of her treachery? What if Sir Alexander had sent her to Slioch on purpose, knowing Bruce was not there?

Alana felt dizzy. She was clinging to her saddle, a beautiful waterfall on her right. Ice clung to the rocks as the water poured over it.

Craig rode ahead of her, and Alana looked back at the waterfall. The water danced over the rocks, brightly white, almost silver...she stared down into the lake. The water there was dark and blue, silent, deep, beckoning....

No! She thought in panic. She knew what was within those dark, secretive depths....

She saw Iain smiling at her. She wanted to ask him if he had forgiven her, but before she could speak, Buchan appeared behind him, enraged, a sword in hand. In horror, Alana realized her uncle was about to murder Iain.

She screamed as the sword came down, and then she hit the snow, falling through it, deeper and deeper, until she saw only white before complete darkness.

* * *

T HE BURNING PAIN awoke Alana. Her fingers, her toes and her nose were on fire. Tears of agony blinded her.

"It will pass," someone said.

She began to shiver violently, helplessly. Someone held her feet and rubbed them, someone else held her hands, thawing them.

"Add more wood to the fire!"

She was in so much pain it took her a moment to realize that it was Iain ordering the fire stoked.

Her heart lurched wildly. She had left Brodie with Craig three days ago! She had almost frozen to death...but she had found Iain, at last!

"Drink this, Alana," Iain said.

She opened her eyes and saw him staring grimly at her. He was forcing a mug to her lips.

She tried to smile at him, but was too frozen to do so. And then she remembered that she had had another vision—a terrible one.

"Drink, Alana," he ordered.

Alana took a sip. The wine was warm and spiced. Its heat crept through her.

He put the mug down, picked up her hands and rubbed them gently. "Ye will not die from the cold today," he said tersely. "But ye might have died, had ye spent another few hours in the snow."

Her stomach churned. "Iain," she tried to say. Her lips were blistered from the cold and it hurt to speak.

He held her hands against his chest. "I will shout at ye for being ten times the fool another day."

Did he care? "Iain," she said, through her cracked lips. She was in his tent, she saw. A fire was in the center, but holes in the hide allowed the smoke to escape.

"I am here, Alana. Do not speak, yer lips are bleeding." He turned and a woman appeared, blonde and freckled, in a long leine and a fur cloak. She dabbed a salve on Alana's mouth and nose.

What day was it? Bruce was going to be attacked! "No. Iain. Please." She struggled to sit up.

He instantly put his arm around her and helped her. Alana put her hands on his chest and whimpered, for her fingers hurt terribly—but not as much as before. He wrapped her hands in his.

For one moment, she closed her eyes and laid her cheek on his chest. The pain was passing. The cold had burned her extremities. She would look later to see if she had lost a finger or a toe.

Alana realized she was nestled in Iain's arms, and that he had his chin on top of her head as he held her hands. He had forgiven her, she thought. Either that or he cared so much about her that what he thought was her betrayal no longer mattered.

"Impatient, headstrong wench," he said.

She looked up at him. "I have come...to warn you."

His gaze narrowed. He handed her the warm wine again. She took another sip. And another one.

He set it down and Alana took a breath. "Buchan plans to attack you at Slioch on Christmas Day."

His eyes widened. "Christmas is but four days away!"

So she had not been unconscious for long. Craig must have brought her here very recently, before departing back to Brodie.

"Are you sure, Alana?"

"I have risked my life to warn you.... Yes, I am certain."

His eyes wide, he stood. "I will be back. Meg will take care of ye until I return." He left the tent immediately.

Alana lay back on the pallet, closing her eyes. She had done it. She had warned Iain. Now she must pray that there was enough time to move the army or mount a proper defense.

She immediately thought of her father, praying she had not put him in jeopardy. She did not want to think about her vision of his death just then.

"Do ye wish for more wine, my lady?"

Alana glanced at the servant, and felt wary. Who was this? She was Alana's own age, a pretty blonde with a small nose and vivid blue eyes. She had seen women at Bruce's other camp at Concarn, but they had been camp followers—the kind of loose and impoverished women that were always present among an army. Alana did not like the fact that this woman was so pretty and so unworn. She did not like the fact that she was tending Alana on Iain's behest.

"Yes, please," Alana said, struggling to sit up. She used her hands and cried out as she did so.

The woman hurried to her. "Try not to use yer hands, my lady. Do they feel better? They have been terribly burned. I was hoping to bandage them, but Iain told me to wait. My name is Meg."

Alana was now sitting, and she allowed the other woman to help her sip the wine. "Are you his lover?"

Meg looked at her, flushing.

Alana looked away instantly.

"So ye love him," Meg said. "To ride across the Highlands to warn him of an attack."

She slowly glanced up. "Yes, I love him. How did you meet?"

"I am the Macleod's youngest daughter." She shrugged. "My husband fought for Iain and died a few months ago." She stared closely now. "Ye must be very beautiful, when yer not frozen and blue. Are ye a lady?"

"No." She hesitated. She did not think Meg a spy, but she decided not to reveal her identity, although it would probably come out soon enough. As they stared at one another, the tent flap opened, and Robert Bruce strode inside. Iain followed him in.

Alana started, as Bruce pulled up a stool and sat down beside her. She began to flush. "Your Grace."

He picked up her hand and looked at her fingers, then laid it in her lap. He tilted up her chin, forcing their gazes to meet. His blue eyes were kind. "Send the other woman away," he said.

Iain asked Meg to leave the tent, and she did.

"Is it true?" Robert Bruce asked.

Alana nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."

He studied her, his gaze lingering on her cracked lips. "You have risked your life to warn us of this attack."

She nodded again. "I did not expect it to be so cold, or Slioch to be so far."

"I am very pleased with you, Alana," Robert Bruce said.

Alana felt her eyes widen impossibly. She looked past Bruce at Iain. She wanted to ask him if he now realized that she loved him—if she had proved herself.

"You will be rewarded for your courage and your loyalty," Bruce said flatly. He stood. "We will march at dawn. Make certain we leave our best scouts here and that Buchan is remarked before he ever reaches Loch Maree's shores."

"Aye, Your Grace."

Bruce turned back to her. "I am sorry for what you have suffered—and amazed, still. Now I can truly call you my friend, Mistress Alana."

Alana stared after him as he left, stunned. Then Iain knelt beside her.

"I have a great deal to do between now and the dawn. But ye must rest so ye can travel."

Alana was alarmed. "Iain, I cannot bear even the thought of the journey home." She was afraid she might die this time. And she did not know what she would say to Godfrey about her absence.

He smiled slightly at her. "Yer not going home. We will speak about it later. For now ye must rest, and thank God ye have all yer fingers and toes."

She smiled at him, her heart dancing wildly. "I am forgiven? You trust me?"

"Yer forgiven," he said. He stood. "Meg will attend ye."

She felt her smile fade. "I don't want her here."

"Worry not, Alana. She means nothing to me." Then he turned and left.