Tears filled his eyes. But he remained furious. “Alana, are you carrying his bastard yet?”
She froze.
“I mean, who would ever think that you, of all women, would bring a bastard into this world!”
She could think of nothing worse. “I am not with child.”
“For how long?”
She stumbled away, as swiftly as she could.
* * *
ALANAREALIZEDSHEwas hiding from Iain. She had spent most of the day in the cellars, inspecting what was left of Brodie’s provisions for the winter. She had then gone into the kitchens to supervise the supper being prepared. When she had seen Iain in the corridor, at noon, she had reversed course to avoid coming face-to-face with him—to avoid speaking to him.
She knew she could not continue to avoid him, as Brodie was too small a castle, and he had not indicated that he would soon leave. In fact, she had heard that he was going to spend the next few weeks improving Brodie’s defenses. He had sent men into the forest to cut down trees, never mind the cold. They had only just returned with the onset of dusk.
And because it was finally growing dark, Iain and his men had gathered in the hall, and were waiting for their supper. It would be night soon. Then what would happen? Did he think to share her bed again?
What if she was with child?
What if she brought a bastard into this world?
Alana could barely stand upright. Years ago she had realized she would never marry, and she had stopped contemplating having a family. Now the thought of bearing a son or a daughter was a great joy.
But her child would be a bastard. She did not want her child to suffer from lack of legitimacy, as she had. She did not want her child to be an outcast or worse because he or she was lowborn, without lands or titles. Her child would have no power in this world. What kind of life could she give him?
Now she realized her blood flow was late. She had had her monthly before she had been imprisoned at Nairn. That had been in early December. There had been nothing since, and it was early January now.
She told herself she was late and that was all. Hadn’t she just trekked across the Highlands and almost frozen to death?
A maid dropped a platter onto the floor, breaking into Alana’s thoughts. Fortunately it had been empty. She hurried forward to help the girl pick up the shards of pottery.
Boar and venison had been roasting slowly on spits in the kitchen hearths for most of the afternoon. Platters of meat filled up the entire table in the kitchen. Alana finished helping the young girl tidy up and straightened. She watched several kitchen maids carry the plates into the hall. One was Meg, who had ignored her since she had come down to help with supper.
Alana sighed. She did not want to go into the hall with everyone else. She took off her apron, sitting down on a stool at the table, which was empty now, except for a casket of wine.
Maybe Iain wouldn’t bother with her tonight. She did not feel relief at the thought—she felt dismay and hurt.
“Iain is asking for ye,” Meg said sharply.
Alana looked up. Meg scowled at her from the doorway, turned and left.
Alana got up grimly and left the kitchen. She walked slowly into the hall. As she did, the loud sound of conversation, laughter and ribaldry washed over her. The castle was, once again, in a very festive mood.
And why not? This time was a respite from blood and death.
Iain sat at the head of the table, eating. Every seat was taken. His men were eating ravenously, and there was a great deal of drinking. The maids and Meg were pouring wine almost as quickly as it was drunk.
Alana paused by one fireplace, not going any closer. Iain looked at her.
He wasn’t smiling, and she did not smile, either.
Meg was suddenly beside him, pouring him wine, and leaning into him with her breast as she did so. Alana tensed, but did not move. Clearly, Meg was seizing an opportunity.
Iain spoke with her, smiling, his posture easing as he did. When she left, he looked at Alana and gestured for her to approach.
It was a summons, she thought, and she slowly walked over to where he sat. Dread warred with her high state of nervousness.
