He shoved his plate and mug aside, folding his arms on the table. Leaning toward her, he asked, “Why?”
She did not dare accuse him of treating her like a common harlot, did she?
“Why, Alana?”
She wet her lips. “I was not pleased last night.”
He sat back, arms crossed. “I recall last night quite differently.”
His smirk ignited her as nothing else could. “I am not a harlot, to be used quickly and lightly, and left so easily the next day!”
His eyes remained surprised. Then he began to smile. “So ye needed more than what ye got?”
“Do not leer. You have never spent the night with me sleeping on your side, apart from me! You barely kissed me—we barely touched.”
His smile vanished. His cheekbones were tinged with red. “I did not mean to go to ye last night.” He spoke low, and leaned close. “But when the time came, I could not help myself. How can ye blame me fer thinking ye have put a dark love spell on me?”
She gasped. He actually believed she had bewitched him!
He abruptly stood. “If ye dinna want me to come to ye tonight, remove the spell.”
She could barely speak. “There is no spell!”
He gave her a dark look and walked over to the fireplace where some of his men stood. He kept his back to her as he was handed wine.
Alana could do nothing but stare, dismayed.
* * *
WINTERRETURNEDTOthe north with a fierce and savage intensity, the snow piling up outside the castle walls almost as high as the crenellations. Iain sent a ransom demand to Duncan, who remained at Elgin. News came that Bruce had fallen ill, and had retreated farther south, where he was Christina MacRuari’s guest. Like Angus Og, she remained one of his most powerful allies, but now, rumor held that they were lovers.
Alana took over the management of Brodie with determination, sending men in good weather to Nairn for provisions from the east, while Iain’s men spent any fair days hunting, bringing home more venison and boor. The fortifications to the south wall were postponed until the spring.
Alana spent every morning with Godfrey. He was cool, but grew less hateful, and she knew he began to look forward to her visits, no matter what he said. She gave him permission to write to his father, and Alana hoped Duncan would listen to his son’s plea and pay the demanded ransom, so he could be freed.
Iain continued to share her chamber—and her bed. And while their relationship had changed, there were times when Alana slept in his arms, and other times when there was an explosion of passion that neither could stop. On those occasions, she felt like the young girl he had first loved once again.
It was mid-February now. Alana began to worry that she was with child after all. And if she was, whose fault was it? She had not turned Iain away, not a single time.
“You are morose today,” Godfrey said.
Alana smiled quickly at him. They were seated side by side in front of the fire in his chamber. “I do not know why we haven’t had a reply from your father yet. Maybe you should write the earl.”
“Buchan gives even less of a damn about me,” Godfrey said harshly, and he stood. “It has been over a month since Brodie fell to Iain. Why haven’t you received a communication from either Buchan or your father?”
Alana wet her lips, shifting in her chair so she could look at him. “I have heard Buchan is in the south, plotting the war against Bruce with his allies. My father might be with him.”
“Alana, if you are suggesting that neither has heard of your treachery by now, you are mad.”
If only their receiving such news was the greatest of her concerns, she thought.
“What is wrong?” Godfrey asked.
She touched her belly. “I’m afraid I am finally with child.”
Godfrey paled.
Alana closed her eyes, instantly regretting telling Godfrey such a secret. She still felt terribly over taking Brodie from him, and that he was imprisoned because of her. She still cared about him as a friend, but she did not—and should not—trust him.
