“So your lover doesn’t know?”
“He doesn’t know.” She opened her eyes. “Will you tell him?”
“Why would I have to? He will realize it soon enough.” Godfrey folded his arms across his chest. “Why won’t he marry you, Alana? He is a fourth son, a Highlander, with no lands, no titles, nothing except what Bruce has given him. It is hardly as if he is above you.”
She got to her feet. “Bruce wants him to have a great heiress.”
“Well, if Bruce wins this war, he will have many great heiresses to choose from. If Bruce loses, and Iain keeps his head and evades capture, he will return to Islay with nothing.”
Alana hesitated, feeling cold. “Bruce wants to give him Alice.”
“Alice?” It took Godfrey a moment. “Your sister?” He seemed aghast.
“You do not think it rough justice?”
“No. I do not think it justice, not of any kind.” Godfrey walked over to her. “Brodie is yours now. Perhaps this would be a good time to find a husband.”
“I have been thinking about it, and you are right,” Alana whispered. If she was with child, she should marry now and give her child the legitimacy she never had. Bruce had said he would find her a husband—perhaps she should send a letter to him.
Godfrey was staring at her. Alana realized he was saddened, for her—for them.
“Am I interrupting?”
Alana gasped, whirling. Iain stood in the doorway, his gaze sharp. How much had he heard?
He looked back and forth between the two of them, holding an untied but rolled-up parchment in his hand.
“I have heard from Duncan,” he said.
Godfrey paled. Alana walked to him and took his hand. “What does he say?”
“He says he is impoverished from this war, and cannot afford the ransom,” Iain said, handing him the vellum.
Godfrey realized Alana was holding his hand. He pulled away, taking the parchment, his expression twisted. He walked away from them both to read it.
Alana faced Iain. “You never come up here.”
His gaze was hooded. She could not tell what he had heard. “I received the missive and thought Godfrey would wish to know immediately.”
Last night, after he had made love to her, she had reached for him, instigating another bout of passion, this one wild and urgent. After he had fallen asleep, she had crept into his arms, sleeping that way for most of the night. “That was kind,” she said.
He suddenly tilted up her chin. “Godfrey is right. If Bruce loses this war and I escape with my head, I will run to Islay, very much like a dog with its tail between his legs.”
Her pulse pounded. He had clearly overheard the last part of their conversation—but had he heard them speaking of her possible pregnancy? “You would never turn tail and run.”
“I beg to differ. Sometimes it is the most clever of actions.” His smile faded. His gaze was searching.
Alana turned away. She did not want him looking into her eyes, not now.
Godfrey approached, distraught. “He said he can make payments. He said he will make a quarter payment in the spring. Will you accept that?”
Alana tensed, and Iain glanced at her briefly. “I have no use for ye otherwise, so yes, I will accept payments for yer ransom. But, Godfrey? I will not release ye until the entire ransom has been paid.”
Godfrey trembled, handing him the vellum. “You ask a king’s ransom.”
“Not truly,” Iain said. And then he turned to Alana, his expression serious. “Can ye come downstairs with me?”
She was alarmed, terribly so. He had heard that she was with child! “Is something amiss?” she asked with a slight smile.
