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.
* * *
IAINHADNOplans 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?”
