“You have three,” Godfrey said instantly.
Alana seized his hand. “You would do this for me?”
“Yes, Alana, I would.” He turned to the three women. “There is every chance you will be discovered. Are you certain you wish to flee?”
“We must try!” Alice cried.
Alana trembled, thinking not of Bruce, but of Iain now. She would claim innocence to the king, but she would not deny her hand in this, not to Iain. “Lady Joan, please write to Sir Percy instantly, for as soon as we receive his vow of aid, we can reply to MacDougall, and accept his offer.” She breathed hard.
Godfrey looked at her. “You are a courageous woman, Alana le Latimer.”
She met his unyielding gaze. “I promised Sir Alexander I would see them safely to England.”
Godfrey stood. “Iain will forgive you. He would forgive you anything, as long as he has your love.”
He sounded envious, she thought. Alana hoped he was right.
* * *
ALANAPOUNDEDTHEdough with her fists. They had not had a good loaf of bread in weeks, but yesterday she had gone to the market with a large escort of soldiers for more provisions, never mind that she and Eleanor hardly cared whether they had bread on the table or not.
Joan and her sisters had left three days earlier, and by now, they must be at Dunstaffnage—unless they had been captured. How she missed them, and how she missed Godfrey! Alana inhaled. Joan had promised to send word the moment they arrived at Sir John’s fortress. She was praying for a messenger at any time.
She began to roll the dough, sorrow sweeping through her.
She had become so quickly attached to her sisters, and when they had hugged and said goodbye, everyone had been in tears. Alice and Margaret had promised to write. Then Alice had seized her hand.
“No matter what happens, we will always be sisters and friends,” she had said hoarsely.
They had embraced, hard.
Alana sighed, shaping the dough into an oval. How she missed them all—even Joan.
“Alana?” Eleanor hurried into the kitchen. “There is smoke on the horizon.”
Alana stared at her grim grandmother, then removed her apron and hurried from the kitchen, Eleanor behind her and unable to keep up. She ran from the hall and outside, realizing that several of Iain’s soldiers had gathered atop the watchtower. She crossed the courtyard and rushed up the narrow stone steps.
“What is it?” she cried.
Angus faced her. “There is fighting close by,” he said.
It was a beautiful May day. The sky was the bright blue of a robin’s egg, with an occasional fluffy white cloud. The sun was high and strong. The hills bloomed with yellow wildflowers and purple thistle. But in the north, a dark pall hung over a distant ridge.
“Do we know who it is?” Alana asked. “Are we in danger?”
“I have sent a scout, my lady,” Angus said.
Could Iain be there, just miles away, in the midst of battle? She had not heard from him since he had retreated from Elgin. Word was that Bruce’s army was to the southwest, near Aberdeen, and that Buchan’s army was in hiding. But such news was not confirmed, and Alana did not know if another battle was imminent or not.
That night, the scout returned. Alana was seated with Eleanor before the fire in the hall when Angus came striding inside. “There is nothing to fear,” he said. “Kincorth has been razed to the ground. So has the village of Kinloss.”
Alana nodded, reaching for Eleanor’s hand. Those were Buchan lands. “Was it Iain?”
“We dinna ken, my lady,” Angus said.
She trembled, recalling his ruthless devastation of Nairn. But this was war, and until it was over, the innocent would pay, as well as the enemy. There was nothing to be done now, Alana thought, except to wait for word from Joan, a missive from Iain and the end of the damned war. If only he would come to her.
She had never missed him more.
