* * *
THEDAYSGREWwarm. She received a letter from Joan—she and her daughters were safe at Percy’s Carlisle estate, awaiting word from King Edward as to their disposition. Alice and Margaret enclosed letters, as well. They were relieved to be safely in England, and prayed for Alana’s safety. Alice wished they could have a reunion in London one day. Alana read her words and felt close to tears.
Iain did not send word. He did not send a messenger, either.
“Why hasn’t he sent me a letter?” Alana cried in frustration to Angus. She was worried, as well.
“It is gossip, my lady, but it is said that Bruce is hunting Buchan now, fer he has finally recovered from the illness that plagued him all winter. I have heard his army has been seen near Inverurie,” Angus said. “Ye will hear from Iain soon, my lady, I am certain of it.” He smiled encouragingly at her.
And finally, a messenger came from Iain.
Alana ran into the courtyard, as fast as her legs would carry her. Angus and a dozen Highlanders stood there, next to a beaming soldier with long blond hair. Her heart felt as if it might explode inside of her chest. Clearly, the news was good!
“My lady!” The tall blond Highlander turned, smiling. “I have word from Iain of Islay.”
Alana halted, panting, hands clasped to her chest. “Is he well?”
“He is more than well, my lady! Bruce has defeated the Earl of Buchan—he has defeated the baron Mowbray—their army has been scattered to the four corners of this land!” the messenger cried.
Angus and his men began to cheer.
“What?” Alana gasped, in disbelief.
“Bruce has crushed the Earl of Buchan! And his army has been entirely dispersed. The earl has fled—he is in hiding—and we believe he will go to England.”
Alana reeled. “Buchan’s army is truly finished?”
Angus steadied her. “There is no army left, my lady,” he said.
Oh, God, she thought. “The war here in the north? Is it over?”
“It is over.” The messenger grinned. “And Iain wishes ye to know that he will come to ye here at Brodie as soon as he can.”
Tears blinded her. Iain was safe. Her uncle had no army left, and he was running away to England. “Thank you,” Alana whispered. “Thank you.”
* * *
ITWASAlate June day. Alana galloped a gray mare across the countryside with an escort of soldiers behind her. Buchan had been defeated a month ago, and Iain had not returned. Alana could not stand the waiting. She had taken to riding every day, galloping hard and fast across the countryside, jumping fallen trees and streams.
If only Iain would return!
The signs of the war were everywhere, just beyond Brodie’s walls. The ridges were scorched. Villages had been reduced to ashes, manors to rubble. Livestock wandered loose, seeking fodder. Beggars were on the roads. Forests that had been green were blackened and burned.
She wondered when the Harrying of Buchan would end, and if it ever would. Robert Bruce clearly meant to bring the defeated earldom to its knees. His vengeance knew no bounds. He would destroy every living thing, or so it seemed.
“Lady!” Angus cried.
Alana saw the banner on the horizon at the exact moment that he spoke. She pulled up her mare abruptly, her heart lurching with excitement. Oh, God! It was Iain!
A moment later he came galloping over the horizon upon his dark warhorse, a dozen Highlanders behind him, his banner with its red dragon whipping in the wind above them.
Alana bit her lip, crying.
He thundered toward her, his long dark hair flying about his shoulders. And then he halted beside her, his mount rearing.
“Iain,” she whispered, crying helplessly now.
He leaped from his stallion, reached her in two long strides and pulled her into his arms, embracing her as if there was no tomorrow. He kissed her deeply, for a long, long time.
