His eyes widened. “I’ll tell him.” He shut the door, bolted it and left.
Alana turned to her wide-eyed grandmother, trembling. “I will convince him to free us.”
Eleanor stood, but stiffly. “Have a care, Alana, he answers to Bruce.”
Alana stared. “He doesn’t know anything yet.”
“Make sure he never does.”
Alana felt a terrible dismay. But Eleanor was right. Bruce was somewhere at Nairn—she could never be honest with Iain about her Comyn blood now.
Alana turned to stare at the locked door. Iain owed her a vast debt—he had said so. Surely he would free them. Surely she could convince him to do so.
But what if Buchan were below, and the truth came out?
She inhaled. Even if Buchan did not reveal her identity, most of the castle’s inhabitants knew she was Buchan’s niece. Even if Iain decided to free them, she was in peril, until she was safely gone from Nairn.
Footsteps sounded outside, heavy and male, with the jangle of spurs. She glanced at Eleanor, who smiled reassuringly. Alana felt her heart slam as the bolt was thrown and the door opened.
Iain stood there with the graying Highlander, his blue eyes wide with shock.
Alana smiled. “My lord.” She trembled, hoping to be deferential. But her heart raced, and she could not deny a moment of joy.
He strode to her, unsmiling, his eyes hard, and touched her chin. He tilted it up. “By God! Who did this to ye?”
She tensed. There was a terrible bruise on the right side of her face, and her lip was swollen from where it had been split. But she was fortunate that her uncle had missed her eye. And the bruises were healing. They were bluish-green now, not darkly purple.
She hesitated. “I fell, my lord.”
He dropped his hand from her chin. His stare intensified, and she flinched, but she could not look away. “Why will ye protect the man who did this?”
She did not know how to respond. “Because it doesn’t matter,” she finally said.
“It matters,” he said with warning. “And ye were burned in the battle!”
Alana started. Iain almost sounded as if he cared.
“A small missile almost came through the window,” she began.
“And ye were here, locked inside, for the entire battle?”
“We have been in this chamber, yes, for the entire battle.”
He gave her one last incredulous look, and turned to Eleanor. “Lady Fitzhugh, are ye unharmed?”
“I have not been hurt,” Eleanor assured him. “But I am weary.”
“Do ye wish to take to yer bed? I will have a meal sent up,” Iain said.
“I am afraid these old bones need some rest,” Eleanor said.
Alana went to her. Eleanor seemed unusually frail, so suddenly.
Iain turned his attention to Alana. His stare was so direct that she became nervous. “Why did the Earl of Buchan imprison ye?”
“I displeased him.”
His stare sharpened.
