She smiled nervously. “I am weary, that is all.”
His brow lifted. “Are ye still frightened?” he asked. “Did I not promise to protect ye—even from the king?”
He sensed her unease, she thought. “Yes.”
“Maybe one day ye will tell me the truth—and why ye fear the king so much.”
He clasped her hand and pulled her forward, toward the open doors of the hall.
“I am the king’s enemy,” she said.
He gave her a glance, indicating that he knew, very well, that there was far more to her fear than such a simple explanation. He was astute. How long could she deceive him, when she did not even want to?
It was so hard not to stare at him. Without the fur he habitually wore, she could see the hard, muscular outline of his shoulders, his chest and torso through his clothes. He was a tall, powerfully built man. He had to be three times her size, and all male muscle. And he still held her hand. Her mouth was dry.
He smiled slightly, as if he knew how discomfited—and interested—she was. “Come. Ye must be hungry, as am I.”
She tried to smile at him and wondered if she succeeded. As she did, she glanced past him and into the great hall.
A great feast was taking place within it. Alana looked past everyone there, a huge crowd of knights, nobles, women and Highland men, and she instantly saw Robert Bruce.
She had seen his likeness once or twice, and even if she had not, she would have instantly known which man was Scotland’s king.
He was simply impossible to mistake. He was a giant among men, although taller men were present. He was handsome and powerfully built, although others were more so. And he was superbly dressed. A red doublet over a blue surcote, red hose sheathing his powerful legs above his black boots. A red-and-gold mantle swung about his shoulders. He wore gold rings, a gold chain, a gold cross.
But mostly, he had an air of power and authority—and the presence of a warrior and a king.
It occurred to her then that she might deceive Iain through evasion, with female manipulations, and the attraction they shared. But Bruce would not be so easily fooled.
However, the hall was so crowded that there was no room left to sit or stand. It would be so easy to enter it and go unremarked. Yet Alana remained uneasy.
She ducked her head, averting her face from all those they passed, as they walked inside the great hall. Alana tried to make herself even smaller than she was, shrinking against his side. If he noticed her behavior, he did not remark it. Fortunately the crowd was mostly inebriated. A few men shouted a greeting to him. Iain did not pause. He led her to one of the many makeshift tables that had been erected in the room.
Alana was clinging to his hand. She glanced carefully at the table, standing somewhat behind Iain. Every possible seat was taken. It crossed her mind that they might have to leave—and she would not mind, this was simply too stressful—when Iain tapped a man on the shoulder and a place was instantly vacated for her. Inhaling, Alana slid onto the bench, Iain standing behind her.
A quick look around the table told her that she was surrounded by strangers, all of them English knights in Bruce’s service, from his lands in Carrick and Annandale. Alana flung a glance over her shoulder, past Iain. Bruce was surrounded by a large group of enthralled admirers, mostly noblemen in jewels and knights wearing their swords, as well as several very beautiful women. He was engrossed with his friends, and she was relieved.
Iain laid a hand on her shoulder and bent over her. “Perhaps ye will enjoy the evening now.” His chest pressed upon her shoulder and his arm against her breast, while his breath feathered her nape.
Alana felt her mind go blank. At the same time, her heart raced.
Then, before she could wonder at what he was he doing, Iain shoved his way onto the bench next to her.
There was no room to accommodate him, yet he pushed between her and the man next to her, forcing a place to be made. His large, powerful body wedged against hers, from shoulder to hip and hip to knee. He smiled at her, then handed her a mug of wine. “Drink and ye will feel better,” he said.
Alana was shocked. Did he mean to seduce her? He had deliberately pressed his body against hers a moment ago, she was certain. She seized her mug and drank. It was so hard to think clearly!
He handed her a slab of bread with a piece of cheese upon it. Their gazes collided as he did. Alana was certain her cheeks flamed, and she hurriedly looked away.
“I am glad ye were not more scathed from this battle.”
She set the bread and cheese down, untouched. Her pounding pulse made eating impossible. His tone was so soft, so intimate. “You were once—so recently—suspicious of me.”
“Ye were once—so recently—suspiciously spying from the wood.” He smiled and ate.
Alana looked away, somewhat breathless, and took a bite of the cheese. His smiles were making him seem like a different man—as if he were not Bruce’s ruthless warrior. “I wasn’t spying.”
He was piling up a plate with roasted game and warm bread. “Even if ye were, that was then, and this is now.” He set the huge plate down in front of her. “Ye need yer strength, Alana. Eat.”
