“Ye look as frightened as a deer caught in the archer’s sight.”
“I am frightened,” she breathed.
“Then ye must be very worried about yer loyalties,” he said grimly. “Is that it? Do ye worry about yer loyalty to Brodie—to Buchan—over me?”
She hugged herself. “I am not thinking about my loyalties now.”
But he pressed on. “Do ye still think of the burning of Nairn? Ye were angry with me.”
She tensed. “I do, but that is not what we must discuss.”
But his gaze was narrowed. It was a moment before he spoke. “If ye cannot be loyal to me, ye must be honest.”
She stared. This was an opening—one she must take. “I care so much about you, do you know that?”
His eyes widened with alarm. “I also care about ye, Alana,” he said carefully. He stood up.
“I fear for your welfare when you are in battle, yet at the same time, I do not want Bruce to succeed.”
“That is very honest—and a very difficult course to take.”
“It is very difficult. But there is more.” Holding the fur covers, Alana also stood. “I don’t want to lose you, Iain.”
“What is this dance, Alana? Why would ye lose me? We can be lovers, even if we are on opposite sides of the war. What do ye truly fear telling me?”
She felt tears arise. “I have been lying to you.”
His eyes shot wide. “How?”
“My mother is Elisabeth le Latimer—but I do know who my father is. I have been afraid, terrified, to tell you.”
He stared at her, surprised. “Who is yer father, Alana?”
She pursed her mouth while her heart exploded in her chest. “Please, forgive me. Sir Alexander...Comyn.”
For one moment, he simply stared, his expression frozen. Then shock filled his eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ALANAWIPEDTHEtears from her cheeks. “Will you say something?”
“Yer the Earl of Buchan’s niece?” he asked, stunned.
Somehow Alana nodded. “I am sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry?” He began to tremble. His cheeks were turning red. “Yer the niece of the king’s worst enemy, and yer sorry?”
“Very.”
“Yer Buchan’s niece, and yer sharing my bed!” he exclaimed.
He was now horrified. She was naked except for the fur, so she turned and found her clothing. Her back to Iain, she shrugged on her torn chemise, as quickly as she could. She had not even reached for her cote when he seized her arm from behind.
She cried out. “You’re hurting me!” His grip was brutal.
He whipped her around to face him, his eyes now blazing with the kind of fury she had prayed she would not see. “So Buchan sent ye to spy on me!”
“No!” she gasped. “Iain, how could you think such a thing?”
