He shook her and she choked on a sob. “Easily! He sent ye to Boath Manor, did he not? And then he sent ye to Nairn—he left ye in the tower, for me to find!”
“No!” she screamed.
“Aye,” he shouted, shaking her. “Did he strike ye because ye refused to spy, at first? Or did he beat ye to mark ye, so ye could play upon my sympathies more easily? Have ye played me for a fool, Alana?”
Her arm was throbbing in pain. But that was nothing like the pain erupting in her breast. “Iain, dear God, I have hated deceiving you—I have feared just such a reaction!”
He flung her away, so hard she fell onto the pallet.
“Damn ye!”
Alana cowered as he turned and smashed the stool he had been sitting on with one blow from his fist. She had feared he would be angry, but she had never expected this!
She was terrified that Iain would never forgive her and that he might even hurt her.
The tent flap blew open, two Highlanders charging inside, swords raised. Alana cringed even more.
Iain looked almost blindly at them.
The men gaped at him and then at Alana.
Realizing she was more naked than clothed in the thigh-length cotton shift, Alana grabbed the fur cover and put it around her body again. She was sick, enough so to retch. Surely Iain would realize she was not a spy.
“Ye can lower yer swords and leave,” Iain said harshly. He was shaking as wildly as she was.
“Aye, Iain.” Both men glanced curiously at Alana again before ducking out of the tent.
As Iain turned, Alana flinched with fear. “Don’t hurt me,” she said.
He stared, breathing hard. “We hang spies,” he finally said. “We hang traitors.”
She cried out. “I am not a spy. I am your mistress! I have not betrayed you!”
He laughed at her without mirth. “My mistress?” He shook his head. “Get dressed.”
Alana did not move. “Iain, please, listen to me.”
He walked away from her instead, took up the pitcher of wine and drank directly from it. “Get dressed, Alana.” He finally glanced at her, his expression hard with anger.
She slowly slid from the bed, their stares locked. She felt like a trapped, hunted animal. “What do you intend? To drag me before Bruce? When you have not even heard me out?”
“He needs to know.”
“Will he really hang me?” she cried. “Would you allow it?”
“He is my king!” he shouted at her, flinging the pitcher across the tent.
She hugged the fur close to her body. “This cannot be happening. I came here because I love you. Surely you know that.”
“Dinna speak to me of love, Alana—not ever again!” he warned. “Only a fool would come here, or a spy. And yer no fool.”
Tears arose. She was going to lose him forever—and she would soon become Bruce’s prisoner—unless she could reason with him! “I am not a spy. How could I be? I met Buchan for the very first time at Nairn. He did not even know I had tended you at Boath Manor. Iain, please believe me.”
“I cannot believe such a story. I will not. I am not a fool, to be played as ye have done.”
“You are not a fool! You are one of the wisest men I know! Iain! I am telling you the truth—I happened upon you at Boath Manor, it was coincidence!”
“And ye just decided out of the goodness of yer heart to tend to my wounds?” He sneered. “I was suspicious, Alana—and I was right!”
