“No.” How could she tell him about her visions now? “You are wrong.”
His gaze ice-cold, he walked over to her. She stiffened as he demanded, “Why did he hit you, Alana?”
She froze. Fear curdled within her. “I displeased him.”
“Because ye did not wish to spy?” He was scathing. “Or did yer uncle try to bed ye, as I first thought?”
The tears returned. “He did not try to bed me. I displeased him. I gave him news he did not wish to hear.”
“What news?” he demanded, towering over her.
Her heart thundered. How could she tell him about her visions now? And the one thing she could not do was tell him another lie.
“Ye cannot answer me!”
She cringed, expecting a blow. “Buchan wished to use me, yes!” she cried. “But not as a spy! At first I could not aid him, and when I could, he was furious with me.”
“If not as a spy, then what? As a whore? As my whore?” he roared.
“No,” she sobbed. “I cannot say!” She dared look up through her tears.
He was so furious—enraged. Alana thought he meant to strike her. But he did not. His hands shaking, he fisted them and put them to his sides. “Ye should have stayed at Brodie,” he finally said, panting. “But now I ken why ye fear Bruce so much.”
“Please, don’t take me to him.”
“He is my king, damn it.”
Alana gasped. “I hoped when I came here that if you ever found out about my father, about my family, you would protect me from Bruce.”
“Ye hoped wrong!”
Alana stared in disbelief. “No.”
He paced across the tent and shoved through the door. As he left, the flap slammed closed.
Alana began to shake all over again. Holding her knees, she buried her face there and wept.
* * *
ALANAWASDRESSEDand sitting on the pallet, when Iain returned. No more than an hour had gone by since he had left in a whirlwind of rage and suspicion.
She stiffened, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. He paused, holding the tent flap open, his face taut with anguish and anger. “Get up. Get yer fur.”
She was not quite able to move. “We need to speak.”
“There is nothing left to say. Bruce has summoned ye.”
She staggered to her feet. “You turned me in?”
He stared grimly at her. “He doesn’t know yet. But he has summoned us to the hall.”
Alana was breathing hard. “You haven’t told him about me?”
“I told him about ye, Alana, days ago, when I sent Ranald to fetch ye.” His mouth was turned down. “He found it curious that ye cared for me when I was wounded in Boath Manor and that Buchan locked ye up.” He made a harsh, mocking sound. “I made light of the matter, but the king sensed yer treachery, even then. Let us go.”
Alana’s mind raced. Iain hadn’t told Robert Bruce about her, not yet—but Bruce had summoned her to his hall. “Iain, I cannot go. I cannot meet Bruce. You cannot tell him who I am. I am not a spy, but he might hold me as a hostage! Neither Buchan nor my father would care. No ransom would ever be paid!”
“He is my king, and he has summoned us.” Iain caught her wrist.
