Iain was reaching for his fur cloak. He put it on as he straightened. And not looking at her, he began snuffing out each candle.
Dismay began. What had just happened? She was stunned by their lovemaking. Except—it had not been lovemaking. And she was still tied up like a prisoner. Fear arose, clawing at her. “Iain.”
He snuffed out the last candle. The interior of the tent became dark. He did not answer her, and she could just make out his big body settling onto the pallet of hides across the tent from her.
Pain erupted in her breast. Alana lay back down, hugging her pillow tightly. It was a long time before she fell asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THICKCLOUDSCOVEREDthe sky, making it gray. It would snow before nightfall, Alana thought, which was still hours away. She fought the urge to weep.
She was astride a small brown mare, a soldier on each side of her. Iain rode ahead of them, leading the way, Ranald beside him. They had ridden out of Concarn shortly after sunrise, and it was now midday. Alana suspected that they would arrive at Brodie shortly.
They were riding though the snow-covered forest on a well-used deer trail, most of the snow underfoot packed hard from the riders who used it. Alana held on to her saddle. She was so distraught that she felt faint, enough so to fall off of her horse.
She was sick in her heart. The passion she and Iain had shared last night had not changed anything. If anything, it had put an even greater distance between them. For it had been tainted with her fear, her desperation and his distrust. Even though she had found release in his arms, she felt used and abused, like a woman taken merely for the man’s pleasure, only to be cast aside the next day.
For hadn’t she been cast aside? He had awoken her that morning without a word, slitting the rope on her wrists, causing her to awaken in alarm, and then he had left the tent abruptly, before their eyes could even meet. A few moments later Ranald had come to get her, telling her that they were riding for Brodie now.
Tears crept into her eyes. If passion could not bring them together, then what would?
Iain suddenly raised his hand and halted. “Brodie,” he said.
He turned in his saddle and looked over his shoulder at her, his expression cast from stone. “Ranald will be going with ye. Ye will put him in the stables and disguise him as one of the village children.”
Alana somehow nodded. Dear God, was he going to send her on her way without a private word?
“Do ye think ye can bring me information when Mistress Alana sends it?” he asked the boy, his tone softening.
Ranald nodded eagerly. “Aye, my lord, ’tis an easy ride to Concarn.”
He smiled at him. “We will not be at Concarn for long. When ye hear an owl hooting at noon, ye will come out to the woods here to meet me, or my man. But only if ’tis at noon, Ranald.”
The boy nodded.
Iain slid off his stallion, handing the reins to Ranald. He stared at Alana. “I have instructions to give ye.”
She trembled, so sickened by the tension between them and what seemed to be his indifference. And now he would instruct her on how to spy? She started to dismount but he seized her bridle. “Ye can stay astride, as the orders are brief.” He led her horse aside from the rest of their group.
She did not want to stay astride. She wanted to dismount—and leap into his arms and demand he cease this nonsense. A man could not care for a woman one day and despise her the next! “I cannot part this way,” she said tersely.
He halted her horse by a small brook that was mostly frozen. Her mare lowered its head to sniff at it and find a place to drink. Iain looked up at her. “How many soldiers does Duncan have at Brodie? How many archers?”
“That is what you ask me? You ask me about Brodie’s defenses?” she cried. Holding the saddle, she flung one leg over it and hurriedly dismounted. “You do not ask me if I am happy, or sad or hurt?”
He quickly caught her before she fell. For one moment, his hands held her waist, and then he released her. “I told ye to stay astride,” he said darkly.
She stared up at him. “What happened last night?”
He flinched. “If I hurt ye, I am sorry.”
She could barely breathe. “You have broken my heart, Iain.”
“No. That is impossible.”
“You did not protect me from Bruce—and last night, you used me as if I were some common serving wench!”
“Ye seduced me, Alana,” he warned. “Ye came to me!”
