“No. My father remains at Elgin. We haven’t been given more men. No one cares about Brodie except for you and I.” He suddenly rubbed his face with his hand and cursed.
He was right, she thought. “I am sorry I wasn’t here when they arrived.”
He looked at her. “Buchan is angry. You had better give him a good vision, Alana.”
Inwardly she cringed. “I haven’t had any other visions.”
“Maybe you should make one up—one that will get us defenses!” He took her arm. “They’re in the hall. They know you have returned.” His gaze turned searching.
Alana began to shake. “My father...how is he?”
“He is well, Alana. He asked about you.”
“He did?”
“You cannot avoid this meeting, and isn’t this what you have been hoping for?” Godfrey pulled her toward the door. “He isn’t at all like Buchan,” he said, low.
Alana could not ask him what he meant, because at that moment she saw her father. He was seated with Buchan before the fire, but now, he looked over his shoulder at her. And eyes wide, he got to his feet.
She faltered.
Godfrey pulled her inside and shut the door behind them. “My lords,” he said. “Mistress Alana has returned.”
He was exactly as she remembered, Alana thought, her heart suddenly racing. He was tall, golden-haired, handsome. He looked more like a god from Greek mythology than a man, never mind the fine clothing he wore.
No wonder her mother had loved him.
The Earl of Buchan had risen and he strolled around both chairs and toward her. “We have been waiting for you to return, Alana,” he said.
She flinched and met his cool gaze. He was displeased with her. Her pulse pounded more swiftly. “I am sorry, my lord,” she said. “I had no intent to keep you waiting.” She slowly pulled off her fur-lined cloak.
“You are a brave woman, to venture off alone as you have,” Buchan remarked. He paused before her and lifted her chin. “So Iain of Islay took Nairn—and freed you.”
She flushed, wondering if he had somehow learned the truth about her and her relationship with Iain. Fear stabbed through her. In that moment, she knew that her uncle would ruthlessly destroy her if he ever learned that she had betrayed him and his cause by sleeping with his enemy. “He did not know I was your niece, my lord,” she managed to tell him. “Nor did he know about my ability to see.”
“Then you were fortunate. He would have never freed you had he guessed your value.” Buchan released her chin and gestured at Sir Alexander. “I believe you know your own father, mistress.”
Alana was free now to gaze upon Sir Alexander, who smiled and came forward. “My own daughter,” he said softly.
He seemed pleased to see her, but she could not smile back. Instead, as he took her hand, she stiffened. She had been waiting for this moment for fifteen years, she thought, incapable of drawing an even breath. She had been hoping for a reunion, but now that he was there, she was at a loss. Now, she did not know what to say, or how to feel. She did not know if she was thrilled to see him or dismayed. “My lord,” she said, inclining her head.
“I remember when we met, so many years ago, when you were a little girl.” Alana looked up. His smile faded. He studied her for a moment. “Even then, I thought that you looked just like your mother.”
“We met when I was five,” she heard herself say hoarsely. “I have not forgotten.” Hurt stabbed through her chest.
He appeared kind; as if he cared. But he had not come to see her in fifteen years! He could not be kind or caring, could he? If he had cared, he would have come not once, but many times.
“I have not forgotten, either,” he said softly. “My brother told me how you have grown up into a beautiful woman.” He inhaled. “Your mother was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. You resemble her exactly.”
Were his eyes tearing? Why was he close to crying now?
She wanted to ask him if had loved Elisabeth, or if he had merely used her to sate his own lust. She wanted to ask him if he would have married Elisabeth had she survived childbirth, or if he would have married Joan, anyway. She wanted to know what he had felt when he had learned that his lover was with child. And mostly she wanted to ask why? Why had she been abandoned, dismissed and forgotten?
But she could not ask him any of these things.
Instead, Alana curtsied. “I have heard that my mother was very beautiful. I doubt I resemble her that much.”
He smiled. “What a perfectly modest reply.”
