“Thank you, my lord,” she said politely.
“Your mother was modest, too. And she was clever. Strong.”
There was no doubt in Alana’s mind that he had felt fondly toward Elisabeth. At least he had cared about her mother.
“Lady Fitzhugh tells me you are all of those things,” Sir Alexander said. “You must be fatigued, Alana. And hungry. Shall we sit together?”
Did he now wish to speak with her? Spend time with her? “Thank you, my lord.” Her head was spinning. The Earl of Buchan had returned to his seat at the table’s head, and Alana took a place on the bench. She did not look at the earl as she did so. Sir Alexander sat down across from her. He signaled a maid for food, and poured Alana wine.
Godfrey took the seat next to Alana. Oddly, she felt comforted by his presence now. She gave him a grateful glance.
“I was very pleased when my brother told me we would come to Brodie,” Sir Alexander said, handing her the mug.
“You could have come at any time, my lord,” she said carefully.
His eyes widened. Before he could respond, Eleanor hurried into the hall, and he appeared relieved. “Lady Fitzhugh, you can cease worrying. Alana is back.”
“I can see that!” Eleanor sat down beside Alana, patting her hand. But her gaze was sharp, piercing. “Alana, dear, are you all right?”
“I am fine, Gran.” Alana hugged her briefly. Then she studied her father, aware that he was staring. What excuse did he have for not calling upon her even once in the past decade and a half? She wondered. Would he offer an explanation, an excuse? Did she dare ask him directly? “How long will you be in residence?” she finally asked.
“We will probably take our leave on the morrow,” Sir Alexander said. “We are gathering up our allies in this war. We do not have a great deal of time to linger.”
Alana tensed. She instantly did not want to hear any more—if she did not know anything, she could not spy on anyone for Bruce, much less her uncle and her father.
“Our spies tell us Bruce will march soon,” the earl said. “We do not yet know where, although we have our suspicions. We must prepare our defenses and rout him once and for all.”
Alana wondered yet again if she should somehow reveal that Bruce would march next week. But she said nothing.
“Alana, you are never to place yourself in danger again,” Buchan said abruptly.
Alana started, facing him with dread.
“You are Duncan’s ward. When he is away, you are to obey Godfrey in all matters.” He looked directly at Godfrey. “It is your duty to keep her safe. Should ill befall her, I will hold you responsible.”
Godfrey paled. “Aye, my lord.”
Alana’s heart sank. She knew why Buchan so suddenly cared about her welfare. He wished to make use of any new visions of the war that she might have.
“Godfrey says there have been no new visions, not a single one,” Buchan said, confirming her suspicions.
She glanced at Sir Alexander. His stare was sharp now. She turned back to her uncle, even more dismayed. Did her father also wish for her to have visions to aid them in the war? “There have been no new visions,” she said. She stared down at the table, thinking about the image forever engraved in her mind of the earldom in ruins, with Bruce’s flag flying high in the skies. “I would be pleased if I never had a vision again.”
“I wish to be notified the instant you have a vision, good or bad. And I do not care if it is about the war or a damned cow!” Buchan faced Godfrey, eyes dark and flashing. “Every vision she has is to be recorded—every single one.”
Godfrey nodded, ashen.
“You will send me the record, immediately.”
“Yes, my lord,” Godfrey said.
Buchan faced Alana. “And you will do your duty as my niece—as your father’s daughter.”
Alana did not glance at Sir Alexander now. She stared at her uncle. He was angry, but he was also afraid. She knew that now. He was afraid he was losing this war to Robert Bruce.
And she did not think she cared who won, or who lost. She thought about the fact that somehow, she was directly involved in this damned war, when she only cared to safeguard her home.
Then she revised her thoughts. She still cared about Iain. She cared whether he lived or died, whether he suffered defeat or triumphed.
