His eyes flashed. “There was no guard outside, and ye damn well ken, just as ye ken the door was unlocked.”
She shook her head fiercely. “I have been shunned my entire life because of my visions. Shunned, outcast—feared! And then, with this damned war, my uncle suddenly cares for me! And my father visits, as suddenly, when I have not seen him since I was five! Suddenly, I am important to them! Suddenly, I am a beloved niece, a beloved daughter!”
“So ye feel sorry for yerself?”
She realized she was mired in self-pity. But she nodded. “Right now, I feel very sorry for myself!” she cried, fists clenched. “For a while, with you, I was an ordinary woman!”
His mouth curled slightly. He shifted off of the door. “Alana, even without the power, yer no ordinary woman.”
“You took me as a lover, because I was ordinary! No man has ever wanted me, until you.”
His gaze narrowed. “Then they are all fools.”
What did that mean? Was it possible that he did not fear her now?
He looked away from her for the first time, staring at his booted feet. “Buchan and Sir Alexander would want ye close. It makes sense. They’d be the fools otherwise. And if they thought to manipulate ye by their sudden affection, it was up to ye, Alana, to realize the ploy.”
He did not understand how hurtful that was.
He glanced sidelong at her. “What happened at Nairn? Did ye have a vision, as Buchan wished? Is that why he beat ye? To make certain ye’d see for him?”
“I had a vision, finally,” she whispered. “But it was not the vision Buchan wanted, and he was furious with me—enough so to beat me and lock me up.”
“What did ye see?”
She sat down. Iain wanted to know about her visions, just as Buchan and Sir Alexander had. In a way, it hurt, but not as badly, because she wanted to help him if she could, to keep him safe. Yet she did not want to be used by him, not now, not ever.
“I have seen Buchan defeated, his earldom in rubble and ashes, destroyed, Bruce’s flag flying high in the sky.” She looked up. “Bruce wins. My uncle is destroyed.”
Iain’s eyes were wide. He suddenly came and sat down beside her on the bed. “My God,” he said. “And ye told all of this to yer uncle?”
She nodded, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, looking at her lap. “I was praying he would take such information and defend the earldom.... He was furious instead, and he beat me and locked me up.”
Iain laid his hand on her shoulder. “I am sorry for that, Alana.”
Their shoulders, arms and hips touched as they sat side by side on the small bed. And for one moment, the sensation of his large, powerful male body against hers was acute and so familiar to her.
“When will Bruce triumph over Buchan?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It seemed to be springtime...there was a little melting snow left on the ground.” She studied him carefully now. He was elated. She could feel his thoughts racing. Then he realized her close regard, and he glanced at her, smiling slightly.
She was in disbelief. “You don’t fear me, at all?”
He stood, towering over her. “Should I fear ye, Alana?”
“No!”
His gaze was narrow now. “If this is the only power ye have, then I do not fear ye.”
He had asked her if she could cast spells, worried she had bewitched him, and even Bruce. “I cannot cast spells, Iain. I am not that kind of witch.”
He studied her. “And what of yer other visions?”
“There have only been two,” she said. “I saw my father dead. He is going to die, Iain.”
He absorbed that. “I ken ye care for Sir Alexander, even now, although I cannot comprehend why. And the other vision?”
“You must be on guard. Buchan will come up behind you, his sword raised—he will be a moment away from killing you.”
