When he saw her he smiled, but not pleasantly. Margaret shivered.
“Margaret of Bain?” he asked.
She nodded. “Do you come from the Wolf?”
“Aye, I do. I am Padraig MacDonald. He wishes to parley, Lady Margaret, and I am instructed to tell you as much. If you agree, he will bring three men, and you may bring three men, as well. He will keep his army below the barbican, and you can meet just outside its walls.”
Margaret stared, incredulous. Then she glanced at Malcolm and Sir Neil. “Is this a trap?”
“Parleys are not uncommon,” Malcolm said. “But the Wolf is canny—he doesn’t keep his word.”
“It is a trap,” Sir Neil said firmly. “You cannot go!”
Margaret could not even swallow now. She faced the messenger. “Why does he wish to parley? What does he want?” As she spoke, Peg came to stand beside her, as if protectively.
“I was told to offer you a parley, lady, that is all. I dinna ken what he will speak of.”
Parleys might not be uncommon amongst warriors, but she was not a warrior, she was a woman—and her every instinct was to refuse.
“You cannot go,” Sir Neil said again, blue eyes flashing. “He will take you hostage, lady, faster than you can blink an eye!”
It was so hard to think! She stared at Sir Neil. Then she looked at the messenger, Padraig. “Please stand aside.”
Malcolm took him by the arm and moved him out of earshot. Margaret stepped closer to Sir Neil, with Peg. Breathing hard, she said, “Is there any way I could meet him and we could take him prisoner?”
From the look in Sir Neil’s eyes, Margaret knew he thought she had gone mad.
Peg said, “Margaret! He is the Wolf! Ye will never ambush him! He will take ye prisoner, and then what?”
“Dinna even think of turning the tables on him, lady,” Malcolm said, having returned.
Margaret glanced briefly at the messenger, who was staring—and almost smirking—at them. What did he know that they did not? “Is there any way we could parley without my being in danger of being taken captive?”
“It is too dangerous,” Sir Neil said swiftly. “I swore to Sir Ranald that I would keep you safe. I cannot let you meet the Wolf!”
“Margaret, please! I am but a woman, and even I know this is a trap!” Peg cried.
“Even if it is not a trap, too much can go wrong,” Malcolm said, sounding calm in comparison to the rest of them.
He was right. And Margaret was afraid to step outside the castle walls. Besides, she would never convince the damned Wolf to retreat. She squared her shoulders and left the group, walking over to the waiting Highlander. As she approached, his eyes narrowed.
Margaret smiled coldly at him. “Tell the great Wolf of Lochaber that Lady Comyn has refused. She will not parley.”
“He will be displeased.”
She refrained from shivering. “But I wish to know what he wants. Therefore, you may return to convey his message to me.”
“I dinna think he will wish for me to speak with ye again.”
What did that mean? Would the Wolf now attack? Her gaze had locked with Padraig’s. His was chilling.
A moment later, Sir Neil and Malcolm were escorting him out. The moment he was gone, Margaret collapsed upon the bench. Peg rushed to sit beside her, taking her hands. “Oh, what are we going to do?”
Margaret couldn’t speak. Was the Wolf now preparing to attack her? He certainly hadn’t come this far to turn around and go away! And what of William and Sir Ranald? If only they were all right! “Maybe I should have met him,” she heard herself say hoarsely.
“I would never let ye meet with him!” Peg cried, now close to tears. “He is an awful man, and all of Scotland knows it!”
“If you cry now, I will slap you silly,” Margaret almost shouted, meaning her every word.
