“She has risked her life to crown him—Bruce will never forget that,” Atholl said with vehemence.
And the three men were gone.
Alexander suddenly moved over her. Margaret’s gaze flew back to his strained face.
“How can ye be distracted now?” he asked softly.
“You were listening, too,” she managed to say.
He slowly smiled at her. Margaret lost her ability to breathe as he pushed slowly into her, watching her every reaction. She gave up all coherent thought, surrendering to the shocking pleasure. And she collapsed beneath him, trying not to cry out.
“Now that is better,” he said roughly, but low.
Sometime later, when Alexander had grunted in satisfaction, he held her, hard. Margaret held him in return, as he rolled to his side, taking her with him. She did not move, waiting for her pulse to subside. Alexander kissed her temple.
She took a long breath. Sanity returned. So did coherent thought. And the only sounds in the forest were the birds singing in the trees above them and their own labored breathing. Margaret could see through the trees to the path leading down the hill to the abbey. It was empty.
“Do ye have to worry about Isabella now?” he asked, his mouth moving against her temple.
“Yes. You heard them. She is causing gossip. Gossip that will surely reach Buchan. If Robert ever sends her away, I fear for her.”
“He is a man of great loyalty. He always rewards his allies. She may be his lover now, but Lennox is right, he will never forget what she has done for him.” He shifted to his side so he could look more directly at her.
How she wished she was as certain as Alexander and Lennox, but she had doubts. Now Bruce meant to reward Isabella. But what about a year from now—or even ten? “I wonder if Bruce’s ambition dwarfs even his loyalties.”
Alexander sat up. “That is a dangerous remark, Margaret. For it would mean that he would give up those who have stood by him, if ever his ambition demanded it.”
She had made her terrible point. Dismay claimed her. No good was going to come of Isabella’s actions, she was certain. Her marriage was in ruins, and her fate was uncertain. Then she recalled that terrible instant when she and Atholl had made eye contact at the coronation. “I think Atholl knows about us.”
“And if he does?”
“He has been friends with my uncle for years—since I was a child, at least. What if he tells him?”
“If he returns to the peel at Strathbogie he will hardly be inviting Buchan to dinner. And ye ken his secrets.”
* * *
“I HOPE YOU are right,” she said. “What if he has told his wife? Isabella suspects us, as well. She is so naive—she might say something by mistake.”
His gaze turned searching. “I said I’d protect ye, Margaret. I mean to do just that. If ye stay with me, it will not matter what Buchan knows.”
Margaret stared into his unwavering gaze. He would not be able to protect her from Buchan’s wrath if she returned to Balvenie, and he was at war. “And for how long will I be with you? You are going to war with Bruce tomorrow.”
Alexander’s expression changed as he stood lithely up. He held out his hand and Margaret gave it to him, so he could pull her to her feet. “We march north, on Dundee,” he said in agreement.
She shivered, her mind suddenly filled with ghastly and bloody images of battle—all far too real—all with Alexander in the midst of the fighting. “God, I do not like it when you go to war.”
“I am a warrior.”
She wet her lips as they exchanged long stares. Her mind returned to the dilemma she faced. Where was she to go? Was she free to leave if she wished? She did not believe that Alexander would detain her against her will. Not now. “And what of me? Where will I go tomorrow?”
“Bruce sends his women to Aberdeen. In the north, they will be safe.”
“Does he fear that his enemies will capture his queen and her ladies?”
“’Tis possible. He must make certain to keep them safe. Ye could stay with Queen Elisabeth, Margaret.”
He had spoken as if he was making a suggestion. “Are you giving me a choice?”
