Would Sir Guy still wish to marry her? If so, he would attempt to take Castle Fyne back!
Suddenly Alexander MacDonald settled on the bench opposite her.
She tensed, acutely aware of his proximity. “What happens now?”
He sipped from his wine and said, “Bruce will march on his enemies. He will seek to gather up allies.”
“Will you join him?”
He met her gaze. “I will join him, lady, when I am certain Castle Fyne is secure.”
She refrained from telling him that the castle would never be secure in his possession—not as long as she lived. “Where is Bruce now?” Sir Guy would probably be with the king’s men, battling against him.
“When I left Dumfries, he was riding for Castle Ayr, while others riding with him were attacking Tibbers, Rothesay and Inverskip.”
She felt more despair. With Bruce on the march, she could not count on rescue from Sir Guy, either.
“Ye have not asked about yer future husband, lady. Surely ye wonder if he will come to rescue ye?”
She knew this was a trap. And she did not like his guessing her thoughts. “How can he come? He fights for the king. He must be at Castle Ayr now.”
“Have you no care for his welfare? Do ye wish to ask if he is hurt or unharmed?”
She tensed. “How would you know if he has been wounded?”
“I fought him at Dumfries. Ye will be pleased—he rode away with nary a scratch.” His gaze was steady upon her face.
She was acutely aware of the fact that she had not given a single thought to her betrothed’s welfare. “I am pleased,” she finally said. She suddenly blinked back hot tears, as much from frustration as despair. There was another reason Sir Guy might not come to her rescue—without Castle Fyne, she had no dowry, and she had no value as a bride.
She felt a moment of panic; she forced it aside. Buchan would pay her ransom, sooner or later. “When will you seek to ransom me and William?”
He leaned against the wall. “I haven’t decided what I wish to do with ye.”
She gasped. She had assumed he would ransom her—it was the most common course of action, in such an instance. “I am a valuable hostage.”
He could have refuted her claim. Instead, he said, “Yer a very valuable prize, lady. I have yet to decide what will be best for me.”
She was reeling. If he did not ransom her, she could be his prisoner for months—for years! “Am I now to be your pawn, in the years of war that will come?”
“Perhaps,” he said.
She was so distraught that more tears were arising. She fought them, aware of how exhausted she was. She had already fought this man once that day, in real battle, and it had been the longest day of her life. Yet now, she fought him again. “And what of the other prisoners? What of my brother?”
“What of them?” He shifted in his seat, signaling Peg for more wine.
Peg hurried over. As she poured the wine, Margaret said, “When can I see William? I would like to tend his wounds.”
“Tend his wounds? Or plot and plan against me?”
She tensed. “I do not even know how badly he was hurt. Where is he?”
“I am having him moved to a chamber in the entry tower,” Alexander said. “He will remain there, under guard.”
She hadn’t expected him to be removed to the dungeons with the other prisoners, as he was a nobleman. “When will he be moved?”
He slowly smiled the smile she had come to hate. It was so cold. “Ye cannot see him, Lady Margaret. I will not allow it.”
She was in disbelief. “You would deny me the chance to attend my brother—when he has been wounded?”
