“You should change your politics,” he said, his tone suddenly hard.
She stiffened.
“I will be Scotland’s next king. I will remember my friends. They will be rewarded—and well.”
She did not have to ask how he would treat his enemies. Had his statement been a threat?
“You do realize, Lady Margaret, that I can arrange for your freedom?”
She started, for such a remark was hardly insignificant. He continued, “Alexander is my vassal. I am his liege lord—I will be his king. If I command him to free you, he will do so. If I command him to return Castle Fyne to you, he will obey.”
Margaret heard her heart thundering in her ears. She wondered if Bruce heard it, too. But she already knew how much power he wielded—at least over those who followed him.
She wondered if Alexander would obey Bruce, should he order her release. She couldn’t be certain.
“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.
He softened and smiled at her. “I am telling you this because I like you, Lady Margaret, just as I liked your mother. I admire courage and pride, loyalty and even defiance, in both men and women—even in the enemy.”
She swallowed. Was he suggesting a liaison between them? That if she joined him that night, he would surrender the keep to her—and give her back her freedom? “Are you offering me my freedom? What would I have to do to be freed? To have Castle Fyne returned to me?”
“No, I am not offering you your freedom—in return for a night in my bed.” His smile grew. He was so amused. “Not that I do not desire you. But I am at war with England. I will soon attack Dumbarton. Alexander will be joining me very shortly. I need him at my side, for he is one of my best soldiers.”
Margaret was overcome with relief. Bruce would not make advances—he was merely touting his power. But she then became torn with dismay. Alexander was going to war with him!
“When will Alexander leave here?”
“If he can ready the garrison here tomorrow, I expect him to ride out the following day,” Bruce said flatly. “I cannot decide if Alexander’s departure pleases or dismays you, Lady Margaret.”
She inhaled, somehow smiling. “It pleases me, because I am his prisoner.” She was shocked at how much her words felt like a lie.
Bruce laughed. Then he looked past her, toward the stairs. His smile changed.
Margaret turned and saw Peg standing there. She blushed and curtsied, murmuring, “My lord.”
Bruce smiled at Peg, turned to Margaret, and inclined his head. Without bidding her good eve, he went into his bedchamber.
Margaret walked slowly into her room, only vaguely aware of Eilidh waiting for her. Bruce was powerful and frightening, and suddenly, she wondered if he could actually seize the throne, if he would one day be king.
She shivered. She did not want to be his enemy if that day came!
Peg came to her door. “Margaret? Will ye be angered if I go to him?”
Margaret turned to gaze at her. “No. If he is ever Scotland’s king, it will serve you well.”
Peg seemed relieved, and left the room. Margaret slid into her bed, as Eilidh lay down on the pallet she used on the floor. “Good night, my lady,” she said.
“Good night.” Margaret turned over, curling up. How she hated war. But Bruce loved it, Alexander loved it, fools that they were. And she did not want to worry now, not about Alexander or anyone, but she kept seeing him on the battlefield, sword raised, his hair in the wind, Bruce’s banner flying...the images following her into sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
MARGARET GLANCED FURTIVELY into the great hall. Bruce and his men were finishing up breakfast, everyone eating determinedly, clearly intent upon an early departure. And Alexander was with them. Like the night before, he and Bruce sat together at the far table, their backs to the wall. Like the night before, they spoke quietly while eating. And they were so engrossed in the conversation that neither man ever looked up.
No moment could be better. She quickly rushed past the threshold of the room, expecting Alexander to shout at her to halt, but the command never came. Breathing hard, she raced down the corridor.
She had arisen well before dawn to help the women in the kitchens. Alexander had yet to summon her, but she knew such a summons would come. She expected it almost immediately after Bruce and his army left. In the light of this day, she anticipated far more than a rebuke for her defiance. And she could imagine how he would punish her—one choice would be to deny her the daily visit with her brother.
Therefore, she must speak with William now, in case such a punishment was inflicted.
