“Have you heard how MacDonald reacted when he learned of my escape? I am worried he was enraged—that he will eventually take his wrath out on the people of Castle Fyne, or upon my brother.”
“I heard he said not a word. I heard he was stone-faced. However, he had to have been surprised that a small woman like yourself could outwit him.”
What did such an impassive reaction mean? Was it possible that he had not cared?
She was taken aback. She thought about Alexander a bit too much after spending the night with him, and she had assumed he was thinking about her, too. But now, she worried that he had forgotten the time they had shared together. Was it possible? She had so often gotten the impression that he cared about her, at least somewhat. But if he had not cared about her escape, did that mean that she had been entirely wrong?
“Is something amiss?” her uncle asked.
She quickly smiled. “No, of course not. But I do yearn to hear that Will is fine.”
“As do I,” her uncle said. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”
She should raise the subject of her marriage to Sir Guy. No opportunity could be better. Instead, she inhaled and smiled. “No, of course not.”
* * *
ALTHOUGH THE ROADS were muddy from the spring thaw, the ride to Strathbogie was an easy one, accomplished in just eight hours. They were greeted by the Atholl himself, and ushered directly into his hall.
John Strathbogie, the Earl of Atholl, was a tall, handsome man of forty, with tawny hair that was forever tousled. Margaret had known him since she was a child—he had fought beside her father and her oldest brother at Dunbar ten years ago, where he had had the misfortune of being captured and then being imprisoned in the London Tower. Like a great many of his peers, he had only been set free when he agreed to serve King Edward in his army in Flanders.
Bruce and Alexander believed he would support them. Margaret did not know what to believe. She knew that Atholl hated the English, even though he had recently paid homage to King Edward. And his daughter had married one of Bruce’s brothers.
But she could not imagine him betraying her uncle. Atholl and Buchan were friends. But clearly, both sides believed him their ally; therefore, he would have to betray someone.
He now embraced Buchan warmly. Then he kissed Isabella’s hand. “You become more beautiful every day, lady,” he said, obviously flirting.
She flushed and smiled, clearly pleased.
“Hello, Margaret,” Atholl then said, turning to her. She began to greet him but was swept into his embrace instead. “So the little child has become the fierce woman, to fight the Wolf of Lochaber, survive capture and confinement, and then dare to escape.” He laughed, releasing her. “If ever we are besieged here, I hope my wife will be as brave. You have set the example!”
“I wasn’t brave, I was afraid,” Margaret said.
“And you are so modest,” he teased.
Atholl led them to the table inside his hall, where the others waited. Greetings were exchanged as everyone sat down, the women together at the far end of the table.
“These proceedings will be kept secret,” Buchan declared. “Bruce must never learn of our plans.”
Murmurs of agreement sounded, all from the men. The women pretended not to listen.
“How was your journey?” Marjorie asked. Atholl’s wife was a pretty blonde and the daughter of the Earl of Mar.
Margaret told her it had been swift, but she was listening to the men, stealing glances at them, as Marjorie turned her attention to Isabella. She did not know Mowbray, the young warden of the marches, and she had only briefly met Menteith, at Dumbarton, after her escape from Castle Fyne. But Ingram de Umfraville’s mother had been a Comyn, and he was a legend in his own right. Middle-aged, he had devoted his life to the war against England. It was shocking to know that he hated Bruce even more than he hated King Edward, and that he now fought on the side of England.
Umfraville pounded his fist on the table. “Bruce murdered our blood. I have vowed to God to make him pay for his treachery and his sacrilege. No matter how I despise King Edward, Bruce must pay for what he did.”
“Hear, hear,” Atholl said fiercely.
“If Bruce becomes king, he will destroy us all—he has vowed it,” Menteith said. “At Dumbarton, his terms were clear—surrender and become his friend, or fight and suffer all consequences.”
“His threats are not empty,” Umfraville said. “I have known him since he was a boy. And any man who can commit murder in a church knows not God or honor.”
A discussion ensued about Bruce’s character, and it was agreed that he would be merciless if he ever became king.
“And we are his greatest enemy. We have always been his worst enemy,” Buchan said. “If Bruce gains the throne, he will seek to destroy every Comyn in the land.”
Buchan believed his every word, Margaret realized. But was it true?
