Did he suspect her of duplicity? Of treachery? What had that odd look meant?
And did he ride with Buchan—or Bruce?
Beneath the table, Isabella took her hand. Somehow, Margaret smiled at her, in spite of how frantically her thoughts were racing. Then she beseeched her uncle. “This talk of war has given me a terrible headache. Could I be excused?”
“I think we are done—for now. But Margaret? They may wish to ask you more questions before we leave on the morrow.”
Margaret nodded and got up. Isabella leapt up to join her. “Husband? May I go up, as well?”
He smiled fondly at her. “Of course you may.”
“Shall I show you to your rooms?” Marjorie asked, also rising. She seemed relieved to be able to leave the table.
As she followed Marjorie and Isabella up the stairs, Margaret thought about what she had just learned: they might try to divide Bruce’s army from Alexander’s. They would then destroy Alexander first.
“Marjorie? I must use the privy chamber,” she said.
Marjorie smiled at her over her shoulder, and she and Isabella turned the corner upstairs.
Alone on the stairwell, Margaret turned and raced down the winding steps. She hurried to the threshold of the great hall, but did not step across it. Instead, her heart pounding, she pressed against the wall, trying to hear.
The men were speaking loudly enough that she caught bits and pieces of their conversation. She heard Bruce’s name being mentioned several times, as well as Alexander’s. She heard them mention Scone.
“What are you doing?” Sir Ranald seized her arm.
She gasped, facing him. His expression was hard.
He did not wait for her to answer. “You must go upstairs, Lady Margaret, before Buchan catches you.”
She tried to devise a plausible explanation for her eavesdropping.
“Go,” he insisted.
Margaret fled.
* * *
MARGARET WAS ABOUT to climb into her bed in the chamber she had been given when Isabella stepped into the room.
She started. It was very late now, but if Isabella had come to speak with her, it meant that the men were still downstairs.
“You gave me such a fright,” she said, closing the door. She wore but a long, loose robe, her hair in plaits.
Margaret knew she was speaking of the interview that had taken place an hour earlier in the hall below. “I was not going to reveal Bruce’s plans for you,” she said. “But surely, after seeing how angry all the men downstairs are, you realize you must never acquiesce in his attempt to steal the throne.”
“If he comes for me, I will go with him,” Isabella said.
“What would make you think that he will come for you? Surely, you have not received a message from him?”
Isabella flushed. “How could I receive word from him? But if he wants me at Scone, I would need men and horses in order to get there. He would have to come for me.”
Margaret was filled with doubt. Had Isabella received word from Bruce or a crony? Was it possible?
“What about you, Margaret?” Isabella approached her and sat down on the bed as Margaret stood beside it. “Do you support Bruce now?”
“Why would you think that?” But hadn’t she betrayed her uncle and his allies a moment ago? By failing to reveal all that she knew?
She had done so not to support Bruce, but to protect Alexander.
