And then she was wide-awake and terrified—for a hand was clasped over her mouth, preventing her from screaming, and a viselike arm was around her waist. She was pressed hard against a muscular male chest. A man was in her chamber—in her bed!
“Dinna scream. I willna hurt ye, Margaret.”
As her eyes flew open, as her scream was choked off, she knew it was Alexander.
She looked upward, into his intense eyes, while he loosened his grasp of her mouth and his grip on her body. Her heart turned over wildly.
He slowly removed his hand, saying, “And if ye do scream, no one will hear—the watch has been rendered useless for the next few hours.”
Now she began to realize what he had done—he had stolen into an enemy fortress, one filled with Buchan’s finest soldiers! “Alexander! Are you mad? If they catch you they will hang you!”
He slowly smiled at her. “Ah, so nothing has changed, ye canna wish me ill.”
She went still, acutely aware of being in his embrace—overcome by the sensation of his hard muscles against her softer flesh, by the scent of man and pine, by the knowledge that he was there for her. “I cannot wish you ill.” She breathed hard, almost lifting her hand to touch his face, but she must not act as if they were lovers. They were not lovers—that one night had been long ago! “You cannot be here.”
“I can and I am.” He did not smile now. “Ye ken the man I am. I never say what I dinna mean. I’m taking ye away, Margaret, and ye’ll be my wife.”
Her mind spun, incredulously. “You will force me to marry you?”
“I dinna think there will be force involved,” he said softly. His gaze moved to her mouth.
Desire pummeled through her. Margaret did not move.
He slowly looked up and into her eyes, a slight curve to his mouth. “Dinna tell me ye remain loyal to Sir Guy and yer uncle.”
“I despise Sir Guy.”
He smiled. “As ye should.”
“But I cannot betray my uncle by marrying you.”
“Come, we must go. This discussion can wait.” He stood, taking her with him. “Get dressed.”
Margaret started for her clothes chest. “Where are we going?”
“Scone.”
Margaret froze.
“Surely ye wish to come. Surely ye wish to be there fer Isabella—she will need a friend.”
Margaret began to shake. He had come to Balvenie for Isabella! Her thoughts tumbled. “Alexander! If you must pursue me, so be it! But leave poor Isabella alone! Do not make her betray her husband! Please!”
He hardened. “Get dressed, Margaret. Now.”
She began to shake wildly, but did as he demanded. She rushed to her chest and took out her clothing, thinking about the fact that he hadn’t just come for her—although she had no doubt he meant to marry her, if she would ever relent. He had come to abduct Isabella and force her to commit treachery against her husband—and treason against King Edward.
She turned to him. “Treason is a hanging offense.”
“Isabella will be kept safe.”
“Buchan will hang her himself!” she cried. “And if he does not, King Edward will hang her!”
He strode to her and took her arm and shook her, once. “Get dressed, now.” His eyes were hard. “We killed a few of the guards, but the others will soon awaken.”
Immediately she thought of Sir Ranald, who had been left behind to take care of her. “Sir Ranald? Please, tell me you did not kill him!”
“Get dressed.”
