It was becoming painfully clear that they were going to be left on their own to face Bruce--eight hundred men to the usurper's reported three thousand.
Fear closed around her throat. The MacDougalls were fierce fighters, and her father was one of the best battle commanders in Scotland, but could they overcome such odds? Her father had nearly defeated Bruce before, but then the outlaw king had been on the run with only a few hundred men to her father's much larger force. This time the MacDougalls would be the ones greatly outnumbered.
It didn't matter, she thought fiercely. Her father would win anyway. One MacDougall was worth five rebels.
But no matter how many times she told herself that John of Lorn could overcome even the gravest of odds, she couldn't deny the faintest, tiniest possibility her loyal heart would allow that they could ... lose.
Lose.
A shudder ran through her. Even thinking the word seemed the vilest of blasphemies. She couldn't let that happen. The ramifications were too hideous to consider. But everything that she held dear, all her dreams of a happy future, seemed to be balanced on the point of a pin--or in this case, a sword. The barest nudge could send it all careening over the edge.
The thick stone walls of the castle suddenly felt like thin panes of glass, ready to shatter.
Their situation was dire--desperate even. But there was a way she could make it less so.
Time seemed to still. Dread formed a tight knot in her stomach. The anxious flutter in her chest quickened as she realized what she would have to do. The answer had been lurking in the back of her mind for months, but she hadn't wanted to consider it.
Her fingers clenched the folds of her cloak as if she were grasping for a rope to hold on to. "What of Ross?" she asked softly. "There is still time for him to come."
Her father gave her a sharp glance. "Aye, but as I told you before, he won't."
Was that a rebuke in his gaze? Did he now regret having given her a choice?
Anna took a deep, ragged breath, trying to still the frantic race of her pulse. A cold sheen of perspiration settled over her icy skin. Her chest squeezed so tightly it was hard to breathe. Every instinct rebelled against what she was about to suggest. But she had no choice. A husband was a small price to pay for the survival of her clan. She would marry the devil himself if she had to. "What if I gave him a reason to reconsider?"
Her father's gaze held hers. From the speculative gleam in his eyes, she knew he'd guessed what she was going to suggest--or maybe had intended her to suggest it all along.
"What if I make a personal appeal to the earl?" She paused, her grasp on the woolen cloak squeezing the blood from her fingers. The frantic sound of her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her stomach tossed queasily.It will be all right. I will make it work. He's not that frightening. Sir Arthur was tall, muscular, and darkly handsome, and she wasn't nervous around him. Perhaps she'd gotten over her unease of warriors.
Sir Arthur. Her heart tugged. An image of his face flashed before her eyes, but she pushed it away. He meant nothing to her. If her heart had momentarily fluttered in his direction, it no longer mattered. Even if it might have been different, he'd made his feelings--or lack of them--painfully clear.
But she'd spend a lifetime trying to forget that kiss.
Her father was waiting for her to continue, but the words didn't come easily. "What if ..." She stopped and forced her throat to open. "If Sir Hugh is still willing, I will agree to accept his proposal of marriage. In return, perhaps the earl will see the benefit of joining forces."
Her father didn't say anything for a moment, studying her face with an intensity that made her feel like squirming. "Do you think he will still have you? He wasn't happy when you refused him."
Her cheeks flamed, embarrassed not to have considered the possibility. Her father was right. The young knight had been furious, his nobleman's pride pricked by her refusal. "I don't know, but it is worth a try."
Her pride had taken a beating lately; what was one more blow?
"Your mother won't like it," he said with a glance to the door. "With Bruce and his men on the loose, the roads could be dangerous."
Anna had already considered that. "If Alan is with me, she won't worry. We'll take a large guard."
He nodded, stroking his chin. "Aye," he said. "Your brother will keep you safe." He smiled, and Anna fought the twinge of disappointment. Part of her had hoped he would refuse. He bent over and kissed the top of her head. "You are a good girl, Annie-love."
Normally, Anna would bloom with delight at her father's praise, but instead she felt like crying. Her happiness was a small price to pay, but still it was a price.
He tipped her chin and forced her gaze to his. She blinked through the hot, watery haze. "You know I wouldn't ask this of you if there was another way."
A single tear slid down her cheek. Her mouth trembled, but she managed a smile. "I know."
Right now, this was their only hope. No matter how wrong it felt, she would do what she had to do to secure this alliance.
There wasn't anyone else anyway.
But when Anna left her father's solar, the tears she'd been holding back burst in a storm of extinguished hope--hope that she hadn't realized she'd been harboring.
