“Angus’s father holds the title, which will pass to Angus. The Lord of the Isles, my lady, is a king in his own right.”
How could this be? James Stewart was king over all of Scotland. So Angus MacDonald was a prince? Scotland had another king? His defiance now made much more sense. Of course he did not recognize James and Joan as his regents. He considered himself royalty.
“Thank you, Osla. I may have more questions for you later.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
With that, she left Annabella to her meal and her musings. Before long, her chamber was furnished and a fire raged in the hearth. A large wooden chest had been brought up containing six gowns, and Annabella was brought three linen shifts and two pairs of slippers. Looking around, she imagined there was not a single additional thing she would need to see to her comfort. Osla had even brought her a brush. Her mind, however, would surely go mad if she did not find something to exercise it.
* * *
Angus paced the council chamber while he waited for his clansmen to arrive. He needed to figure out where his father was. Waiting for a reply from the Stewart was likely to drive him mad. The man continued to have all the power in this situation, and Angus had lost all patience. His prisoner had added an additional layer to this madness, and Angus wanted it over.
The woman really did believe him to be a barbarian. It was clear she had thought he would leave her in the chamber with nothing, not even a bed to sleep on. Though he’d had to make harsh choices in battle from time to time, Angus never considered himself a cruel man. He warred between wanting to pleasure her and wanting to extract from her information that may prove useful to his cause. Both would mean engaging with her, and his thoughts seemed muddled in her presence. He needed a clear head now more than anything. Thankfully, she was so far out of his way, he would not encounter her unless he had to.
“You appear troubled,” Graham said from the doorway.
“As I should be. The longer a reply takes, the less likely we will see success from this plot.”
“Aye, on that point I agree. How does our guest fare?” he asked with a smirk.
Fed up with Graham’s jesting, Angus glared hard at him. “It would do you and everyone else well to remember why she is here.”
Graham’s smile disappeared. “My apologies, my lord. How does our prisoner fare?” Cocking an eyebrow, he asked, “Does she have the servants running about to her beckoning already?”
“I only know that she needs to be away from here very soon.”
“Angus, did something happen?”
“Other than the fact that she is maddening? No.”
“Well then, let us see this plan through and you will be done with her forever.”
“I would like nothing better at this point.”
The door to the council chamber swung wide, and five hulky clansmen walked through. Iain Balloch, his three sons—Stephen, Gregory, and Neville—and his brother, Robert, were advisors to Angus’s father and the best war council a chief could ask for. These men were as close as brothers and uncles to Angus, and he valued their aid and their opinion.
“What is this I hear about an abduction?” the oldest man, Iain Balloch, asked.
“You might want to sit down for this,” Angus replied.
Iain did not sit, but rather folded his arms across his chest. “What have you done, Angus?”
“My father is not at Edinburgh Castle.”
“What?”
“I do not know where the Stewart has him, or if he is still alive.” “Christ’s teeth!” Iain said. “You are certain?”
“We scoured the place. He is not there.”
“So how did you come to be in possession of a prisoner—a woman, no less? How is she to aid in our cause?”
“She is cousin of the queen consort,” Angus said, and then went on to relate how he came to separate her from her cousin.
“You have very large balls, lad,” Iain said, and slapped him on the shoulder. “And so a message has been sent but no reply yet?”
“None,” Angus said. “Though MacLean only sent it last eve. The Stewart is stubborn and may not even care about the lass. I just pray that the queen cares a great deal about her cousin and insists on her swift return.”
