A Sword Upon The Rose (17 page)

“Then you were fortunate. He would have never freed you had he guessed your value.” Buchan released her chin and gestured at Sir Alexander. “I believe you know your own father, mistress.”

Alana was free now to gaze upon Sir Alexander, who smiled and came forward. “My own daughter,” he said softly.

He seemed pleased to see her, but she could not smile back. Instead, as he took her hand, she stiffened. She had been waiting for this moment for fifteen years, she thought, incapable of drawing an even breath. She had been hoping for a reunion, but now that he was there, she was at a loss. Now, she did not know what to say, or how to feel. She did not know if she was thrilled to see him or dismayed. “My lord,” she said, inclining her head.

“I remember when we met, so many years ago, when you were a little girl.” Alana looked up. His smile faded. He studied her for a moment. “Even then, I thought that you looked just like your mother.”

“We met when I was five,” she heard herself say hoarsely. “I have not forgotten.” Hurt stabbed through her chest.

He appeared kind; as if he cared. But he had not come to see her in fifteen years! He could not be kind or caring, could he? If he had cared, he would have come not once, but many times.

“I have not forgotten, either,” he said softly. “My brother told me how you have grown up into a beautiful woman.” He inhaled. “Your mother was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. You resemble her exactly.”

Were his eyes tearing? Why was he close to crying now?

She wanted to ask him if had loved Elisabeth, or if he had merely used her to sate his own lust. She wanted to ask him if he would have married Elisabeth had she survived childbirth, or if he would have married Joan, anyway. She wanted to know what he had felt when he had learned that his lover was with child. And mostly she wanted to ask why? Why had she been abandoned, dismissed and forgotten?

But she could not ask him any of these things.

Instead, Alana curtsied. “I have heard that my mother was very beautiful. I doubt I resemble her that much.”

He smiled. “What a perfectly modest reply.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said politely.

“Your mother was modest, too. And she was clever. Strong.”

There was no doubt in Alana’s mind that he had felt fondly toward Elisabeth. At least he had cared about her mother.

“Lady Fitzhugh tells me you are all of those things,” Sir Alexander said. “You must be fatigued, Alana. And hungry. Shall we sit together?”

Did he now wish to speak with her? Spend time with her? “Thank you, my lord.” Her head was spinning. The Earl of Buchan had returned to his seat at the table’s head, and Alana took a place on the bench. She did not look at the earl as she did so. Sir Alexander sat down across from her. He signaled a maid for food, and poured Alana wine.

Godfrey took the seat next to Alana. Oddly, she felt comforted by his presence now. She gave him a grateful glance.

“I was very pleased when my brother told me we would come to Brodie,” Sir Alexander said, handing her the mug.

“You could have come at any time, my lord,” she said carefully.

His eyes widened. Before he could respond, Eleanor hurried into the hall, and he appeared relieved. “Lady Fitzhugh, you can cease worrying. Alana is back.”

“I can see that!” Eleanor sat down beside Alana, patting her hand. But her gaze was sharp, piercing. “Alana, dear, are you all right?”

“I am fine, Gran.” Alana hugged her briefly. Then she studied her father, aware that he was staring. What excuse did he have for not calling upon her even once in the past decade and a half? She wondered. Would he offer an explanation, an excuse? Did she dare ask him directly? “How long will you be in residence?” she finally asked.

“We will probably take our leave on the morrow,” Sir Alexander said. “We are gathering up our allies in this war. We do not have a great deal of time to linger.”

Alana tensed. She instantly did not want to hear any more—if she did not know anything, she could not spy on anyone for Bruce, much less her uncle and her father.

“Our spies tell us Bruce will march soon,” the earl said. “We do not yet know where, although we have our suspicions. We must prepare our defenses and rout him once and for all.”

Alana wondered yet again if she should somehow reveal that Bruce would march next week. But she said nothing.

“Alana, you are never to place yourself in danger again,” Buchan said abruptly.

Alana started, facing him with dread.

“You are Duncan’s ward. When he is away, you are to obey Godfrey in all matters.” He looked directly at Godfrey. “It is your duty to keep her safe. Should ill befall her, I will hold you responsible.”

Godfrey paled. “Aye, my lord.”

Alana’s heart sank. She knew why Buchan so suddenly cared about her welfare. He wished to make use of any new visions of the war that she might have.

“Godfrey says there have been no new visions, not a single one,” Buchan said, confirming her suspicions.

She glanced at Sir Alexander. His stare was sharp now. She turned back to her uncle, even more dismayed. Did her father also wish for her to have visions to aid them in the war? “There have been no new visions,” she said. She stared down at the table, thinking about the image forever engraved in her mind of the earldom in ruins, with Bruce’s flag flying high in the skies. “I would be pleased if I never had a vision again.”

“I wish to be notified the instant you have a vision, good or bad. And I do not care if it is about the war or a damned cow!” Buchan faced Godfrey, eyes dark and flashing. “Every vision she has is to be recorded—every single one.”

Godfrey nodded, ashen.

“You will send me the record, immediately.”

“Yes, my lord,” Godfrey said.

Buchan faced Alana. “And you will do your duty as my niece—as your father’s daughter.”

Alana did not glance at Sir Alexander now. She stared at her uncle. He was angry, but he was also afraid. She knew that now. He was afraid he was losing this war to Robert Bruce.

And she did not think she cared who won, or who lost. She thought about the fact that somehow, she was directly involved in this damned war, when she only cared to safeguard her home.

Then she revised her thoughts. She still cared about Iain. She cared whether he lived or died, whether he suffered defeat or triumphed.

“I wish to do my duty, my lord,” she said. But she did not know if her words were heartfelt and sincere. How could she be loyal to her family, to Brodie and to Iain? It was impossible.

“Good.” Buchan seemed satisfied as wine was poured for everyone. A platter of bread and cheese was placed before Alana, followed by a plate of oatcakes.

Alana could barely eat, but she tore off a piece of bread.

“Tell me about Iain of Islay,” Buchan said.

Alana almost choked on the bread she was chewing. When she had swallowed, she said, “I beg your pardon?”

“He freed you from the tower. You were released from Nairn the next day. I have spies, Alana, surely you know that?” But he sat back in his chair, toying with his mug of wine.

She could not breathe properly. Did he have spies within Nairn? What if someone had seen them together in the cellars? Or afterward—outside her chamber door—or when they were saying farewell with heat, disappointment and anger?

Had their behavior been remarked?

If it had, she would be a prisoner once again, she was certain. She found her voice. “Yes, we were found in the tower, and allowed to go home the next day. What is it you wish to know, my lord?”

“Everything. Why did he release you?”

“I do not think there was a reason for him to keep us. As I said, he did not know of my Comyn connections, or my visions. He wanted to know why we were imprisoned, and I would not say, except that I had displeased you.”

“And he allowed such an answer?”

She hesitated. “He wasn’t pleased. But I could not tell him who I was, or about my abilities.”

“That was shrewd, Alana, and wise. Had you told him the truth, you would be his prisoner now. Iain of Islay is ruthless. You must have displeased him with your answers.”

She shrugged helplessly. “I think he had greater matters on his mind, such as burning Nairn to the ground.”

“Your beauty probably affected his judgment,” Buchan mused.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said quickly.

“Do you blush?”

She knew her cheeks were heated. “My lord, I approached him the next morning. I begged him to spare the castle, and if not that, the village and the farms.”

Buchan’s eyes widened.

“He was angry, he did not heed me, as you know. So...I do not think my appearance moved him.”

Buchan sat back and sipped his wine. “Bruce would lose a great commander if he lost Iain—possibly his best commander.”

Sir Alexander said to his brother, “Your archers failed to strike him even a single time.”

“Do not remind me, but there are other ways to rid oneself of an enemy,” Buchan said. “And I am not talking about poison.”

Alana seized her wine and gulped it.

“The Earl of Ross paid dearly for his peace with Bruce,” Sir Alexander said. “Could we bribe Iain?”

“Ross wasn’t bribed. Bruce was going to destroy him on the battlefield. Ross had no choice but to pay Bruce for a truce, and to go over to his side. And now he wavers because his loyalty is with us.”

“Iain of Islay is no earl—he is a soldier of fortune,” Sir Alexander said.

“You do not know that he is loyal to his cousin Angus Og, who is more of a father to him than his oldest brother. I am not certain gold would move him to betray his cousin and his liege. I have no desire to empty my chests of gold and have Iain then betray us. But...Iain has no land, no titles and no wife.”

Alana sat up straighter, realizing where Buchan would lead.

“He is here in the north. Obviously he wishes for lands here,” Sir Alexander mused.

“Bruce has offered him Nairn,” Buchan said. Alana gasped. He glanced at her. “I do have spies, my dear.” He turned back to his brother. “So we need to offer him lands, titles, a wife.”

Alana looked at her lap, filled with dread. First Bruce wished to offer him an heiress, and now Buchan did.

“I thought about this last night,” Buchan was telling Sir Alexander. “I have no daughters to offer and no other available nieces, not since William’s daughter married Alexander MacDonald, betraying us all. You have two daughters, Alex, both of them heiresses, both of them pretty and pleasing.”

Alana flinched. Buchan would offer her sisters? Was this truly happening?

“Alice is your heir,” Sir Alexander shot tersely. He was clearly angry—he did not want Alice offered to Iain.

“Yes, she is my heir...because my damned wife lives when she should have been hanged for her treachery.” Buchan now slammed his empty mug down. “Hanged, her body dragged through the city, her head cut off and placed on a pike. Wine!”

Alana stole a look at him—he was enraged. She had never before thought about the fact that he could not remarry while his wife remained alive, and his wife, Isabella, was King Edward of England’s prisoner. Her sentence for her treason—for crowning Bruce at Scone—was to live out the rest of her years in a cage, like an animal, for all to gawk at and insult.

“How long can a woman live in a cage?” Sir Alexander asked angrily. “If you are fortunate, she will fall ill and die and you will remarry and have heirs. I cannot approve of Alice being wed to a MacDonald savage.”

“I am fifty!” Buchan exclaimed. “As if you wish for me to have an heir of my own! Have no fear, Alex. Alice is far too valuable to pawn off to a Highland savage just to peel him away from Bruce. One day, little brother, if you outlive me, you will be the power behind Buchan, with your daughter its countess, wed to some powerful courtier.”

Alana dared to regard both men now. They were staring darkly at one another, as if antagonists, not brothers.

Did her father covet the power of Buchan?

He no longer seemed amiable and gentle.

“I wish to offer Margaret to Iain of Islay. She has Tarredale as a dowry. I can even add to it—perhaps I’ll give him command of Nairn, once she is with child, and we can be sure of his loyalty. I think the offer a good one. Don’t you, little brother?”

Sir Alexander sat back, his expression grim and unhappy. He did not wish to marry even his second daughter to Iain, but clearly, he would not have a choice. “Will I have a day or two to think about it?”

“Think about it all that you want,” Buchan said. He suddenly stood. “I am done here. I am going to finish my letters. I imagine father and daughter wish to become reacquainted.” He walked around the table and laid his hand on Alana’s back.

She flinched as he did so, looking up.

“I am sorry my men did not free you from the tower, as they were ordered to do. They were cowards, fleeing instead, and they have been punished for their cowardice.”

Alana did not know if she believed Buchan—if he had ordered her and Eleanor’s release before he had fled Nairn—but she forced a smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

Buchan walked away. As he did Godfrey gave her a concerned look. He also stood. “I am going to speak with the sergeant of the watch, Alana. If you need me, I will be in the watchtower.”

She felt oddly grateful to him, as if they were friends. “I am going up to rest shortly,” she said.

He nodded, glanced at Sir Alexander and left.

“Alana, do you wish for me to stay?” Eleanor asked with obvious concern.

“I will be up shortly, Gran,” Alana said, squeezing her hand.

Eleanor looked at Sir Alexander. “You owe her a great deal,” she said sharply, and then she left.

They were alone in the great hall.

For one moment, Sir Alexander stared into his mug, which he clasped with both hands. Then he looked up at her and smiled.

Alana hesitated nervously. “You do not wish to marry my half sister Margaret to Iain of Islay,” she said.

“I have hardly said that.”

“It seems obvious.”

“You have met him. He is a savage and barbaric Highlander. Your sisters have spent half of their childhood at the French court, when we were allies of the French king, and some of the past year at the English court, to please King Edward when he came to the throne. I do not think Margaret will be happy married to a Highlander, especially if he takes her to Islay to live.”