fought bravely—ye have the courage of a man—but ye should have surrendered last night.”
She stiffened. “I could not surrender. Castle Fyne was my mother’s, and it was mine.”
“Did ye truly think to best me?”
“I hoped to hold you back until my uncle arrived. This is MacDougall land!”
“’Twas MacDougall land,” he stated, pointing at her. “’Tis MacDonald land now.”
She inhaled, the sound sharp. She now hated the MacDonalds as much as her mother had. “The Lord of Argyll will never let you take this keep from me,” she said, when she could speak. “And my uncle Buchan will be furious. The one or the other, or together, they will take Castle Fyne back.”
“If they attack, I will destroy them.”
She tensed, because it was hard not to believe him. When he made a statement, it was as if he could move a mountain with his bare hands. But he was human; he was not a hero in a legend, even if a legend had been made about him.
“Why?” she asked. “Why did you attack now?” She wanted to know what moved him. “Your brothers are Alasdair Og and Angus Og! You have islands aplenty throughout the high seas! You have lands aplenty, here in Argyll. Castle Fyne has been on your borders for years.”
He folded his massive forearms and said, his gaze chilling, his tone soft, “I have always wanted Castle Fyne. Whoever commands the castle controls the route into Argyll from the sea.”
“You will cause a war.”
He laughed. “Will I? We have been at war for as long as I can recall, you and I—MacDougall against MacDonald.”
“Is this about routes from the sea—or revenge?”
“Yer clever, Lady Margaret. Of course we lust fer revenge.”
She felt ill. “So you seek vengeance now, against my uncle? For the massacre of Clan Donald? Even after all these years—even when my aunt Juliana married your brother?” She heard how high and tight her tone was, hoping to appeal to him with the reference to the marriage between their rival clans.
His chilling smile vanished. “There is more here than vengeance, lady—a kingdom is at stake.”
He was referring to Bruce, but every Highlander she knew cared more for revenge than anything else. “You told me you looked forward to fighting my uncle.”
“I do. Did I not tell ye that a great war rages in the land? That Robert Bruce is in rebellion against King Edward? Castle Fyne is even more important now.”
Her heart slammed. For years, the damned MacDonald lords of the isles had been agents of King Edward, upholding his rule. Could they have suddenly changed their allegiance? “You rebel against King Edward? You favor Bruce, all of a sudden?”
“We ride with Bruce, Lady Margaret. We war for Bruce. Bruce is Scotland’s next lawful king. King Edward will rule us no more.”
Had she seen pride in his eyes? God, what did this mean, for her, for her family? “Is my cousin, Red John Comyn, truly dead, then?”
“Aye, he is truly dead.”
Margaret’s heart thundered. “Did Bruce murder him?”
Staring relentlessly, he nodded.
“Why?” she cried. “Why would Robert Bruce kill the Lord of Badenoch—enraging half of Scotland?”
“He did not mean to kill him. They argued,” Alexander said, watching her closely. “Christopher Seton stepped into the fray, defending Bruce. In truth, Roger de Kirkpatrick delivered him to God.”
Margaret had to sit down. Suddenly it felt as if her entire world had been turned upside down. The patriarch of her family had been murdered, and his bitter rival was on the march, seeking the throne, intending to win it by war. Dear God, Robert Bruce was in open rebellion against England.
And, apparently, Alexander MacDonald and his clan were his allies.
And Bruce surely approved of the attack on Castle Fyne. The great Comyn family had always been his enemy. He would be seizing what castles and garrisons he could. He would want MacDonald, his ally, to control a major route into Argyll from the south and the islands.
Margaret walked past him and sat down at the table, shaken. What did all of this mean? How did this affect her, her family and Castle Fyne? Especially now that she was his hostage?
In one fell swoop, all the alliances and allegiances of the past decade had changed. As for rescue, he had said her uncle Argyll would not come now. Was it possible? He had always hated the English. But he would never ally himself and his kin with his blood enemy—Clan Donald. Was her family truly on England’s side, as well?
She considered Buchan now—her uncle would be furious over his cousin’s murder. He had always despised Robert Bruce—he had despised his father. Her powerful guardian would be plotting revenge against him. Of that she had no doubt. He would never stand idly by and allow Bruce to become Scotland’s king. Saving her would be the last thing on the Earl of Buchan’s mind.
She shivered. William’s words from the day before echoed. He is throwing you away!
Her heart lurched as she thought of Sir Guy—her only ally.
They had never met. They had exchanged two letters. In them, he had been a courteous suitor, but that meant nothing now. What did this war mean for their marriage? Sir Guy was in King Edward’s service, that could not change, not when his brother Aymer de Valence was commander of Berwick. So Sir Guy would be summoned to fight Bruce.
Would Sir Guy still wish to marry her? If so, he would attempt to take Castle Fyne back!
Suddenly Alexander MacDonald settled on the bench opposite her.
She tensed, acutely aware of his proximity. “What happens now?”
He sipped from his wine and said, “Bruce will march on his enemies. He will seek to gather up allies.”
“Will you join him?”
He met her gaze. “I will join him, lady, when I am certain Castle Fyne is secure.”
She refrained from telling him that the castle would never be secure in his possession—not as long as she lived. “Where is Bruce now?” Sir Guy would probably be with the king’s men, battling against him.
“When I left Dumfries, he was riding for Castle Ayr, while others riding with him were attacking Tibbers, Rothesay and Inverskip.”
She felt more despair. With Bruce on the march, she could not count on rescue from Sir Guy, either.
“Ye have not asked about yer future husband, lady. Surely ye wonder if he will come to rescue ye?”
She knew this was a trap. And she did not like his guessing her thoughts. “How can he come? He fights for the king. He must be at Castle Ayr now.”
“Have
