mind raced. She finally took his arm and halted; he faced her, his expression wry.
“I did not know you were a hostage when you were a child!”
“My father went to war for the King of Norway and Haakon and he lost.” He shrugged. Then, “I ken what the boy is feeling.”
Her heart raced. “How old were you?”
“Almost two.”
He had been sent away as a hostage, without his mother, at the age of two? Of course he understood Roger.
“Dinna look at me that way,” he warned, but mildly.
“How long were you held hostage?”
“Close to three years.”
Juliana bit her lip, tears rising. She seized his hand. “Your poor mother! You must have been so frightened! And to be kept hostage for so long!”
“Dinna feel sorry for me.” He shrugged her off, his look filled with warning. “Little boys grow up.”
Of course she was stricken—and she felt sorry for what he must have endured. But Juliana found her composure. “Alasdair. Thank you for being so kind to Roger.”
He softened. “Did ye think I’d be unkind?”
“I didn’t know,” she whispered.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A MESSENGER FINALLY arrived—with letters from the Earl of Buchan and Alexander MacDougall.
Juliana was in the great room with her sister and Lady MacDonald, seated before the hearth, sewing. Roger and Donald were outside, playing on the beach, and little Thomas was asleep upstairs. The moment the men came inside, their loud voices and heavy booted steps could be heard. Alasdair walked in first.
Juliana saw that he was holding several rolls of vellum, and that a man she did not recognize was behind him with Angus Mor. That Highlander wore Buchan’s green-and-red plaid.
Word about their ransoms had finally come. She slowly got up, her heart thundering, as Alasdair walked directly to her. “Yer brother has written us both,” he said.
She could barely look away as he handed her the roll that was hers.
“And William? Did he send me a missive?” Mary cried.
Alasdair handed her a parchment roll. “Aye, that is from William. But before ye read it, Buchan has agreed to pay yer ransom, Lady Mary, and ye will probably be free by June, as soon as the payment is made.”
Mary nodded, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. “June,” she whispered. It was April the second now.
Juliana tore her gaze from Alexander’s. June was not far away, and would she be free then, too? And if so, why did she feel an odd dismay?
Juliana glanced at Mary, who remained seated, and was now eagerly reading William’s letter. Tears fell from her eyes. Juliana hurried to sit beside her, still clutching her own parchment roll. “Is everything well?”
She looked up, nodding, as she wiped at her tears. “He is fine. He misses me. He misses the boys. He has been told I am in good health. And he does not say a word about the war that will surely come soon.”
He did not want to worry her, Juliana thought. “June is not far away,” she said, patting her hand.
“I will not see William in June. The baby is due in July. I will not be able to travel.”
Juliana twisted to look at Alasdair, darkly. He was reading his letter, but he glanced across the room at her. She knew he understood her meaning—he should release Mary now, so she could have her child at home.
“What does our brother say? When will you be released?” Mary asked softly.
Juliana unrolled the parchment and smoothed it out upon the table. Mary set a taper closer, so it was easier to read.
“‘My dear Juliana,’” he wrote, “‘It aggrieves me to no end that Alasdair Og attacked Lismore behind my back, taking you, Mary and the boys prisoner. Buchan has agreed to pay the sum demanded for Mary’s release and I am thankful for that. Your ransom is another matter. Alasdair Og has demanded more gold for your release than I have, and I must beg for help from our allies. I do not know how long it will take to raise the funds. I have been told you are in good health, so I beg you to be patient. God keep you well. Your brother, Alexander MacDougall.’”
Juliana was in disbelief. She looked up. Alasdair had been watching her closely and their gazes met instantly.
He had asked for a reasonable ransom for Mary, but an excessive one for her? So excessive that her brother needed to seek help with the payment from their allies? She realized she was standing—and that she was shaking.
“Juliana?” Mary asked with alarm.
She somehow smiled at her sister. “I do not know when I will be released. Alexander does not have enough gold to pay my ransom. Not now, anyway.”
Mary gasped. She glanced sharply at Alasdair. “How much did you ask for her?”
Juliana also stared, but coolly. “Yes, how much did you ask?”
Alasdair’s face had become an impassive mask. “I have asked for a ransom commensurate with yer value to me.”
Juliana became aware that everyone in the hall was staring at her, and their regards were oddly knowing. Angus Mor seemed pleased.
What did everyone know that she did not? And was this truly possible? She had trusted Alasdair to ask for a simple ransom—she had, until then, believed she would be justly released when it was paid! Had she been a fool?
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