herself.
Juliana started awake. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. But she saw now that the fire in the hearth was burning, having been stoked by the maids. The light outside the windows was pale from the dawn.
She leapt up from the bench and ran into the corridor and up the narrow stairwell. The two men in the tower turned as she ran past them.
The dawn was gray, snow falling. The barest light stained the day, with no sign of the sun. And there were no ships on the horizon.
She was in disbelief. Was he gone?
“Lady Juliana, ye must come to the entry tower.”
Juliana whirled around to face the watchtower, away from the east ramparts and the sound. She took one look at Fergus’s pale, grim expression, and knew Alasdair Og had come.
She inhaled, praying for strength and courage. Then she nodded and followed him inside, downstairs, and across the castle. Mary appeared and fell into step beside her as they went outside.
It was snowing more heavily now. A light dusting covered the courtyard. Ahead was the entry tower, the drawbridge below closed. All of her archers and soldiers were on the ramparts on each side of the castle gates.
Juliana went up the exterior stairs with Fergus and Mary and pushed inside the tower. She went to the window and gripped its ledge.
Perhaps a hundred mounted warriors, fur-clad Highlanders and mail-clad knights, formed a line between the western hills and the castle, like a barricade, facing her.
Juliana felt sick. She could not see behind the front lines, but she knew hundreds of archers and foot soldiers armed with swords and spears were there. Three blue MacDonald banners sporting sinister red dragons waved above the army.
“What are we going to do?” Mary whispered.
Juliana could not speak. She watched one rider on a gray warhorse separate himself from the army, slowly coming forward. She felt so much tension, it was choking her.
“It is Alasdair Og,” Mary said tersely.
He halted his mount at some distance from the entry tower. He was too far away for his features to be visible, but he clearly stared at the tower—Juliana knew he stared at her.
“If ye can lure him closer, our archers can murder him,” Fergus said thickly.
“No. Do not shoot at him,” Juliana said, so vehemently, Mary and Fergus looked askance at her. “We are not murdering him in cold blood.”
“Then he will murder us,” Fergus said flatly.
Mary stared at her, and Juliana knew her thoughts—he had certainly murdered Bishop Alan in cold blood. But, oddly, she did not believe that Alasdair Og would murder her or her sister. But he was bent upon revenge. She knew that. And suddenly there was no choice. She knew what she must do to protect her sister and her nephews.
As if he could fathom her silent thoughts, he suddenly rode closer. She could make out his long dark hair, tangled about his shoulders as he stared up at her. Their gazes met.
It was time, she thought. Juliana asked Fergus for his dagger. In surprise, he handed it to her. She instantly reached down beneath her blue surcote and sliced off a strip from her linen cote. Mary gasped as Juliana handed the dagger back, realizing now what she intended.
Juliana turned and walked out onto the ramparts, Mary and Fergus behind her, their expressions grim. As she started towards the crenellations, a group of archers surrounded her. “Stand back,” she ordered.
“Lady Juliana, ye cannot put yer life in jeopardy,” Fergus protested.
“He will not hurt me.” She pressed against the edge of the wall, knowing she believed this.
Looking down at him, she raised her hand and dropped the linen flag of surrender over the wall. They both watched it float toward him, very much like the falling snow.
* * *
JULIANA STOOD BEFORE the hearth in the great hall, her hands firmly clasped before her, stiff with tension. It was unbearable.
She knew that Alasdair would walk into her hall at any moment, claiming it as his own.
She glanced at the stairwell. Mary had gone to check on her children, who were dressed as common Scottish children. Elasaid was going to claim that they were hers.
Children were used as hostages all the time.
She heard heavy booted steps, followed by deep, masculine tones. Her heart lurched. Someone laughed. The same voice said, “Mayhap this bodes well, eh, Alasdair? Mayhap our next fight will be as easy and as bloodless. Mayhap all our enemies will turn tail when we next approach!”
Juliana trembled. She was frightened, but she was also furious. She was being accused of cowardice.
Alasdair stepped through her door and his gaze founds hers. “I dinna think Lady Juliana has ever turned tail, Neil.”
Juliana simply stared.
He strode towards her, a towering Highlander. His blue-and-red plaid was thrown back, the skirts of his leine swirling about his bare thighs, his swords bumping there with his every stride. His blue gaze was piercing as he halted before her. “Was the choice to surrender yers?”
It was hard to speak. “Yes.”
He softened. “So quickly, ye become wise.”
She felt like striking him. “What do you want with me? Why did you come back?”
His smile vanished. “Yer brother attacked my castle, Lady Juliana, no doubt with yer blessing.”
“He attacked, not I.” She felt her temper rising, was aware that she should fight it, but did not even try. “It would not be as easy to attack my brother. That would take courage. I am an easier opponent. Attacking a woman is a laughing matter.”
He darkened and seemed incapable of speech. Behind him, his men seemed astonished and uncomfortable. “‘tis no laughing matter, I assure ye. Lady—do ye accuse me of cowardice?”
She began to shake. “I was just accused of cowardice.”
His mouth curled, but without mirth. “I dinna think ye cowardly, I think ye far too brave and bold fer yer own good.”
“Do you flatter me now?” she cried. “Or do you insult me? It is cowardly to attack a woman!” And the moment she had cried out, she wished she had not done so.
He stared in disbelief. A shocked silence fell. And Mary came into the hall, her face ashen.
She looked back and forth between them, several times. Then she hurried over to Juliana. “My sister is distressed,” she said tersely. “She doesn’t mean to insult you.”
“She means it,” he said flatly. “I attacked ye, Lady Juliana, because ye have a great value to me.”
What did he mean? She glanced at her sister, certain her consternation was
