and men, toys that kept them occupied for hours. And at night, when everyone was abed, Juliana stole into Alasdair’s room, where he was waiting impatiently for her.
It finally stopped snowing one late afternoon. Juliana stared outside her chamber window, pleased to see the gray clouds dispersing, revealing patches of blue sky. Tomorrow might be sunny.
Mary came to stand beside her. “Maybe now we will receive word from Alexander and William.”
Juliana put her arm around her. “Of course we will. I am going down to help Lady MacDonald and the maids in the kitchens. Will you come?”
Mary hesitated. “I think I am going to lie down.”
Juliana hugged her. “Rest.” In the ten days they had been held captive, Mary’s girth had obviously increased. No one could mistake that she was pregnant now.
She went downstairs. Realizing her mood was as bright as the next day promised to be, she sobered. She was beginning to feel like a guest, not a hostage, and maybe she had better remind herself that was not the case.
Then she heard Alasdair shouting.
She stiffened, as he so rarely raised his voice. But now his brother, Angus Og, was shouting back at him. What could they be arguing about? Shocked, she hurried forward, intending to end the dispute.
“Are ye a madman now?” Angus Og cried. “Or perhaps, ye think yerself immortal, like an old Celt god!” His blue eyes flashed and he stood as if braced for battle.
“I think ye speak too freely, or, mayhap, yer filled with envy!” Alasdair snapped. “Achanduin Castle is a fine stronghold!”
Juliana had been about to go inside and step between them, for she feared they might come to blows, but she paused, stunned. What did Achanduin Castle have to do with them?
“I am not jealous, Alasdair,” Angus Og warned. “I think to protect ye, ye fool, from yer own grand and blind ambition!”
“And ye have no ambition? We both ken ye’d be King of the Isles if I let ye take Islay!”
She had seen nothing but camaraderie and affection between the brothers. Her resolve became unshakable. Juliana stepped into the great room.
Both men whirled to face her. Each was flushed with anger and now, they were incredulous that she dared interrupt.
“Ye wish to speak with me now?” Alasdair demanded.
“Let her stay,” Angus Og smirked.
Juliana trembled. “I heard you speaking—shouting. How can two brothers fight so?”
“‘tis not yer affair, Juliana,” Alasdair warned.
Juliana glanced at Angus Og, blushing. Alasdair was so angry that he had failed to address her as Lady Juliana—he had sounded as if they were intimate, which, of course, they were.
“Perhaps Lady Juliana wishes to ken why we argue over Achanduin Castle,” Angus Og said, eyeing her.
Juliana stared back at him. She had hardly spoken to him in the past few days since he had arrived at Dunyveg. But she had observed him from afar, and in many ways, he reminded her of Alasdair. He was shrewd, arrogant, powerful and aware of it. He was also good-looking, and he knew that, too. She had caught him flirting with her maid and she was fairly certain he had seduced her.
He would inherit most of Kintyre from his father, making him a powerful Highland lord. He was a few years younger than Alasdair, whom she had learned was twenty-seven, and he had yet to marry.
“Of course I wish to know why you argue over Achanduin—which is on my land.”
Alasdair smiled tightly at her. “Ye never cease to amaze me with yer boldness.”
Angus Og laughed without mirth. “My brother flirts with ex-communication.”
Juliana went still. Had she misheard?
Alasdair cursed, the very first time he had ever done so in front of her.
“The Pope thinks to excommunicate Alasdair?” she cried.
“Bishop Wishart has written us, demanding Alasdair return Achanduin Castle to the church, as the next Bishop of Argyll has been elected. Wishart was very direct—he will next write the Pope, describing Bishop Alan’s murder on holy ground, the attack upon the cathedral, and the theft of Achanduin Castle.”
Juliana began to shake. “Men have been excommunicated for fewer crimes against God.”
“I did not murder the bishop on holy ground, he was hanged outside the cathedral,” Alasdair said tightly.
Juliana was incredulous. “No one will care about such a minor detail! You must return Achanduin Castle immediately!”
He stared coldly at her. Then he turned to his brother. “She did not need to know any of this!”
“Why not? Perhaps she has some affection for ye, enough to persuade ye to a sane course.” Angus Og nodded at her and strode from the room.
Alasdair turned his back upon her and paced to the hearth, where he stared darkly at the fire. Juliana walked hesitantly over to him. She laid her hand on his back.
He started.
“You do not want to go to hell.”
“I am not excommunicated yet.”
“Alasdair! You cannot play such a dangerous game—return Achanduin Castle!”
He eyed her. “And should I return it to save my soul, or to enrich yer lands?”
She felt hurt. “I am not thinking about myself. Fool that I am.” She turned away.
He seized her arm, whirling her back to face him. His blue gaze was searing. “So ye do hold me in some affection?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know.” She was frightened for him, and did that mean she truly cared? Did she wish to save him, and his soul?
He made a harsh sound, then released her.
“But I do know this: keeping Achanduin Castle is not worth an eternity in hell.” Juliana turned abruptly, shaken. And she saw Angus Mor, standing on the threshold of the hall, watching them like a hawk. He still suspected her of treachery.
She hurried past him as she left the room.
* * *
JULIANA HAPPENED TO be in Alasdair’s room, where she was replacing the wool blankets on his bed with fresh ones. He hadn’t asked her to do so, and as she folded up the fur at the foot of the bed, she was aware that it pleased her to take some small care for him.
She turned and walked to each window in turn, opening the shutters wide. It was now mid-March, and it was a cold but brilliantly sunny day. There was no snow left about the castle or on the beaches below it; she could just see some snowy ridges in the north.
She
