A Sword Upon The Rose Read Online Free

“You will see your father again—and he might recall the fact of your existence!”
    The stabbing of hurt was dull, like the taped tip of a knife’s blade. Carefully, she said, “If Duncan had not summoned me, I would not be going.”
    “Do not play me, my girl. We both know you would be pleased to see your father again—and it would please me if he finally made good on his promise to see you wed properly.”
    “He cannot change how the world sees me.” She smiled, not wanting to reveal that she did care about the opinion everyone held of her, a great deal.
    “Of course he could—he is the great Sir Alexander, the earl’s closest brother!”
    Alana was suddenly overcome. “What would I do without you?”
    Eleanor walked to the open chest and began removing garments from it. They were her clothes. “I am an old woman, Alana, and one day, you will have to get on without me. Which is why I wish for you to have a good husband at your side.” She now removed a burlap sack from the chest, and began packing it. “I am going to Nairn with you.”
    Alana was surprised. “Gran,” she began, instinctively protesting. Eleanor was agile and spry, and Nairn was but a half day’s horseback ride from Brodie. Still, the woman could hardly ride—they would need a wagon or a litter. And the journey would be in the midst of winter, with snow threatening to fall. She should not come.
    “Do not argue. I have not seen your father or Buchan in years. And you have never met Buchan. He has never met you. If your father has no care for your future, perhaps we can convince the earl to provide for you. You are his brother’s daughter.”
    Alana did not want to jeopardize her grandmother’s good health on a winter journey, even if it was a short one, and she had heard—everyone had heard—that Buchan was a cold and at times a ruthless man.
    “He cannot change my infamy,” Alana said.
    “Of course he can. He is the most powerful man in the north of Scotland.”
    * * *
    T HEY LEFT THE next morning. The sun was high, but it had snowed the previous afternoon and night, and a fresh fall blanketed the road and the woods. The mountains surrounding them were white. Alana rode in a small wagon with her grandmother, driving the mule in the traces. Godfrey had not cared that Eleanor wished to accompany her, and had given them a single man as an escort. Connaught rode beside them, a mail tunic beneath his fur cloak.
    The wagon and the snow made the going slow. In the midafternoon, when they were but a short distance from the castle, Alana stiffened.
    Something was wrong.
    She did not need a vision to know it. She simply sensed danger, and as she did, she noticed a gray pall beyond the line of trees that lay ahead. She smelled smoke.
    “There is a fire nearby,” the soldier said sharply, abruptly drawing his mount to a halt.
    Alana’s nape prickled. The gray pall staining the blue sky was definitely smoke. She pulled hard on the reins, halting the mule. It snorted, long ears pricked, alarmed.
    “Alana,” Eleanor cried.
    But Alana heard the horses whinnying in fright, saw the glow of a fire beyond the trees. And was she imagining it or did she hear men shouting in fear and agony?
    Because the sounds of the horses and men were so familiar—exactly like the sounds in her last vision!
    Her heart slammed. “Can you go ahead and see what is happening? Without being remarked?” she asked Connaught.
    “Aye.” He spurred his horse aggressively forward, galloping away.
    Alana felt entirely exposed, sitting in the wagon with her grandmother, on the deserted and snowy road, no longer hidden by the surrounding woods.
    Eleanor took her hand. “We should turn back.”
    She hesitated. “I am wondering if we are about to encounter the battle from my vision, Gran.”
    Eleanor’s eyes widened as Connaught galloped back to them. “They have attacked the MacDuffs’ home, Boath Manor! They are burning it to the ground! And they carry Bruce’s