“Nay.” Circenn waved an impatient hand. “I would never do that. I merely gave it to her so she could see for herself it would not return her to her home.” He paused, then raised his eyes from the floor. “I found out why she wants to return so badly,” he said. Then, haltingly, he told him what Lisa had confided.

“Och, Christ,” Duncan said when he was finished. “This is a fankle. Can you not return her? It is her mother.” Galan murmured his agreement.

Circenn shrugged and spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “I doona know how. The only creature who knows how is Adam—”

“And Adam would kill her,” Duncan finished bitterly.

“Aye.”

Duncan shook his head. “I never knew. She told me that a woman was depending on her, but she wouldn’t tell me more.”

“She told you that?” Circenn snapped.

“Aye.”

Circenn’s lips twitched bitterly. “Well, here I have been offering to be her husband and she didn’t tell me that much.”

“Did you ever ask?” Galan asked softly.

Circenn muttered a curse, uncapped the wine, and started to drink.

ARMAND GRITTED HIS TEETH AND PERMITTED JAMES Comyn to vent his anger, assuring himself that soon the tables would be turned, and then he would revel in crushing the traitorous Scot. He understood the Comyn’s motivations well. Ten years ago, when Robert the Bruce had slain Red John Comyn in Greyfriars Kirk at Dumfries, thereby eliminating the only other real contender for the Scottish crown, the remainder of the Comyn clan had eagerly allied themselves with the English. They were avid to murder any relative of the Bruce they could get their hands on.

“It has been weeks, Berard! And you bring me nothing. No woman, no sacred hallows.”

Armand shrugged. “I have done all I can. The woman has not left her chambers in weeks. She stays holed up there, although I cannot fathom why.”

“Then go in and get her,” Comyn spat. “The war grows fiercer, and the Bruce’s brother Edward has made a foolish wager.”

“What say you?” Armand had heard nothing of this.

“Only last night he made a wager that may win or lose this war. King Edward is most displeased.”

“What wager?” Armand pressed.

“It is not my place to speak of it. Even the Bruce hasn’t received word of it yet, and he will be furious when he hears what his brother has done. It is imperative that we capture the woman. At least then we will have something to appease his temper. You must get her,” Comyn ordered.

“There are guards outside her chambers day and night, James. I must wait until she comes out.” He raised a hand as the Comyn started to argue. “She will have to come out soon.” And while he waited, he would continue to search the castle for the sacred hallows. Thus far he’d managed to search only the north wing; somehow, he had to get into both the laird’s and the lady’s chambers.

“A fortnight, Berard. Any longer and I cannot assure you I will be able to prevent King Edward from ordering his men to attack.”

“It will be done before a fortnight is up.”

* * *

Lisa rolled over, stretching gingerly. She knew that she would have to leave her bed eventually but hadn’t been able to face it. She sat up slowly, surprised to discover that the painful knot in her chest seemed to have loosened. She glanced around her room as if seeing it for the first time.

She’d been sleeping more than sixteen hours a day and wondered if perhaps the past five years had finally claimed their price. She’d slept and grieved for everything—not just her mother, but the car accident, her father’s death, and the loss of her childhood. She hadn’t let herself feel any of that for five years, and when she’d finally permitted a tiny sliver of pain, all of it had come crashing in and she’d lost herself for a time. She hadn’t realized how much buried anger she held. She suspected that only a bit of it had been released.

But now she had to face the facts: The flask would not return her, Circenn could not curse her back, and this was going to be her life—for the rest of her life.

She rose from the bed, rubbing her neck to ease the kinks. She had no idea how long it had been since she’d bathed. Disgusted with her protracted inertia, she moved to the door. While closeted in her room, she’d been dimly aware that men were posted outside in the corridor. She’d never spoken to them, had merely accepted the food they handed in through the door and picked at it listlessly.

She fumbled with the handle and pulled the door open.