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formalities between lady and servant. Their friendship ran deep— Fergus was as dear to her as any brother could be. And she knew he felt the same. “I didn’t think Rodney would leave.”
    â€œAye, that was too much to hope for. He ordered me to lower the portcullis. Rumor has it that some of Bruce’s men are about.” His hand tightened on her arm. “Did Rodney Carleton speak of marriage, Kat?”
    Kathryn’s stomach tensed. “Aye, he made it clear that he has Edward’s support in the matter. How can he think I would have him after all that he’s done?”
    â€œI’ll not allow him to touch ye again.”
    â€œDon’t cross him, Fergus.”
    She looked to his scarred face and ruined eye. Rodney’s handiwork. Fergus could see light and dark and movement, but only the blurry outline of objects. A boy no longer, Fergus gazed at her with a man’s respectful appreciation and none of the resentment he might have felt.
    Kathryn fought her guilt—now was not the time to wallow in useless recrimination. She stared at her hands in silence. “I want to live at St. Mary’s and leave you here as castellan.”
    â€œThe bairn is well?”
    She smiled, thinking of Isobel. Fergus and his mother were the only ones at Homelea who knew of the child. “Aye, she’s a bonny lass.”
    â€œYe can’t hide with her there forever.”
    â€œAye, I know.”
    Fergus’s face relayed his dismay. “I’d sooner ye became a nun than let him touch ye. But ye can’t run from yer duty, from the people here who need ye.”
    She placed her hand on his arm. “’Twas only wishful thinking, Fergus. I won’t desert Homelea or its people. But I swear I’d rather lose it all than become that man’s wife. Or let him near Isobel.”
    Fergus shook his head. “More likely the wretch will force his way where he’s not wanted.”
    â€œWe must pray for a champion, someone who can protect us all from Rodney.”
    Wistfully, he said, “I wish it could be me.”
    â€œSo do I.” But it was impossible. Fergus had neither the social position to become her guardian nor the training in arms to take on a swordsman the caliber of Rodney.
    A few years ago, when she and Fergus had grown old enough to understand the difference between lady and servant, woman and man, they’d discussed the implications of their friendship, accepted its limitations, and sworn their devotion to each other. Sworn to remain sister and brother of the heart, no matter what.
    They sat in silence for a few minutes before Fergus suggested, “Perhaps ye could petition Scotland’s king to come to yer aid. I’m sure he’d be glad to control Homelea’s wealth.”
    â€œPerhaps.”
    Kathryn had no way of knowing what promises had been made between her father and England’s king. She’d met King Edward II on a trip to London several years ago. People older and wiser than her were of the opinion that the son wasn’t half the man his father, The Hammer of the Scots, had been. Still she found him to be an intimidating man, and she doubted she could persuade him to change his mind about giving Rodney control of Homelea.
    She and Fergus sat in restrained silence, punctuated only by the sounds of the horses. Kathryn swiped at the tears that rolled down her cheeks as the realization of all she could lose came crashing down on her. If only Edward would have chosen someone other than Rodney.
    Stifling her tears and hating the weakness they implied, she asked, “Do you really think Bruce would come to my aid?”
    â€œYe remember his decree? Scotland’s landowners have less than a year to declare for him or be considered a sworn enemy. Aye, he might aid ye and provide a guardian, someone to protect and defend yer person.”
    â€œProbably marry me off to one of his nobles,” she said