Free A Sword Upon The Rose by Brenda Joyce Page A

rescue a woman and her two children from the inferno.” She was hoarse with fear.
    Buchan’s eyes were wider. “The battle for Boath Manor was the day before yesterday.”
    “Yes, it was, we came upon it—and it was exactly as I had seen.”
    Duncan charged forward. “So you lied again? You saw Iain of Islay?”
    “Yes,” Alana said, afraid he might strike her.
    Buchan gestured at Duncan, clearly meaning for him to stand back. “Now we are getting somewhere. Boath Manor is done. How often do you have these visions, Alana?”
    “It varies.”
    “That will not do,” Buchan said. He gave her a sidelong look and began to pace, slowly, his expression still thoughtful.
    Eleanor hurried to her side and put her arm around her. She dared to glance at Duncan, who glared at her with raw hatred.
    Buchan returned to stand before her. “You know I am pleased with you,” he said, smiling.
    She was incredulous.
    “How can we encourage your visions?”
    “I cannot summon them,” she tried.
    Duncan interjected, “Water, my lord. She has visions when she looks into water.”
    Buchan seemed pleased. “Find a large glass bowl and fill it with water, and place it beside her bed,” he told Duncan. “You, Alana, will spend your days and nights staring into it.”
    Alana felt ill. “I never look at water. I avoid looking into water, my lord!”
    “Not anymore. You do wish to be useful to me? To your family?”
    What could she do? She nodded.
    “Good.” Buchan tilted up her chin. “Then you must have these visions—you must seek them out—and I must know the future of my earldom.”
    He was asking for the moon and the stars, but she nodded, the feel of his blunt fingers under her chin disturbing. Worse, moisture seemed to gather in her eyes.
    “You may retire,” he said. He walked away from her, to the table. Relieved, Alana realized the interview was over.
    But as he sat down, he glanced at her. “And, Alana? I am not a patient man.” He smiled.
    She managed to nod, her heart thundering. His meaning was clear. She must have a vision about the earldom—soon.
    * * *
    A LANA STOOD BESIDE her bed as one of Buchan’s knights carried a large glass bowl of water inside. It was placed on the chamber’s single small table, between the two beds. She realized she was looking at the bowl of water, and she jerked her gaze aside. Then she saw Duncan standing in the doorway, red-faced.
    Eleanor immediately stepped between him and Alana. “My lord?”
    He looked at her with contempt. “You are to vacate this chamber, old woman. Buchan has ordered it.”
    “What?” Alana cried, aghast. “Surely you have misunderstood!”
    “There is no misunderstanding.” He shoved past Eleanor, almost knocking her down. Alana reached out quickly to steady her. “His lordship wishes for you to spend your time without distraction—just you and the water.”
    Alana was in disbelief. “Where will she go?”
    “There is a chamber above you. She’ll have to share it with the maids.”
    “It is hard enough for my grandmother to get up and down the stairs to this chamber. She cannot go up another flight!”
    Duncan stepped over to her and leaned close. “You lying little bitch!”
    Alana flinched. His fist was clenched and she dreaded a blow.
    “Don’t worry. I am not stupid. I can’t hit you, though you deserve a beating. Buchan has great expectations, Alana. I would not disappoint him if I were you.”
    His breath was foul. Alana stepped back. “I wish to see my uncle.” She would beg him to allow Eleanor to stay with her.
    Duncan laughed. “You are to stay here until you are summoned.” He turned, nodding Eleanor toward the door.
    “What?” Alana cried.
    “You heard me, Alana—you will not leave this room until you are summoned.” He was savagely satisfied.
    “Am I to be imprisoned here?” Alana was in disbelief. She could feel the glass bowl of water behind her—as if the water had a life of its own.
    It beckoned.
    “Come,