The black smoke stains had been cleaned off the stone walls of the great hall. There were two new beams to hold up the repaired roof. Flames danced merrily in the firepit, their warm glow reflected in the polished wood of the new trestle tables and benches, and two high-backed chairs

that replaced the ones destroyed when the castle was taken. Beyond the firepit Elen could see signs of further work being done on one of the walls.

"Welcome home, my lady." Briga greeted her at the entrance to the hall."I am a prisoner," Elen told her. "Do not call me your lady.""My lord," Resad said to Patric, "Nechtan am his men are arriving.""I want to speak to Nechtan," Elen declared. She would quickly discover if the story Resad had told herwas true.

"Later." Patric's voice was cold. "You and I will speak later, too, when I am free. For now, I have work to do. Go with Briga. She will show you to your room. Remain there until I come to you."

Elen followed Briga. She had expected to be conducted to one of the tiny rooms near the tower, but instead, Briga led her to the master's chamber.

It was much changed. At Patric's command, a fireplace with a finely carved stone mantel like those hehad seen in England had been built into one wall. Following Fionna's orders to Briga, the room had beencleared of all signs of damage and cleaned thoroughly. The new bed, Fionna's present, had been set upon the opposite side of the room from the location of the old one. It had been hung with blue woolcurtains, and a piece of blue silk brocade covered the fine linen sheets that were also a gift from Fionna.

Several beautifully carved clothing chests sat about the room. There was a wooden armchair with a blue silk cushion on its seat, and a long table with a second chair, where a lady could sit while combing her hair. On the table stood a shimmering silver mirror with an ornate frame, and

two silver candlesticks, all gifts from Conal mac Duff.

Dried lavender was strewn among the rushes on the floor. It released its fragrance into the air when Elen walked across it.

"Who changed this room?" Elen demanded irritably, forgetting her captive status.

"Mistress, we had to clean it after the soldiers were gone." Briga explained about the destruction wroughtby Malcolm's men, and Elen sighed. It was one more thing to hold against the hated king.

"The Countess of Fife sent the new furniture. It is her wedding gift to you," Briga said. "She even gave me instructions on where to place each piece."

"Fionna is responsible for this?" Elen looked about the room with less hostility than she had shown at first.

"I hope you like it, mistress."

"I do. But am I to be kept here, in the master's chamber? Where will your lord sleep?"

"I do not know." Briga did not meet Elen's eyes, and Elen wondered if Patric had taken a mistress and slept with her in some other room. It would be her own fault if he had.

"Would you like a bath, lady? You must be sore from riding so far." Briga appraised her mistress'sbedraggled appearance. "We brought to Laggan the clothes you left behind when you-er, when you wentaway, so you can change into something better than that."

"I do look dreadful, don't I?" Elen's low laugh ended the unnatural formality between them. "Oh, Briga,it's so wonderful to see you again. If you are here to talk to, my imprisonment may be bearable."

Elen soaked for a long time in a wooden tub of hot water into which Briga had tossed dried herbs. Their fragrance, released by the steam, drifted through the bedchamber, mingling with the scent of applewood burning in the new fireplace and the lavender on the floor. When she had finished bathing, Elen wrapped herself in a linen towel and sat before the fire while Briga dried her hair with a silk cloth to make it shine, and then combed it.

"Shall I braid it, my lady?"

"No, leave it loose. Since I am to remain in this room, no one will see it."

"You are fortunate. You have no grey hairs at all," Briga said, "And only a few tiny lines about your eyes.

In spite of all that has happened to you recently, you look much younger than your years."

"That is partly your doing, Briga. It's all your herbal creams and lotions. I even took some with me whenI ran away. I made some creams for Gertha and her ladies. Your name is famous in Moray." Thelightness left Elen's voice when she added, "Gertha. I wonder where she is now?"

"You are too thin." Briga broke the silence that followed Elen's sad question. "You should eat more."

"There wasn't much food in Lulach's camp toward the end."

Elen looked more closely into the polished silver mirror. Thin or no, her figure was not quite so firm as it had been. There was a soft blurring of the once-angular outlines, the small round b.r.e.a.s.t.s not quite so high and taut, the waist a trifle thicker, the abdomen a little more rounded after four pregnancies. But Briga was right about the rest. Her hair was a shiny, raven-black mantle that hung to below her hips. Her skin had retained its creamy, translucent l.u.s.tre, though the midnight-

blue eyes were shadowed by sorrow.

Elen realized without a trace of vanity that she had grown into a beautiful, mature woman. There was no pleasure in the knowledge. Her beauty meant nothing. She had no love upon whom to bestow it. She would live out her life alone, imprisoned here at Laggan or somewhere else, and after Lulach's final defeat, it mattered little. Briga handed her a deep blue robe of fine,

soft wool."That's not mine. I've never seen it before.""It is what my master wants you to wear."Elen slipped into the robe, and Briga adjusted the belt. The wool was deliciously warm against her skin.

"Now what shall I do?" Elen asked.

"You are to wait here until my lord comes. He will speak with you later."

"Must you go? Sit down, Briga. Tell me what has happened in my absence. I thought Laggan had nearlybeen destroyed, but everything I've seen is so beautiful."

"It was in a sorry state when we saw it last autumn, mistress."

Elen sat spellbound while Briga recounted in detail Patric's activities as Earl of Laggan.

"When King Malcolm is at Dunedin we are so far removed from him, and his law, that my master is quiteindependent," Briga finished. "He has repeatedly said he wishes to live here at Laggan, and will not gooften to court. I think that is because he was homeless for so long. He loves this place, mistress."

"I'm glad." Elen had no chance to say more. The door opened and Patric entered. He, too, had bathed, and he had put on a fresh tunic. His silver-tinged auburn curls were still a little damp. He was so handsome, so vital, he took her breath

away. Elen felt a deep, stabbing pain in her heart as she, realized how much she had given up when she left him.

"I will leave you alone, my lord." Briga jumped to her feet.

"Thank you." Patric's eyes were fixed on Elen. She did not rise from her chair, and after a moment he took the seat Briga had vacated.

"First, you should know that Malcolm gave you to me as a prisoner," he said without preamble. "You will not have to face him."

"Thank G.o.d." Elen closed her eyes, relief washing over her.

"Now that I have relieved you of that fear, perhaps you will explain to me why you left me so suddenly and so secretly," he said in a dangerously calm tone of voice.

Elen's fingers clenched the carved arms of her chair so tightly that her knuckles went white. He was not going to make this meeting easy for her, and she could not blame him. She was well aware of the deep injury she had done to his masculine pride. He had taken her to his bed, told her over and over that he loved her, and then she had run away from him. She realized that the only weapon she dared use now was honesty. She tried to answer him with a calmness matching his own.

"I had to do it. I owed it to Lulach, and to Macbeth. I should have gone with Gertha after Macbeth was killed, fled before Malcolm's army took the castle, but I hesitated, and then it was too late, and we were forced to marry . . . you know all that. I don't expect you to understand, Patric."

"But I do understand. Did I not do something similar for Duncan? You have told me how badly my leaving hurt you then. You deliberately inflicted the same pain on me as soon as you had the opportunity."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you, only to do what I thought was right." Before he could respond to that, she changed the subject. "Please don't keep me in suspense any longer. Tell me how you will punish me."

He did not answer. He sat looking at her, wondering what she would do if she could read his thoughts. He had been so furious with her before he got her back that he had entertained himself by contemplating several terrible forms of punishment he might inflict on her. Then he had seen her again, wearing his bracelet, and he had heard her plead for her servants' lives, and his heart had begun to melt.

His anger had cooled further during the ride to Laggan. She had not complained once about the scanty food or the long days in the saddle, or the need to sleep on the ground each night with only her cloak for cover. Respect and admiration and then a new kind of love had gradually replaced his rage, until now he could not bear to think of hurting her.

He had begun to understand that the fragile, delicate creature he had held so tenderly in his boyish memories all the years of his exile, and had thought he had finally married, had never really existed. He had idealized the girl, and the woman who was Elen of Laggan was much changed from whoever the real girl had been. Her mature beauty was more tantalizing, the tortured depths of her character more intriguing and mysterious, than he had ever imagined a woman could be. He now loved her with all the depth and complexity of his own adult heart, and he recognized that it would take a lifetime to know her completely.

He could have her tonight if he insisted, but he wanted something more than her body. Much at, he desired her, physical union alone was not enough. He wanted her to love him as he loved her. He was willing to wait until she had recovered from grief and loss and would let him show her how much he cared. But, he told himself, if he was going to do that, he could not stay here with her any longer or he would pull her into his arms and never let her go. He stood up.

"I will not sleep here tonight," he said. "I'll have Briga bring you some food."

"Am I confined to this room?" She looked puzzled.

"Only at night. During daylight hours you may go wherever you wish on the castle grounds, provided that Briga is with you. And," he added with a warning glint in his eyes, "You may not go riding. The men-at-arms and all the stableboys have been told that. Do not embarra.s.s yourself by attempting it."

"You needn't worry. I have no place left to go, have I?"

"I hope you will be content at home." He left her on that, and a little while later Briga brought her a tray of food and a pitcher of wine, and stayed with her until it was time for bed.

She spent an uneasy night. Patric had not answered her question about her punishment, and she could not understand his att.i.tude toward her. He did not seem to be angry, only cool and distant. Based on that, she felt he would not be cruel in his decision about her, but she could not be absolutely certain.

She spent the next morning inspecting the castle with Briga as guide, so she could see all the changes Patric had made. She was forced to admit that most of them were for the better. She particularly approved of the new fireplace, a huge stone structure that had recently been begun in the center of one long wall of the great hall.

"It should be finished well before next winter," Briga said, "And we can cover up the old firepit. Then the hall won't be so smoky. It will all go up the chimney, and the masons say it will be warmer because the smoke holes in the roof can be closed. There are new tapestries to be hung, too, once the workmen have finished."

Patric was absent from the midday meal. Nechtan reported he had gone to visit one of the tenant farmers and would not return until late in the day.

When Elen took the captain of Laggan's guard aside to speak quietly with him, she discovered that Resad had been telling the truth. It was indeed Patric who had warned Lulach of the ambush that killed him.

"The orders Lulach gave that night were good ones, worthy of a king," Nechtan told her, "And after he had made provision for the women he gave me safe conduct out of his camp when his men would have tortured me for more information. I hope this comforts you, my lady."

"More than you know, Nechtan." After Elen had dismissed him, she spent a long time thinking over what he had said, and contemplating Patric's possible motives in the affair.

By midafternoon she had tired of being indoors, and she and Briga walked to the loch. But the gra.s.sy sh.o.r.e reminded her of her children and the way they had played there, sometimes with Fionna and her little ones. Elen did not linger. Instead, she went to a nearby hill overlooking the loch, to the cleared area where her mother lay buried along with little Gruach and Aiden, and with Fionna's daughter Elen.

"Has Patric insisted on changing this, too?" she cried, anger flaring out of the pain she felt. The burial s.p.a.ce had been enlarged and edged with carefully cut and matched stones. She had seen at once that her mother's and the children's graves were neatly cared for. But there were two new graves, marked with a tall stone. "How dare he use my family's plot for his own men?"

"Not his men, mistress," Briga said. "They are your men. My master Talcoran and young Colin lie there, at Lord Patric's orders."

"Talcoran?" She looked more closely at the stone. A Celtic cross decorated with an interlaced pattern had been carved on the front of it. In a panel below the cross, the figures of two mounted warriors bore square Pictish shields. She walked around the stone to see the back of it, too, and discovered it had been carved in the Pictish manner with circles and fishes and paired serpent-like lines. The graves had been placed so they faced the loch and the beautiful wooded mountains beyond, looking into the heart of Pictland. "How could Patric know whose bodies these are?"

"He found them both on the battlefield after they had been killed, and had them sent home. He thought you would be here and would be comforted to have them at Laggan. Unfortunately, Laggan was attacked before they could be buried, but the priest hid the coffins below the altar in the chapel, where even Malcolm's wicked soldiers would not dare to trespa.s.s. When Lord Patric and I returned here last autumn, he had the graveyard enlarged as you see, and gave them proper burial. The stone carvers were ordered to make the cross before they began their work inside the castle."

"Patric did this for Talcoran and Colin?" It was difficult to absorb. She had thought their bodies would be looted after their last battle, and thrown into some common grave with the other fallen men of Macbeth's defeated army, and that belief had made her sorrow even harder to bear.

"I think he did it for you, too, mistress. He speaks most respectfully of my master Talcoran, but he speaks of you with love."

"Talcoran. Colin." Elen fell to her knees. The tears ran down her face, but this was not the bitter, hopeless weeping she had done when first she learned of their deaths, it was instead a healthful, cleansing outpouring. Talcoran was home. Colin was home. Patric had seen to it.

"Mistress, please, you will make yourself ill."