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choked. She knew nothing of battles, and less of sieges. She was a woman—one of seventeen! “You will not fail!”
    His smile was odd—almost sad, as if he expected the worst, not the best. “We do not intend to fail. And I hate leaving you, Lady Margaret, but we are undermanned—your brother needs me.”
    She was shaking now. She prayed William and Sir Ranald would succeed in turning back Alexander MacDonald. “Of course you must go with William.”
    William laid his hand on Sir Neil’s shoulder. “Stay with my sister and defend her, with your life, if need be.”
    Sir Neil’s mouth hardened. Margaret knew he wanted to fight with William and Sir Ranald, but he nodded. “I will keep her safe and out of all harm,” he said harshly.
    Margaret had the urge to weep. How could this be happening?
    Malcolm rushed back into the hall. “I have sent Seoc Macleod and his brother. No one knows these forests the way they do.”
    Suddenly Margaret thought about how bad the roads were—how thick with snow. Both men—Argyll and Red John—might be close, but reaching them would not be easy, not in the dead of winter.
    “If we succeed in the ambush, we will not need Argyll or Red John,” Will said. He looked to Margaret. “If we fail, and he besieges this keep, it will be up to you to hold him off until our uncle or our cousin arrive.”
    Their gazes had locked. She could only think of her utter lack of battle experience. William, who had been fighting the English since he was twelve, smiled at her. “Sir Neil will be at your side—and so will Malcolm.”
    She managed to nod, fearfully. Then, wetting her lips, she said, “You will not fail, William. I have faith in you. God will see to our triumph. You will destroy MacDonald in the ravine.”
    William suddenly kissed her cheek, turned and strode from the room, his huge sword swinging against his thigh. The other Buchan knights followed him, but Sir Ranald did not move, looking at her.
    Margaret hugged herself. “Godspeed, Sir Ranald.”
    “God keep you safe, Lady Margaret.” He hesitated, as if he wished to say more.
    Margaret waited, but he only nodded at Sir Neil and Malcolm, then he ran after William and the others.
    Margaret heard the heavy door slam closed and felt her knees buckle as they left. She was about to sink onto the closest bench, just for a moment, when she realized that every woman and child in the room was staring at her. The great hall was absolutely silent. Slowly, she turned around, scanning the faces of everyone present—noting each fearful and expectant expression.
    She had to reassure them.
    Yet what could she say, when she was so frightened? When their lives might well rest in her clumsy hands?
    Margaret straightened her spine, squared her shoulders. She smiled, firmly. “My brother will succeed in driving the Wolf back,” she said. “But we will prepare for a siege. Start every fire. Bring up the casks of oil from the cellars. Begin boiling oil and water.” Peg stared at her, her mouth hanging open, and Margaret realized her tone had been oddly firm, so strangely commanding and decisive.
    Margaret lifted her chin and added, “Bring up the stockpiles of rocks and stones. Prepare the catapults. And as soon as William has left, raise the drawbridge and lock it and set up the barricade.”
    Murmurs of acquiescence greeted her. And as everyone left to do her bidding, Margaret prayed William would chase the Wolf of Lochaber away.

CHAPTER TWO
    M ARGARET STARED ACROSS the castle’s ramparts, feeling as if she had been transported to a different place and an earlier, frightening time. The battlements she had walked earlier no longer resembled any castle she had ever visited in her lifetime. Trembling, she hugged her mantle to her cold body.
    The ramparts were crowded with casks of oil, piles of rock and stone, slings and catapults of various sizes, and a dozen pits for fires. All the women of the keep were present, as were a great deal of