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Angus’s eyes shone in the semidarkness. He left the large ladle and put a cover over the huge cauldron. He came to her and stood right in front of her, just one step away. A few fine hairs showed from the edge of his dark-gray tunic, at the base of his neck. Heat radiated from him, and on top of the scent of fermented barley, she noted the earthy scent of a man: iron, leather, and polished wood.

Her body was filling with helium and about to float up and away. How strange, she thought. Here he was telling her the story that showed her mother was right. If there was any physical evidence, that would ensure the success of her PhD dissertation—and possibly her whole future. And yet, all that paled in comparison to how simply being in one room with Angus made her feel—all wobbly, and warm, and as light as a feather.

“Aye,” he said, his gaze taking in every detail of her face. “He wrote a letter to King Edward I where he was giving up the Scottish crown.”

The words registered weakly in the back of her mind, her senses overwhelmed by his sheer presence. Her heart pounded out a staccato beat, and heat crept to her cheeks. She swayed an inch, hopelessly drawn to him.

Oh, he was bad for her cognitive ability. She couldn’t think clearly. Had he really said Bruce wrote a letter?

A letter!

She blinked as her mind and body fought. Her body demanded she throw herself into his arms and kiss him, while her mind screamed for her to wake up and ask him more about that letter. If she found that letter, that would be her answer to everything.

As if hypnotized from his deep stare, she swallowed. “Why didn’t he send it?” she asked.

He licked his lower lip. “Because I convinced him to change his mind.”

Tingles ran through her. “You convinced him?”

“Aye. It was right here. If ye kent him, ye wouldna have believed yer eyes. Such a strong, capable man, a mighty warrior, and he was ashen, sunken, like his soul was sucked out of him.”

Somehow, Angus looked even bigger—like the vaulted ceiling of the underground was too low for him, like the space was not wide enough for his strong shoulders. A man who’d convinced the king to change his mind, to keep fighting.

“What did you tell him?” she asked.

“I said that if he gave up, Scotland would never again get a chance to become free.”

He looked down at his shoes and then at her. There was steel in his voice. “I said to him, if he wouldna rise, no one would. And if no one would, it would be the end of Scotland. The end of dignity, and honor, and freedom. And I swore that if he could find it in him to stand and fight, clan Mackenzie would fight with him till our dying breath.

“‘But ye’re nae laird to make such promises,’ Bruce said.

“‘And yet, I swear to ye that if I call on them, they will listen to me and nae to Laomann,’ I told him.”

Angus paused as he took in a deep breath of air. Rogene ached to stretch her hand to him, to place it on his broad chest, to feel his heartbeat against her palm. Would it beat in the same violent rhythm as her own?

“Is Laomann not loved?” she asked.

Angus’s expression turned somber, and he went to sit on the bench by the wall. As Rogene walked to him, he watched her move with the eyes of a man who wanted a woman, and heat washed through her. Her skin became sensitive and her clothes scratchy.

“They ken that if worse comes to worst, ’tis me who’d die for them. So who do ye think they would follow?”

He was a natural leader. She could see that. Respect for him bloomed in her chest.

“What did Bruce say?” she asked.

Angus licked his lips and stared into the space between two cauldrons.

“He didn’t say anything. I left him and said that I would take the letter and would send it tomorrow if he wished. The next day, he came out a different man. He slept and ate here, see. I was hiding him from Laomann.” Angus chuckled. “So I do think it may have been my magical uisge that made him change his mind. In either case, he came out, without fearing Laomann, or anyone, and asked me to gather men so he might speak to them. Laomann was furious and scared as shite, but Bruce didna care. Neither did I. After speaking to our most trusted men, you should have seen their eyes. They were burning.” A triumphant smile spread in his beard. “Burning. So we said we were on his side. Then I went around our lands and introduced him to tacksmen. We talked to more men, and although not everyone agreed, many did. Then we got him safely back to clan Ruaidhrí, who together with the Cambels and us, helped him win one castle after another as the spring of 1307 came. Inverlochy was the big breakthrough that changed everything. I fought there with him and the Cambels.”

Rogene’s hands shook with excitement. But why hadn’t the letter been found in the twenty-first century? Why wasn’t it known to modern scholars?

“You must have destroyed the letter?” she said. “I mean, it would be pretty bad if it landed in the hands of King Edward now, or became public knowledge.”

He chuckled. “It would be. But since I ken ye’re on Bruce’s side, I can trust ye. I didna destroy it. It was the symbol of a comeback. It reminds me that even in the deepest despair, there’s hope and light. And even the smallest man can change the destiny of the whole kingdom.”

She swallowed hard as she clasped her cold fingers. “So you still have it?”

He looked at her in such a way that her legs went weak. “I do, Lady Rogene. ’Tis hidden in my bedchamber. But I must destroy it. Lady Euphemia can never ken about it.”