The Presence by Heather Graham Page B

might have dallied with dozens of mistresses, buthe steadfastly refused to consider a divorce from his wife. So after him, his brother be came king, and that was another disaster for history to record.”
    â€œIt’s…horrible!” Toni said.
    He smiled grimly. “From what I hear, you didn’t mind fleecing the public with such a horrible story.”
    â€œBut it wasn’t true when I told it!” she protested.
    He waved a hand in the air impatiently. “Say you’re telling me the truth—”
    â€œAre you accusing me of lying?” she demanded indignantly. The anger was back in her eyes.
    â€œI don’t know you, do I?” he asked politely. “But even if you think you’re telling the truth, it’s quite possible that you heard the story somewhere else. Because you made it up to a tee.”
    She waved a hand in the air. “The land belonged to the MacNialls. And if there is anyone famous in Scottish history, it’s Robert the Bruce. Bruce. A very common name here!”
    â€œAye, that’s true. But you went a step further.”
    â€œHow?”
    He stared at her. She was either the finest actress in the world, or she really didn’t know.
    â€œMacNiall’s wife,” he said slowly, watching her every reaction.
    â€œYou just said that history didn’t know about her!”
    â€œAye, that’s true enough.”
    â€œThen…?”
    â€œHer name,” Bruce said softly.
    â€œLady MacNiall. That would be fairly obvious!” she said disdainfully.
    â€œNo, Toni. Her first name. Her given name. Annalise.”

3
    C ould anyone act so well, or even lie with such aplomb?
    â€œWhat?” Her eyes were saucers, and her color was as close to pure white as he had ever seen on a human being.
    â€œAnnalise. Our famous—or infamous—Bruce MacNiall was indeed married to an Annalise.”
    She shook her head. “I swear to you, I had no idea! It has to be…chance. Coincidence. Okay, the most absurd coincidence imaginable, but…I honestly have never heard this story before. Stories like it, sure—your ancestor wasn’t the only man to meet such a fate.”
    He wondered if she was trying to convince him or herself.
    â€œAye, that’s true enough,” he said. She was an audacious interloper in his home, he reminded himself. And yet… At this particular moment, he couldn’t add to her distress. She needed some color back. Hell, she could pass out on him at any moment. She could be such a little demon, as self-righteous as Cromwell himself. But right now, she was simply far too vulnerable, and that vulnerability was calling out to whatever noble and protective virtues he might possess.
    â€œYes, it’s true!” she said, desperately clinging to his words. “I’ve been to Edinburgh. I’ve seen the tomb built for Montrose, who was a Cavalier and who sided with the king, finally meeting his end in such a manner. And there were others…but I had no idea there was really a MacNiall! Or,” she added, wincing, “an Annalise. Look!” She sat up straight, finding her backbone again, and stared at him with sudden hostility. “We did not come here to mock your precious history or your family. I am telling you, I did not know about your MacNiall or that he might have even existed!”
    â€œWell, he did,” he said flatly, and stared at the flames, anger filling him again. He loved this place. Granted, he hadn’t given it much attention lately. Though he’d always intended to do so, there was always something else that needed to be done first. And now, with everything that had been going on…
    â€œDon’t you understand?” she demanded. “There’s never been anything the least disrespectful in what we wanted to do. Every one of us came here and simply fell in love with the country. Unfortunately none of us is in dependently