Seduced by Her Highland Warrior (13 page)

Alex caught the boy by the arm before he could go far. ‘I know you've been staying with Walter, these past few nights. Has he been treating you well?'

The boy gave a single nod, looking nervous at the questions.

‘And what of your father? Has Eoin bothered you since that night?'

Ramsay clutched his arms, but shook his head. The boy's hollowed posture and broken spirits made Alex wish he'd known of the abuse long before this. The guilt weighed upon him, but he promised himself that nothing would happen to Laren's apprentice again.

‘If it's your wish, you needn't return to your father's house. I'll see to it.'

The boy stared at him as if he didn't know how to respond. Then, with a quick nod, he fled the cavern and started on the path toward Walter's.

‘Thank you for looking after him,' came Laren's voice. She sent him a quiet smile before she turned back to the fires, stoking them higher. He watched as she examined a clay container that held a melt. The colour had started to shift from saffron to a pink tone.

‘Not too much longer,' she said, sliding it back into the furnace with an iron rod. ‘An hour, perhaps.'

When she turned back to him, Alex spread his cloak upon the ground. Laren hesitated, her face flushed as she held her hands out before the furnace, warming them. He saw the way her gaze was fixated upon the fire and wondered if it hadn't been such a good idea to bring her here. She seemed distracted by the glass.

When he came up behind her, she stiffened. ‘I didn't like what Nairna did tonight. Being in front of so many people…' Her voice trailed off, her eyes upon the floor. ‘I know she meant nothing by it, but I felt so awkward.'

‘You haven't been around the clan very often in the past fortnight.'

She turned to him, discontent rising in her eyes. ‘I know it. But I have to stay with the glass, if I want to finish it for the kirk windows.'

Alex said nothing, for it was her decision to leave them, seeking out her work to give her comfort. His mood shifted into one of frustration. By giving her the freedom to complete the commission, it seemed that she'd slipped even further away from him.

‘How much longer will it take?' He moved to the far end of the cavern, near the pipes that were preheating.

‘Months,' she admitted. ‘Ramsay is learning to blow the glass, but he needs another year before his pieces will be good enough.'

It meant another few months when he would hardly see her at all. He turned back and she was sitting at the stone table, arranging pieces of coloured glass. ‘I don't like living this way,' he admitted.

Her hands stilled and she raised questioning eyes to him.

‘I don't like seeing you only at night. And when I do, you're already asleep.'

She remained seated, watching him. ‘The work is exhausting.'

He crossed back to stand before her. ‘I wanted to bring us back to the way things were, before David died. But that can't happen, can it?'

Her face grew pale, knowing what he meant. ‘What do you want from me, Alex?'

‘I don't think it's something you can give.' Her glassmaking required her to spend hours away from them. And it wasn't possible for him to see her throughout the day, not when she had to stay with the furnaces.

‘I'm not giving up the glass.' She stood up, facing him.

‘I didn't demand that, did I?' He fought back the resentment, the frustration building up inside. ‘But what kind of a marriage is this, if we're always apart?'

She stared at him in distress. He felt as though he'd struck her down, but he didn't know how else to say it.

‘What would you have me do?' she whispered.

‘I don't know.' He raked a hand through his hair and strode away. ‘There's nothing you can do, is there?'

She remained silent. For long moments, he heard nothing. Then her footsteps approached and he felt her hand upon his shoulder. When he turned to her, he saw that she'd unbound her hair. The long red strands held a slight wave to them, from the earlier braids. Then she reached back and loosened her gown.

His mouth went dry when he saw her lower the sleeves and the bodice, baring her breasts. She lifted his hands to touch the warm weight of them and he understood. She was trying to offer herself, to pacify him by giving him her body.

But the act was meaningless without her heart. He didn't want her like this. Lowering his hands, he faced her. ‘This won't fix what's broken between us.'

A wrenching hurt filled up her blue eyes, but he didn't apologise. She fumbled with her gown, covering herself. ‘I can't seem to please you any more, can I?'

Alex stepped forwards and picked up one of her glass pieces that lay on the table. It was a colourless scrap she'd discarded, the edges jagged and raw. He rubbed the hardened surface for a moment before he let it fall back.

‘I don't know what happened to the marriage we had. You're not the same person you used to be.'

‘No. I'm not.' She folded her arms across her waist, as if she could hold back the bruised feelings.

‘From the moment we buried our son, you left me,' he said. ‘You hid yourself away with your glass, and I had no wife at all.'

A glimmer of anger tightened her features. ‘I wasn't the only one who hid myself away. When I came home at night, you weren't there. How many times did you eat with other families, coming home only when we were asleep? You spent more time with the clan members than your own family.'

‘I'm their chief. It was my responsibility.' Didn't she understand that he hadn't known what he was doing? He'd spent time with the other families, trying to unravel the needs of the people.

‘Was it?' she asked softly. ‘Or were you avoiding me?'

Her accusation was dangerously hard. And a little too close to the truth. He hadn't known how to help her through the pain when he'd never handled it himself. It seemed easier to pretend nothing was wrong, to go on about their lives as usual.

‘I'm not avoiding you now.' He came close and stood before her.

She looked so vulnerable, so upset, he didn't know what to say. He'd brought her here, hoping to make things better.

‘Laren, what should we do?' he asked at last. A hollowness filled him up inside, for he couldn't find the right words.

‘When we were younger, no one wanted us to be together,' she said quietly. ‘You came at night, so my parents wouldn't know. And no one could keep us apart.' She raised her eyes to his. ‘We loved each other too much.'

He reached for her hand, remembering those days. Her palm rested in his and she touched his palm with her other
hand. ‘I don't think you love me now, the way you did then.'

‘No,' he admitted. ‘Both of us have changed.' He kept his voice neutral, hiding the blunt pain he would never reveal to her. ‘It can't be the same as it was. But it can be stronger.'

Her hands moved to rest over his heart. For a time, she thought about what he'd said. Then she answered, ‘Sunset.'

He moved back, uncertain of what she meant. ‘Sunset?'

‘When the sun goes down, we both come home. I'll leave Ramsay with my glass. And you'll leave your work. The stone can wait a few hours.'

He cast a glance towards the furnace, wondering if she could keep that promise. Often, she'd forgotten the time when she was caught up in her glassmaking. Still, it was worth trying. ‘All right.'

She laced his hands in hers, tilting her face upwards. ‘It's worth fighting for, Alex.'

Glen Arrin—1298

Alex stared at his father's body as the men lowered it into the shallow grave. One by one, the men placed stones over Tavin and the brutal finality made him walk away.

The truth was, he didn't want the other men to see him weep. He wasn't a child and his mother would only cuff him if she saw tears.

When he reached the hillside, he started to run hard. His lungs heaved and his cheeks were wet, but at least there was no one to see. He didn't know where he was going, but he had to get away from everyone else.

Near the top of the hill, he saw a forest clearing and a circle of standing stones. Alex vaguely recalled seeing
them once before, but the limestone blurred before his eyes. He sank to his knees, leaning against a stone as he wept. His father was dead and two of his brothers as well.

He'd tried to stop Bram from leaving, but his older brother had grabbed a sword and gone running toward the English soldiers. Callum had followed, while Alex had remained behind like a coward. If he'd gone, maybe they would still be here. But they had disappeared, like so many of the other men.

‘They're dead,' his Uncle Donnell had said. ‘Nothing to be done about it.'

Alex pressed his forehead against the stone, his hands shaking. He barely heard the soft footsteps behind him, but saw Laren standing there. Like a quiet spirit, she stepped closer, and her own tears were wet against her cheeks.

She spoke not a word, though he remembered that her own father had been numbered among the dead. Though he'd known who she was, it was the first time she'd ever approached him. Rarely did Laren speak to anyone, though she was one of the most beautiful girls in the clan. She seemed embarrassed by her family's poverty, though it meant nothing to him.

‘Do you want me to leave?' she whispered.

Alex shook his head, resting his forehead against the stone. There were no words he wanted to speak right now, but he supposed she understood that. He'd loved his father and had wanted so badly for Tavin to be proud of him. The emptiness stretched out, filling him with regret.

Laren touched her hand upon his shoulder, offering a quiet comfort. He'd turned and locked his arms around her, both of them grieving. Though she was hardly more than a stranger to him, she held him in her embrace and it
felt right to have her there. The warmth of a human touch made it easier to endure the wrenching pain of loss.

After that day, there was an invisible bond that drew him to her. He'd sworn that when he came of age, Laren would be his wife—her and no one else.

F
inian MacLachor's arm burned from the wound he'd sustained. Though it had stopped bleeding long ago, the wound wasn't healing well. His arm had swollen up to twice its size and he shuddered at the task that had to be done.

It had been a risk, trying to steal the chief's wife—one that hadn't worked. Alex MacKinloch had slashed his sword in the darkness and Finian had misjudged the distance. He'd been fortunate enough to escape with his life, for the MacKinlochs had spent several days tracking him. He'd kept to the lochs and streams, using the water to hide his footprints. And when he'd returned to infiltrate Glen Arrin a second time, he'd watched over the MacKinlochs for a night and a day, gathering information. They hadn't even known he was there, that brought him a slight consolation.

His brother Brochain was heating his dirk within the fire, bringing the point and blade to a fiery heat. ‘This is going to hurt like hell, Finian.'

‘And if you don't do it, I'm going to die of the poison that's already in me.' He held up his arm, bracing himself for the worst.

A gasp shuddered from him as Brochain plunged his blade into the swollen wound, letting it bleed out the yellowish pus that was festering inside. Then his brother packed the wound with healing herbs their sister had prepared. Finian didn't know if he passed out or not, but the next thing he was aware of was Brochain using the flat of the blade to cauterise the injury.

A cry tore from his mouth as the blistering pain ripped through him. And when it was done, Brochain passed him an animal skin of ale.

‘This isn't strong enough,' he told Brochain, drinking heavily.

‘You'll live,' his brother pronounced.

Finian lifted the animal skin again, wishing to God that it were possible to get drunk faster. His face tightened as he eyed the remains of their land. Although the homes were untouched, there were so few MacLachors left alive that it might as well have been abandoned.

‘What are you going to do about Iliana?' Brochain asked.

Finian stared into the fire, knowing that there was little hope for his daughter. His attempts to attack both Lord Harkirk and the MacKinlochs had met with failure. The Feast of Saint Agatha was rapidly approaching and he doubted if he'd meet with any success.

‘Gather some of the men. We'll try for a MacKinloch hostage one last time. Take anyone you can find.'

‘Even the children?' Brochain sent him a dark look. It
wasn't at all what Finian wanted. But what choice did he have?

He drained the rest of the ale. ‘Even the children.'

 

At dusk, Alex spied Laren walking towards him. She'd kept her promise over the last few days, leaving Ramsay to work on the fires while she returned at sunset. The first outer wall was now finished and the second nearly so. Alex leaned up against the inner wall, waiting for his wife. Against the descending sun, her hair gleamed like fire.

Even after five years of marriage, she was as beautiful to him now as she'd been the first day he'd met her. But she appeared tired, her face wan. In her hands, she carried a leather-wrapped bundle and he wondered what it was.

When she reached his side, he greeted her with a kiss. Although she was shy to show him affection in front of the others, gradually she'd become used to it.

‘What did you bring back?' he asked. ‘Something for the girls?'

She glanced around, as if looking to see who was watching. ‘And for you. But we should go to a place where the others won't see.'

It was glass, then. He'd suspected as much. ‘I'll bring Mairin and Adaira to the edge of the loch. Will that be secret enough?'

She nodded. ‘I'll wait for you there.'

Before she could go back, he caught her hand. ‘We can only stay for a short time, Laren. Tonight we're going to have a competition among the men. Both of us should be there.' If all went according to plan, they would have walls up around the keep later tonight. Alex had ordered the men to cut large pieces of wood for the framing, and
it was piled up in readiness. ‘We'll feast with the others later.'

After she left his side, he went to fetch his daughters. Mairin and Adaira were hungry, but when he told them that their mother had a surprise for them, their curiosity overcame their whining.

‘What is it, Mama?' Mairin demanded, racing towards the edge of the loch where Laren was waiting. ‘What did you bring us?'

‘Cake?' Adaira suggested. ‘For me?'

‘No, not cake,' Laren said. She unwrapped the leather bundle and Alex spied a row of twisted pieces of glass. One end was a solid teardrop, while a wisp of melted glass spiraled upwards like a swirl of honey.

‘What are they?'

Laren took one and passed it to him. ‘Drop it hard against the stone and watch.'

He took the soft end and eyed her. There was mischief brewing in her eyes and, from the way she pulled the girls behind her, he suspected that she was playing a trick upon him.

Gingerly, he let go of the bit of glass. As soon as it struck the stone, it exploded with a loud crack. He jerked back from instinct and unsheathed his dirk.

Laren started laughing at him. ‘Were you trying to kill it?'

He rolled his eyes. ‘By God, woman, what
was
that?'

Mairin burst forwards. ‘I want one! Let me try!' Laren gave her a twist of glass and her daughter happily smashed it against the rock, giggling when it exploded in a shower of dust.

‘When you drop hot glass into cold water, it makes these sometimes.' She reached into a fold of her cloak and
showed him droplets of colored glass. ‘Like the ones you gave me.'

She'd kept them.
He didn't know why, but knowing it brought a warmth inside of him. While his daughters smashed more of the glass droplets, Laren joined them in laughing. Her face was flushed and the bright smile on her face caught him like a kick to the lungs. He hadn't seen her so relaxed in a long time.

When they'd finished smashing the glass, Laren took the girls in each hand and Alex took Adaira's other palm. He eyed Laren and together they lifted Adaira up by her palms, swinging her forwards until she squealed.

 

When they reached the fortress again, he saw that Nairna was lighting the torches.

The aroma of roasting meat filled the air and his girls sniffed appreciatively, reminding him of how hungry they were. As soon as she saw all the people waiting, he saw the happiness freeze up on Laren's face. She held on to the girls' hands as if they were a shield.

Alex saw the look of fear upon her face, but a moment later she released the children, murmuring for them to go and sit with Vanora. He saw her approach Nairna and the woman sent Laren a grateful smile. ‘I'll need ten women to help me pass around the food,' she predicted. ‘Could you gather them and ask for their help?'

Laren nodded and seemed to steel herself for the task. One by one, she went to several women, asking them for help. Before long they had passed out wooden platters containing slices of roasted pork, paired with carrots, turnips and nuts. Two barrels of ale were opened and the atmosphere transformed into one of celebration.

When Laren joined him again, she didn't look well.
Alex made her sit down and eat something, but she picked at her food. ‘Are you all right?'

His wife nodded and, when she met his gaze, admitted, ‘You asked me to try harder. To be the wife you need.'

He understood that she was trying to behave like the Lady of Glen Arrin. He reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘If you can find a bit more courage, we're not done yet.' It was time to begin the competition and choose teams.

He led Laren forwards, bringing her to the centre of the fortress. The clansmen set aside their food and Alex waited until he had their attention. ‘We wanted to host this celebration tonight in thanks for all that you've given to rebuild Glen Arrin. It's time to begin framing the keep and I wanted to offer a competition to anyone who wishes to join in.' He pointed towards the new foundation, that had been laid in stone.

‘A prize of three cows and two sheep will be awarded to the winning team of men who can construct their side the fastest. My brothers and I will form one team, while we need three more teams to complete the remaining sides.' He continued explaining the rules, before the men began dividing up into groups.

Several of the women went to wish their husbands luck and Alex saw Bram pull his wife into a deep kiss. The two of them were so wrapped up in each other, he doubted if they'd notice if the walls came crashing down.

But Laren had already retreated from his side, back to their daughters. He didn't miss the looks of reproach on the faces of many women. There was a coolness there and his wife kept her gaze downcast.

He'd never really noticed the way they treated her like an outsider. It bothered him to see her in that way. Had it
always been like this? He tried to remember if she'd had close friends when they were first married and he wasn't chief of the clan. He didn't know.

She sat with Adaira on her lap, Mairin snuggled close, but there were no women joining Laren to talk.

When he gave the signal, Alex worked alongside his brothers, building the framework while the teams on the other sides raced to build up their wall faster. As the hours passed, the lower walls of the castle keep began to take shape.

His arms were aching from holding the beams in place while Dougal climbed a ladder to hammer in the pegs. From behind him, he caught a slight motion. And then one of the beams slipped.

Alex threw himself at Bram, knocking his brother to the side as the wood struck the place where he'd been standing. Thank God, no one was hurt.

But when he got back to his feet, he saw that Laren had rushed forwards. ‘What happened?' Her face was tight with worry and he pulled her against him, offering her comfort.

‘I'm all right,' he told her. ‘The beam slipped.' Her hands came up to touch his back, but the embrace was tentative, as if she suddenly realised that others were watching them.

When he released her, she let out a shaky breath. ‘How much more is left to finish?'

‘A few hours more and we'll have the four walls framed. After that, we'll choose our winning team and end the work for the night.' He took her hands, adding, ‘You look tired. If you want to take the girls back to Ross's, you needn't wait on me.'

She studied him for a long moment. Then she said, ‘I'll put the girls to sleep. And then I'll wait.'

 

Laren had made it halfway across the fortress when Alex's mother Grizel crossed the space to speak with her. ‘You should know better than to go near the men when they're building. You might have been killed just now.'

‘The beam had already fallen,' she pointed out.

Her mother-in-law let out a sigh. ‘Your judgment seems to be lacking at times. And it's clear that you have no inkling of the responsibilities of a chief's wife.'

The woman's criticisms were like dull razors, cutting into her confidence. Though Laren tried to ignore Grizel, the longer she remained silent, the more her mother-in-law found fault with other things.

‘You should have organised the feast tonight,' Grizel continued. ‘I don't know what it is you spend your time doing…sleeping, I suppose. Like your father always did.'

‘I'm not my father,' she shot back. Inwardly she cursed herself for rising to Grizel's bait.

A light entered Grizel's eyes at the prospect of an argument. ‘No, but you've the same blood. Why you ever thought you'd be a good wife to Alex is beyond my ken.'

‘I loved him,' she whispered. ‘And he loved me.'

‘Love has nothing to do with a strong marriage. If you were a better wife to him, you'd lead at his side. Though I imagine you think it's best to keep bearing children. Why, if your son had lived—'

‘Don't speak of him.' Laren turned on Grizel, tightening her grip on Adaira. ‘Don't ever speak of him.'

When the older woman's lip started to move, Laren cut her off. ‘Save your words. You've said enough this night.'

She increased her stride, forcing Mairin to walk faster. Angry tears welled up inside. Worse, she couldn't even have a moment alone, for the woman was staying with
them. The walls of the keep couldn't go up fast enough as far as she was concerned. She tucked the girls in, wishing she could crawl under the coverlet and ignore Grizel for the rest of the night.

But voices rose from outside, breaking through the stillness. ‘Did you hear that?' she asked Grizel, listening hard.

‘It's nothing. Just the men working,' the woman responded. ‘Now, as I was telling you—'

‘Stay with the girls,' Laren ordered. She knew she'd heard something. Though she hoped that she was being fearful over nothing, she still moved to take one of Ross's dirks. The blade was heavy in her hand and she wished the men would return.

‘There's nothing there,' Grizel insisted. ‘Now put that down and—'

Laren stepped outside, clenching the weapon in her hands. When she heard nothing but the sigh of the wind, she wondered if perhaps Alex's mother was right.

And then she heard rustling sounds. Movement, coming from outside the fortress.

With her heart pounding, she ran back to Alex, where four walls of the keep stood in various stages of completion. Ignoring the celebration, Laren found her husband, just as he was announcing the winning team.

‘I heard movement coming from the trees,' she warned him. ‘I don't know if it's a raid, but they're near the loch.'

Alex alerted the others and the men grabbed weapons, just as a group of a dozen men emerged through the gates, their shouts resounding in the darkness.

Two of them moved towards the livestock, while others went after the grain. The sounds of fighting tore through the celebration, iron blades clashing together as the MacKinlochs defended their home.