Seduced by Her Highland Warrior (15 page)

‘Do you remember the first time I took you?' he murmured.

She could hardly stand up as his fingers caressed her folds. ‘In the stone circle, just after our wedding.'

‘I couldn't get enough of you that night.' He used their clothes to form a softer surface on the sandy floor of the cavern and guided her to lie down. ‘I couldn't believe that you were mine at last.'

‘I couldn't believe that, out of all the women you could have had, you chose me.' She pulled him down to lie atop her and Alex's body covered hers. For a moment, she rested beneath him, wishing she could hold on to him.

His hands moved up her legs, his mouth grazing a trail, followed by his fingers. When he reached her womanhood, he touched her again and the sudden response was more intense than anything she'd felt before. Her wetness coated his fingers and she grew embarrassed by her reaction.

‘Alex, don't go to Harkirk.' She lifted one leg around his waist and he drew his hard length against her. ‘Stay with me.'

‘I won't hide like a coward,' he insisted. ‘We're going to finish this. And when it's over, you'll not have to worry about an English invasion again.'

The fierceness of his tone took her aback. He lifted her bottom, sheathing himself deep within her body. She couldn't stop the moan that he forced from her throat. He found the place that brought her such pleasure, withdrawing his shaft to her entrance. Hovering there, she felt his thickness stretching her, while he used his thumb to bring her closer to the edge.

Sweet Mary and the saints, the long weeks without him were making every sensation fuller. He knew just how to touch her, just how to make her desperate with need.
And when he thrust against her, it was like being touched everywhere at the same time.

She ground her hips upwards, trying to force him to move faster. Instead, he slowed down, taking his time to torment her. Aching for him, she reached for his hips and he rewarded her with a thick thrust. And when the rigid pleasure started to break through, she cried out as the waves shattered her body, turning her molten, like the hot glass.

He pressed her knees against her chest, driving his shaft against her, his penetrations making her body tremble. She couldn't catch her breath as he quickened the pace, thrusting within her liquid depths. A dark warmth emanated from deep inside, spiralling harder. She found herself fighting against him, struggling to keep a thread of sanity amid the rush of sensations. The pressure inside was building, her body straining for him.

‘You're mine, Laren. No matter what happens to me, no man will ever bring you this.' He thrust harder and the harsh rhythm pushed her over the edge. She couldn't do anything except surrender to the blinding feelings that kept pressing her higher. Not once did he let up with the driving rhythm, taking her harder than he'd ever done before.

He'd become the conqueror, and she, his slave. Then his hot mouth covered her breast and she came apart again. White-hot, shimmering fires of release rocked through her and she gasped at the way she was meeting him, thrust for thrust. After a few more penetrations, he let out his own growl and released his seed within her.

Never, in all their years of marriage, had he ever let go of his control so completely. But his words terrified her.
No matter what happens to me.

He wouldn't tell her what he was going to do and it frustrated her that he'd withheld that part of himself.

‘Come back to the keep with me,' he whispered, kissing her deeply. Laren's fingertips reached up to her lips, as though she could hold on to his kiss.

‘Soon,' she promised. ‘I'll wait with the furnaces while you fetch Ramsay.'

As he withdrew from her body and got dressed, she felt the shielded distance descending once more. Though she'd granted him the physical release he'd needed, it wasn't enough.

And she didn't know how to break through to him.

 

When he'd gone, Laren tried to stand, but her knees buckled beneath her. The familiar dizziness broke over her like a wave, and she lowered her head, fighting to steady herself.

You should have told him,
her conscience warned. She hadn't had her woman's flow in nearly two months and her breasts were tender. The familiar signs of pregnancy were there and she supposed this new child would be born the following autumn.

It surprised her that Alex hadn't guessed already. Anything and everything made her cry. The tears came without warning; today had been particularly bad. Nairna had been trying for so long, wanting a child, and Laren had fought to hold back her emotions.

It seemed so unfair that Nairna should want a child so desperately, while her own fertility was effortless. She'd said nothing, not wanting to hurt her friend.

But she had other reasons for not telling Alex. She was achingly tired all of the time, and nausea plagued her from the moment she woke up until she fell asleep at night. It
was so unlike her other pregnancies, she felt afraid for the first time in her life.

He would worry overmuch, likely confining her to bed. And then how would she finish the glass?

Just a little longer,
she thought to herself. A few weeks more and the troublesome symptoms would subside. She'd finish the windows and then tell him about the new child.

Her hand moved down to her womb and she voiced a silent prayer that the bairn would somehow survive.

F
inian stared into the dying coals of the fire, his spirits as sunken as his cheeks. He didn't remember the last time he'd eaten. And he didn't know what to do. Their raid had failed. He'd underestimated the strength of their fighters and seizing a hostage no longer seemed possible. This task rested upon his shoulders and damned if he had any idea what to do now.

‘Finian,' came the voice of his brother Brochain. ‘English soldiers have arrived.'

He jerked to his feet, resting his hand upon the hilt of his sword. ‘What do they want?'

‘They came from Harkirk. They said they had a message from the Baron.'

His brother held out a cloth-wrapped bundle, and bile rose up in Finian's throat. By the Holy Virgin, what was this? He set the bundle upon a table and peeled back the layers of cloth. In the centre, he saw the ragged gown that had once belonged to his daughter.

The implication, that her clothing had been taken from her…that the soldiers were using her…it was too much.

He closed his eyes, the rage building up until he could hardly think. His brother stared at the gown, his face white. ‘Is that Iliana's?'

‘Aye.' Finian clenched the gown, trying to keep control over his stomach. He couldn't bear to think of any man laying a hand upon his daughter. Whether or not his fears had come to pass, the message was clear.

His time was running out.

 

The interior of the new keep was warmer than Laren had expected. It seemed that every member of the MacKinloch clan had gathered inside the Hall. Though it was built of wood for now, already the men had begun laying stone to surround the wooden interior. She slipped inside the chamber, keeping in the background as she searched for her girls.

She saw them seated beside Alex at the far end of the room. He was talking to Bram while Nairna was busy organising food. Laren rested her back against the wooden wall, trying to stay out of the way. The scent of cooking meat wafted through the air and she swallowed hard to quell the nausea.

She needed to sit down, to calm her stomach and the lightheaded feeling, but there were no benches or chairs. The people milled around, drinking and talking, and she felt the familiar nerves creeping up. The desire to leave the crowds was rising up and she fought her instincts.

Instead, she focused on the walls of the keep. The fresh scent of cut wood was welcome and she ran her hands over the surface. Though it would be one day be lined with
stone, at least they would have a dry roof over their heads for tonight.

She kept to the outer perimeter, pasting a smile on her face that didn't belong there. As she neared Alex, she saw Vanora standing not far from the children. The older woman was responding to something her husband had said; when Laren greeted her, Vanora didn't seem to have heard her.

‘He's been waiting on her, but she's not here yet,' the matron was saying, with her back towards her. ‘I don't know why he's gathered us together, but it has something to do with Laren.'

Laren was held motionless, not understanding. She'd thought this was about a celebration, a welcome for the people to be glad of the new keep.

The sickening feeling in her stomach twisted again. She was close enough to Alex that he could now see her and when she saw the wrapped package, her heart plummeted.

No. He wouldn't.

‘Many of you have asked where we've found the silver to fund the rebuilding of Glen Arrin,' Alex said in a voice that carried over the crowd. ‘I believe you deserve that answer now.'

Though she supposed Alex intended it as an honour, she didn't want the others to look upon her early efforts in glass making. They weren't good. The colours weren't right and the panes could shatter with the slightest scratch.

Alex revealed the coloured glass and she saw the image of the Madonna and Child that she'd created a year ago. The faceless Virgin was nothing more than a hooded woman, her arms cradling a precious bundle.

‘This was made by Laren,' Alex explained. ‘She sold her glass and brought the silver to us.'

It took only seconds for every face to turn and look at her. And when she saw her husband's eyes, her own filled with tears. She didn't hear the words spoken by her clansmen. She fled outside the keep, needing to get out. For her husband to bare her soul in front of everyone felt like a betrayal. Why had he done this? He
knew
how much she hated being the centre of attention. Nothing hurt her more than to be stared at by others. She couldn't bear it.

Outside, the snow mingled with rain, but she felt none of the cold. All of it was clustered inside her heart, for she'd never wanted to reveal herself in this way.

‘Laren.' She heard Alex's voice behind her. ‘Come back inside. They need to know the truth about why you're gone so many hours. And you need more people to help you.' He tried to bring his arm around her waist, but she pushed him back.

Behind him, she saw curious faces and heard their whispering. Whether it was good or bad, she didn't want to know. And when he tried to prompt her again, she turned and ran, unable to face them.

 

Alex waited for another hour before going after Laren. He wanted to give her time to calm down, to accept what he'd done. He'd never understood her secrecy. There was no reason not to tell the others about her glass.

After he'd shown them her work, the people had been fascinated, offering compliments Laren wasn't there to hear. Each one of them had come forwards to touch it. They asked questions he couldn't answer and he suspected many would want to watch her work.

Others didn't believe him. They refused to acknowledge her skill until they saw it with their own eyes. The realisation made him wonder if, perhaps, he'd acted in haste.

But he'd wanted to get help for her. She couldn't complete the task alone, regardless of what she believed.

‘Glass or no glass, she's not been much of a wife to you.' Grizel came forwards and Alex saw his girls walking beside his mother.

He sent her a sharp warning look. ‘You've no right to speak of her in that way. Especially around them.'

‘Why not? They know their mother is never there.'

He didn't miss the way Mairin's eyes filled with tears. She wrenched her hand away from Grizel and glared at her grandmother. ‘My mother's glass is wonderful. You're just jealous because you can't make anything!'

His daughter went running toward the loch shores, around the outer edge towards the cavern. At the loss of her sister, Adaira began bawling.

‘Leave us, Grizel,' Alex warned. ‘You've done enough.' He comforted Adaira, lifting her into his arms and rubbing her shoulders.

‘Well. I've a right to express my opinion, don't I?'

‘You've no right at all to say anything against my wife. And if you want a place to live among us, you'll find a way to make it up to Laren.' He strode away, not bothering to say another word. Her sharp tongue would only earn her the brunt of his temper if he was foolish enough to remain near her.

With long strides, he caught up to Mairin. The young girl was smashing stones into the water, tears staining her cheeks. ‘I hate our
seanmhair
,' she wept.

‘Grizel is sorry for what she said.' The lie slipped from his mouth, even though he doubted she was sorry at all. His mother's bitterness poisoned the atmosphere around her, until it was impossible to live anywhere near her.

‘She told me this morn that I'm going to be sent away.' Mairin looked up at him, her eyes worried.

He came closer to her and rested his hand upon her shoulder. His daughter was taller than his waist and it seemed strange, suddenly, that she'd grown so quickly. Her reddish hair was losing its baby golden tone and was growing darker.

‘It's only for fostering, Mairin. You'll go north, to the Orkney Islands. My cousin has agreed to it.' When more tears streamed down her face, he hugged her tightly. ‘It will be safer there, you'll see.'

‘I don't want to go,' Mairin insisted.

He dropped a kiss upon her tousled hair. ‘You'll meet new girls and boys to play with. Perhaps a future husband.'

Her face wrinkled in horror at the thought of a boy and he suppressed a laugh. ‘Come and let's find your mother,' Alex said.

He hoped that, by now, she would be more amenable to the idea of having additional apprentices. At first, he'd thought Dougal would be the best choice, but it was Monroe, one of the younger boys, whose eyes had lit up at the prospect. Even when the others had finished looking at the glass, he'd continued to study it, touching the surface as if he couldn't quite believe it was real. The only question was whether Laren would allow the boy to join as another apprentice.

Before they reached the cavern, he saw her returning from the far side of the loch. Mairin raced into her arms and Laren lifted her daughter on to her hip, speaking softly to her. When she reached Alex's side, she took Adaira from him and cuddled the baby girl in her arms.

To him, she uttered not a word. He could almost feel the air of invisible frost around her, though she would say
nothing in front of the girls. He couldn't read her face, unable to discern her thoughts.

But when she started to enter Ross's home, he stopped her. ‘Did you forget that we're sleeping in the keep this night?'

She coloured, but before she could say anything, Mairin blurted out, ‘Will we have our own bed, Da?'

‘Not yet. But if there's time, I'll try to make one for you soon.'

His admission didn't dim the girl's excitement and Mairin eagerly pulled Laren forwards toward the wooden structure. Once they were inside, he arranged for some straw mattresses and blankets for the girls. Laren put them both to bed in a warm corner of the keep.

 

Only when they were asleep did she finally rise and move towards the other side of the keep where he'd arranged for them to rest.

‘You're angry,' he said, catching her by the arm.

She didn't speak, but her hands were clenched at her sides. He could feel the emotions simmering deep inside her and doubted if any words he spoke would assuage her.

‘I won't apologise for what I did. They needed to know.' He tried to touch her shoulder, but she closed her eyes as if in pain.

‘Four of them followed me to the cavern. They wanted to watch.'

He moved in front of her, forcing her to face him. ‘What you do is nothing short of magical. It's understandable.'

‘I don't want them watching me.' She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I started one of the melts, but they kept asking me questions. I feel as if I've lost my sanctuary.'

‘What are you afraid of, Laren?'

‘I hate it when they stare at me. I imagine what they're
thinking, that what I do isn't good enough.' Turning her head slightly, he saw the glitter of tears. ‘Even though I know it is, I can't stop remembering the things they used to say about my family when we were growing up. Now I'll have to endure their stares every day.'

He leaned in until their bodies were close together. She let out a shuddering breath when his chest pressed against her breasts. ‘I never believed any of those things. You weren't to blame for your father.'

‘He did the best he could,' she whispered, ‘but it wasn't enough.' She moved to face him and in her blue eyes he saw the pain. ‘I shouldn't care what they think of me, should I?'

‘They were intrigued by your skill. Not even Father Nolan could make glass the way you do. Monroe asked if you would allow him to help you and Ramsay.'

‘I don't understand why,' she said. ‘Why would you tell them now, instead of after I've finished the windows?'

‘Because you need help. And because I want you to stay closer to the fortress.'

Her eyes flashed with anger and he held up a hand. ‘Hear me out. I'm not forbidding you to make the glass windows. You can cut the pieces here, in the keep.'

‘But the glass—'

‘You have enough colours to do most of the work.' He'd seen the dozens of panes for himself. ‘Ramsay and Monroe can make the glass and bring it to you here.'

She stared at him. ‘What aren't you telling me, Alex?'

‘I'm leaving with my brothers in a few days. I won't let Harkirk be a threat to us any longer.'

 

The winter wind swept across the hills, drawing grey clouds that threatened snow. The priest from the abbey,
Father Stephen, had returned a day ago to check on Laren's progress, but just as before, Alex didn't allow him to stay longer than an hour. He didn't want the priest anywhere near his wife.

When he entered the cavern, he ordered Monroe and Ramsay to go back to the keep. ‘I want to speak to Laren alone.'

While Monroe wasted no time, Ramsay finished putting a clay crucible into the furnace and looked to Laren for permission. ‘Go on,' she said. ‘It won't be ready for hours yet. You can return after sundown.'

Alex moved to the table, resting his hands on either side, waiting for Laren to look at him. Her hands faltered upon the glass and she set down her cutting tool.

He saw her grow waxen, her fingers trembling. She closed her eyes and sank down upon the bench, lowering her head to her knees as though she were light-headed.

‘What is it?' Immediately, he went to her side, kneeling with his arm around her waist for support.

‘It's the same as before. If I stand for too long, I feel faint.' He didn't like hearing it, for the long hours were taking their toll. He touched her face, seeing the circles beneath her eyes.

‘You need to slow down,' he said. ‘The kirk won't be finished until the summer. There's time yet; you've no reason to work all day, every day.'

Instead of his words reassuring her, Laren buried her face in her hands. ‘I have to work at this pace or it won't be finished.'