Seduced by Her Highland Warrior (3 page)

Nairna's green eyes turned shrewd. ‘You'll need more help than that. I'll send Dougal, and he'll get the other men to help shovel it into a cart. The men need the space cleared for the new keep anyhow. Leave it to me.'

Laren voiced her thanks and started to walk back to the girls. She'd nearly reached the gate when a hand caught her arm.

 

‘What are you doing here?' Alex demanded. He couldn't believe that Laren was here, not when she'd been wounded.
Her face was pale and he pulled her over to a small pile of stones, forcing her to sit. ‘You need to rest.'

Although he'd thrown himself into the physical labor of rebuilding, ever since he'd left Laren's side he'd replayed the vision of the arrow piercing her skin. Even now her face held the pain, and guilt plagued him that he hadn't been able to shield her from it.

‘I wanted to help,' she said, rising to her feet.

Arguments rose to his lips, but he forced himself to gentle his words. ‘I don't want you to be hurt. There are parts of the keep still standing and we need to tear them down. Just keep the children away.'

‘Nairna is helping you,' she pointed out. ‘And so are Vanora and the other women.'

‘They weren't wounded.' He needed her to be away from the unstable structure, and, more than that, he needed her to rest and heal. ‘Do as I ask, Laren. There's nothing you can do here anyway.'

Laren stared at him, a brittle expression on her face as she strode away. He hadn't meant to be that harsh, but it was evident that he'd offended her. He returned to the ruined keep and started tearing down the boards. Splinters pierced his hands, but he ignored them. As he ripped apart the burned wood, an inner voice taunted him.

She didn't tell you about the wound because she doesn't trust you.

Alex grasped another plank and heaved his body weight against the wood, letting the anger and physical labour push away the unwanted thoughts. For nearly three years he'd worked endless hours, ensuring that each person in the clan was fed and had a place to sleep. He'd told himself at the time that it was necessary. It was his obligation as their chief.

Laren understood it, just as he did. His hands stilled upon the wood and a trickle of blood ran down between his fingers.

She was happier before you were chief,
the voice continued.
She never wanted this life. You forced it upon her.

He'd always expected that she would change, once she saw the responsibilities. It would take time, but he'd believed Laren would be a good Lady of Glen Arrin.

Instead, she'd retreated…both from this life and from him.

 

There's nothing you can do.

The words stabbed at her mood as Laren stalked away. Alex viewed her as a nuisance, someone who needed to stay out of the way while he worked with the men to rebuild. She supposed he was merely trying to keep her safe, but did he really believe she could sit inside, staring at the walls, while everyone else was working? She couldn't.

When she found Vanora back at her dwelling, Laren stopped to collect her daughters, along with some food for an afternoon meal. She walked along the shoreline with Mairin and Adaira, her elder daughter running ahead to stamp upon the ice fragments on the edge of the loch.

Her cave was hidden on the far side of the water's edge, formed on the side of a large hill. There were enough crevices in the ceiling of the cave for ventilation and it was far enough away from the keep that no one ever came close. The proximity to the shoreline also gave her access to the vast quantities of sand that she needed.

Father Nolan had built his furnaces inside the cavern and it kept the atmosphere warm and dry, perfect for making glass. Laren was grateful that he'd constructed
all of the large ovens, for she'd never have been able to build them herself.

As she neared the familiar entrance, she saw Ramsay had begun the fires as she'd asked. A deep warmth suffused the air, but it would be several hours more before it would be hot enough for glassmaking.

She fed the girls a small meal of dried apples and meat. Afterwards, she spread out her cloak and laid Adaira down, rubbing the child's shoulders until she went down for a nap. It wasn't long before Mairin yawned and stretched out beside her sister. The warmth of the fires made it easy for them to fall asleep just at the entrance, on the soft sand.

Laren kept the children in full view, casting glances at them while she took note of her supplies. Although Father Nolan had left her with his tools and his stores of lead and minerals, there would come a time when she'd have to purchase more.

‘We need more lime,' Ramsay said. He'd washed his face, Laren noticed, and she handed him the bag of food she'd brought.

‘You're to eat everything inside,' she told him, taking a small oat cake for herself.

He muttered his thanks and reached into the bag, attacking the food as though he feared it would run away from him. She pretended to study the panes of glass she'd already made, but instead she was watching the lad.

His thin frame bothered her, but worse were the bruises on his face. The boy's father rarely remembered to feed him, for he spent most of his time drinking ale or using his fists against Ramsay. Laren couldn't understand why he stayed with his father, when she'd offered him the chance to come and be fostered with her and Alex. The boy had refused, stubbornly remaining in his own home.

‘I need you to stay with the furnace all day today,' she told Ramsay. ‘I'll be making large quantities of glass and we won't be able to let the fires go out.' It was a lie, but one that would keep him out of his father's house, at least until tonight.

The wound in her side ached and Laren forced herself to sit for a moment, pushing away the dizziness. It would heal. And as soon as she worked upon her glass, she'd forget all about the pain.

‘I've mixed a crucible,' Ramsay offered. ‘It's ready to be melted. All it needs are the colour minerals.'

She smiled at him. ‘You're the best apprentice I could have, Ramsay.'

His face flushed. ‘I'll chop more wood for you.' He returned to work, uncomfortable with the compliment.

She traced her fingers over a piece of bright blue glass she'd made and wondered if it really was possible to earn a profit from her work.

What if it's not good enough?
a voice of doubt warned. Her colours might be too dark, not letting in enough light. Although the cobalt had created a nice blue, the silver hadn't achieved the shade of green she'd wanted. No piece of glass could be made in the same way twice, for the ashes varied from the different beechwood trees.

‘Have you lit the annealing furnace?' she asked Ramsay.

‘Aye. Just now,' he answered.

The annealing furnace had to be a lower temperature than the melting furnace, for the glass had to cool under controlled conditions. She'd learned the hard way that the annealing process was necessary, after a few glass pieces had cooled too quickly and cracked apart when she'd tried to score them.

She stood and took the clay crucible Ramsay had
prepared, adding a small amount of iron to try to create a red glass. It was too soon to heat it, but she set it near the edge of the furnace in preparation.

Although the heat was intense, Laren was used to it. She welcomed the roasting warmth as she turned her attention to some streaked green glass she'd made days ago. From her position behind the fire, she could see Mairin and Adaira still fast asleep.

In her mind she envisioned the Garden of Eden. She would use the glass to form the leaves of the Tree of Knowledge, making it the focal point of the scene. Tomorrow, if she managed to achieve the right shade of red, she could form the apple of temptation.

 

She lost track of time, heating a cutting tool to a red-hot point before she scored the glass to crack it into the shape she wanted. As she worked, she fell under the spell of creating her glass scenes, watching the shapes transform from the image within her mind into reality.

After she had cut several leaves from the finished glass, she spied Nairna and Dougal at the entrance. Her girls had awakened and Nairna held Adaira in her arms.

Her brother-in-law's face was coated with ash, his face sweaty from the labour. As Dougal stared at her, his expression turned curious. ‘You made that?' he asked, pointing to the sheet of glass. ‘From sand, just now?'

‘No. Days ago,' Laren corrected. ‘It takes several days to make glass. Longer, depending on what colours you want.' She put on her gloves, feeling uneasy about the burn scars on her hands, but no one had noticed them. Ramsay had moved to the back of the cavern, trying to remain unobtrusive.

Her side was aching again and Laren took several
breaths to force back the pain. Tonight she would speak to Vanora and ask if she could make a sleeping draught. For now, she hid her misery and asked Dougal, ‘Did you bring me any of the beechwood ash? Or am I supposed to scrape it off you?'

His cheeks reddened at her teasing and he pointed outside. ‘I filled the wagon with it.'

‘You can dump it just outside the cave, if you can manage.'

 

In the end, all of them worked together to shovel it out. Mairin and Adaira tried to help, but it was more difficult with them underfoot.

When at last the wagon was empty, Laren checked on the melt and adjusted the fires. She used a bellows to increase the heat and Ramsay took his place beside the fire, promising to keep it going.

‘It should be ready by midnight,' he predicted. ‘I'll add the crucible then.'

‘Good. I'll be here first thing in the morning to check the melt.'

‘I won't let the fire go out,' he swore. And she knew he'd keep the promise. He was accustomed to sleeping during the day; not once had she lost a melt under his watch.

Laren gave him a solemn nod, refraining from ruffling his hair as she wanted to. Ramsay couldn't bear any form of affection and he'd stiffened on the few occasions when she'd patted his shoulder. When she looked into his dark eyes, she saw the image of the son she might have had.

The vivid pain came crashing back and she bit her lip to suppress it. Nairna sent her a curious look. ‘Are you all right?'

Laren nodded. ‘I suppose I should take the girls back.
It's late.' She touched Mairin's shoulder and reminded her daughter to hold her sister's hand. After adjusting their outer clothing to keep them warm, Laren took both girls' hands in hers and started to walk back.

Nairna remained at her side and ventured softly, ‘I think you should tell your husband about the glass.'

Laren sent the girls to run on ahead and they quickly caught up to Dougal, begging for a ride inside the wagon. When they were out of earshot, she stopped walking, touching her hand to her side.

‘I will tell him, Nairna. Just not yet.' The idea of revealing her awkward skills was frightening. It was like exposing the deepest part of herself.

‘It would help him to understand why you're gone so many hours of the day.' Her sister-in-law rested a hand upon her shoulders. ‘And one day you'll tell the rest of the clan.'

Laren shook her head. ‘I know what the other women say about me. They think I'm spineless and unfit to be a chief's wife.'

‘I don't believe that.' Nairna shook her head and smiled. ‘You're just quiet and shy.'

‘No. It's more than that.' Laren reached down and touched the edge of her gown, remembering the thread-bare clothing she'd worn years ago.

‘My father was a beggar,' Laren admitted. ‘He wasn't able to take care of us. Sometimes he would fall under a spell of melancholy and wouldn't get out of bed for weeks at a time.' She pulled her cloak tighter around her. ‘We hardly had enough to eat and everyone knew it. My sisters and I wore the cast-off clothes of others.'

From Nairna's startled expression, she guessed that no one had told her. ‘The clan knows where I came from. And
they know I haven't the ability to lead them.' She shook her head at the incongruity of the idea. Then she looked back at Nairna. ‘I may be the chief's wife now, but I'm still an embarrassment.'

Laren quickened her pace, past the white stone that lay on the hillside. ‘The glassmaking is part of me, Nairna. If I have this, I can endure their criticism. I can let it flow through me and not let it hurt, because I know what I can make.'

She took a breath, though the confession tore at her heart. ‘It doesn't matter if I can't lead the people or be the wife Alex needs, because I know that there's something I can do.'

Nairna tried to offer words of comfort, but Laren didn't hear them. She saw her husband in the distance, waiting for them at the gates.

And when she saw the intense look upon his face, within his expression lay worry and a hint of relief. He embraced the girls, swinging Adaira up into his arms. But though he spoke to them, she didn't miss the way he watched her.

Almost as if he'd needed to see her again.

March, 1300

The soft sound of a stone striking the wood of her mother's cottage awakened Laren from slumber. A secret thrill of excitement warmed her, for Alex was here, just as he'd promised.

Her sisters were asleep beside her, but none of them stirred when she rose from the pallet they shared. Tiptoeing outside, she glanced behind her to be certain her mother hadn't seen her.

The moon shone silver in the clouded sky, and she saw Alex emerge from the shadows. His face and dark hair were damp, as though he'd washed in the stream before
coming to see her. In his palm he held small stones, but he let them fall, extending his hand to her. Laren made no sound, but took his hand, following him into the forest.

It wasn't as dark as she'd expected, but as they moved deeper into the woods, she drew closer to his side. The spring air was cool and she sensed the moisture that hung with the portent of rain. Dark green moss covered the trees and she was careful of her footing as she walked with him. A sense of forbidden anticipation built up inside, at the thought of being alone with this man.