Seduced by Her Highland Warrior

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 threadbare 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.

Once they reached the clearing, she saw the small circle of standing stones. Ancient and worn, the stones held their own element of enchantment. It was their private place, one where reality faded away and she could forget that he was a chief’s son, and she, a poor crofter’s daughter.

Here, they could be together with no one to interfere. Never had Alex treated her as though she were beneath him. Right now, he was staring at her with a mixture of desire and regret.

‘I have to leave on the morrow,’ he told her, his hands drawing her into an embrace. ‘My Uncle Donnell wants me to visit the Campbell clan.’ There was a heaviness in his eyes, a sense of frustration. He’d been living with his uncle, who had become chief after the death of his father. There was little affection between them, for Donnell continually derided him, claiming that Alex lacked the skill to ever be a leader like his father.

‘When will you return?’ she whispered.

‘I don’t know.’ His hands framed her face and he touched his forehead to hers. ‘He wants me to wed the daughter of their chief. But you needn’t worry. I’ve made my choice of a bride already.’

His fingers moved through her long red hair and within his eyes she saw a rising hunger. A piece of her heart broke away, for if she could, she’d keep him with her. She loved Alex MacKinloch with every breath, with every part of herself.

But she feared they would have no future together, not as poor as she was. And there was a sinking dread that, once he saw this woman, he might forget what there was between them.

For now, she fully intended to savour every stolen moment. His mouth came down upon hers and she kissed him back with all the fervour in her heart. His lips and tongue merged with her own, conjuring up desperate feelings she didn’t understand. Against her body, she felt the hard length of his desire. He drew her hips closer, his hungry mouth moving over her skin.

She couldn’t catch her breath, her pulse racing. Tonight could be their last night together. Once he left Glen Arrin, she might lose him.

‘I love you,’ she whispered, her arms twining around his neck.

He lowered her down to the soft grass and she saw the moment when he regained control of his thoughts. Though his breathing was as staggered as her own, he rolled to his side, studying her.

‘I want you to be my wife, Laren.’

She tried not to let her feelings overshadow what needed to be said. Closing her eyes, she tried to find the right words.

‘Not until you return.’ She wanted to believe that he would love her enough, but she didn’t want him to later hold regrets.

‘Say you will,’ he urged again.

She leaned up to kiss him, distracting him with the physical desire that burned between them. It was easier not to think of losing him when his arms were around her.

‘You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted,’ she answered against his mouth. He took her mouth again, his hands moving over her shoulders, then he brought his palm over her breast.

He let it rest there, waiting to see what she would do. Her nipple rose with a fevered arousal and she felt an answering rush between her legs. She knew, if she allowed it, he would become her lover this night.

His thumb caressed the erect tip and she shifted her legs together at the aching sensation. Temptation warred with good sense and she captured his hand with hers.

‘When you return,’ she whispered. She could not surrender her innocence to him, not when he might be forced to wed another.

He sat up, leaning her body back against him. ‘I’ve brought you a gift to remember me by.’ In her palm, he pressed a small pouch.

Laren unwrapped the leather and poured out a handful of glass droplets. Vivid blue, green and red mingled with white, in a jewelled handful.

‘They’re beautiful,’ she breathed.

‘Father Nolan made them. They reminded me of the treasures I’d give to you, if I could.’

The cool glass warmed beneath her fingers and she held one up to examine it more closely.As she studied them, she wondered how they were made. She knew the priest used sand and fire, but no one dared to interrupt him while he was forging his magic.

Alex kissed her again, holding her close. Though she desired him, she was afraid of what the future might hold.

And, most of all, she feared losing him.

Chapter Three

A bone-deep exhaustion settled within him. Every muscle in his body ached and Alex wanted nothing more than to find a place to sleep for the next fortnight. But he couldn’t.

Despite working since sunrise, they’d done little more than clear away the wreckage. The mood within Glen Arrin was unsettled, for they were exposed, their weaknesses bared to any enemy who happened to draw near.

He closed his eyes, knowing the violence would come. Robert Fitzroy, the Baron of Harkirk, had retreated after the last battle, but Alex had no doubt that the English baron was merely biding his time.

The silence unnerved him more than any direct attack. He sensed, within his blood, that Harkirk would strike again. It was a matter of when, not if.

The heaviness of the clan’s fate rested upon his shoulders and he could feel their doubts. He’d heard more than a few whispers today, questioning his leadership. But this was his clan. He would do whatever was necessary to keep them safe, even if they were reduced to ashes and sackcloth.

They were his people. His family.

His brother Bram approached, his expression dark, as though he didn’t want to bear bad news. ‘I’ve heard talk of several men wanting to leave. They have family among the other clans.’

‘I won’t let that happen.’ Alex adjusted the bandage on his arm, knowing that if a few left, others would follow.

‘And how could you stop them?’

‘It won’t come to that.’ He walked alongside Bram through the remains of the keep. ‘Tonight I’ll speak to them.’

When he passed several of his kinsmen, he didn’t miss the despair and hopelessness on their faces as they worked to gather up what remained of their belongings. It wouldn’t be easy to convince them, but as their chief it was his responsibility to care for them.

He passed Brodie, who was holding the hand of his three-year-old son. The child struggled to pick up a stone that was nearly as big as he was, his face pursed with effort. Brodie put his arms around his son and helped him to lift up the stone, before setting it down upon the wall.

The fist of grief caught Alex so hard that he blinked back the emotion. It had been almost three years now. Their son would have been the same age as this child. He could almost imagine it in his mind, and when Brodie stood, holding his son’s hand, Alex felt the emptiness of his own palm.

It’s in the past, he told himself. You have two daughters. Be thankful for what you have.

In the distance, Dougal was returning with Mairin and Adaira riding alongside him in the wagon. Nairna and Laren approached a short distance behind. There was exhaustion in his wife’s bearing and he didn’t understand why she’d defied him again.

He increased his pace to meet her, when he reached her side, he saw the defensive expression rise up. From the way she clutched her side, she was in pain. He couldn’t understand why she would exert herself, simply to get away from everyone else.

‘You took the girls for a walk?’ he confirmed, nodding toward his daughters, who were tormenting poor Dougal with their chatter.

‘Aye. You wanted me to keep them away from the fortress.’

‘I meant for you to rest and keep them with you.’ He suspected she’d known his wishes; she’d simply chosen to ignore them.

The more he thought of it, the more he realised that they’d been gone for several hours outside. It was freezing and a thin layer of ice coated the loch. Laren wouldn’t expose the girls to that kind of cold. When he studied his daughters, he noted that they didn’t appear in any sort of discomfort. Their cheeks were rosy, their smiles bright.

‘Where did you take the girls?’

She looked startled, as if she hadn’t expected him to confront her. ‘Just on a walk. Nowhere, really.’

‘For several hours?’ He moved closer, his gaze narrowed.

‘Well, I—’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ he demanded. He reached out to touch the back of her neck and, upon her skin, he felt warmth and a slight perspiration. The aroma of wood smoke clung to her hair. ‘You went inside somewhere, didn’t you?’

Laren coloured, but didn’t deny it. ‘Yes. We went to Father Nolan’s cavern.’ She backed away from his touch and he let his hand fall to his side. From the fear in her eyes, he knew there was far more that she hadn’t said.

‘Why?’ The cavern had been abandoned for several years, ever since the old priest had died.

‘I—I’ll tell you later,’ she stammered. ‘But not here.’

He heard the tremor in her voice, and her blue eyes were downcast. It startled him to see her so uncertain, almost as if she were guilty about something. What was she hiding?

‘Send the girls to Vanora and Ross tonight,’ he gritted out, releasing her from his grasp. ‘I want to talk to you alone.’

Her face flushed with uneasiness. ‘I have to prepare food for the girls. They need a meal before they go to sleep.’

It was a feeble excuse not to go. But then his gaze moved down to her hands and he caught the traces of blood upon them.

‘You’re bleeding again.’ It was a foolish observation and it infuriated him that she refused to stop and take care of herself.

‘It will stop,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll rest and it will be fine.’

He softened his tone. ‘Let Vanora take care of the girls. And let me take care of you.’ Without waiting for the refusal he knew would come, he left Laren’s side and went to the older matron. Ross’s wife sent him a pointed look, but she agreed to look after their daughters.

The afternoon sky darkened, Alex gave orders for Dougal to bring him a horse and supplies for the night. Laren’s gaze was focused upon the girls. When she understood that he wasn’t giving her a choice, her displeasure was evident.

He didn’t care. Right now, he needed to confront his wife, to understand what she was hiding from him.

The more he thought of it, the more he realised that she had never confided in him. Over the past two years, she’d hidden herself away, keeping her own secrets.

Tonight, he wanted to learn exactly what they were.

Alex helped Laren onto the horse, bringing a torch with him as he led the animal into the forest. The light dappled the edges of the leaves, filtering the golden sun amid the oaks and fir trees. Nothing was said throughout the half-hour journey, and when at last he brought the horse to a stop, Laren stared at the circle of stones, her face stricken.

‘Why did you bring me here?’

‘You know why.’ He wanted her to remember the way things had once been between them. The circle was where they had first fallen in love. It seemed like the best place to begin again.

Laren walked forwards, resting her hand upon one of the stones. ‘It’s been a long time since we were here.’

He’d brought her here every Beltaine, where they had celebrated the feast in each other’s arms, in remembrance of their wedding night. But after the children were born, it had become more difficult to get away. Laren was reluctant to leave Mairin and, over time, their circle had been forgotten.

When he turned back to her, he saw that she’d sat down. Her gloved hands resting upon her skirts, as the dying sunlight sank below the horizon.

‘You don’t have to wear those,’ he offered, pointing to her gloves.