Seduced by Her Highland Warrior (11 page)

But there was trouble brewing in his eyes. ‘I don't want you returning to the cavern,' he said. ‘Not after what happened tonight.'

She frowned, not understanding. ‘Alex, I have to finish the commission. I have to return to the furnaces because I can't make the glass here.'

He pulled her into a tight embrace. ‘The commission be damned. You were nearly kidnapped tonight. I almost lost you because you left the fortress.'

‘I won't be alone,' she argued. ‘Ramsay will be there and—'

‘You're not going back,' he repeated. ‘We don't need the silver. Your life is more important than glass.'

She'd never seen him like this and it startled her to see him so adamant. She started to speak again, but he cut her off. ‘I'm not leaving you alone again. You'll stay here at Glen Arrin and you and Nairna can organise the women with the rebuilding. There are some tasks that both of you can do and it will keep you protected if you're here.'

She grew cold, suddenly realising what he was saying. ‘You're asking me to give up the glassmaking.'

‘No.' His hand came around the back of her neck, softly, but firm in his grasp. ‘I'm not asking.'

Gone was the passionate husband and in his place was an iron-willed chief. He was entirely serious in his command.

‘I'll take Callum with me, as a guard,' she offered. ‘I won't do my work alone.'

‘You won't do it at all. It's not safe for you to be by yourself, so far away from Glen Arrin.' He took her hand in his and started to pull her back inside Ross's house.

‘Alex, no.' She refused to move another step. ‘I'm not going to fall into Nairna's shadow. I've been given a task that I promised I'd complete.'

‘Do you know what would have happened to you, if he'd succeeded in taking you hostage?' His voice went low and she sensed the danger beneath it.

‘Yes,' she whispered, her voice trembling. ‘I know how they would have used me.'

‘And do you think I would
ever
let a man touch you in that way? I don't care what the glass means to you. You can let it go.'

Inside, she was torn apart by his words. She'd thought that, by bringing in so much silver, he would respect her skill. That he would encourage her glassmaking, being proud of the way she'd earned them wealth.

All her life, she'd been treated like the beggar her father was. Never had she possessed any sense of pride; she'd grown accustomed to everyone looking down upon her. And now that she'd finally proven that there was something more, that she could be a woman worth something, he wanted her to let it go.

From deep inside, a dormant anger intensified, rising higher until it cracked apart. ‘I can't give up my glass, any more than you can give up being chief. It's who I am.' She was crying now, but he hadn't softened even once. If anything, his stubborn will had grown more rigid.

‘You'll have to,' was all he would say. Then he took her hand and guided her inside Vanora's house. When the matron and Grizel both asked questions, their voices rising and arguing as they exclaimed over what had happened,
Laren didn't speak a word. Instead, she went to lie beside her daughters, sleeping as far away from Alex as she dared to go.

 

Laren didn't speak to him all the next day. Alex had sent more men to find the intruder, but they'd found only traces of blood and the horse's tracks disappeared near the stream. There was no way of knowing where the man had gone or when he would return. At least he'd managed to wound his enemy.

Though he tried to continue working on the outer wall, his thoughts were consumed by Laren. She'd avoided him that morning and he sensed the resentment simmering beneath her mood.

He tried not to care. Aye, she was angry about not being able to work on the glass, but this was about her safety. Though rationally he knew it was impossible to keep her in his sight at every moment, he'd been caught off-guard last night. When he'd seen her fighting her attacker, he'd nearly lost his mind. The visceral need to protect her, to surrender his own blood for hers, had surged inside him.

And later, when she'd reached for him, needing the physical comfort of his body, he'd thought they were starting to mend their broken marriage. All this morning, he'd remembered her touch, the sounds she'd uttered when she experienced her climax, her legs tightening around his waist.

Alex grew aroused just remembering it and it only added to his dark mood. He busied himself with hefting stones from the wagon to the outer wall, trying to drown out his needs with the punishing work, but he couldn't help but be aware of Laren. She'd done as he'd ordered,
walking behind Nairna and helping the women to gather thatch and smaller pieces of wood for the new homes they had to build.

Deliberately, she walked past him once and he noticed the scent of wood about her. She didn't speak, but the gentle sway of her hips captured his gaze. When she glanced beyond the fortress, he sent her a silent warning.

Upon her cheek, he saw the reddened mark that was beginning to bruise. It angered him even further, wishing he'd been able to kill the man who'd touched her.

Laren started to walk towards the gates, and at her open defiance, Alex dropped the stone he was holding and crossed the space. ‘Where are you going?'

She stood tall and stared back. ‘To fetch water from the loch. Or am I not allowed to do that either?'

‘Not alone.' He gestured for her to walk forwards and she picked up a wooden bucket, while he trailed behind to guard her.

She stepped on to the outer layer of ice, moving towards the unfrozen portion. He didn't like her venturing out, not when she could slip or fall into the icy water. Without asking, he seized the bucket and started to get the water for her.

Laren watched him, her gaze infuriated. ‘And now I'm too helpless to even dip a bucket into the loch?'

He slammed the bucket down, his fury erupting. ‘What do you want from me, Laren? You were nearly taken last night, and you expect me to grant you freedom to go where it pleases you? He's going to come back. And I'll be damned if I'll let you be his captive.'

‘Instead, I'm your captive,' she said. Her voice was cold, full of her own ire. ‘Do you plan to tie me to your side, so
I can't escape you? Or perhaps you'll bind me to your bed and use me as it pleases you?'

‘You were the one who wanted me last night,' he shot back. ‘I was going to leave you alone.'

Her expression was brittle and she was near to tears. ‘I wish you would. At least then I could be of some use, if you'd let me make the glass.'

He took a step back, feeling as if she'd struck him. He didn't understand why she was so insistent on returning to the cavern. They didn't need the silver as badly as she believed they did.

‘If the furnaces weren't so far away, it would be different.' He tried to appease her and continued, ‘Perhaps in the spring, when it's safer, you could return to the work if it pleases you.'

‘You truly don't understand, do you? This isn't like my weaving or sewing. It's not the same at all.' She reached down for the bucket, her arm straining with the weight of the water.

She was right—he didn't understand. And the angrier she grew, the more he sensed that this was about something else entirely.

He took the bucket and tossed it aside. Taking her wrist, he guided her forwards, moving towards the cavern. She said nothing, but matched her pace with his, even though it meant she had to run slightly.

When they reached the entrance, the furnace fires were out, the interior cold. She went to her work table and sat before it, her hands clenched tight.

‘What is this really about, Laren?'

She picked up a piece of glass and rubbed its surface. ‘You're not being reasonable about this. I understand that
you don't want me to work alone. But you can't lock me away.'

‘And why can't I?' He moved to sit across from her. ‘If I want to keep you safe from harm, why does that make me a monster?'

‘It doesn't. But I can't give up this commission.' She pressed a clear glass droplet into his hand. The smooth surface grew warm within his hand and she said, ‘Working with the glass gives me a purpose. It's something I can do that no other woman of this clan can. With it, I can prove to them that I'm worth something. That I'm not a beggar, like my father was.'

In her eyes, he saw twenty years' worth of pain. He'd never thought much about her family's poverty—he'd seen only the woman who had stolen his heart.

She rose from the bench and went to stand at the entrance. ‘Don't keep me a prisoner, Alex. Let me do this.' The desperation in her voice and in her eyes gave him pause. He wanted to keep her within the fortress, where no one could hurt her. Why couldn't she understand that he needed to protect her?

‘You'll stay at Glen Arrin, until we're sure that the threat is gone,' he said.

‘And after that?' she whispered.

He wanted to refuse. But he sensed that if he took this away from her, she would grow to hate him.

He didn't know what the right decision was. She was staring at him with a blend of hope and doubts. Finally, he acceded, ‘Only if Callum agrees to guard you.'

It was the only compromise he'd make. And even then, he didn't like it.

The light in her eyes and the fierce joy took him aback. She threw her arms around his neck, and though he rested
his hands upon her waist, he didn't hug her back. He felt as though he were bargaining to save his marriage and it infuriated him that she would push him to that boundary.

As he took her back to Glen Arrin, he wondered what he'd just agreed to.

 

Finian lay upon the ground, blood staining the frozen grass beneath him. Though it had been nearly a sennight, the wound upon his arm kept reopening. The skin had turned red, and he'd been shaking with fever for two days now. He'd finally accepted that he couldn't stay here any longer; he had to return home to tend the wound.

When he heard a horse approaching, Finian struggled to rise. Dizziness plagued his vision, but when he saw the rider his tension eased. It was a priest, travelling on horseback. Not a threat at all.

The priest drew closer and when he spied Finian, he dismounted. His dark robes trailed the ground and he folded his hands within the long sleeves. ‘
A charaid,
you're bleeding. Will you allow me to help you?'

Finian nodded, easing himself to sit up. Though the ground still swayed beneath him, he allowed the priest to unwrap his sodden sleeve.

‘A sword, was it?' The priest opened up a pouch he carried and withdrew a folded piece of linen from inside. He pulled back Finian's sleeve and tore a piece from it, swabbing at the blood. ‘You're lucky you didn't lose that arm. I won't be able to stitch it for you, but you are welcome to join me as I journey to Glen Arrin. I'm certain one of the women there would help you.'

‘Glen Arrin?' Finian repeated, unable to believe what he was hearing.

‘Aye.' The priest smiled. ‘There is a glass artist there
whose work is nothing short of miraculous. The abbot has commissioned a window from the MacKinlochs and I'm bringing the plans to them.'

Finian barely listened to the man's words, for when the priest tightened the linen around his arm, the pain made it impossible to answer.

‘Will you come, then?' the priest asked again. ‘The MacKinlochs would be glad to help a man in need.'

But Finian only shook his head. Though the MacKinlochs hadn't seen his face on the night he'd attacked, as soon as they saw the wound upon his arm, it would reveal his identity. ‘No, thank you, Father. I'll return to my family.'

After he thanked the priest for his kindness, the man smiled. ‘A family is a blessing indeed. God go with you and your loved ones.'

A bleakness reached out to him, squeezing Finian's heart. For there was no one to guard his daughter now. And he simply didn't know how he could save her.

 

The autumn was fading into harsh winter as Laren finished panes of glass in all different colours, preparing for the design she would have to make. Callum had kept his word, patrolling the area surrounding her cavern. She'd felt uneasy about Alex's brother, for never did he speak. She worried that he resented having to guard her, for he ignored her attempts to give him food or to make him feel more at ease. Truthfully, she hoped that her husband would lift the requirement, now that there had been no further attacks.

One morning, before she could go to the cavern, Laren spied a priest arriving on horseback. He was dressed in dark robes of a simple wool, with a hood to cover his head.
When he approached, he stopped the horse a few paces before the gates. He lowered his hood, studying the fortress as if wondering if he were in the right place. He tucked his hands inside his long sleeves and ventured forwards, leading the horse with him.

Laren guessed he was one of the priests from the abbey who had come with the plans she needed. She drew close to Nairna and her sister-in-law crossed over to speak with him. The man appeared tired and frail from his journey, but he managed to smile and greet them.

‘You came from the Abbey of Inveriston, I presume?' Before the priest could voice a reply beyond a simple nod, Nairna continued on. ‘You'll want a meal and some mead to refresh yourself. And perhaps you'd honour us by saying Mass in the morning?'

‘Of—of course.' The man appeared taken aback by Nairna's bold questions, but eventually he managed to introduce himself. ‘I am Father Stephen.'

Nairna sent him a broad smile. ‘You are welcome here.' Now that he was dismounted, she explained in a low voice, ‘Laren can discuss the glass with you and show you the sample pieces. The others don't know about it yet. We'll go to the cavern and you can give her the plans you brought.'