When she saw Hamish riding away with Adaira, she started climbing higher, ignoring the pains in her side as she struggled uphill. Callum started to follow and she said, ‘You don’t have to come with me. I’ll just go to the top of the hill. To watch over them.’
When she reached the highest point, she saw the small group of travellers leaving. From her vantage point, she saw that Alex was not among them. And she knew that he’d given himself up, to save their daughter.
The pain burned through her, like a ball of molten glass. Was he already dead? She sank down, her knees giving out. Though she’d known the risk, this was something she had prayed wouldn’t happen.
Images flashed through her mind, of the times they’d walked through the woods together, making love near the stone circle. Of the glass droplets he’d given her, spilling the pieces over her naked flesh like gem stones.
She remembered the afternoon he’d brought her dried cherries to satisfy her cravings. Laren rested her hand upon her womb, letting the tears flow freely.
And then, beneath her fingertips, she felt a flutter of movement. Like a tiny hand reaching out to touch hers.
Alex had given her the gift of this child. And though she’d promised him she wouldn’t leave the forest, she couldn’t simply sit back and let him go.
I need to know, she thought. Even if the worst has already happened, I need to know.
Callum stood nearby with his longbow drawn. When Laren reached him, she said, ‘I need you to find out what’s happened to Alex. I saw them bring Adaira out…but I don’t know if my husband is still alive.’
Taking her hand, Callum led her back downhill. When they reached the forest edge, he pointed to the fortress. He sniffed at the air and she understood what was happening. Though she could see no sign of Bram or the others, she could smell the smoke.
‘They’re burning it down, aren’t they?’ she asked. Just as their own fortress had been lost to Harkirk’s fire, the men were enacting the same vengeance upon him.
‘But what about the others? The reinforcements I sent?’
Callum gestured for her to wait. She supposed that meant they were waiting for a signal of some sort. The fire was gaining strength, rippling from the back of the fortress as if aided by oil or another fuel.
He checked his quiver for arrows, running his fingers along the black-feathered tips. He would go after his brothers, she knew. And although Laren wanted to have faith that all would be well, she couldn’t let go of her anxiety.
As if in answer to her fears, she saw a dozen soldiers leaving the fortress, riding after Hamish’s men. ‘Callum,’ she breathed, pointing towards them.
In horror she watched as they attacked the MacPherson men. And she couldn’t stop the cry that broke forth when she heard her daughter scream.
Chapter Seventeen
Alex was prepared for the worst. Harkirk’s men had bound him to a wooden post and he knew that they were going to kill him once his brothers arrived.
The fire raged along the outer wall, while Bram and the other men fought their way through. Already a group of soldiers had left the fortress, likely to search the perimeter for the invaders.
He wasn’t about to remain their captive. Not without fighting to stay alive. The only reason Harkirk hadn’t killed him yet was to use him as leverage, baiting his brothers.
Alex fumbled with the tight knots, his hands freezing in the cold air. He was bound with both hands raised above his head and they were numb from the lack of blood to his limbs. A spear tip rested against his throat and he’d been stripped of his cloak and tunic.
‘If you manage to free yourself, I’ve orders to drive this blade into your throat,’ the guard said. ‘Don’t waste the effort.’
‘What kind of prisoner would I be, if I didn’t make the effort?’ Alex responded with a wry smile. Nodding to the outer wall, he added, ‘The fire is getting closer.’
The guard shrugged. ‘Then you’ll burn to death.’
Dark smoke rose into the air and Alex shifted his wrists, watching for a sign of Callum. He stared out at the forest and a slight movement caught his attention. There, standing amid the trees on the hillside, he saw Laren. She didn’t move forwards, but watched from her position, her long red hair blowing past her face in the wind.
God above, but he loved her. Beautiful and talented, with a soft heart, he wanted to spend the rest of his days at her side. Their marriage was a gift, one he’d neglected for too long.
The vision of her renewed his determination to free himself. Alex’s gaze fell upon the soldier’s spear and he tightened his grip upon the ropes above his head.
Lifting his feet off the ground, he struck out at the soldier, kicking him in the face. The man stumbled and Alex lashed out again, knocking the man unconscious. The fallen spear lay on the ground and Alex seized it with his feet. Though it was awkward, he managed to raise the blade higher, slicing at his ropes.
Once he’d freed the first hand, he untied the remaining ropes and grasped the spear with both hands. Pain radiated through his arms from the lack of circulation, but he pushed it aside, using the spear to take down one soldier and seize the man’s sword and shield.
‘Alex!’ came Bram’s shout.
He spun and blocked a sword blow. Diving to the ground, he kicked the man’s legs out from beneath him, sliding his sword deep into the man’s gut. His vision seemed to blur with the motion of battle, but he was conscious of the men moving closer, starting to surround them. He raised his shield to deflect their arrows, all the while searching for a way out.
Lord Harkirk had his own weapon drawn, and from the way he slashed a path through the men, it was clear the Englishman was well trained.
‘There are too many of us, MacKinloch,’ Harkirk taunted. ‘And when this is finished, the other clans will know that I won’t tolerate any uprising against our garrison. Your heads will be displayed outside the fortress.’
‘You’ll have to take it first,’ Alex answered, rushing towards him with his sword. It struck Harkirk’s shield, but other soldiers joined in the fight, forcing Alex to defend himself on all sides.
Bram came forwards, and they fought back to back while the flames moved towards the slave quarters. ‘Nairna’s going to be furious if I get myself killed,’ he said, holding his claymore with both hands. ‘I never told her I was planning to fight Harkirk.’
‘You’d better not die, then,’ Alex said, lifting his shield. As he blocked a sword blow, he kept the image of Laren fixed in his mind. He fought with every last bit of strength, willing himself to survive the battle. And then he reached Harkirk.
The bastard had threatened his family more than once. Scotland would be safer without him and he didn’t care what the consequences might be. Alex fixed his gaze upon the man, waiting for the chance to strike a killing blow. The glint of chain mail flashed before his eyes when he raised his sword.
But when he heard his daughter call out to him, he jerked out of instinct. There was no sign of Hamish MacPherson or any of the others. No one to protect Adaira.
Blood swam before his eyes, a primal cry tearing from his throat when he saw the soldier holding his daughter with a blade to her throat.
‘Don’t,’ came a woman’s voice. Laren turned and saw Lady Harkirk standing just behind her, within the forest. ‘I know you want to go inside the fortress. But the moment you do, my husband will use your life against your husband. He’d be glad to kill both of you.’
‘I won’t let anyone threaten my daughter,’ Laren insisted.
‘You can’t help her if you’re already dead.’ Lady Harkirk took her by the hand. ‘If you want to see what’s happening, I’ll take you into another guard tower. It’s empty right now because Robert ordered the men into the keep. Follow me.’
She led Laren around the outside of the fortress, bringing her to a small overlook. But before Laren could take another step, a hand clamped down on her shoulder. She jerked with surprise and saw Callum.
&
nbsp; He stared at Lady Harkirk, an open threat in his eyes. She glanced at his bow and arrows, as if making a decision. Then she beckoned to him. He gestured for her to lead the way and when they passed through the entrance, Callum shot a soldier who happened to see them. He dropped to the ground, thankfully unnoticed by the others.
As Lady Harkirk had predicted, the guard tower was empty, giving them a clear vantage point.
A subtle motion caught Laren’s attention and she saw the imposter priest, Father Stephen, lurking against the far wall. He was shadowed, wearing a dark cloak, but Laren recognised his features when he drew closer to the men.
Callum drew his bow in readiness, waiting for the right moment to strike.
‘Wait,’ Lady Harkirk pleaded. ‘Finian MacLachor may be of use.’
Laren wasn’t certain, for the man was unarmed. She didn’t know his intentions, but if he were discovered, it would provide a distraction for Harkirk’s men.
Below, Alex was clearly torn between Adaira and the English Baron. He kept his shield raised, but his attention was focused on their daughter. Laren’s nails dug into her palms, as she uttered silent prayers for Adaira’s safety.
‘Did you believe I would let her go?’ Harkirk said coolly. ‘She still has use to me.’
‘She’s naught but a bairn,’ Alex gritted out, ‘and you’ll rot in hell if you harm her.’
‘It’s interesting, what a father will do for his daughter.’ Harkirk lifted his sword, poised at Alex’s throat. ‘He’ll commit murder. Steal. Turn against his own allies.’ With a twisted smile, Harkirk asked, ‘What would you do for yours?’
With a signal, the Baron’s men moved in on Bram. Laren saw the anguish on her husband’s face and Harkirk demanded, ‘Whose life has more value? Your brother’s? Or your daughter’s?’
Alex turned on Harkirk, unleashing his rage as his sword struck the Baron. His movements forced Harkirk backwards, allowing him to keep Adaira in his sight.
He abandoned himself to the fight, not caring what happened to him. If he died, so be it. But he’d strike down the Baron with his last breath.
‘Kill her!’ Harkirk ordered and Alex shoved the man backwards into the group of soldiers.
At that moment, he saw Finian MacLachor running forwards with a dirk in his hands. The man raised the weapon towards Adaira and Alex’s heart stopped. He couldn’t reach her in time. The thought of watching her die was unthinkable.
But instead of killing her, Finian embedded the blade in the back of the soldier’s throat, pulling the child away. He held his blade in readiness, to defend her.
Alex breathed easier and his reinforcements invaded the fortress, until they slowly regained control of the battle. Turning back, he saw that Harkirk had disappeared. The coward. He couldn’t stop to search for him now, but his sword bit through flesh and bone as they drove back the soldiers. And when Alex reached his daughter’s side at last, Finian MacLachor stood near the child, his dirk still in hand.
‘You saved her,’ Alex said, grateful beyond words.
‘Were it not for me, she’d never have been in danger. I’m sorry for it.’ Finian moved aside so Alex could reach for his daughter.
He picked her up in his arms and Adaira clung to him. Though she wasn’t safe yet, it meant everything to hold his child again. ‘It’s all right, sweet one.’ He pressed a kiss against her hair, embracing her tightly.
To the MacLachor chief, Alex added, ‘Harkirk’s fled. I think you should find him.’
Finian’s face tightened and he went in pursuit of the English lord. Alex started to move toward the gates, where he saw Hamish MacPherson approaching. Blood streamed from a cut on the man’s face, but he seemed to breathe easier when he spied Adaira. ‘I’m sorry, Alex. They killed three of my men. I rode as quickly as I could.’
‘She’s all right,’ Alex said. His hand moved to Adaira’s head, protecting her as they retreated from the remaining soldiers.
‘Mama!’ Adaira suddenly shrieked. Alex turned and saw Laren running towards them. He caught her in his arms, holding her so tightly, it was as if he needed to absorb her into his skin. His wife gripped him hard, then took Adaira into her arms, smiling even as she wept over both of them. Alex held them, his throat constricted with emotion.
But he didn’t feel safe yet. Not until they’d found Harkirk.
‘Search for the Baron,’ he ordered his men. ‘I want him found.’
‘He’s here,’ came the voice of Finian MacLachor. The chief stood at the top of the stairs leading to the fortress tower and at his feet was the body of Lord Harkirk.
A black-feathered arrow lay embedded in the Baron’s throat.
Lady Harkirk stood outside the fortress with the others, her face colourless. The Scottish prisoners had been freed and they’d set the rest of the fortress on fire, driving the remaining soldiers out. Lord Harkirk’s body had been left to burn.
Laren stood beside the Lady, uncertain of what to say.
‘I’m glad he’s dead,’ Lady Harkirk whispered. ‘I just…don’t know where to go now.’
She rubbed her shoulders from the cold and Laren touched her shoulder. ‘Do you have family you could return to, perhaps in England? We could arrange an escort.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I have no one.’
Before long, Laren spied a young boy watching from within the tree line. It was the same child whom Lady Harkirk had hidden in the forest. His expression held fear as he stood, watching the fire spread.
The sight of the boy seemed to urge Lady Harkirk into motion. She hurried towards the trees, signalling for the boy to come forwards.
The boy took a few hesitant steps, but when he spied the MacLachor chief, he took off running. Throwing himself against the man, the child burst into tears. It was then that Laren realised the young boy who had brought her to his shelter that night was not a boy at all, but a girl whose hair had been cut short.
The MacLachor chief’s face broke into an incredulous smile as he gripped the girl hard. ‘Iliana, you’re alive?’
‘Yes, Da. She rescued me.’ The girl hugged him tightly and he smoothed his hand across her shorn hair.
‘I bribed one of the soldiers to help me get her out,’ Lady Harkirk explained. ‘I disguised her as a boy and let my husband believe she was dead.’ With an apologetic smile she added, ‘I didn’t know she was yours.’
Finian kept his arm around his daughter, but he reached out and took Lady Harkirk’s hand. ‘There are no words to say how grateful I am.’
Laren didn’t miss the fierce blush upon the woman’s face. Perhaps it was unnecessary meddling, but she said, ‘Lady Harkirk will need a place to live, now that the fortress is gone. Will you provide her with an escort?’
‘Anywhere she wishes to go.’
Alex approached with Adaira’s hand in his. Laren lifted her daughter into her arms, kissing her soft cheek. ‘Shall I escort you home as well, Lady?’
Laren’s answer was a smile.
Over the next few months, it became impossible for Laren to blow any more glass, for her pregnancy had made it too difficult to balance the pipes. With Ramsay and Monroe’s help, she’d finished the windows. Alex had delivered the completed panels to the abbot a sennight ago.
She was thankful beyond words to be done with the work, for she could no longer stand up for any length of time. It seemed that her stomach had swollen to enormous proportions and she’d had to work in bare feet, for her shoes would no longer fit. She hardly slept any more and her back ached all the time.
Though Alex tried to help her, there was nothing he could do. Nairna was the only one who fully sympathised with her, for her own pregnancy was progressing as well. And though they were only a few months apart, Laren’s girth far surpassed Nairna’s.
‘Are you certain it will be at least two more moons before this bairn is born?’ Nairna asked, as they walked along the shores of the loch. The summer wind blew across the water and Laren was grateful for the breeze.
‘I’ve no doubt this child will be born in autumn, not the summer.’ Laren sent her a faltering smile, adding, ‘Somehow, I’ll manage.’
In the distance, the sunlight illuminated the castle keep, that was nearly completed in stone. Since they’d defeated Lord Harkirk, the MacKinlochs had gained more support from the neighbouring clans. The MacLachors had merged their clan with the MacKinlochs and the added men had made it easier to rebuild.
Laren had started working inside the castle keep to be with Alex more often. He’d built a stone table for her, and she spent her hours cutting the glass and piecing it together with lead lines while Ramsay and Monroe had taken over the glassmaking. She smiled to herself, remembering how her husband would often find an excuse to come inside, just to steal a kiss or to visit her.
The cream-coloured gown she wore was strained across her belly, and she walked within the cool water, letting it soothe her swollen ankles. A sudden pain rippled across her spine, radiating in a tight contraction.
Laren stopped walking, pressing a hand to her back. It hurt, but she didn’t want to alarm Nairna. It wasn’t at all unusual to feel pain during the last few months. When Nairna paled, she reassured her, ‘It’s just harder to walk. The child is positioned so low, I have to stop along the way. If you want to go on ahead, I’ll be fine.’
‘I’m not in a hurry.’ Nairna waited beside her and Laren took a deep breath. Each step was excruciating, but she kept reminding herself that soon she would be back at home. She could lie down, put her feet up and rest.
Spots swam before her eyes and she gripped Nairna’s hand a little harder than she’d meant to.
‘You’re in pain, aren’t you?’ Nairna said. ‘Don’t lie to me about this. You need help.’
Laren took another step and felt a light pop. Then a warm wetness ran down her legs. No. Not this. It was far too soon for this child to be born.
Seduced by Her Highland Warrior Page 23