Chapter Fifteen

Laren jerked to her feet when she heard footsteps approaching. Though she couldn't see who was there, it wasn't Alex or one of the others. She hid herself within the trees, crouching low behind a bush. Within seconds, she heard the sound of dirt poured upon her fire. Darkness blinded her, and her pulse tightened.

"I know you're there," came a whispered voice. "But you shouldn't have lit a fire. They'll see it from the fortress."

Laren didn't speak, not knowing if it was a trap of some sort. Her fingers curled around a tree and it took several moments for her eyes to adjust. The scent of ashes cloaked the atmosphere, a cloying odor that heightened her fear.

When a hand touched her shoulder, she let out a shriek. A boy stood in front of her, older than Mairin, but not yet an adolescent. His hair was ragged against his neck and he wore warm clothing against the cold. "You have to come with me. She wouldn't want you here alone."

"She?"

"Lady Harkirk."

Laren didn't trust any Harkirk, Lady or not. But what was a child doing alone in the hills?

"Is she your mother?"

"No. Come." He took Laren by the hand. "They can see your fire from the fortress. I'll bring you to another shelter where you'll be safe."

"I have to wait here," Laren argued. She pulled her hand free. Although it was growing colder without a fire, she could huddle among the fallen leaves if she had to. Then another alarming thought occurred to her. "Does Lady Harkirk know that I am here?"

The boy shook his head. "I came on my own. I wanted to see what the fire was."

"Who are you?" Laren asked. "You're not English. Are you one of Harkirk's prisoners?"

The child shrugged. "Not any more. She helped me hide."

Given the boy's age, Laren was glad of it. No young child should be forced to labor alongside adults. "Where do you live, then? Where are your parents?"

The boy didn't answer, and Laren suspected they were dead. When the child started to disappear into the trees, she called out, "Wait. Don't go, yet."

"I have to leave. If you come with me, I promise you'll be safe. But the soldiers are coming. They saw your fire."

Laren didn't know what to do. Although she'd believed the fire Callum had built would not be visible from behind the stones, clearly the boy had seen it. If he'd found her, the soldiers could, too.

"Where are you going?" she asked, following the boy into the trees.

"Come with me and I'll show you."

She wondered if it was a mistake to follow the boy. It could be a ploy of some kind, to bring her into captivity without a fight. Another thought occurred to her, one that deepened her fear. "Did you . . . see any other children at Harkirk's fortress? A young girl, almost two years of age?"

The boy nodded. "Lady Harkirk has her. She's taking care of her."

All the blood seemed to rush to her head, and Laren leaned up against a tree. Thank God. Adaira was alive. Hot tears rushed to her eyes, and she admitted, "The child is my daughter. I need to bring her back. Is she inside the fortress?"

"She is." The boy offered his hand to her. "If you come with me, I'll take you to my shelter. Lady Harkirk will come in the morning and you can ask her about your daughter." There was a slight note of regret in the boy's voice, as if he were thinking of his own family.

Laren hesitated, torn between obeying Alex and learning more about Adaira. The night air was growing colder and she knew the dangers of sleeping without a fire to keep warm. The lack of shelter would make it a painful night.

"I'll go with you," she agreed at last. If there was any chance of learning about Adaira, she had to take it. "But I'll need to return before morning." She didn't know if Alex would return, but she wanted to be there if he did.

The boy held out his hand and she followed him down the hillside.

"You," ordered a voice. "Take your spear and join the others." The captain gestured toward a group of a half dozen men who were leaving the fortress.

Alex waited for further information, and the English soldier added, "One of the men saw a fire on the hillside. Find out who was trespassing."

He bowed his head, letting nothing betray his features. Would Callum have been foolish enough to light a fire? Aye, it was freezing outside, but he couldn't think of any reason why his brother would do such a thing. Unless it was meant as a signal of some sort.

Inwardly, he cursed, reaching for a torch. Since he was dressed in chainmail, Callum wouldn't know it was him in the darkness. His brother might unleash a storm of arrows before they ever reached the hillside.

"You won't be needing that," one of the others said, seizing the torch from his grasp.

Alex thought about arguing but then reconsidered. He needed to maintain the disguise for now. Better to drop back and disappear into the trees as soon as he had the chance.

The men traveled in pairs and Alex made certain he was in the last group. When he started to move away, the soldier on his right followed. "Where are you going?"

"I thought I heard a noise coming from this side," Alex said. "I'll go and have a look."

"We stay together," the man argued. "It's safer."

But when Callum's arrow struck the first soldier, Alex tore off his helmet and ran out of his brother's range. The wind was bitter, ripping through his skin with the cold. He dived for cover and hurriedly stripped off the chainmail armor, wearing only his trews and a light tunic.

It was freezing outside, but he bit back the discomfort and kept to the trees as the soldiers charged forward.

"Callum, hold your arrows!" he shouted in Gaelic, letting his brother hear his voice. The arrows stopped abruptly, and Alex suddenly realized that his brother was nowhere near the camp where he'd left him.

The remaining two soldiers retreated back to the fortress, and it wouldn't take long before they gathered more men. He needed to get his brother out of there before anyone found him.

Callum appeared through the trees with another clansman at his side.

"Who is that?" Alex demanded.

"I am Sion MacKinnon," the clansman answered. "Your wife recruited us to fight after talking to Lord Locharr. There are others from the surrounding clans as well. About three dozen." He gestured toward the trees, and Alex spied a few of them, spread out on both sides.

His wife? Alex stared blankly, not understanding. Laren had gone to seek help for them?

"She paid them in silver and gave Lord Locharr one of her glass windows, in exchange for our service," MacKinnon continued.

He couldn't even think of what to say. He stunned that she would even venture out of Glen Arrin, much less speak to the clan chiefs. "Are they all here?"

"No. Some are waiting a mile from here. We wanted to attack with several groups on all sides."

"Where is Laren now?" Alex demanded, hoping to God the man would say that she'd remained at Glen Arrin.

But his brother Callum turned and pointed toward the hillside where the fire had been burning earlier.

"You left her there alone?" Fear tore through Alex. He couldn't believe his brother had put Laren in harm's way. But then, Callum held a finger to his lips and pointed toward the fortress, reminding Alex that the soldiers were going to return.

"Help me find her," Alex commanded, and Callum sheathed the knife again. To Sion, he ordered, "Go back and tell your men to join with ours around the perimeter of the fortress." He gave instructions and the MacKinnon disappeared to obey.

Alex climbed up the hillside, searching for his wife. Callum led him to where he'd left Laren, but the fire was now cold, and it was too dark to track her footprints. He called out to her in a harsh whisper, but there was no reply.

As he searched through the woods, his fear sharpened with every moment that passed. He should have listened to his doubts, for now he might lose both Laren and their daughter.

And he couldn't live with himself if that happened.

Laren couldn't sleep, despite the straw pallet the boy had offered her. The wind blew through the crevices in the crude shelter. Made of stone and wood, it seemed that the boy had built it himself.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, when she saw that he wasn't sleeping either.

"I don't remember." He huddled beneath an old woolen blanket, gathering the edges to keep warm.

"You shouldn't stay here," Laren said. "It's not any safer for you than it is for me."

"And where would I go? Everyone's dead," he said, drawing up his knees. His voice held a quaver, as though he were holding back tears.

"You could come back with me," Laren offered. "Tell me how I can get Adaira back, and I'll make sure you have a place to live."

The boy lowered his head to his knees and, after a few minutes, Laren realized he was crying. She came up beside him and touched his ragged hair. "It will be all right. You'll see." She whispered words of comfort to him, and in time, the child laid down on the pallet. She covered him with the rough blanket and noticed that his features were softer than she'd originally noticed. He was so young, possibly only a few years older than Mairin. She wished she'd remembered to ask his name.

Laren closed her eyes for a moment and a shudder of dizziness swept through her. She'd forgotten to eat anything tonight and was ravenous. Her back ached and the terror that lay dormant suddenly roared to life.

I shouldn't have left Glen Arrin, she thought to herself. Alex will be so angry when he finds out. But she'd believed it was safe with so many clansmen to defend her. Now, she wasn't so certain. She lay down beside the boy and, in time, her physical exhaustion overcame the fear.

When she awakened in the morning, she saw an English noblewoman staring down at her.

"Who are you?" the woman demanded in heavily accented Gaelic. Laren sat up slowly, but she didn't leave the boy's side. The woman was dressed in a burgundy samite gown trimmed with fur. Her gloved hands were slender and her brown hair was bound up in a golden barbette trimmed with rubies.

"I am Laren MacKinloch," she answered. "I suppose you must be Lady Harkirk."

The woman inclined her head, but there was a shadow of unhappiness in her eyes. "You shouldn't have come here. It isn't safe."

"Lord Harkirk has my daughter prisoner. Where is she?"

"If you're asking about the young baby, I left her with my maid," Lady Harkirk answered. "She has red hair, like yours. Blue eyes?"

Laren nodded. "Adaira is her name."

Lady Harkirk lowered her head. "My husband is using her to lure the MacKinlochs here. After what happened a few months ago, he wants vengeance."

"I don't know if you have children of your own," Laren said, "but my daughter is an innocent. And I will do whatever I have to, to get her back."

"It won't be easy." Lady Harkirk risked a glance back at the fortress, then shivered.

The young boy yawned and stretched upon the straw pallet. Lady Harkirk pulled back her cloak and revealed a bag she'd brought with her. There was a small amount of food inside, and Laren wanted to cry at the sight of it, she was so hungry. But the child needed the food, and she said nothing, letting him take what he needed.

The boy devoured the meat, but he tore off a bit of a bread crust, handing it to Laren. "Here," he offered.

She savored the small crust, though it did little to take the edge off her hunger. It reminded her of the nights when she'd gone hungry with her sisters. Since she'd married Alex, food was never something they'd lacked.

Laren rose to her feet, but as soon as she stood, her legs buckled. The boy caught her before she hit the ground, and she let out a curse, lowering her head between her knees.

"You look pale," the Lady said. "If I had more food, I'd—"

"No. I need to find my husband." Laren fought to remain conscious, angry with herself for the weakness of her pregnancy. She took slow, deep breaths, and then managed to face Lady Harkirk. "They're going to attack your fortress." Laren stared at the woman, praying there was compassion within her. "If you can help me to get my daughter out, I can stop them from fighting."

Lady Harkirk's expression grew bitter. "If my husband dies in battle, it would only be a blessing." She returned to the entrance of the shelter. "I'll do what I can to help you, but I can't bring your daughter out of the fortress. I've already risked too much, coming here alone."

"Bring her near the entrance, at nightfall," Laren said. "We'll find a way to get her out."

Lady Harkirk stared at her then shook her head. "No. I don't think I can. Not without him suspecting something."

"If my daughter dies—"

"She won't," the lady assured her. "I protected this one from harm." She pointed toward the young boy, before she shivered and wrapped her cloak around her for more warmth. "I can't say how I'll manage it, but be ready to claim Adaira at nightfall."

Laren stood up and faced the Lady, eye to eye. "She's just a baby. And I won't lose her."

Lady Harkirk took her hand. "I'll keep her safe."

Alex's eyes were dry and raw from lack of sleep. He'd searched every last inch of the forest, but there was no sign of Laren anywhere.

Had she been taken when Callum had left her alone? If anything happened to her, he blamed himself. The thought of her falling into Harkirk's hands infuriated him.

"If she's in that fortress, we'll find her." Bram had returned early this morn, with the promise of aid from Nairna's father. He gripped Alex's arm in silent support. "We may as well assume she's there."

Alex's grasp upon reason was slipping away. The very thought of Harkirk touching Laren, hurting her . . . It made him understand how Bram had lost control in the battle several months ago when Nairna was threatened.

The thought of Laren's gentle face, her fiery red hair falling over her shoulders, made his heart twist. He remembered how he'd slept with her in his arms, their unborn child resting beneath his hand. And the thought of losing them sent his temper roaring.

He crossed over to Callum, shoving his younger brother against the back of a tree. "Why did you leave her? She could be dead right now, because you left her alone!"

Bram and Brochain dragged him back, but Alex's lungs were tight, his rage unchecked. And seeing the emptiness in his brother's eyes only provoked him more.

Callum didn't know what it meant to love a woman. He didn't understand. Losing Laren would be like ripping his heart out of his chest. There would be nothing left but an emptiness that would never be filled.

"If we're going to find them, you need to get control of yourself," Bram insisted. "If you strike out at one of us, you're not helping Laren."

He knew it. But damn it, the need to lash out was all consuming.

"Last night, we found a possible way to break into their stronghold," Bram interrupted.

He nodded toward Brochain MacLachor, who offered, "There is one part of the fortress that has suffered from water damage. The wood is rotting, almost crumbling in places."

"Go on." Alex eyed the man, not knowing what he was suggesting.

"I broke away sections of the wood. The beams behind it aren't stable. If we set them on fire, the walls will crumble."

Alex nodded. "Good. We'll split our forces and distract Harkirk's men with a direct attack while you take down the other part of the fortress."

"And what of my brother?" Brochain asked. "Did you find him last night?"

"He's hurt but alive." Alex gave no further information, for he hadn't forgiven the MacLachor chief for putting Adaira in danger.

"And what of his daughter?"

"She's gone."

Brochain's mood grew somber. "We have to get Finian out." He rested his hand upon his sword. "And your daughter."

"We'll free them," Alex said, "and all the other slaves who were left behind with no clan to help them." His gaze drifted over to Callum, who gripped the handle of his bow in silent agreement.

"I spoke with Hamish MacPherson last night," Bram continued. "He promised a dozen men of his own to provide a distraction while we bring down Harkirk's fortress."

"What kind of a distraction?"

Bram only shook his head and shrugged. "He didn't say."

Alex didn't like all the unknown factors that would impact their attack, and an unsettled feeling permeated his mood. "Harkirk will be waiting for us," he said. "He sent the soldiers last night to find out about the fire they saw. Since the men never returned, he'll know we're here."

"That may be," Bram acknowledged, "but there's no other alternative. Unless you have another idea?"

"I do," came a female voice from the trees.

When Alex spun around, he saw Laren standing there. As he crushed her into his arms, he didn't even care what anyone else thought.