Chapter Sixteen

"Where were you? And why did you leave Glen Arrin?" he demanded, holding her so tightly, Laren could hardly breathe. The worry on his face, along with the sleepless shadowing under his eyes, made her cling to him.

"You needed help." She touched his hair, dragging his mouth to hers for a soft kiss. "I couldn't let you face Harkirk's soldiers with so few men." The strain upon her husband's face made it seem that he'd aged fifteen years at the thought of losing her. She tried to soothe away his dark mood, though she was secretly glad he'd been so worried.

"It was too dangerous to stay here with the fire Callum built," she went on. "A boy came to warn me," she answered. "He led me to a shelter where I spent last night."

"Who was he? And where was this shelter?"

Laren shook her head. "I don't know his name. But he wasn't English." She described the location of the shelter to him, then raised her hands to rest upon his shoulders.

"Alex, he knew where Adaira was." She would have followed anyone with information leading to her daughter. It didn't matter that she didn't know the boy's name. "Lady Harkirk is taking care of her. She came to us early this morning and has promised to help us."

Alex stiffened at the mention of the Lady. "Why would she venture beyond the fortress unless it was at her husband's bidding?"

She predicted the direction of his thoughts and shook her head. "No. She was angry with Harkirk. She said she'd be glad if he were killed in battle."

"Or she might have lured you into trusting her."

Laren didn't want to believe it. "She promised to bring our daughter near the entrance of the fortress at sunset."

"Where Lord Harkirk will be waiting with soldiers to cut us down."

"I don't believe that," Laren argued. "She helped save the life of that boy—she's kept him in hiding."

Her husband shook his head. "You're too trusting, Laren."

It was clear that he didn't believe Lady Harkirk at all. And it might be that the woman wasn't telling the truth. But Laren had seen regret in her face, as though Lady Harkirk wanted nothing to do with her husband's deeds.

"Does she know about the attack?" he asked.

"She knows we're here. But she doesn't know how many of us there are."

Alex's face turned grim, and he exchanged a glance with Bram. His brother said, "The MacPhersons will be here soon. We need to get our men into position."

"Go, then," Alex ordered. "I'll join you in a moment."

Bram obeyed, taking Brochain with him. Callum picked up his bow, but Alex motioned him back. "You're staying with Laren. And, so help me God, you'd better not leave her." His brother gave a nod, his fist curling around his weapon.

Before Laren could voice a protest, Alex cut off her words. "Trust me on this, Laren. Trust me to get Adaira back."

In his eyes, she saw his frustration and worry. He drew close to her, his hand moving down to the swelling at her waist. "When I thought I'd lost you, you can't know what that felt like. I worried that you were Harkirk's prisoner, that he'd hurt you somehow."

He lightly stroked the unborn bairn. "I won't let that happen. Even if I die this day, at least I'll die knowing that you're safe. That this child will live."

In his eyes, she could see the intrinsic need for her to remain out of harm's way. "All right," she acceded. "I'll stay behind with Callum."

He touched his forehead to hers. "Good. Go to the top of the hillside and wait behind the rocks. Hide yourself."

She moved into his arms, holding him tightly. He stroked her hair back from her face, ordering, "No matter what happens to the rest of us, promise me you won't interfere."

"If your life is threatened—"

"It's a risk I'm prepared to face. But not your life." He lowered his mouth to hers. "Swear it."

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but she lowered her head in a silent promise.

Alex waited with Bram at his side. In the distance, he saw MacPherson men approaching, led by Nairna's father, the chief. Hamish wore elaborate clothing trimmed with gold thread, along with jeweled rings upon his fingers. Alex walked toward him, and Hamish sent him a faint smile. He seemed extremely uncomfortable about the visit, and Alex suspected the man intended to offer bribes in return for their lives.

"Harkirk knows of your intentions," Hamish said without prelude. "His men are positioned at every part of the fortress. If you ride in with us, you won't come out alive." Worry lined the older man's face.

Alex met his gaze with his own resolution. "We have reinforcements ready. And if I can get Adaira out, that's all that matters."

Hamish nodded to one of his retainers, who dismounted and offered his horse to Alex. "So be it." He glanced around and asked, "Is Bram with you? Nairna won't be pleased with me if I get her husband killed."

"This isn't Bram's fight."

Hamish grunted. "It is, if you're is involved. I know him too well for that." The older man shifted his weight in the saddle, and Alex brought his horse alongside the chief. With a heavy sigh, Hamish admitted, "I don't know if there is enough silver in Scotland to pacify Harkirk's greed. Or to save your throat." His expression grim, the chief asked, "Are you certain you're wanting to do this?"

"I'm going to bring back my daughter, whatever the cost may be." Alex nudged the horse forward, leaving Hamish with no choice but to follow. They rode up the path toward the gates and the archers tightened their bowstrings. If he didn't have Hamish at his side, Alex didn't doubt that the soldiers would have murdered him where he stood. They held their arrows in check, only because they honored the tentative truce between the MacPhersons and their own men.

When they reached the first wall, more soldiers stood. They closed the path behind them, cutting off any escape. Alex stared at the spears, wondering if he would feel the cold thrust of the metal tip within his ribs before his men attacked. Or would his death come with a blade to slit his throat? He let the morbid thoughts run through him, deadening any emotions he felt. He would accept his fate, as long as he saved Adaira.

Lord Harkirk awaited him at the top of the stairs that led into the tower. The man wore chainmail, his bearded face flushed with satisfaction. Beside him stood Lady Harkirk, and in her arms was Adaira.

"Da!" his daughter shrieked, stretching out her arms. She started crying and Alex felt his control slipping away. He saw her baby-fine red hair, tinted with gold. Her hands strained to reach him, and in his mind, he thought of David.

I won't let you go, he swore silently to his daughter. I won't let him hurt you. She was his flesh, born from his spirit just as much as Laren's. One day she would grow into a beautiful woman like her mother. Even if he wasn't there to see it.

"I understand you wanted my head, Harkirk," Alex called out. "I've brought it to you. But first, you're going to return my daughter into the care of Hamish MacPherson."

"Am I?" The Baron walked slowly down the stairs, as if savoring the moment. "And what if I refuse?"

"You would harm an innocent child?" Hamish demanded. "Because of your bloodlust?"

"She carries MacKinloch blood in her. As far as I'm concerned, the fewer MacKinlochs, the better."

Lady Harkirk looked alarmed when her husband reached for the child. She never took her eyes off Harkirk, and when he held Adaira above the stairs, he said, "Come here, if you want her."

Alex hesitated, knowing that as soon as he left the safety of the MacPherson soldiers, he risked his life. But neither could he let Harkirk harm his daughter.

"If I drop her, she'll break her neck," Harkirk taunted. "Is that what you want?"

Alex moved forward, but was startled when Hamish's men accompanied him, covering his back. He hadn't expected them to guard his life with their own. With a grateful look toward Hamish, he moved to the bottom of the stairs.

"Take her, then." With that, the English baron tossed Adaira down the stairs and Alex dived forward, catching his daughter before she could strike her head. His heart raced at the thought of her near encounter with death, and he held her tightly as she cried in his arms.

Lady Harkirk sent a frigid look toward her husband before she disappeared into the tower. The baron didn't seem to notice.

"Give her over to Hamish MacPherson," Harkirk ordered, "or my archers will kill both of you." His soldiers moved in closer, several archers poised at the ready.

Alex held tight to Adaira, whispering in her ear, "I love you, a nighean. Go with Hamish" Be safe, he prayed.

He gave Adaira over to Hamish, murmuring, "Signal the others to attack." It was harder than he'd thought it would be, for he was afraid it was the last time he'd see his daughter. But at least she would live. He'd kept his promise to Laren, regardless of what happened now.

Numbness settled across him as the soldiers took him into custody, binding his wrists behind his back. And when they struck him, he sank to his knees, tasting blood in his mouth.

Lady Harkirk didn't care that she was betraying her husband and countrymen. After Robert threw an innocent child down the stairs, any fragment of loyalty she'd ever felt had disappeared.

Now that the baby was with Hamish MacPherson, she hoped the child would be safe, but she had to make certain. She went to the far corner of the main room and walked down the spiral stairs leading to the storage chambers. Robert had built a passageway to escape the fortress, in the event of a siege. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to walk away from this place.

The sound of chains rattling caught her attention. She peered into the darkness and saw the prisoner her husband had ordered beaten. He'd been brought below last night and it occurred to her that he might prove useful, though he was weak.

The man was shivering violently while his breath clouded the frigid air. If she left him here, he would die. Already he was suffering from exposure, his body half-frozen with cold.

This is a mistake, she thought, as she reached for the keys to unlock his shackles. The man was larger than Robert, his body heavily muscled despite his weakness.

"If I release you, will you promise not to harm me?" she asked quietly. His face jerked upward, as though he hadn't been aware of her presence. He blinked, and she wondered if he could see her.

"Who are you?"

"Alys Fitzroy. Lady Harkirk." She shivered in the cold, reaching for his manacled wrist. "Don't even think of using me as a hostage. I want to leave this place, just as you do."

The man stared up at her and she saw something flicker on his face, almost like a sense of regret.

"What is your name?" she asked, as she released the second manacle.

"Finian," he answered. "I'm the MacLachor chief. Or . . . I was, before this." His face grew weary, as if he no longer cared about anything anymore.

Alys folded her hands in her skirts and retreated. "If you follow me, I'll show you a way outside the fortress. That's all I can do for you. You'll have to make your own escape."

"Why would you offer me help?" the chief asked. He struggled to his feet, wincing at the pain as he took one step, then another. "Surely Harkirk would be furious."

"I've been his prisoner for four years now. I don't need anyone else to endure what I have." She swallowed hard. "If I could free the others, I would. But he keeps them locked away, near his soldiers. I don't know why he put you here."

"Because they caught me trying to escape last night. He intends to make an example of me." Finian rested his hand upon the wall and Alys saw another shiver rack his body. She removed her cloak and set it around his shoulders.

He stared at her and she couldn't say why she'd done it. What had begun as pity had suddenly transformed into necessity. There was something about this man that reached inside her, almost as if she needed to save him.

"I can't accept this," he said, holding out her cloak.

"You need it more than I do." And with that, she fled. Before she could reach the exit, he caught up to her.

"Why me?" he asked, his voice dark. "I'm the last person who deserves this."

She didn't speak, nor would she look at him. He was frightening her with the tone of his voice.

The chief's hand curled against the wall. "It's my fault. This battle . . . the loss of men's lives." He shoved the cloak at her, as though it were on fire. "If the MacKinloch's daughter dies, it'll be on my soul."

Alys started to speak, but held her tongue. Though she wanted to condemn him, she saw the desperation and the fierce guilt in his eyes.

"Then make amends for what you did." She pushed gently against his chest, gaining distance. "Or go, if that's your wish."

"I deserve to die," he admitted.

"That's not for me to decide." Her heart trembled as he took her cloak, huddling beneath the wool. More than anything, she struggled to hold back the words she wanted to speak to him. But what he needed now wasn't comfort; he needed redemption. And sometimes redemption wasn't kind.

"If you're truly sorry for what you did, you could help them." She led him up the stairs and showed him where her husband's weapons were stored. "Will you atone for what you did? Or will you turn your back on those who are suffering?"

Laren huddled behind the rocks and when she spied motion below, she crept from her hiding place. Hamish MacPherson rode out and she could hear Adaira weeping.

Her eyes swelled up with tears, but she couldn't stop herself from crying. She wanted to leave the forest, to go running after her child. Yet, she'd made a promise to Alex. She'd given her word that she wouldn't leave the trees.

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 travelers 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."

Callum took her hand and 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 fear, she saw a dozen soldiers leaving the fortress, riding after Hamish's men. "Callum," she breathed, pointing toward 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.