Chapter Six

The next morning, Laren didn't see Alex at all. Dougal had said something about him being at the rock quarry with the others and she didn't know if he intended to bid her farewell for the short journey to Inveriston. When she started to walk toward the horses, she looked around for her daughters.

Mairin caught sight of her and raced over. "Mama, I found these for you." She placed small rocks in Laren's hand, beaming as though she'd given her diamonds.

"For you," Adaira echoed, handing her some bruised blades of grass. The young toddler pursed her lips together, and Laren bent down to give her a kiss.

When she'd promised the girls that she'd be back by nightfall, she gave up waiting for her husband and mounted the mare Dougal had readied for her. Her side was healing well now and it no longer pained her.

Bram sent her a hard look. "Isn't Alex coming?"

"No," Laren answered, "but he knows about the glass." When he started to ask another question, Nairna brought her horse over and shook her head, speaking softly to her husband. Thankfully, Bram let it go and led the way toward Inveriston.

All throughout the ride to the parish, Laren agonized over her conversation with Alex. She'd hoped he would be surprised by the glass, even proud of her. Instead, he'd hardly said a word. The longer she thought about it, the more upset she became.

She'd poured her heart into the glass, giving it life with her breath. It was more than art. It was pieces of herself, destroyed by fire and born again into something beautiful.

Her hands clenched upon the reins of the horse, her cheeks growing colder from the wind. She wished they could go back to their life years ago, when they had lived with only each other. When they could close out the world and lie in each other's arms, content and whole.

She wanted him to love her the way he once had. When just being herself was enough for him.

Regardless of how far they'd drifted, he was the man she wanted. She still loved him, even though he'd become so different. He spent so many hours away from her and the girls, only coming back after he'd traversed every inch of Glen Arrin and talked to every family.

Or had he done so because he didn't want to come home any more? Her head lowered. The wrenching pain of the marriage was pulling her heart in two.

She watched Nairna and Bram riding alongside one another. Though the couple didn't speak, their eyes met from time to time. Their love was strong, their happiness tangible. She wanted that back for her own marriage.

You have to be the wife Alex needs, her mind asserted. You have to be stronger and face the people.

She didn't know if she could cloak herself in confidence, becoming another woman. Or if it would mean giving up the glass she loved.

Laren stared at the green hills, watching the mist drift across the trees. Transient and light, the low clouds were hardly visible in the sunlight. The way she sometimes felt among the clan. They didn't see her or know her. The truth was, she wasn't at all happy at Glen Arrin, aside from the time she spent with her daughters or with her glass.

Perhaps she should try to befriend the other members of the clan, not for Alex…but for herself. It might lessen the loneliness that she felt when he wasn't there.

Laren clutched the leather-wrapped package of glass and the closer they came to Inveriston, the more her stomach hurt. Please, God, let it have value.

Her nerves trembled as Bram drew their horses to a stop and helped her down. Laren followed them inside the stone courtyard. While Bram set up the meeting with the abbot, she stared at the interior of the monastery.

Within the chapel, she heard the echoing rise of the monks singing. The space was dark and enclosed, with only a small square window near the top, angled to prevent the rain from entering.

They won't want my window, she told herself. It wasn't at all practical, for they would have to knock down part of the wall to open up the space. The more she eyed the monastery, the more she saw how plain it was. Men who lived and worshipped in such a space would not want colours to distract from their prayers.

Before she could form another thought, Nairna was leading her forward and unwrapping the leather parcel of glass. While her sister-in-law extolled the qualities of the glass, explaining how the light could enter, Laren studied the abbot. His wrinkled face was impassive, unimpressed by what he saw.

Her gaze fell to the ground. It wasn't good enough, as she'd feared.

But then he spoke. "Thirty pennies."

Her gaze snapped to Nairna's in disbelief. Bram's hand came down upon hers in a warning to be silent. His wife smiled at the abbot. "I would think that a man of God would be ashamed to offer such a price for something of high quality."

"We are but humble brethren with few coins to spare."

"I am deeply sorry to hear it," Nairna said, wrapping up the window. "For I know such a window would bring comfort to many in their prayers. I had hoped that you might wish to commission a window for the new kirk you're building. Our glass artist could create a window of any size, with any Biblical scene that might inspire others to faith."

She nodded to Bram. "We'll continue on our journey to Locharr, and perhaps the baron will want the window for his private chapel."

Laren squeezed Bram's hand, seeing thirty pennies disappear with Nairna's words.

"Wait." The abbot reached for the window. "Let me see it again. It might be that I could obtain some funds from the bishop. And…" his gaze focused upon Bram "…if you believe it's possible to build larger windows, it would make our chapel a more fitting site for the relic we've just acquired." The abbot blessed himself, saying, "It's a splinter from the Holy Rood."

Laren made the sign of the cross, as was expected of her. And though most pilgrims would be overwhelmed by the thought of such a relic, her instincts warned that any splinter of wood could look like another. How would they know if it really was the True Cross or not?

But then, such thoughts were blasphemous. She shouldn't let her doubts affect the faith of others.

She cleared her throat and interrupted, "Father, seeing as the kirk will be dedicated to the Holy Rood, would you desire a window representing the crucifixion?"

She could envision a three-paneled window with saints on either side, and an image of Christ. Already she was imagining a deep gold glass to create a halo effect, but she would need a special dark enamel to create the shadows of a face. The idea intrigued her, for she'd never tried it yet.

"Who is this?" the abbot asked Bram, and Laren recognized the censure in his voice. This was not a man who would believe a woman capable of creating glass, much less a window that would inspire the people.

"I am the…sister of the glass artist," she lied. "He couldn't come, but he wanted me to answer any questions you might have, if you decided upon the commission."

Nairna sent her a warning look, but the abbot didn't seem upset by her lie. Instead, he looked pleased by it. "I would like to know how your brother achieves such wondrous colors."

Laren met her sister-in-law's gaze and remembered Nairna's words. Tell them what they want to hear.

"He prays and fasts before he does any melt," she lied again, and offered, "Sometimes he is rewarded by beautiful colors in the glass, but there are times when the melts fail. It humbles him," she explained and saw Nairna roll her eyes.

"I believe we should settle upon our business now," Nairna interrupted. "If you wish to purchase this glass for your brethren, the price is one hundred pieces of silver."

Only the pressure of Bram's hand upon hers kept Laren from screeching at the unholy price Nairna had demanded.

The abbot laughed at her. "You must be mad."

Within another quarter of an hour, Nairna had managed to scrape seventy-five silver coins from the abbot, plus an additional fifty pieces to cover the cost of glass supplies. The remaining hundred and fifty coins for the commissioned window would be paid in stages. The final amount would be given upon delivery of the glass.

"You'll need to take the measurements," Nairna said, nodding to Bram.

Laren handed him a spool of thick yarn, but the abbot declined, saying, "I will send one of our priests with the measurements, once we've determined the proportions of the chapel. He will also bring a sketch of what we have decided for the subject of the window."

With the matter settled, Bram thanked the abbot, and Laren joined Nairna in bidding farewell. As they departed with the coins, she sent a last look towards the abbot and caught him smiling at the glass.

She looked away, hardly able to breathe. Her heart pounded so hard, her ears roaring, until she thought she might faint. One hundred and twenty-five pieces of silver. Because of her glass.

By the saints, she couldn't believe it. She could barely manage to hold her thoughts together as they rode away. Nairna and Bram had ridden ahead of her, while she continued behind them. As she rode through the valley, she couldn't stop her hands from shaking.

The wind stung at her eyes, and she followed them for several miles more, before Nairna stopped to wait for her. When she caught up, the woman threw her hands up in the air and let out a celebratory scream.

Laren couldn't laugh or join Nairna the way she wanted to. Instead, the shock of success left her speechless. She hadn't truly believed the abbot would want her glass or that he would find her work worthy of paying for it.

"What's wrong?" Nairna asked, coming up beside her. "You should be happy."

She took her hand and Laren tried to brave a smile. "It's just…too much. I can't believe he would pay such a sum for a simple pane of glass."

"It's not simple," Nairna insisted. "And when everyone finds out that you were responsible for bringing in such wealth, they—"

"No." She cut Nairna off. Though she'd have to tell Alex about their success, she wasn't ready to be put on display before the rest of the clan. Trepidation seeped into her veins, freezing up her courage. "I have to talk to Alex about it first."

Nairna squeezed her hand. "You'll be the one to tell him what we've done this day. He'll be proud of you, I know."

Laren wanted so badly to believe it. But as they began the journey home, her worries continued to grow.

Alex rode hard, Dougal and Callum trailing behind him. Brodie and his family had traveled just past the boundary of Glen Arrin, ignoring everything Alex had said the other night. Damn the man for giving up so soon.

He pushed his gelding hard, bringing the animal up in front of Brodie, forcing the family to stop. "I won't let you turn your back on us, Brodie. We're your clan. Your family."

Brodie's wife sent her husband a troubled gaze, her arms tightening around their young son. "It's not safe to live here any more, is it?"

"Can their horses travel through walls?" Alex countered. "Can they burn down the stone?" He could see the flicker of uncertainty on Brodie's face and continued. "If we had rebuilt Glen Arrin in wood, aye. We'd be vulnerable. But we've made a strong start."

"We're taking him away from the fighting." Brodie's hand went to rest upon his son's shoulder. "He'll be safe."

"Aye, he will. Here, with his family and friends." Alex led his horse close enough that he could reach out to Brodie. "Turn back and look at Glen Arrin, Brodie."

His kinsman did and, for a time, neither spoke. He wanted his friend to see the vast walls stretching around Glen Arrin, like a shield. "It's already changed from the place our fathers built. And when we're gone, it will still be standing, for our children."

He regarded Brodie and saw the indecision on his face. "What legacy do you want to leave? The memory of a father who fought and won his freedom? Or a man who abandoned his clan, out of fear?"

Finian MacLachor stared at the fortress of Glen Arrin. Though the main structure was destroyed, there were two rows of outer walls being constructed from stone. The men were already working, and the smoke of outdoor fires blended in the cold air. The winter chill cut through his body, but he felt nothing at all.

His sister had begged him not to war with the MacKinlochs. "You can't be Harkirk's executioner," she'd said. "Don't invoke the wrath of another clan."

Especially a clan they'd been friends with. Tavin MacKinloch had been like an older brother to him, when they were fostered together. Tavin had shown Finian how to fish in the lochs, how to hunt and how to charm women into getting what he wanted.

The memory brought an ache of regret. Tavin had been a good man. And though their clans had grown apart with their new chief Donnell, they hadn't raided one another. It was a respectful distance, one he was about to break.

The chainmail armor he wore was heavy, the icy links frigid against his skin. One hostage was all he needed. Someone close to the chief, perhaps their youngest brother. Or a wife. If he took a captive, the brothers would follow. They would hunt down his prisoner and then he would have all of them. His men could capture the MacKinlochs and take their heads to Harkirk.

Finian closed his eyes, the revulsion rising within him. This was Iliana, his daughter. The girl he adored, his only child. Already he could imagine the horrors Harkirk had brought against her and his blood raged at the thought. But when he'd tried to raise a group of men against the English baron a sennight ago, the soldiers had cut them down. Finian had been the only survivor.

Harkirk's message was clear—Rise up against me and suffer the consequences.

The MacLachor people now numbered fewer than fifteen. And the only way to save his daughter was to carry out the devil's work himself.

Moving closer, he dropped near to the ground, keeping hidden. Finian watched the women and children, searching for the right victim. Regardless of his personal morals, this unholy task had to be done.

And when his gaze fell upon his chosen prisoner, he knew that Alex MacKinloch and his brothers would not hesitate to fight for her. The only question was how to infiltrate the fortress. It would take time.

Time he didn't have.

Alex rested his hand upon the top edge of the gate house, staring into the distance. The twilight clouds were starting to lift, the mist drifting over the green hills. Brodie and his family had returned to Glen Arrin and it had brought a ripple of change among the people. Although the doubts were still there, he saw them eyeing the fortress in a new way.

He held fast to the hope that they would stand together. Though he believed they could emerge from this crisis stronger than ever, the people had to have faith.

From the valley, he spied a small group of horses. It was Bram and Nairna, returning with Laren. And as they drew closer, he saw a buoyant air of satisfaction in their bearing. Nairna was riding with Bram, while her horse held several bundles of what looked like supplies.

Laren looked uneasy, her gaze lowered to her hands. At the sight of her return, some of his tension eased, knowing that they were safe.

He'd spent most of last night, thinking about her and regretting what he'd said. But damn it all, why couldn't she trust in him? Why had she felt the need to hide herself and her glasswork, as though he would punish her for them?

After the traveling party grew closer, Alex descended the stairs of the gate house to greet them. He closed off his troubled thoughts and waited as his wife approached. Laren's face revealed her own uncertainty as she dismounted, while Nairna had a broad smile upon her face. Bram's wife was nearly ready to explode with her news, but she grabbed Laren's hand and pushed her forward. "Tell him!"

Alex looked into Laren's blue eyes and she admitted at last, "We sold the glass. Nairna negotiated one hundred and twenty-five pieces of silver from the monks."

"Can you believe it?" Nairna gushed. "The abbot had never seen work like hers before." Without giving either of them a chance to speak, she lifted up the sack of coins and added, "We stopped to buy more food and supplies for the clan along the way home."

Nairna's excitement should have been infectious, but he was more concerned about Laren's expression. She didn't look as happy as she should.

Alex went to help unload the bundles and Laren joined him, her gaze downcast. He walked alongside her, slowing his pace until Nairna and Bram had continued on with the coins. When they were alone, he stopped. "Something's troubling you."

He waited for her to speak, and Laren lifted her gaze to his. Her expression held worry instead of joy. "I'm glad I was able to help the clan," she said at last. "I was hoping we could sell the glass."

"And?" He waited for her to say more.

"I'm not upset about the glass. I'm happy, truly." She knotted her fingers together. "But I'm upset about the way you left me last night." Her blue eyes were filled up with emotion, her face struggling to remain passive.

He didn't know what to say to her. It wasn't possible to dismiss the deception, for it had revealed a deeper fissure in their marriage. Even Nairna and Bram had known about the glassmaking before him, and it bruised his pride to know it.

"I don't want us to go on like this," she murmured. "It hurts too much."

He didn't know what she meant by that, but he didn't like her words at all. It sounded as if she'd rather be alone than married to him.

"I don't know what I've done to make you shut me out," he said at last. "But you never talk to me. You tell me nothing of your thoughts, nothing of what it is you want." He touched her gloved hand and pulled it off, uncovering her scarred hand. "I can't read your secrets."

"We don't know each other any more, do we?" she whispered, her eyes filling up. "It's not the same as it once was. And I don't know how to change it." She replaced the glove he'd removed and pulled the edges of her cloak around her.

She was right. Ever since David's death, they'd become different people. They'd grown distant, leading separate lives within their marriage.

When she'd been shot with the arrow, it had been the awakening he'd needed. He'd let the years slip away from him, along with his wife. And he didn't want that.

"We should go back," Laren murmured. "It's late, and I don't want to leave Vanora with the girls for too long."

Alex pulled back, uncertain of whether she was truly worried about the children or whether she didn't want to be alone with him. "Before I take you back, I need to know something."

Laren waited in silence, and he reached down for the nerve to speak the words he didn't want to voice. "I know you never wanted to be Lady of Glen Arrin. But I can't change my responsibilities as chief."

She gave a nod, waiting for him to continue.

"You're not happy here," he stated. "Not with me. Not in this life."

A tear spilled over from her eyes and, inside, he felt an answering emptiness. Alex kept his hands upon hers, demanding an answer. "Do you want to remain married to me, Laren?"

She was quiet for a long moment. It dug into his heart and he was afraid he already knew what she would say. Her silence cut him deeper than a sword, and he tried to shield the ache within.

At last, she answered, "I don't know."

The misery in her eyes left him without anything to say, hurting him worse that he'd imagined it could. And with that, she took long steps, leaving him behind.

Laren didn't know what the right decision was any more. Her heart bled, for in spite of everything, she did love Alex. But she sensed that he was the one who wanted to end their marriage. He must have thought about it, to even voice the question.

The truth was, she didn't want to be apart from him. Not at all. But he ought to have a wife who could lead at his side, someone confident who was a helpmate to him.

Now that her glass had sold, she would have to spend more time than ever with the furnaces. It would take months to make the pieces she needed. And after seeing Alex's reaction last night, she didn't believe he would support her decision. She simply didn't fit his vision of a wife.

During the past three years, he hadn't been the husband she'd needed, either. When they'd faced the worst moment of their lives, he'd abandoned her, leaving her to grieve alone. She resented the fact that he'd spent every moment with the clan instead of with her and their girls.

Laren wiped at her cheeks, reaching deep for the courage to mask her emotions. When her girls saw her, she didn't want to answer any questions about why she was crying. Footsteps trailed her, but she didn't look behind. She was too busy trying to hold back her feelings, to keep herself in control.

A hand reached for her arm and turned her. She nearly collided with Alex, who caught her in his arms. His expression was raw as he demanded, "What do you mean, you don't know?"

She was so shocked by his sudden behavior that she couldn't speak at first.

His hands came up to her face, threading his fingers into her hair. "After all these years, you don't believe our marriage is worth fighting for?" In his eyes, she saw a fire that hadn't been there before. It rekindled her courage and she took his hands in hers.

"It's worth fighting for, aye. But I'm not the same woman you married, years ago. I'll never be that girl again, because a part of me is buried on the hillside by the loch." She let go of the tears then, gripping his palms tightly. "I can't be shaped and forced into the woman you want me to be."

She stripped away her gloves, letting them fall to the ground. "This is who I am, Alex." She let go of his hands but remained in his arms.

"I never asked you to be someone else." His breath was warm against her face and he was fighting to let her speak. "But I don't know who you are now."

"Do you want to?" she whispered.

His dark eyes transformed with an intensity she never expected. "Aye." He leaned in, as though he were about to kiss her. But his mouth hovered a breath above hers. "But there can be no more lies between us, Laren."

"Then you need to spare a few moments of your time for us," she finished. "Instead of coming home late at night, when we're asleep. You're never there."

Against her ribs, his palms slid down, as if to determine whether or not her wound had healed. Her cheeks grew warm, her body responding to his heat.

"We're not through talking about this," Alex murmured against her lips. When he broke away, she felt a building sense of anticipation. "We have to join the others. But tonight, you're going to show me your glassmaking. I want to know everything you've kept from me."

She didn't speak, feeling shaken. She hoped that this would be a new start for them, that they could somehow heal what had been lost. The wind drifted against her skin in a cold whisper, and he released her, leading the way back to the fortress.

Inside the gates, Alex struggled to mask the response Laren had evoked. He was dimly aware of the women's excitement as Nairna showed them the food she'd bought with Laren's silver coins, along with a few ells of cloth. Bram had taken the remainder of the money into his own safekeeping, and they intended to keep it hidden from the rest of the clan until they'd traded and purchased what else they needed.

Laren murmured words to him about seeing to their daughters and disappeared from his side. Alex stood back from the rest of the clan, absorbing the transformation. Though he was thankful for the change in their fortune, he had to decide what to do about it now.

Bram leaned in to speak to Nairna and his wife nodded, handing him a large flagon. A moment later he approached, offering Alex the container. "Nairna and I wanted to offer this wine to you and Laren to share this night."

"Your wife sent you to do her matchmaking, did she?"

"You'd be right." Bram handed him the flagon. "I don't know if Laren told you, but the abbot has commissioned her to build more windows for their new kirk. He's promised one hundred and fifty pieces of silver."

Alex couldn't find the words to form a reply, he was so taken aback by the amount. Never in his wildest imaginings could he have foreseen that the glass would have such value.

"She'll have to begin work on the windows immediately," Bram said. "But for this night, Nairna and I both thought you should enjoy your own celebration."

"There's no need for wine," Alex said automatically.

A slight twitch formed at the edge of Bram's mouth. "But drink loosens the tongue, doesn't it? And Laren's not the sort to say much."

Alex eyed his brother, understanding breaking through him. "I asked her to meet me at Father Nolan's cavern."

"Nairna and I will watch over your girls." Bram sent his brother a conspiratorial smile. "And I'll make certain your wife joins you this night."

Laren's stomach was tying itself into knots of anxiety with every step she took toward the loch. Bram had offered to escort her there, but she'd refused. She didn't know what Alex wanted from her this night, but she was prepared to do as he wished.

She followed the curve of the water, avoiding the white stone on the hillside. A thin layer of ice coated the edges and she used the moonlight to guide her path. When she reached the far side, she saw the cavern illuminated from the glow of the furnaces.

Alex was already waiting at the entrance. His hair was darker, wet as if he'd washed in the loch. The tunic he wore was a fresh one, a muted blue that she'd sewn a few months ago.

He extended a hand to her and she entered the cavern, feeling anxious about his intentions this night. Upon the floor, she saw that he'd spread a woolen blanket over the earth floor. He poured two cups of wine and handed her one. Laren drank far too quickly, needing the liquid courage. The sweet wine had a light flavour, one she'd never tasted before.

"It's from Burgundy," Alex told her. "A gift from Bram and Nairna."

Laren slowed down as she drank more of the wine and felt its warmth permeating her body. "It's good."

He poured her another cup, then pointed toward the furnaces. "I sent Ramsay home. He warned me not to let the fires go out."

"He's very particular about his work." She noted that her apprentice had set out several melts, some of which were ready to be blown. She removed her mantle and adjusted the ties in her hair, binding it away from her face.

"Some have said that he's…different from the others," Alex remarked.

From the way her husband hesitated, Laren understood what he meant. She walked over to check on the crucible of green molten glass. "He is. The boys tease him because he often will become obsessed with a small detail." She smiled, remembering the first time she'd met him. "He'll spend hours, counting to himself until he knows it's time for the crucible to go inside the furnace. He has a brilliant mind, but most people don't understand him. They think there's something wrong with him, because he chooses to be alone."

When her husband's expression sharpened upon her, Laren hid her discomfort. "But he's done well as my apprentice."

Alex walked over to examine some of the pieces of green glass she'd cut. He picked one up and held it to the light, but said nothing about it. Laren set several pipes into one of the furnaces to preheat. When she was finished, she turned back to her husband. In the faint light of the fires, his features were arresting. Dark eyes stared into hers and he made her uncomfortable. "Bram told me about the commission."

She took a breath and faced him. "I'm going to make the windows. The clan needs the silver."

"Do you want to make them?"

"More than anything," she replied. She willed herself to take a step closer to him and he led her to sit across from him on the blanket.

For a time, he simply looked at her, and the only sound was the pop of the firewood as it cracked and burned. She waited for him to speak, prepared for his anger.

Instead, he reached down to the earthen floor and chose a handful of small pebbles. He rolled them between his fingers, then he reached out to place them in her palm.

"What are these for?"

"I used to throw these at your home at night. To awaken you," he said.

She fingered the tiny stones, remembering. "I hardly slept on the nights when I knew you were coming to meet me." When she looked at her husband, she couldn't read his features, couldn't understand why he'd given her such a token.

She opened her palm and returned the stones to him. "What are you doing, Alex?"

"I told you I didn't know who you were any more." His dark eyes hid any feelings he might have had. "So I thought we should start at the beginning."

The words reached inside her and touched a part of her heart that had been cold for so long. He was right. If they wanted to rebuild any part of their marriage, they had to start again. Laren let the stones fall back to the sandy floor of the cavern and rose to her feet. She walked to the entrance of the cavern, bringing the blanket with her.

Alex followed and she laid the blanket on the ground, lying down to look up at the night sky. "Do you remember when we used to go to the stone circle and look at the stars?"

He stretched out beside her, his body only a hand's distance from hers. "Some nights were freezing."

"Like tonight," she agreed. When he didn't move, she slid closer to him until they lay side by side, the heat of his body warming her. For long moments, they stared up at the sky, although there were no stars visible.

As the moments drifted by, her heartbeat seemed to quicken. She was aware of his strength and his masculine power. Would he pull her close and kiss her, the way he once had? But instead, he remained quiet. She studied him with a sidelong look, noticing the way his face held years of tension. Whether it was the burden of leadership or frustration with her, she didn't know.

His hand bumped against hers and she laced her fingers with his. Though he did nothing more than hold her palm, Laren feared the gesture would lead to more. Although she wouldn't consider turning him away if he wanted to make love, she didn't feel ready for more intimacy. Her feelings were too uncertain.

When he made no other move, she let go of his hand and rolled to her uninjured side, facing him. She wanted him to let go of his inner frustration and forgive her for the secrets.

"I'm sorry I kept the glassmaking from you," she said. She wanted him to face her, to see whether he felt anything at all, whether there was any hint of love remaining.

But instead of warming to her, Alex compressed his mouth into a line. "So am I."

She waited for him to say something about the glass, to reveal any of his shielded emotions. But there came nothing at all. With her apology, she'd darkened his mood once again. Her throat felt thick, heavy with hurt. But this was her own fault and she couldn't take back the years they'd lost.

He rested his hands upon her shoulders, letting his touch slide down to her forearms. Her skin prickled with the unexpected caress and when he lingered upon her burn marks, she felt embarrassed by the ugliness. She wished she could eradicate the years of pain and scarring, becoming the innocent girl she'd been so long ago.

But then, that wasn't possible, was it? She was forever changed, just as he was.

She curled up against him and he pulled her body closer, both arms wrapped around her. It felt so good to be in his embrace, that she fought the unexpected tears that rose up.

Although he'd never left her, she hadn't known how much she'd missed the heat of his skin against hers. How much she'd missed him.

And there came the grain of hope that somehow they would manage to resurrect all that had been lost between them.

March, 1303

Laren stared at the wall, unable to sleep. It had been two months since David had died, but none of the pain had dissipated. She'd buried her grief, using her glass work to keep her spirit from shattering apart.

Alex worked among the clan during the day, and on the days when she wasn't with her furnace, he avoided her. Even now, in their bed, he slept on the opposite side, turned away from her.

Her hands were raw, the skin burned when she'd touched the wrong part of the pipe. It was a careless accident and the pain made it impossible to sleep. She didn't care. The burns were a physical penance she endured, for it kept her mind off her lost child.

Without warning, Alex reached out in the darkness, his hand touching hers. Out of reflex, she jerked her hand back, for the slightest touch was excruciating against her burned skin.

His hand moved away and the silence was damning. He didn't know. He'd tried to touch her and she'd responded as though she didn't want him.

"Alex?" she whispered in the darkness.

But there came no answer.