Chapter Seven

Later that night, Laren rose from sleep and went to tend the glass. She hoped she hadn't let the melts go too long, but it appeared that they were still viable.

While Alex slept, she took the heated pipe and dipped it downward into the crucible containing the green glass. When she had a ball of molten glass the size of her fist, she began turning the pipe. Over and over, fighting the pull of the earth, she blew a breath of air into the pipe, resting it against her cheek for a moment.

"I thought you were going to sleep," came her husband's voice.

Laren moved to the marble surface of the table and rolled the glass against it, shaping it into a cylinder. "I'll sleep when I've finished this piece."

She returned the glass to an opening in the furnace, resting it against a metal support as she turned it. When it was hot again, she shaped it, adjusting the size and ensuring that the glass was of equal thickness. Then back again to reheat it.

Her hands were shaking against the pipe; she couldn't stop the voices inside that reminded her of how very little she knew and how many mistakes she'd made in the past. Alex had never seen her work before and his presence made her anxious. She wanted him to see the beauty in it, to understand why she loved it so.

She continued turning the pipe, watching the glass expand and grow. And somehow, within the golden sphere of fire, she found a steadiness. She had blown glass a thousand times, until it was instinctive. This time would be no different.

"Why do you keep putting it back in the fire?' Alex asked.

"It cools quickly," she replied. "I have to keep reheating it, or I can't shape it."

When she'd blown the glass into the size she wanted, Laren sat at her bench and rested the pipe upon a long table with the glass hanging off the end. She took her iron jacks and used the tongs to gently pinch an indentation into the hot glass, even as she kept it spinning.

"It looks like you're making a goblet," Alex said.

"Not quite." She adjusted the necking and explained, "I can't take the glass off the pipe without this."

She eyed him for a moment. "Since I've sent Ramsay away, could I ask for your help?"

"I don't know anything about glass, Laren."

"No, but you've a strong arm. Take that pontil there and dip it into the hot glass," she said, nodding toward one of the heated pipes. "I need a small amount, about the size of a robin's egg."

He reached for the pipe, pulling it from the flames. The tip was red hot, and he lowered it into the crucible of green molten glass.

"Turn the pipe as you dip it," she instructed, "and bring it over to the marble table. Don't stop turning the pipe."

He did as she asked, following every instruction she gave him to adjust the shape of the glass and press his own pipe to the surface of her glowing cylinder. With both pipes on either end, Laren adjusted the necking. With a light tap against the pipe, the piece of glass separated, leaving Alex holding the hot cylinder with the pontil.

She sent him a smile of relief and took it from him, continuing to work with the glass. Perhaps Nairna had been right. It might be that he wouldn't discourage her glass making. She held on to the intense hope as she finished the glass and placed it within the smaller furnace to anneal.

"Won't it melt again?" Alex asked.

She shook her head. "This furnace is kept at a lower temperature. It allows the glass to cool slowly and it's stronger that way. In another day, I'll make it into a flat pane. Then I can cut it into pieces for my windows."

She held up a piece of glass the color of the green hills. "It will look like this when it's finished."

"Show me some of the other work you've completed," Alex ordered. He stood beside the glass she'd begun cutting. and Laren went to the back of the cave for some of the cloth-wrapped windows she'd made.

Though she supposed the windows were good enough, the old fears crept back to stifle her courage. These pieces were hers. Her vision, her colors that she'd made after Father Nolan had passed away. It was possible Alex wouldn't like them, and she didn't want to see the disapproval on his face.

When she unwrapped the first window, she revealed a scene she'd done of a shepherd tending his sheep upon a hillside. She'd struggled to get the right shades of green, and her early attempts at the lead lines weren't as good as she'd hoped.

She waited for him to speak. To say something about her work.

He examined the glass, touching the lead lines. But he revealed nothing of his thoughts. "Show me the others."

Laren obeyed, unwrapping one window after the next. With each bit of glass she revealed, it felt as though she were baring herself before Alex. She waited for some comment, some sort of criticism of her work.

Instead, he merely nodded.

It hurt in a way she hadn't expected. Her spirits sank further, but she hid her disappointment.

"Can you leave the fires now?" he asked.

She nodded. "Ramsay will return soon—they should be all right until he arrives."

"Good." Alex held out his hand to her, and started to lead her from the cavern. It was still dark outside, with only the torches of Glen Arrin in the distance to guide their way.

"Where are we going?" she asked Alex.

"I'll show you."

They returned home, and he continued walking past each of the houses, to the foundation of the new fortress. Surrounding it was a wall that rose up to her knees. But what surprised her was how wide the diameter of the wall was. They had changed the structure, bringing the walls much further out. The men had been working on it all day, and they would have the remaining stones in place within a sennight if they continued at this pace.

Although there was a new gate area already formed, Alex put his hands around her waist and lifted her over the wall. It was dark within the space, but in the distance, the sky had lightened, transforming night into dawn.

"It's larger than the previous keep," she commented. "But why is the wall so vast?'

"We're putting it up in stages," he said. "And it won't be a wooden keep. It will be a castle."

She didn't know what to say. A castle would be a visible threat to the English, inviting an attack. And with all the unrest and the raids, she sometimes wished they could go and hide in the forest, invisible to everyone.

"It will take years to build this," he said, "but it will be worth it in the end."

She sat down on the low stone wall, drawing up her knees. "You want this, don't you?"

"My father dreamed of it. It's something I can build in his memory." He sat with his back to hers, letting her lean against him.

Though the morning light was the barest shade of lavender, as the sun slowly rose, she saw the vast work spread before her. These were his dreams, his desires.

She turned slightly, lowering her feet and resting her cheek against his back. Alex faced her, his hand upon the wall. "The glass was beautiful," he said quietly. "I could see the fire and the dreams you captured within it."

She never expected the compliment. And yet, the heaviness in his voice made her wonder if there was more to what he was saying.

"Finish the commission, if that's what you truly want," he continued. His gaze returned to the framework of the castle. "I have work enough to occupy myself here."

And although he'd just given her the freedom she wanted, Laren sensed the distance stretching further between them.

"She's returned," Bram said, his face twisted into a frown. "May God help us."

"Who?' Alex saw the unrest in his brother's face and knew the answer before he spoke.

"Our mother."

Alex resisted the urge to cross himself. They had enjoyed a peaceful few weeks while their mother had taken sanctuary with Kameron MacKinnon, Lord of Locharr. As their ally, Lord Locharr had come to their aid on more than one occasion. The older man had more patience and understanding than any other person he'd met…and since he'd welcomed Grizel into his home, Alex rather thought the man deserved sainthood.

But if Grizel MacKinloch was returning home, it meant trouble.

"Where is she?"

"Waiting near the gates with her wagons. She's already given Ross an earful about the keep. I thought I'd warn you."

Alex expected no less from his mother. No doubt she would have opinions about how they should have put out the fires and saved the keep. He crossed through the fortress and stopped to gather his two daughters. With Adaira and Mairin holding each hand, he went to greet her.

Possibly the distraction of the girls would keep Grizel from lashing out at the others. He didn't need his mother stirring up unrest with her harsh criticisms.

The older woman had already dismounted, and Nairna was walking at her side. From the sulking expression on Grizel's face, Alex could tell that she was working herself into a mood.

"Well. It's about time you came to welcome me," she said in greeting, her gaze falling upon the girls. "I suppose that wife of yours has disappeared again." Her nose wrinkled in distaste.

Alex's knuckles clenched into a fist, recognizing her baiting. "Laren is involved in another task," he responded. He gave his mother the required kiss of welcome and bade his girls do the same. Grizel inspected the children but said nothing to them. With his permission, the girls joined Vanora, who was busy blending mortar for the day's work. They began making towers of stones, staying out of harm's way.

"Why are you here, Mother?" Alex asked.

"I thought it was my home, if I remember correctly." She smoothed her skirts and strode forward, her eyes drinking in the sight of the remains. "And since Lord Locharr told me the state of things, I thought I'd best return and help you."

He doubted if she intended to do anything except criticize, but he kept that opinion to himself.

"I can see that you've destroyed everything Tavin worked for." Her face tightened in a frown.

"The English destroyed it."

"Only because you were foolish enough to steal that Frenchwoman away from Lord Cairnross."

"It was a rescue," he corrected. "Lady Marguerite asked us for sanctuary and we granted it."

"And you see what that's brought you." Grizel waved her hand at the repairs. "Now you've wasted time building walls instead of a proper tower. Tavin wouldn't have wanted this."

He didn't waste his breath arguing further. His mother thrived upon conflict and liked nothing better than to engage in a verbal match.

"My Lady Grizel, I'm grateful to see that you've returned," Nairna interrupted them. In a voice as sweet as cream, she continued, "Would you walk with me and we can discuss how we could best use your skills?" Nairna took Grizel's hand in hers, leading her away from the others.

Alex made a mental promise to gift his brother's wife with a length of silk, as soon as he could arrange it. If Nairna could keep Grizel occupied, it would make the repairs far easier.

While Nairna retreated with his mother, Alex stared over at the loch. After Laren had returned to the cavern early this morn, he hadn't seen her since. He didn't know if she'd remembered to eat or whether she was already caught up in making the glass.

He'd never seen anything like it in all his life. It was like watching sorcery, in the transformation from sand into molten glass. When she'd spun the pipe, putting her breath within the glass, all traces of the shy, quiet wife had disappeared. She'd revealed an inner strength and power, a confidence in her skill.

He hadn't known that she was capable of such feats, and it made him wonder who the woman he'd married truly was. Because of her glass, she'd brought untold wealth to them, silver coins that would help them rebuild every last stone of Glen Arrin. He was grateful for it, but it meant that she would spend hours of the day away from everyone.

Alex felt torn between his wife and his responsibilities as chief. He worked alongside the people, hour after hour, until he collapsed into his bed at night. And he could foresee no changes in the near future. It exhausted him, just thinking about it.

If she worked on her glass all day and night, would he even see her at all? It was impossible to transform a marriage if they never spent any time together.

Alex lifted a stone and laid it upon the wall, that Callum had spread with mortar. His daughters were laughing as they stacked smaller stones and knocked them down again. He watched them, and their smiles warmed him. Mairin, though only four years old, was starting to look more and more like Laren. He watched as she tightened her lips, adjusting the stack of stones to build it higher.

Her small fingers moved with an exact manner, so careful was she. He moved closer to the girls, kneeling down. "What are you building, Mairin?'

"It's a castle, just like yours." She sent a glare toward her younger sister. "But the English keep knocking it down."

Adaira beamed and pushed the stack over, laughing as it fell into pieces. "Again!" she demanded.

Mairin rolled her eyes, but granted her sister's wish by building the stack again. While she worked, Alex asked, "Did you know about your mother's glass?"

His daughter wrinkled her nose. "We're not supposed to go in the cave. We might burn ourselves if we get too close." She sent him a tentative smile. "I like the blue glass best. But I have to be a big girl and keep Adaira away from the fires. She'd burn right up. Or the witches might get her."

Alex hid his smile and said, "You were good to take care of her." He touched her hair, bringing her into an embrace. Adaira moved in, her small arms joining them. With a tight squeeze, he accepted their affection as the precious gift it was.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

"Aye. There's magic there." He suddenly thought of the glass droplets he'd given Laren, so many years ago. Had she kept them at all? He hadn't seen them in so long, he supposed they were gone.

A sudden noise caught his attention from outside the fortress, something that sounded like an approaching horse. "Stay here," he warned his girls. He crossed the area, moving to the first stone wall that was partially completed. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he looked for the source of the sound.

Nothing. Not a single movement from anywhere. But he knew what he'd heard. And if it were Dougal or another clansman, they'd have revealed themselves. His instincts sharpened and he scanned their surroundings for the invisible threat.

"I'm hungry, Da," Mairin informed him. "Don't you think we should eat something?"

He nodded, taking her hand in his. "We'll fetch some food and bring it to your mother." He didn't like the idea of Laren working alone, even if her apprentice Ramsay was there. Though her cavern was hidden on the far side of the loch, it didn't mean his wife was safe from an attack.

Mairin dashed across the fortress toward Vanora's house, while Alex trailed her. Adaira put her hand in his, emitting a stream of girlish chatter. When his elder daughter emerged with a sack of food, Alex brought both of them close. His claymore was strapped to his back and he had another dirk at his waist, if he needed to defend them.

He said nothing to the girls, but, as they walked, he searched the horizon for any movement or sound. Adaira made him stop several times as she watched a bird hopping upon a tree branch or a fish splashing within the loch. He hoisted her on his hip when she grew tired, her arms settling around his neck. As he drew closer to the cavern, he could smell the smoke from Laren's fires.

He listened hard, but the sound was gone. A part of him wondered if he could have imagined it. But then, his hearing was acute and he was well attuned to the signs of a forthcoming raid. It might have been an enemy scout, sent to determine their weaknesses.

Or perhaps he was feeling troubled by the long silence from the English. He'd expected an attack long before this, and it was starting to make him uneasy. Since he hadn't heard the sound a second time, he dismissed it as nothing but his imagination.

When they reached the entrance to the cave, he set Adaira down. Laren was inside alone, working with a long pipe. To his surprise, he saw that this time the cylinder was rotating outward, becoming a disc. With deft fingers, she whirled the pipe until it flattened out.

The girls stared at her, their faces awestruck. It was like watching a sheet of sapphires form before his eyes. She rolled the spun glass repeatedly, until it was about ten inches in diameter.

Then she transferred it to the annealing oven and turned back to face them, smiling at the sight of the girls. "I'm glad to see you." She kissed them on their cheeks, but when she lifted her eyes to Alex's, her expression grew guarded. "Is the rebuilding going well?'

"Well enough." He shifted Adaira's weight to the other hip. "My mother returned." Laren showed no response, though he knew she wasn't fond of Grizel. "Nairna found a way to keep her busy."

"Drowning kittens, is she?" His wife turned back to another crucible, checking the color of the melt.

"Grizel isn't that bad."

Laren raised her eyebrows. "Not to you, perhaps. But we'll leave that subject for a time when little ears aren't listening."

Mairin pointed to a piece of glass in the shape of a partially opened flower bud. It hung from a piece of rope, suspended above the fires, and Alex hadn't noticed it last night. "Do you think there are any witches in there? Mama said it's a trap for them."

When he sent his wife a questioning look, Laren shrugged. "If there are any evil spirits lingering, I don't need them near my glass. It belonged to Father Nolan. I keep it because it reminds me of him." Her face softened in memory as she reached up to touch it.

"Mama, I'm hungry," Mairin informed her. "We brought food for you."

A grateful look passed over Laren's face. "I haven't had time to eat." When they sat down and opened the sack Mairin had brought, Alex started to pass out the food his daughter had selected. To his chagrin, she'd brought a container of honey, oatcakes and every sort of sweet Vanora had in her possession.

"Did Vanora pack this?" Laren asked.

Mairin shook her head. "I did. I packed my favorites."

Alex sent his wife a private look and a shrug and he saw the amusement on her face. He should have known better than to let Mairin choose the food. Adaira selected a sweetened cake and then toddled over to him, planting herself on his lap. He helped her break off pieces and while they ate, Laren said, "It's been a long time since we've shared a noon meal as a family."

He didn't know if she meant it as a compliment or a criticism. "I can't stay for too long." There was so much work to be done, his absence would be noticed.

Should he leave Laren alone again? It bothered him that he hadn't located the source of the sound he'd heard and it was difficult to release the suspicions. The last thing he wanted was to leave his wife unguarded while an enemy was nearby.

Alex was about to set Adaira down when he suddenly felt something warm and wet against his tunic. He pulled Adaira back and she continued to puddle upon the sand.

He grimaced and set her down. Laren saw what was happening and a smile of amusement perked at her mouth as she chided her daughter for the accident. "Wait here, both of you, while I see to your father."

He didn't hide his disgust as he stripped off his tunic. Fortunately, he'd caught the mess before Adaira soaked his trews.

Laren took the garment from him and rinsed it in the loch, scrubbing it with sand. "It will dry soon enough."

While she cleaned the tunic, Alex scooped up some water, washing off his skin. Rivulets of water spilled over his hard muscles and Laren found herself staring at her husband. He stretched and shivered from the freezing water. Her eyes followed the water that pooled over his skin, trailing downward.

He saw her staring and sent her with his own frank gaze. Dark eyes moved down her face, past her breasts, to her hips. Unable to help herself, she reached out and touched his cool skin, wiping away a droplet of water with her fingertips.

Alex didn't move, but he caught her wrist and held it to his skin. "After the girls are asleep, meet me here again tonight."

He pressed her fingers over his ribs, guiding her hand around his waist. Though his skin was icy cold from the water, she leaned in to warm him. His hand cupped her face and she stood before him, his nose resting against hers.

Though he hadn't done anything at all, Laren's breath was shaky, her body seeking his nearness. He was watching her with unveiled desire and she wondered when he would take her to his bed. She'd expected it last night, but he'd surprised her by holding back.

His fingers stroked the side of her face and she lifted her mouth to his, claiming the kiss that he hadn't given.

At the first touch of her lips, he opened to her, his firm mouth seeking. She'd forgotten this, the way he made her pulse race. Though he kept the kiss gentle, she wanted more from him. She wanted to lose herself in his arms, to let him drive out all the demons of their past.

When he pulled back, he let his hands remain around her waist. "Tonight," he repeated. She nodded and when he released her, she nearly stumbled, feeling foolish that he could still make her knees go weak. "Will you be all right with the girls, or shall I take them back with me?'

"They can stay. Ramsay will be along soon and he'll take over the fires."

Alex donned his wet tunic, shrugging off the discomfort as he turned back to the fortress. Though it was cold outside, he showed no sign of it as he walked away.

When Laren returned to the cave, her girls busied themselves playing in the sand near the entrance. And as she worked to make more sheets of colored glass, she thought about how alone Alex was. He worked endlessly on the building and it was weighing upon his spirits.

But never did he talk to her about his own worries. He kept those thoughts closed off, as if they revealed a weakness he didn't want to show.

Laren set down her cutting tool and stared at the afternoon sky. A cold rain began to drizzle and the girls had moved inside the cave for shelter. It was starting to grow darker and she needed to bring them back home before it grew too late.

"Come, girls," she said, lifting Adaira into her arms and wrapping her younger daughter beneath her cloak. She used the other side of the cloak to shield Mairin from the rain. As they hurried back to the fortress, she glanced behind her and saw a hooded man, mounted on horseback. Her heartbeat quickened for he'd emerged from the woods near the loch. Not far from her son's grave, if she guessed correctly.

Who was he? And what did he want? From his clothing, it appeared he'd come from another clan. Was he a messenger?

She hastened back to the fortress, but he didn't follow. It seemed that he was watching her, and Laren wondered why. When she reached the interior of Glen Arrin, she breathed a little easier. It was raining hard now, and most of the men had abandoned work for the day, seeking shelter inside their huts.

She brought the girls to Vanora's home and the older matron welcomed them inside, fussing over their wet clothes. Alex was speaking with Ross and in the corner sat his mother, Grizel.

The woman's dark hair was pulled back from her face, a sour expression on her mouth. Her gown was spotless and she wore a woolen wrap to keep out the cold. "Come and give your seanmhair a kiss," she ordered the girls.

They glanced at Laren, who had no choice but to nod in agreement. The girls weren't fond of Grizel, but she hoped Mairin could manage to control her impulsive tongue.

After the girls had greeted her, Laren came forward and bent to give the matron a kiss of welcome, but Grizel turned her cheek aside. "I meant the children, not you." Bitterness lined her mouth and she nodded towards the outside. "I see you've been neglecting your home and family again."

"I see you're as pleasant as ever," she retorted. As soon as she had spoken the words, she wanted to bite her tongue. She knew better than to fight with Grizel, but there were times when her patience was sorely lacking.

"If you would spend half the time looking after your responsibilities, you'd be a better wife to Alex. Why he ever married you, I'll never know."

"That's enough, Mother." Alex broke away from his conversation with Ross. "If you've nothing better to do than offer insults, you can return to Locharr."

"I'll not. This is my home, where I belong."

Laren moved as far away from Grizel as she could manage, but already she could feel the tension stretching through her. The girls were picking at their food, and Adaira began to whine.

"Hush now," Laren soothed, picking up her youngest and stroking her hair. "You just need to rest, sweet one." She began speaking words of comfort, ignoring Grizel's proclamations about how her boys never fussed a day in their lives.

She tried to block out the words, but the longer Grizel went on, the more she needed an escape. When the girls finally fell asleep, she walked outside, heedless of the rain.

She heard footsteps behind her and saw Alex following. Laren didn't stop, but continued trudging through the mud until she reached the outer wall. She rested her hands upon the wall, staring at the ruined foundation where they had once lived. "I couldn't stand it any more," she told her husband.

"She's always been that way. Nothing you say can please her."

Laren turned to face him. Rain was pouring down over both of them, but she'd rather stand outside and be frozen than endure another moment of Grizel's company. "Tell me that we won't be living with her for long."

Alex came up beside her and sat, shielding her from the rain with his cloak. "We'll finish as soon as we can."

"Good." She shivered beneath the makeshift shelter. "Alex, I saw a horseman near David's grave."

His arm came around her shoulders, as if to guard her. "When?"

"Not long ago. Just as the girls and I were returning."

He stood and let the cloak fall away. His hand caught hers and he walked back with her to the low wall overlooking the fortress.

"He was hooded. I couldn't see his face, but he looked like another clansman, not an English soldier."

"Harkirk could have hired a clansman to gather information," Alex responded. She could feel the tension in him, the restlessness of a man who would do anything to protect them.

"Go back to Vanora," he ordered. "Bram and I will search the forest. If he's still there, we'll find him."