“Laren,” Alex said, catching her by the arm as she was returning to the keep. “Why didn’t you come below stairs last night?”
Laren flinched at her husband’s sharp tone. Leaning down to her children, she murmured, “Go on to your chamber, girls. I’ll join you in a moment.”
Her four-year-old daughter Mairin stared at them with a troubled gaze, but she obeyed, holding Adaira’s chubby arm in her hand.
In her husband’s eyes, she saw the embarrassment and frustration that she hadn’t greeted the visitors to Glen Arrin. But he didn’t know the truth.
Last night, she’d sat upon the spiral stone stairs, watching the festivities from above. She couldn’t bear being surrounded by so many people drinking and laughing. It was easier to remain back in the shadows where no one would notice her.
She’d seen Alex’s brother Bram and the way he’d looked at his wife with such intense longing. It had been years since Alex had looked at her that way.
Right now, there was only disappointment on his face. “I was with the girls,” she lied. “I couldn’t leave them.”
“He’s my brother, Laren. You should have come.”
She didn’t deny it, for Alex was right. But he didn’t understand how out of place she felt among the MacKinlochs. She’d never felt welcome as their Lady, and more than a few whispered about her behind her back. They didn’t understand how awful it was for her.
“Where are Bram and his wife now?” she asked.
“I gave them the land on top of the ridge to build a house. Last night, I had to put them in the grain shed, because there was no place else for them to sleep.”
She didn’t miss the subtle chastisement, but even their own quarters were just as bad. The roof leaked and it was cold at night. Likely the grain shed was more comfortable.
“I want to have a welcoming celebration tonight,” Alex added. “Could you arrange it?”
The idea made her slightly panicked, for she had no other women to help her. The MacKinloch men, though strong fighters, wouldn’t dream of setting foot in the kitchens. As only one woman, with her girls, it would be next to impossible.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. There was food enough, but the preparations would take a great deal of time.
“Brodie has some geese you could roast,” Alex suggested. “And I’ll send Dougal to help you.”
With the women gone, the task would be nearly impossible. Laren didn’t know how to feed so many men, and if she failed in this, it would only give her husband another reason to be frustrated with her.
Their marriage hadn’t been the same in the two years since he’d become the MacKinloch chief. He hardly ever talked to her anymore, and he slept on the far side of the bed. They’d grown apart, despite five years of marriage.
But then Alex rested a hand upon her shoulder. The touch of his palm warmed her, and as she looked into his dark eyes, the sudden ache of longing came over her.
“I’ll do what I can,” she whispered, even knowing that she likely couldn’t succeed.
Alex let his hand fall back to his side. “We’re leaving in the morning for Cairnross. If you hadn’t heard, our brother Callum is a prisoner there.” He stared at the outdoors, adding, “I’d rather leave Bram here, but he’s too damned stubborn. If we’re not careful, he’ll get himself killed.”
“Be careful,” she urged. The bleak fear in her heart threatened to crack apart the tight control over her feelings. But when she took a step closer, Alex moved aside, his gaze and thoughts focused elsewhere.
As her husband left the keep, she wondered if there would ever come a time when he would look at her with love again.
Bram worked for the next few hours, sweat rolling down his tunic as he lifted stones for the foundation of their house. The punishing work made his arms ache, but he was accustomed to the labor. Nairna wasn’t.
His wife struggled to lift stones that were too heavy for her and he could see the overexertion in her face. “Leave them,” he advised. “You can help me with the framing later.”
She pushed a strand of brown hair out of her face, looking frustrated. “I wish I were stronger. You shouldn’t have to do this by yourself.”
“I don’t mind. And we won’t be working much longer. The sun will set soon.” He hefted another stone and laid it into the trench he’d dug, aligning it with the previous stone until they were level.
When he stood, Nairna was in front of him. Worry twisted in her face and she touched his shoulder. “I should have told you before, about not being able to have children.”
In her eyes he saw the guilt. And he knew he ought to tell her words of comfort, saying something to make her feel better. But he lacked the right words. Instead, he simply shook his head. “Don’t let it trouble you.”
“It does.” Her voice was heavy with tears. “I hope things will be different . . . with us. But I thought you should know, it probably won’t be.”
