He wasn’t about to question his brother’s marriage for he knew nothing about it. “What does it matter whether he loves her or not? He takes care of her and provides for their children.”
She lifted her eyes to his, and in them he saw a weariness he hadn’t noticed before. “I don’t want to be like them, Bram.”
“What is it you want, Nairna?” His voice held a hard edge to it, and she flinched as if he’d struck her.
“I want to love you,” she whispered.
“Don’t,” he warned. “If you knew the things I’ve done—“
“You won’t tell me.” She stood and moved into his arms, resting her forehead against his cheek. “And I know it’s tearing you apart inside.” He started to pull away from her, and a coldness settled into his skin when she pressed again. “What happened, Bram?”
He moved toward their house, staring at the hills surrounding them. For a long time, he said nothing, wondering if he should admit the truth. But God above, she wanted to love him. He needed her to understand that he wasn’t the man she believed he was.
“All summer long, I watched the guards, learning their habits,” he began, not meeting her eyes. “What time they ate, what time they slept. I kept my head down and tried not to be noticed.”
She was listening intently with far too much compassion on her face. Bram forced himself to tell her the rest, for he owed her the truth. He’d made an unforgivable choice. And it haunted him still.
“One night, after we’d been building a wall, I let myself fall to the ground. One of the guards came to see what had happened, and I smashed a stone into his face. Then I ran to the opening we’d created.”
He rubbed at his eyes, but continued on. “I shouted to Callum, ordering him to join me. But two of the other guards grabbed him. They held him and threatened to kill him.”
Nairna came up beside him and took his hand. She squeezed his fingers, as if trying to obliterate his guilt.
“I chose my life over Callum’s,” he admitted. “I ran when they could have slit his throat.”
“But they didn’t.” Nairna leaned against him. “Marguerite said he’s still alive.”
“A thousand times I’ve wondered if I made the right decision. I left him there and swore I’d return for him. I risked his life on that. I didn’t know if they would carry out their threat or not, but if I didn’t leave, we were both dead.
“They let him go, because they had to chase after me.” He expelled a breath. “I ran for the next two days until I came to Ballaloch.”
When he’d finished, he expected her to pull away. He expected to see disappointment or revulsion in her eyes at his cowardice. Instead, she told him, “It’s not your fault. And I know you’re going to free him.”
“I can’t forgive myself for abandoning him.” With his hand, he traced the soft skin of her neck. “I have to find him, Nairna.”
He let her go, not wanting her pity. Nor did he want to know what she thought of him now.
“Are you certain about this?” Laren asked. She held on to the leather-wrapped glass oval as though it were her firstborn child. “I don’t think they’ll want it.”
“They’re building a new kirk in Inveriston,” Nairna reassured her. “Your glass windows will be the envy of every priest in the Highlands.”
“And what if it’s not good enough?” Laren looked dismayed when Nairna gently took the glass from her.
“Your glass will inspire the monks,” Lady Marguerite insisted. “It deserves to be part of the abbey.”
Although Laren still appeared unconvinced, Nairna hid the leather package within her cloak and went to where Dougal was waiting. “Can you be back by nightfall?” she demanded.
“Easily.” The young man looked irritated that she’d even asked such a question. “It’s not that far to the parish.”
Nairna passed him the wrapped window, hoping that her plan would work. “Demand seventy pennies, and when he offers twenty, take the glass and start to ride away. He’ll raise his offer after that.” She drilled into Dougal the right asking price, inwardly praying that he wouldn’t come home with the wrong amount.
“I’ll bring it back,” he promised.
“If I can rely on you, you can have the foal that my mare Anteria is carrying, after it’s born.”
Dougal brightened and she suspected he would move the sky above them in order to sell the glass. “By nightfall,” he repeated.
“Don’t let it break,” Laren pleaded. But after he’d gone, she looked as if she wanted to chase after him and snatch it back. “It will be all right, won’t it?”
