An air of silence descended over the men. “If we rebuild our past mistakes, we’ll only repeat them.” He turned to face the foundation of stone, pointing towards it. “It will take time, aye. It won’t be finished by the spring, or even next winter. But if we build it the way it should be created, out of the sweat of our backs and the best materials we can find, it will last.” He turned back to them. “And it will remain standing when the English are gone from Scotland.”
His words descended upon them and the mood among the men shifted. Alex strode away, having said all he could. He walked through the darkness, hoping he’d convinced them. Along the way, Nairna’s dog Caen trotted behind him. Though the animal likely only wanted food, it was good to have at least one supporter of his ideas.
When he reached Ross’s house, he scratched Caen’s ears. The homely dog licked his fingers, arching with delight from the affection. “Go back to Nairna,” Alex ordered.
Caen expelled a whuff of air and went on his way. When Alex entered the hut, he saw Vanora tending the fire while his daughters slept upon a pallet. “Where is Laren?”
Vanora shook her head. “She said she’d forgotten something she left behind on her walk earlier.” The matron lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I would have gone after her, except I couldn’t leave the girls. I suppose she must have lost track of the time.”
“How long has she been gone?”
“An hour or so.”
A dark fear clenched inside him, for he couldn’t understand why Laren would have left the girls alone for so long. It wasn’t like her at all. He had visions of her lying unconscious and bleeding from the wound she refused to take care of.
Alex grabbed a torch and strode away from the fortress, not bothering to notify his brothers of where he was going. He planned to scour the edges of the loch, praying he wouldn’t find her anywhere near the water.
The night sky was clouded and moonless, and his torch cast a flickering reflection against the surface of the water. He ran through the sand, his eyes searching the ground in front of him. His blood pulsed with fear, and as he kept searching he smelled the scent of smoke. Though he knew Dougal had dumped a pile of ashes not far from here, the odor was stronger, almost as if a fire were smoldering.
His senses went on alert and movement caught his eye. Ahead, he saw a dark figure moving. He raised the torch and saw the gleam of Laren’s red hair. Thank God. He breathed a little easier as she approached. Her eyes were weary, as though something troubled her.
“Where were you?” he asked. “When Vanora didn’t know where you were, I worried that you were hurt.”
“I’m all right,” she said, moving past him.
But he caught her gloved hand and forced her to stop. “You had a reason for coming out here alone. What was it?”
She shivered in the darkness. “I was just making sure the glass was ready for our journey. I…wanted to be certain we were taking the best pieces.”
Around her body, he caught the scent of fire smoke. And once again, he saw the faint perspiration on her skin, as though she’d been standing near a hot fire for a long time. She seemed to sense his unease.
“Alex,” she murmured, “there’s something I need to show you.”
From the heaviness in her voice, he didn’t know what to think. She was acting nervous, almost as if she were afraid of him.
He followed her along the edge of the loch. Before he realized it, they were standing in front of the small white stone that rested on the hill. Laren started to walk past it, but Alex trapped her hand. “Wait.”
He didn’t want to pass their son’s grave without voicing a silent prayer for David’s soul. “I wondered if perhaps you came walking here, to be with him.”
In the moonlight, her face had gone so white, she looked miserable. “I can’t look at it whenever I walk past,” she admitted. “It hurts too much to think of him.”
Though it had been almost three years since David had died, not a day went by when he didn’t imagine how their lives would have been different. This was the son he’d longed for. The boy he’d wanted to follow in his footsteps, just as he had idolized his own father Tavin.
Laren closed her eyes, but she didn’t weep. The more he thought of it, she hadn’t wept at all when she’d held the infant’s body in her arms. Instead, she’d locked her grief deep inside, the way he had.
Not once had he released his emotions, for he’d had to be strong for their family. And though it weighed upon his spirit, he couldn’t reveal his pain in front of the clan. It was best to let David go and not to let anyone know how deeply it had affected him.
“He’ll never be forgotten,” he said at last.
“No.” She lowered her face, wrapping her arms around her waist.
Though it was dark, he could see the pain on her face. Like a haunted spirit, he sensed her fading away from him. He hadn’t meant to hurt her by bringing her here; he’d only intended to honor their son’s memory.
“Come,” he said, leading the way. “You wanted to show me something.”
Laren joined him and they walked through the sand to the entrance of Father Nolan’s cavern. He saw the light glowing from the far side and immense heat radiated within the air. From a first glimpse, the cavern appeared otherworldly, almost as if it were inhabited by fey spirits. Apprehensions took root inside him, and when he looked to Laren, her face masked any reaction.
She stopped at the entrance and gestured for him to go inside. When he did, he saw a boy tending the fires, slightly younger than Dougal. Ramsay was his name, Alex recalled.
