“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.
