“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.”
Chapter Eight
NightfellandLarenhadn’t seen Alex or any of his brothers returning from their search. She kept glancing at the door, hoping to see him enter. When the hours stretched on, she thought of his earlier request for her to meet him at the cavern. No doubt he would want her to remain here, after the stranger’s appearance.
Ramsay. The thought came out of nowhere. Her apprentice would have gone to the cavern to tend the furnaces. He’d be there alone and knew nothing about the threat.
She needed to send word to him, to bring him back to the safety of the fortress. But who could she send? Alex had taken Bram and Callum with him, and she didn’t know whether Dougal had gone as well.
“This house is too cold for my old bones,” Grizel complained. “The fire’s not hot enough and you ought to patch the holes in the walls.”
“The fire is as hot as we can make it,” Vanora said. “Sit closer, if you’re cold.”
“If I sit any closer, I’ll go up in flames,” the old woman retorted. From the amused look Vanora sent towards her husband Ross, she wouldn’t be at all disappointed.
Ross looked pained at Grizel’s tirade of complaints. It occurred to Laren that he would be more than willing to leave the house for a short time. He was her best hope of bringing Ramsay back.
She reached for her cloak and beckoned to the older man. “May I speak with you for a moment?’
He looked eager for a reprieve and rose, reaching for his own mantle. When they were outside, he asked, “What is it?’
Though he already knew about the horseman she’d seen on the far side of the loch, he knew nothing of her glassmaking. She chose her words carefully. “Ramsay MacKinloch went to Father Nolan’s cave, on the far side of the loch. He doesn’t know about the horseman. Could you go with me and help bring him back to Glen Arrin?’
Ross started to shake his head. “Alex doesn’t want you leaving my house.”
“I know. But Ramsay is only eleven years old. He needs someone to take care of him.”
“Eleven is old enough to know better.”
“Please, Ross.” She touched his arm. “I worry about the boy. And he’ll be waiting for me to…” she hesitated, then amended “…to bring him a meal. His father often forgets to feed him.”
The older man appeared reluctant, but at last he took a torch from one of the sconces in the fortress. “Walk with me to the edge of the loch and show me where I can find the cavern. Then swear to me that you’ll return to your daughters.”
“I promise.” She joined the older man, walking slowly outside the gates. The night was so dark, she could hardly see anything without the torch. “Follow the shore line around the curve,” she directed. “Then walk about a half a mile with the trees to your right. He—he keeps the fire burning to stay warm. You’ll smell the smoke.”
Ross lifted the torch and turned back to her. “I’ll fetch the boy and bring him back.”
“Thank you.” Laren waited as he trudged forward, watching to be sure he’d gone the right direction around the loch. Her cloak wasn’t warm enough, and she held the edges tight as she turned back toward the fortress. The faint light of the torches guided her way, but she heard the snapping of ice behind her.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose ,and she knew instinctively that someone was there. She had no weapon with her and the gates were farther ahead. For a moment, she remained motionless, hoping that the darkness would make it impossible for the intruder to find her. Holding her breath, she questioned whether to remain in place or try to reach the fortress.
When the footsteps drew closer, she broke into a run. A hand reached for her cloak and caught it, jerking her backwards. She lost her balance and let out a scream, just as a hood blinded her. The suffocating darkness choked her; when she tried again to scream, a hand covered her nose and mouth.
Oh God, not this. She struggled against her attacker, trying to break free of him. His strong arms held her trapped and she was starting to lose consciousness from lack of air. Dizziness and a ringing in her ears made her knees weaken.
She didn’t know who the man was or why he was trying to take her hostage, but she wasn’t about to let him seize her without fighting as hard as she could. Letting her weight go slack, she fell to the ground. Laren tried not to move, hoping that he would relinquish his grip enough for her to make an escape.
His hold relaxed against her throat and she cried out, “Alex!” as loudly as she could. A fist cuffed her jaw and she saw stars, her head reeling.
Then, without warning, the hands released her. She heard her husband and Ross fighting and the sound of swords clashing. Laren kept low to the ground, unable to see anything. She struggled to remove the hood, and when at last she saw the flare of Ross’s torch her attacker was gone.
“Stay with Laren,” she heard Bram say. “We’ll find him.”
Both he and Ross disappeared into the woods. Laren pressed her palms against the frozen earth, fighting for a deep breath.
