Alex found Laren huddled in their bed, though it was the middle of the day. When he opened the shutters to let in some light, she closed her eyes against the sudden brightness.
“Are you ill?” he asked.
She stared at the wall, her face so pale, he didn’t know what to think. Though it hadn’t been a full year since their son had died, he might as well have buried his wife. She rarely spoke to him any more.
Only a few months ago, they’d tried to put the pieces of their marriage back together. She had allowed him back into her bed for a time, but the emptiness in her embrace had made their lovemaking hollow. He couldn’t seem to break past the grief that closed her off from him. The warmth and love within her had died away, like a candle extinguished with no warning. And gradually, he’d stopped touching her at all.
He sat down upon the bed, feeling helpless. “What can I do?” His voice sounded wooden, even to him. He reached out and rested his palm against her hair. Laren took his hand in hers. She moved it away, and at first he thought she didn’t want him to touch her. But instead, she slowly brought it lower, beneath the coverlet.
Until she rested it upon her swollen womb.
All the words fled Alex’s mind, for he was caught between joy and fear for the unborn life. He traced the rounded shape. Although it was small now, it would transform Laren’s body over the next few months.
“When will the bairn come?” he managed to ask.
“In the early spring.” Her voice was emotionless and had he not seen the glimmer of tears in her eyes, he’d have thought she didn’t want it.
Slowly, he raised her to sit up, and brought her into his arms. “It will be all right,” he said. “I promise you.” The birth of this child was an unexpected blessing, one that might heal his wife’s grief and fill her arms.
“You can’t keep that promise.” Her voice was filled with uncertainty. “If it happens again—“
“It won’t. God wouldn’t do that to us.” He wrapped his arms around her, trying to reassure her. But she didn’t move, keeping her hands at her sides. “Laren, I’ll take care of you.”
Long moments passed, but she wouldn’t look at him or return the embrace. In the end, he lowered his hands and stepped back. Not once would she look at him.
Leave her alone, his mind insisted.She doesn’t want you right now.
Alex closed off the aching hurt inside of him. When he reached the door, he turned back to look at his wife one last time. Her hand rested upon her womb, her body curled inwards…as if she could guard the unborn life with her own.
Chapter Nine
“Returntotheabbey,”Alex ordered the priest, resting his hand upon his dirk. “Immediately. You will not say Mass tonight or in the morning.” And, God willing, the man would stay in Inveriston.
“If that is your wish.” Father Stephen bowed his head, but there was no humility or embarrassment in the man. He behaved as if there were no shame in what he’d done. Callum trailed the man, as if to ensure that he obeyed Alex’s orders.
Once the man had reached the far side of the loch, Alex turned back to Laren. “Why was the priest holding your hand?” He kept his voice neutral, but he could see the flustered air upon Laren’s face. She stared at a piece of glass as though it were the most important thing in the world.
“He wasn’t holding my hand. He was just…offering to walk back with me.”
“With his hand on yours.” Although most priests were celibate, Alex wasn’t such a fool as to believe all of them were. And he’d seen the man touching Laren with more than kindness in his eyes. And, priest or no, Alex would slay any man who dared to lay a hand on her. She was his wife.
He reached out and captured Laren by the waist. The scent of wood smoke clung to her, and a long lock of red hair rested over one shoulder. Alex leaned in, bringing her into his embrace. He held her, the softness of her hair resting against his mouth.
She pulled back to stare at him. “He brought me the plans for the commission and that was all. You’ve no reason to be jealous.”
He didn’t care that he was behaving like an overprotective husband. The need to reassert his claim, to remind her that she was his, took precedence over all else. “Haven’t I?”
Though she slept beside him at night, for the past fortnight she’d remained on the opposite side with their daughters between them. What he wouldn’t give for their own chamber, a place where he could remove the barriers of sleeping children and reach out to her again.
“The damned priest has touched you more than I have in these past few weeks.”
She looked uncomfortable in his arms. “You’ve been busy with the rebuilding.”
Aye, he had. He’d worked all day and deep into the night, determined to get the walls up as soon as possible. Though there had been no more attacks, he didn’t believe they were safe. And if he had to work himself to the bone to finish their defenses, he’d do so.
“It will be finished soon,” he swore, letting her go. “A few more days, at the most.”
She nodded, but when she started to retreat back to the glassmaking, he reminded her, “Nairna arranged a feast to celebrate Oidhche nam Bannag. She’ll expect you to be there.”
