A wrenching hurt filled up her blue eyes, but he didn’t apologize. She fumbled with her gown, covering herself. “I can’t seem to please you any more, can I?”
Alex stepped forward and picked up one of her glass pieces that lay on the table. It was a colorless scrap she’d discarded, the edges jagged and raw. He rubbed the hardened surface for a moment before he let it fall back.
“I don’t know what happened to the marriage we had. You’re not the same person you used to be.”
“No. I’m not.” She folded her arms across her waist, as if she could hold back the bruised feelings.
“From the moment we buried our son, you left me,” he said. “You hid yourself away with your glass, and I had no wife at all.”
A glimmer of anger tightened her features. “I wasn’t the only one who hid myself away. When I came home at night, you weren’t there. How many times did you eat with other families, coming home only when we were asleep? You spent more time with the clan members than your own family.”
“I’m their chief. It was my responsibility.” Didn’t she understand that he hadn’t known what he was doing? He’d spent time with the other families, trying to unravel the needs of the people.
“Was it?” she asked softly. “Or were you avoiding me?”
Her accusation was dangerously close to the truth. He hadn’t known how to help her through the pain when he’d never handled it himself. It seemed easier to pretend nothing was wrong, to go on about their lives as usual.
“I’m not avoiding you now.” He came close and stood before her.
She looked so vulnerable, so upset, he didn’t know what to say. He’d brought her here, hoping to make things better. “Laren, what should we do?” he asked at last. A hollowness filled him up inside, for he couldn’t find the right words.
“When we were younger, no one wanted us to be together,” she said quietly. “You came at night, so my parents wouldn’t know. And no one could keep us apart.” She raised her eyes to his. “We loved each other too much.”
He reached for her hand, remembering those days. Her palm rested in his and she touched his palm with her other hand. “I don’t think you love me now, the way you did then.”
“No,” he admitted. “Both of us have changed.” He kept his voice neutral, hiding the blunt pain he would never reveal to her. “It can’t be the same as it was. But it can be stronger.”
Her hands moved to rest over his heart. For a time, she thought about what he’d said. Then she answered, “Sunset.”
He moved back, uncertain of what she meant. “Sunset?”
“When the sun goes down, we both come home. I’ll leave Ramsay with my glass. And you’ll leave your work. The stone can wait a few hours.”
He cast a glance toward the furnace, wondering if she could keep that promise. Often, she’d forgotten the time when she was caught up in her glassmaking. Still, it was worth trying. “All right.”
She laced his hands in hers, tilting her face upwards. “It’s worth fighting for, Alex.”
Glen Arrin—1298
Alex stared at his father’s body as the men lowered it into the shallow grave. One by one, the men placed stones over Tavin and the brutal finality made him walk away.
The truth was, he didn’t want the other men to see him weep. He wasn’t a child, and his mother would only cuff him if she saw tears.
When he reached the hillside, he started to run hard. His lungs heaved, and his cheeks were wet, but at least there was no one to see. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to get away from everyone else.
Near the top of the hill, he saw a forest clearing and a circle of standing stones. Alex vaguely recalled seeing them once before, but the limestone blurred before his eyes. He sank to his knees, leaning against a stone as he wept. His father was dead, and two of his brothers were gone as well.
He’d tried to stop Bram from leaving, but his older brother had grabbed a sword and gone running toward the English soldiers. Callum had followed, while Alex had remained behind like a coward. If he’d gone, maybe they would still be here. But they had disappeared, like so many of the other men.
Alex pressed his forehead against the stone, his hands shaking. He barely heard the soft footsteps behind him but saw Laren standing there. Like a quiet spirit, she stepped closer, and her own tears were wet against her cheeks.
She spoke not a word, though he remembered that her own father had been numbered among the dead. Though he’d known who she was, it was the first time she’d ever approached him. Rarely did Laren speak to anyone, but she was one of the most beautiful girls in the clan. She seemed embarrassed by her family’s poverty, though it didn’t matter to him.
“Do you want me to leave?” she whispered.
Alex shook his head, resting his forehead against the stone. There were no words he wanted to speak right now, but he supposed she understood that. He’d loved his father and had wanted so badly for Tavin to be proud of him. The emptiness stretched out, filling him with regret.
Laren touched her hand upon his shoulder, offering a quiet comfort. He turned and locked his arms around her, both of them grieving. Though she was hardly more than a stranger to him, she held him in her embrace, and it felt right to have her there. The warmth of a human touch made it easier to endure the wrenching pain of loss.
