He seized a torch and a few shovels, following his brothers. He chose a spot where the ground was soft and balanced the torch within a pile of heavy stones. He adjusted the makeshift bandage on his arm, so it wouldn’t bleed while he worked. Though it had grown dark, the three of them began digging a burial pit. The backbreaking work was what he needed right now to distract him from the sense of overwhelming loss.
He was the chief of the MacKinlochs. They would look to him to make the decisions, to know what should be done next.
You were never meant to be leader, an inner voice taunted him. His father Tavin had chosen Bram to be his successor. As the second-born, Alex had listened on the outskirts, drinking in all the knowledge, never dreaming that he would have to use it.
He’d made a thousand mistakes in the early years. But he’d learned from them, and never once had he revealed his frustrations…not to his kinsmen, and not to Laren. It was easier to pretend that all was well, for they needed a leader of strength. The men had come to trust him, knowing that they could bring their troubles and he would find the answers they needed.
He swore he’d find a way to rebuild what had been lost. Somehow.
Overthenexthour,he worked with Callum and Dougal at his side. Having his brothers with him brought him a slight reassurance. Even if their lives had fallen apart, their keep lying in ashes, at least they were together.
Once the pit was finished, they buried the men and spoke a prayer for their souls. “Do you have a place to sleep tonight?” Alex asked his brothers.
Callum nodded and pointed to one of the other houses that had been untouched by fire. Dougal joined his brother and added, “Bram offered, but he and Nairna—“ His words broke off, his ears turning crimson. Alex could guess that the two young men had no desire to dwell with a husband and wife who were trying to start a family.
“Walter has no wife and he offered to let us stay in his home,” Dougal finished.
Since everyone had a place for shelter, Alex picked up the torch. “Get some sleep while you can. We’ll start again in the morning.”
They walked back to the fortress and Alex glanced up at the clear skies. Stars gleamed against the midnight blackness and there were a few hours before dawn. The faint scent of peat mingled with the night air, a familiar aroma that welcomed him towards Ross’s home. When he opened the door, he saw his friend and Vanora sleeping on the opposite end. Laren rested upon a pallet, the two girls in her arms.
Alex stretched out on his side behind her, studying his wife as she slept. Her red hair hung over her shoulder and she slept in the bloodstained gown she’d worn all day. She’d removed her cloak and spread it over the girls as a blanket. Even in sleep, she guarded and protected their daughters. She’d always been a good mother to them.
He reached for a strand of her hair, curling the silken lock over his hand. Laren stirred in her sleep, moving restlessly.
“It’s just me,” he murmured. He released her hair, his hand clenching into a fist.
She finally did roll on to her back. In the dim moonlight he spied the gleam of tears on her cheeks. From the tension in her posture, he saw that she was trying to brave her way through the pain.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m all right.” She kept her voice low, so as not to wake the children. But when she turned back to her left side, it occurred to him that their polite, quiet marriage had shifted to unstable ground.
The arrow might well have pierced his own flesh, awakening him to the reality that his wife didn’t confide in him any more. If she felt unable to reveal a wound, what other secrets had she kept?
Laren disappeared each day for hours on end, never telling him where she was going or what she was doing. A tightness clenched his throat, for he’d never asked her. He’d been so busy worrying about the keep and its occupants, he’d forgotten about his wife. At the time, he’d believed he was merely giving her the freedom to come and go as she pleased, not wanting to make demands of her.
Perhaps at a deeper level, he hadn’t wanted to know why she was leaving, for fear that she wanted to avoid being with him.
He stared up at the ceiling of Ross’s home, knowing he wouldn’t find sleep this night. It had taken a single arrow to crack his illusions apart. They didn’t have a true marriage any more, only the barest shadow.
In the darkness, he rolled over to watch his wife trying to sleep. He couldn’t imagine a life without her in it.
But he didn’t know what he had to do to get her back.
Chapter Two
IntheearlymorningLaren opened her eyes and saw Alex watching her. His eyes were heavy, as though he hadn’t slept at all. “How are you this morn?” he asked.
“Tired,” she admitted, gingerly easing to a seated position so as not to tear the stitches. The wound was a dull ache now, the pain worse than yesterday.
She glanced around and saw that Ross and Vanora had not yet risen. It felt strange to sleep in someone else’s home, though they had no choice, now that their own keep had burned down. An ache caught in her heart, and she felt lost and uncertain about what lay ahead.
“I want to see your wound.” Though his words were spoken quietly so as not to awaken anyone else, she detected an edge to his voice. She couldn’t tell if it was anger or worry.
Laren pulled apart the dress seam they’d cut last night, removing the bloodstained linen she’d slept with. Alex stared at the wound, his hand moving forward, but he stopped shy of touching her.
She couldn’t read the emotions in his expression, but he said quietly, “You’re staying inside with the girls today. I don’t want you anywhere near the ruins, not when you’re hurt.”
