He threw himself atop the man and caught him by the throat. “What bounty?”
“The one offered by Harkirk.” The MacLachor man fought to free himself, his fingers digging against Alex’s palm.
Laren grew cold at the thought. If what he said was true, then they were in more danger than they’d believed.
“How much did he offer for me?” Alex jerked the man to his feet, tightening his grip. When there came no answer, he unsheathed the dirk at his waist. “Tell me, damn you.”
His enemy’s gaze went blank, in anticipation of death. “Our chief’s daughter is Harkirk’s hostage,” he admitted. “The baron says he’ll take your life for hers.”
Instinctively, Laren glanced behind at the shelter where her girls were sleeping. Harkirk had the MacLachor’s daughter in his keeping?
Now it was clear. The man who’d attacked before must have been a MacLachor, trying to lure Alex. And tonight, they’d struck with the last of their men, in a desperate act.
She saw her husband’s attention flicker for just a moment before he dove to the ground. An arrow lay embedded in the wood just where his head had been. The MacLachor used his chance to escape, and within seconds, he’d disappeared into the darkness of the trees.
“Get inside,” Alex ordered, opening the door for her. From the torn look upon his face, she knew that he had to go with his men, to pursue the remaining MacLachors.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he swore. There was a look of hesitation on his face, before he returned to the center of the fortress. Laren stood at the entrance to the hut, watching as he went off to fight.
When Alex was gone, she knelt down to touch the arrow. It might have killed him just now. Her hand shook as she ripped it free of the wood, staring at the pointed tip. If he hadn’t moved in time, she might be sitting here with him dying in her arms. She shivered, wishing her husband hadn’t left her. Waiting was nearly as bad as watching him fight.
She forced herself to go back inside, where she found Grizel standing in front of the girls, her face pale. In her hands, the older woman held a spear she’d snatched from Ross’s belongings.
“Are they all right?” Laren whispered.
Grizel nodded. “They slept through the raid.”
Laren’s knees were shaking, and she went to stand near the hearth. Despite the heat of the fire, she couldn’t stop shivering. Then she looked over at Grizel, who was setting the spear aside. “Thank you for watching over them.”
The older woman turned away in silence, staring at the flames. Her mood had shifted into a solemn regret, and Laren wondered if Grizel was remembering how her husband Tavin had been killed in battle.
“You should be glad to have daughters,” the old woman said. “At least they won’t grow up to fight in raids. Or be taken as slaves.”
“I hope not.” Her thoughts lingered upon the MacLachor’s claim that Harkirk had taken their chief’s daughter captive. And she wondered what would happen now.
“You don’t look well,” her mother-in-law remarked. “Did you remember to eat?”
She nodded, but her thoughts returned to Grizel’s comment about being glad to have girls. She did love her daughters, but sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder what their son David would have been like. He’d have been three years old, had he lived.
She clenched her gloved hands, trying to blot out the memories. But her mind persisted in the painful visions.
Would David have dragged a wooden sword around, pretending to be like his father? Would he have laughed and held on to her hip when he needed her? She vividly remembered the warmth of his small body nestled against her breast when he’d been born.
Until the terrible morning when his body was cold and lifeless upon hers. She’d never known what had caused him to die, and it hurt so much to remember it.
“You’re weeping,” Grizel said suddenly.
Laren hadn’t realized. She wiped the tears away and lowered her head. “It’s been a difficult night for all of us. We should get some sleep.”
But as she curled up on her side, she felt as though a splinter were piercing her heart.
WhenAlexreturnedlaterthat night with Ross and Vanora, Laren awakened instantly. Perhaps she hadn’t been sleeping at all, but when he entered, she stood up and guided him back outside.
Without speaking a word, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him. He gripped her back, taking comfort in her embrace. “They’re gone,” he murmured. “All except a man who died from one of Callum’s arrows.”
“You let them go?”
He pulled back to study her face. The torchlight cast a honeyed glow over her face and he said a silent prayer of thanks that he’d been able to come back to his wife. “Aye. I may regret showing them mercy.”
