She rested her hands around his waist. “What are you going to do about the bounty?”
“Nothing.” It was beyond his control anyway. If Harkirk wanted to hire assassins to try to bring them down, so be it. It was the reason they’d built strong walls to defend Glen Arrin.
“Aren’t you afraid?” She touched his cheek, rubbing the stubble that abraded her fingertips.
“No.” He couldn’t afford the luxury of fear. The greater issue was Glen Arrin and how to keep the rest of them safe.
She studied him with uncertain eyes. “You nearly died tonight.”
“I nearly die every time I fight,” he pointed out. “It’s always a risk.”
But she took no reassurance from his indifferent tone. Instead, she looked even more upset.
“It’s late,” he told her. “We’ll sleep and talk about it in the morning.”
She drew back from his embrace. “Alex, if there’s a price on your head—“
“Leave it be, Laren.” He didn’t want to dwell on it. His body was physically exhausted, his mind restless.
“I’m afraid for you,” she admitted.
He wouldn’t allow himself to feel any fear. Although she was wanting him to tell her that it would be all right, the truth was, he didn’t know. With the state of unrest among the clans, he had enemies enough who’d be willing to attack. The last thing he wanted was to bring more danger upon the MacKinlochs.
He locked away the errant thoughts. Instead, he guided Laren back inside to lie down with their girls. She tried to get him to sleep with her, but he remained seated, resting his hand upon her hair.
His daughters were sleeping, their hair tangled up, their shoulders moving as they breathed. He couldn’t imagine a man like Harkirk holding a young girl captive. No doubt the MacLachor chief was out of his mind with fury.
Though he’d wanted to ignore the threat of the English, he’d be forced to deal with them soon enough.
It felt as though the grains of his life were spilling out, all too quickly.
Chapter Eleven
Anotherfortnighthadpassed,and the wooden keep was nearly finished. Though Alex had wanted to build up the walls with stone, he’d conceded to the men that it would be faster to put up a temporary structure and build the castle around it later. Within another day, they would have a place of their own for sleeping. He wanted Laren and his daughters out of Ross’s home, for they needed their own space.
The threat of the MacLachors had set all of them on edge. It had fueled the men into working harder, finishing their walls and strengthening the defenses. Another attack was imminent, and he didn’t know if it would come from Harkirk’s forces or the MacLachor clan.
He had to do something. Ignoring the problem wasn’t going to make it go away.
He walked toward Laren’s cave, his leather shoes crunching upon the frozen ice puddles on the ground. He wore a shaggy, fur-lined mantle, and his breath formed clouds in the wintry air. A few sparse flakes of snow drifted in the air.
When he saw Callum standing at the entrance with his bow, he nodded a dismissal to his brother. Though he was grateful that Callum had agreed to watch over Laren, it couldn’t last much longer. His brother deserved better than to stand guard, hour after hour.
The heat from Laren’s furnaces was welcome as he entered the cavern. She wore only a gown, and perspiration lined her neck. Her hair was bound back and in her hands she held a long metal pipe. A bubble of glass formed from the end and he stopped, spellbound at the sight of her magic. With breath and fire, she formed a cylinder of glass, the color of rubies. She kept her entire attention focused upon the glass and it gave him the distraction he needed.
Quietly, Alex took one of the cloth-wrapped pieces of glass that she’d finished long ago and set it outside the cavern to take back with him. Though it was not a piece she’d meant for the new kirk, he had another purpose for it. And Laren wouldn’t like it at all, if she knew of his intentions.
Only when she had finished the piece, setting it within the annealing furnace to cool, did she turn around to greet him.
“It’s beautiful,” he told her and was rewarded by a slight smile.
“I love red,” she admitted, “but it’s the most difficult color. I wish there was a way to make it so it isn’t so dark. It doesn’t let in the light the way other colors do.”
She moved over to the stone work surface where pieces of cut glass lay spread out. He could see the emerging figure of the crucifixion, and in the surrounding scenes were stories that revealed the Garden of Eden, Moses parting the Red Sea and an image of the Virgin Mary.
But none of the saints or apostles had faces yet. It made him wonder if the gift he’d planned for Laren would be welcome or not.
“My cousins will arrive soon to take Mairin home with them,” he told her. “A messenger came this morning. She’ll go north, as we planned.”
