Though she still suffered from the exhaustion of her pregnancy, the nausea had at last subsided. Only Alex and Grizel knew of it and now she was grateful she’d kept silent. No one would allow her to leave Glen Arrin if she’d admitted her condition.
She hardly slept anymore. How could she, when her baby was gone? While Nairna gathered the others, Laren paced, going over the words in her mind. She’d never before addressed the people and it terrified her. Ever since Alex had revealed her glassmaking, they’d grown even more distant, behaving as though she were engaged in sorcery instead of glass.
One by one they assembled, and Laren studied them.They have children, too, she reminded herself. If they understood even half the fear that burned through her, they might be willing to help.
“The MacLachors have taken Adaira,” she began. When a slight shifting alerted her that her voice wasn’t loud enough, she forced herself to add more volume. She couldn’t hide the trembling tone, but the men and women didn’t seem to blame her for it. “I need your help in bringing her home.”
“Have they demanded a ransom?” Ross asked. In his wrinkled face, she saw sympathy and the silent offer of help. During the few months she’d stayed with him and Vanora, he’d come to think of the girls as his grandchildren.
“No.” She held up the parchment with the mark of the MacLachors and the lock of her daughter’s hair. “This is all I have as proof.”
There were murmurings among the men, as though they doubted whether the MacLachors were truly responsible.
“I’m going to find Alex,” she told them. “But I’m asking for a few of you to join me, in case we have to fight for her.”
Callum stepped forward, holding his bow and quiver of black-feathered arrows. Laren started to protest, for they needed his skill at Glen Arrin. But when she tried to speak, he reached over and touched his finger to her lips, silencing her.
He stared at the remaining men, as if daring them to protest.
“I’ll go with you,” Ramsay offered. He sent her a hopeful look, but he was far too young to face such danger.
“I need you to tend my furnaces,” she said. “I’m relying on you and Monroe to continue the glassmaking.”
Though he looked disappointed, his offer had an effect upon the others, as if shaming them into agreeing. Two more men joined Callum and Laren turned to Ross. “Defend Glen Arrin while we’re gone,” she ordered. The older man inclined his head.
Laren exhaled a breath and studied the people. It hadn’t been as difficult as she’d imagined, speaking before them. There hadn’t been judgment or criticism in their eyes—only understanding.
“I’m going to find my daughter,” she finished, not caring that her cheeks were wet with tears. To her surprise, she saw Grizel approach.
The matron squeezed her hand. “Aye, you will. And God help any man who tries to stop a mother from saving her child.”
Chapter Fourteen
FinianMacLachorheldthesleeping child in his arms. The young girl had cried for most of the afternoon until she’d fallen into an exhausted stupor. He drew his cloak over her for warmth and stared at the fortress that lay ahead. More than anything, he wished he could turn back. But his time had already run out, and he was afraid of what had happened to Iliana.
He walked forward through the gates, still carrying Adaira in his arms with the cloak wrapped around her. The soldiers watched him as he entered, their weapons held in readiness, though there was no need. Two soldiers crossed in front of him, and Finian eyed the men. “I’ve brought Lord Harkirk a hostage in exchange for my daughter.”
There was doubt upon their faces, but they led him toward the main tower. Inside the fortress, he saw men dressed in rags, laying stones atop one another to form walls to reinforce the keep. One sent him a grim expression, silently damning Fi12nian for what he was about to do. Aye, this girl was an innocent. And though he hated himself for handing her over to the enemy, he could see no other choice. He hadn’t enough men to save Iliana. He could only hope that Harkirk would trade one daughter for another.
The soldiers led him into a room where Harkirk was speaking with a group of men. The baron wore chainmail armor and a conical helm, as though he’d recently come from a battle. When he saw Finian, his gaze turned interested. “What have you brought me?”
“The MacKinloch chief’s youngest daughter. In return, I want Iliana back.”
The man gave a thin smile. “So, you think to bargain for her. Why would you believe I kept her alive after all this time?”
“Because you want the MacKinlochs dead. And they will fight for this child. They will come to you . . . all of them.”
The baron sent him an amused smile. To one of the soldiers, he said, “Take her.”
Out of instinct, Finian’s hands tightened around Adaira. The motion awakened the child and when the soldier seized her, she started wailing again. Harkirk gestured to the man and the soldier disappeared with the baby. The young girl’s cries would haunt him, for he’d now done the unthinkable—handing over an innocent to the devil himself.
“The child could belong to anyone,” Harkirk said. “You’ve no proof that she’s a MacKinloch.”
“She is. I swear it.” His courage ran cold, for he now realized he’d made a fatal mistake. He’d believed that Harkirk would accept the hostage exchange, and he’d get Iliana back. Now, it was clear that Harkirk had no intention of honoring such a bargain.
“Put him with the others,” Harkirk ordered. “And we’ll see if anyone comes for the child.”
Four men seized him, the cold metal of their armor biting into his arms. Finian struggled to free himself, but his strength was no match for the others. “What about my daughter?” he shouted as the men started to drag him away.
