Laren nodded. “Adaira is her name.”
Lady Harkirk lowered her head. “My husband is using her to lure the MacKinlochs here. After what happened a few months ago, he wants vengeance.”
“I don’t know if you have children of your own,” Laren said, “but my daughter is an innocent. And I will do whatever I have to, to get her back.”
“It won’t be easy.” Lady Harkirk risked a glance back at the fortress, then shivered.
The young boy yawned and stretched upon the straw pallet. Lady Harkirk pulled back her cloak and revealed a bag she’d brought with her. There was a small amount of food inside, and Laren wanted to cry at the sight of it, she was so hungry. But the child needed the food, and she said nothing, letting him take what he needed.
The boy devoured the meat, but he tore off a bit of a bread crust, handing it to Laren. “Here,” he offered.
She savored the small crust, though it did little to take the edge off her hunger. It reminded her of the nights when she’d gone hungry with her sisters. Since she’d married Alex, food was never something they’d lacked.
Laren rose to her feet, but as soon as she stood, her legs buckled. The boy caught her before she hit the ground, and she let out a curse, lowering her head between her knees.
“You look pale,” the Lady said. “If I had more food, I’d—“
“No. I need to find my husband.” Laren fought to remain conscious, angry with herself for the weakness of her pregnancy. She took slow, deep breaths, and then managed to face Lady Harkirk. “They’re going to attack your fortress.” Laren stared at the woman, praying there was compassion within her. “If you can help me to get my daughter out, I can stop them from fighting.”
Lady Harkirk’s expression grew bitter. “If my husband dies in battle, it would only be a blessing.” She returned to the entrance of the shelter. “I’ll do what I can to help you, but I can’t bring your daughter out of the fortress. I’ve already risked too much, coming here alone.”
“Bring her near the entrance, at nightfall,” Laren said. “We’ll find a way to get her out.”
Lady Harkirk stared at her then shook her head. “No. I don’t think I can. Not without him suspecting something.”
“If my daughter dies—“
“She won’t,” the lady assured her. “I protected this one from harm.” She pointed toward the young boy, before she shivered and wrapped her cloak around her for more warmth. “I can’t say how I’ll manage it, but be ready to claim Adaira at nightfall.”
Laren stood up and faced the Lady, eye to eye. “She’s just a baby. And I won’t lose her.”
Lady Harkirk took her hand. “I’ll keep her safe.”
Alex’seyesweredryand raw from lack of sleep. He’d searched every last inch of the forest, but there was no sign of Laren anywhere.
Had she been taken when Callum had left her alone? If anything happened to her, he blamed himself. The thought of her falling into Harkirk’s hands infuriated him.
“If she’s in that fortress, we’ll find her.” Bram had returned early this morn, with the promise of aid from Nairna’s father. He gripped Alex’s arm in silent support. “We may as well assume she’s there.”
Alex’s grasp upon reason was slipping away. The very thought of Harkirk touching Laren, hurting her . . . It made him understand how Bram had lost control in the battle several months ago when Nairna was threatened.
The thought of Laren’s gentle face, her fiery red hair falling over her shoulders, made his heart twist. He remembered how he’d slept with her in his arms, their unborn child resting beneath his hand. And the thought of losing them sent his temper roaring.
He crossed over to Callum, shoving his younger brother against the back of a tree. “Why did you leave her? She could be dead right now, because you left her alone!”
Bram and Brochain dragged him back, but Alex’s lungs were tight, his rage unchecked. And seeing the emptiness in his brother’s eyes only provoked him more.
Callum didn’t know what it meant to love a woman. He didn’t understand. Losing Laren would be like ripping his heart out of his chest. There would be nothing left but an emptiness that would never be filled.
“If we’re going to find them, you need to get control of yourself,” Bram insisted. “If you strike out at one of us, you’re not helping Laren.”
He knew it. But damn it, the need to lash out was all consuming.
“Last night, we found a possible way to break into their stronghold,” Bram interrupted.
He nodded toward Brochain MacLachor, who offered, “There is one part of the fortress that has suffered from water damage. The wood is rotting, almost crumbling in places.”
“Go on.” Alex eyed the man, not knowing what he was suggesting.
