She put on her gloves, feeling uneasy about the burn scars on her hands, but no one had noticed them. Ramsay had moved to the back of the cavern, trying to remain unobtrusive.
Her side was aching again and Laren took several breaths to force back the pain. Tonight she would speak to Vanora and ask if she could make a sleeping draught. For now, she hid her misery and asked Dougal, ‘Did you bring me any of the beechwood ash? Or am I supposed to scrape it off you?’
His cheeks reddened at her teasing and he pointed outside. ‘I filled the wagon with it.’
‘You can dump it just outside the cave, if you can manage.’
In the end, all of them worked together to shovel it out. Mairin and Adaira tried to help, but it was more difficult with them underfoot.
When at last the wagon was empty, Laren checked on the melt and adjusted the fires. She used a bellows to increase the heat and Ramsay took his place beside the fire, promising to keep it going.
‘It should be ready by midnight,’ he predicted. ‘I’ll add the crucible then.’
‘Good. I’ll be here first thing in the morning to check the melt.’
‘I won’t let the fire go out,’ he swore. And she knew he’d keep the promise. He was accustomed to sleeping during the day; not once had she lost a melt under his watch.
Laren gave him a solemn nod, refraining from ruffling his hair as she wanted to. Ramsay couldn’t bear any form of affection and he’d stiffened on the few occasions when she’d patted his shoulder. When she looked into his dark eyes, she saw the image of the son she might have had.
The vivid pain came crashing back and she bit her lip to suppress it. Nairna sent her a curious look. ‘Are you all right?’
Laren nodded. ‘I suppose I should take the girls back. It’s late.’ She touched Mairin’s shoulder and reminded her daughter to hold her sister’s hand. After adjusting their outer clothing to keep them warm, Laren took both girls’ hands in hers and started to walk back.
Nairna remained at her side and ventured softly, ‘I think you should tell your husband about the glass.’
Laren sent the girls to run on ahead and they quickly caught up to Dougal, begging for a ride inside the wagon. When they were out of earshot, she stopped walking, touching her hand to her side.
‘I will tell him, Nairna. Just not yet.’ The idea of revealing her awkward skills was frightening. It was like exposing the deepest part of herself.
‘It would help him to understand why you’re gone so many hours of the day.’ Her sister-in-law rested a hand upon her shoulders. ‘And one day you’ll tell the rest of the clan.’
Laren shook her head. ‘I know what the other women say about me. They think I’m spineless and unfit to be a chief’s wife.’
‘I don’t believe that.’ Nairna shook her head and smiled. ‘You’re just quiet and shy.’
‘No. It’s more than that.’ Laren reached down and touched the edge of her gown, remembering the threadbare clothing she’d worn years ago.
‘My father was a beggar,’ Laren admitted. ‘He wasn’t able to take care of us. Sometimes he would fall under a spell of melancholy and wouldn’t get out of bed for weeks at a time.’ She pulled her cloak tighter around her. ‘We hardly had enough to eat and everyone knew it. My sisters and I wore the cast-off clothes of others.’
From Nairna’s startled expression, she guessed that no one had told her. ‘The clan knows where I came from. And they know I haven’t the ability to lead them.’ She shook her head at the incongruity of the idea. Then she looked back at Nairna. ‘I may be the chief’s wife now, but I’m still an embarrassment.’
Laren quickened her pace, past the white stone that lay on the hillside. ‘The glassmaking is part of me, Nairna. If I have this, I can endure their criticism. I can let it flow through me and not let it hurt, because I know what I can make.’
She took a breath, though the confession tore at her heart. ‘It doesn’t matter if I can’t lead the people or be the wife Alex needs, because I know that there’s something I can do.’
Nairna tried to offer words of comfort, but Laren didn’t hear them. She saw her husband in the distance, waiting for them at the gates.
And when she saw the intense look upon his face, within his expression lay worry and a hint of relief. He embraced the girls, swinging Adaira up into his arms. But though he spoke to them, she didn’t miss the way he watched her.
Almost as if he’d needed to see her again.
March, 1300
The soft sound of a stone striking the wood of her mother’s cottage awakened Laren from slumber. A secret thrill of excitement warmed her, for Alex was here, just as he’d promised.
Her sisters were asleep beside her, but none of them stirred when she rose from the pallet they shared. Tiptoeing outside, she glanced behind her to be certain her mother hadn’t seen her.
The moon shone silver in the clouded sky, and she saw Alex emerge from the shadows. His face and dark hair were damp, as though he’d washed in the stream before coming to see her. In his palm he held small stones, but he let them fall, extending his hand to her. Laren made no sound, but took his hand, following him into the forest.
It wasn’t as dark as she’d expected, but as they moved deeper into the woods, she drew closer to his side. The spring air was cool and she sensed the moisture that hung with the portent of rain. Dark green moss covered the trees and she was careful of her footing as she walked with him. A sense of forbidden anticipation built up inside, at the thought of being alone with this man.
Once they reached the clearing, she saw the small circle of standing stones. Ancient and worn, the stones held their own element of enchantment. It was their private place, one where reality faded away and she could forget that he was a chief’s son, and she, a poor crofter’s daughter.
Here, they could be together with no one to interfere. Never had Alex treated her as though she were beneath him. Right now, he was staring at her with a mixture of desire and regret.
‘I have to leave on the morrow,’ he told her, his hands drawing her into an embrace. ‘My Uncle Donnell wants me to visit the Campbell clan.’ There was a heaviness in his eyes, a sense of frustration. He’d been living with his uncle, who had become chief after the death of his father. There was little affection between them, for Donnell continually derided him, claiming that Alex lacked the skill to ever be a leader like his father.
‘When will you return?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know.’ His hands framed her face and he touched his forehead to hers. ‘He wants me to wed the daughter of their chief. But you needn’t worry. I’ve made my choice of a bride already.’
His fingers moved through her long red hair and within his eyes she saw a rising hunger. A piece of her heart broke away, for if she could, she’d keep him with her. She loved Alex MacKinloch with every breath, with every part of herself.
But she feared they would have no future together, not as poor as she was. And there was a sinking dread that, once he saw this woman, he might forget what there was between them.
For now, she fully intended to savour every stolen moment. His mouth came down upon hers and she kissed him back with all the fervour in her heart. His lips and tongue merged with her own, conjuring up desperate feelings she didn’t understand. Against her body, she felt the hard length of his desire. He drew her hips closer, his hungry mouth moving over her skin.
She couldn’t catch her breath, her pulse racing. Tonight could be their last night together. Once he left Glen Arrin, she might lose him.
‘I