afternoon sky darkened, Alex gave orders for Dougal to bring him a horse and supplies for the night. Laren’s gaze was focused upon the girls. When she understood that he wasn’t giving her a choice, her displeasure was evident.
He didn’t care. Right now, he needed to confront his wife, to understand what she was hiding from him.
The more he thought of it, the more he realised that she had never confided in him. Over the past two years, she’d hidden herself away, keeping her own secrets.
Tonight, he wanted to learn exactly what they were.
Alex helped Laren onto the horse, bringing a torch with him as he led the animal into the forest. The light dappled the edges of the leaves, filtering the golden sun amid the oaks and fir trees. Nothing was said throughout the half-hour journey, and when at last he brought the horse to a stop, Laren stared at the circle of stones, her face stricken.
‘Why did you bring me here?’
‘You know why.’ He wanted her to remember the way things had once been between them. The circle was where they had first fallen in love. It seemed like the best place to begin again.
Laren walked forwards, resting her hand upon one of the stones. ‘It’s been a long time since we were here.’
He’d brought her here every Beltaine, where they had celebrated the feast in each other’s arms, in remembrance of their wedding night. But after the children were born, it had become more difficult to get away. Laren was reluctant to leave Mairin and, over time, their circle had been forgotten.
When he turned back to her, he saw that she’d sat down. Her gloved hands resting upon her skirts, as the dying sunlight sank below the horizon.
‘You don’t have to wear those,’ he offered, pointing to her gloves.
‘I’m more comfortable with them on.’
Alex didn’t argue. He supposed her hands were cold, now that winter was upon them. While he set up their tent, a thousand questions and demands poured through his mind. He struggled to keep his frustration within manageable boundaries. But the longer she held herself apart, the more he wondered how to begin.
They were alone now, with no one to stare at them or whisper. But Laren didn’t even look at him. He supposed her injury was bothering her. His own arm ached, but he was more accustomed to working through discomfort.
Against the fading sunlight, her hair gleamed like reddened flames. Laren was as beautiful to him now as she’d been on the day he’d married her. Her skin was milky smooth, her body slender.
‘Do you remember the last time we were here?’ he ventured at last.
She leaned against one of the standing stones, her hand pressed to her side. ‘It was before Mairin was born, I think.’ A softness came over her, and she added, ‘We were so young then.’
He came to stand closer to her, and the sun began to dip lower. Abruptly, Laren released a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
‘What is it?’
‘You asked me if I found the stones inspiring.’ Her mouth tipped into a smile at the sight of the phallic monoliths.
‘And did you?’
‘Sometimes.’ Her face held the softness of the past, like the woman he’d first wed. She held her hand to her wounded side and rested against the standing stone. He reached out and moved a lock of her hair that had fallen against her cheek. When he kept his hand on her face, he saw the sudden confusion in her green eyes.
‘There was a time, before we married, when we came here just to be together. Now, you spend every possible moment far away from me.’
She didn’t deny it and her silence made him break away.
‘I want to know why, Laren.’
‘I’m not avoiding you.’ It hadn’t started out that way, though she supposed it might seem so to him. She’d needed to bury herself in work, to shut out the rest of the world. And when she’d discovered her love of glasswork, she’d sought out every possible moment to work on it.
‘Aren’t you?’
Laren shook her head. She closed her eyes, the sudden pain of her wound drawing her attention. Her hand felt wet against her side. When she leaned against the stone the earth swayed beneath her feet.
Alex didn’t miss the sudden shift in her posture. When he touched her hand, she inhaled sharply at the gentle pressure against her side.
‘Show me your wound,’ he demanded.
There was anger in his voice and she tried to placate him by offering, ‘Vanora gave me a poultice for it and it will heal.’
Her husband stepped in front of her, his dark eyes shadowed with an unnamed emotion while his hand rested upon a sheathed dirk. ‘Remove the gown, Laren. Unless you want me to cut it off.’
The sudden image of his blade slicing through the wool made her imagine the layers of clothing falling away until she was naked before him. The vision was strangely erotic. She knew Alex would never hurt her, but the man standing in front of her now was filled with anger and sexual frustration.
He wanted her. She could see it in the tension from his shoulders, in the way his eyes were watching. Laren considered whether or not to simply show him the wound through the torn seam. Yet a sudden sense of rebellion rose up within her. It was his idea to take her away from everyone else, to spend the night alone with her. All day, he’d issued commands and orders, treating her like a child.
But she wasn’t at all a child. She was a woman with thoughts and feelings of her own. A woman he’d pushed aside, only sparing her a glance from time to time. And a part of her wanted him to know what he’d been missing these past months.
Instead of revealing the wound, she loosened the ties of the long gown. With her eyes locked upon his, she turned her back to him. ‘It hurts to lift my arms over my head. You’ll have to remove the gown for me.’
He was silent and she didn’t dare turn around. She withdrew her arms inside the sleeves, and Alex came up behind her to help lift the gown away. As he did, his hands grazed the side of her breasts, sending an unexpected jolt through her. He’d done that on purpose. A shiver rocked through her. Once he’d removed the outer gown, she stood in her shift.
The frigid air heightened her sensitivity and her nipples grew taut against the fabric. Alex didn’t turn her around, but he pulled back the poultice and examined her wound. ‘You have torn the stitches.’
‘I’ll fix the bandage. It will be all right.’
‘No. Let me.’ He loosened her shift and slowly lowered the garment to her waist, baring the wound. In the cold night air, she shivered, feeling exposed, but she didn’t bother to cover her naked breasts.
Alex removed the wet bandage and the poultice, but as his hands passed over her body she felt the fierce heat and a slight tremble in his palms.
He tore a length of cloth from his tunic and she eyed him ruefully. ‘I’ll have to
