to reach them. Or they’ll die.
It was a reality he didn’t want to face, and the thought of his Laren falling beneath a soldier’s blade was a horror he couldn’t grasp. His arm ached with a vicious pain, but he fought a path towards them. The soldiers blocked his line of vision until all he could see was a swift storm of arrows.
A pulse thundered in his ears until he realised the arrows were coming from their younger brother Callum, who was guarding the women and children. Flames erupted from the wooden keep that stood high above them, like a dying sentry.
The fortress was going to fall. He ran as hard as he could and heard his kinsman Ross breathe, ‘Mary, Mother of God.’
As Alex rushed forwards, he heard the cracking of wood.
‘Callum, dive!’ shouted a man’s voice from behind her.
Laren MacKinloch struggled through the forest, her skirts sodden with water as the keep surrendered to the flames and collapsed. She stared through the trees, in shock at the sight of her home.
Gone now.
And what of Alex, her husband? ‘Take Mairin and Adaira,’ she begged Vanora, handing over her daughters. ‘I’ll join you in a few moments.’
‘You can’t go back,’ the older matron warned. ‘This isn’t over yet.’
‘I won’t leave the trees,’ Laren promised. I just need to see him. I need to know if he’s safe.
She didn’t wait for Vanora’s reply, but moved back to the forest’s edge, holding on to a slender birch tree for balance. Her breath frosted in the evening air as the cold settled around the glen.
When English soldiers surrounded the men from both sides, she felt her heart branching into silent pieces of terror. Dear God, no.
She couldn’t hear what was happening, but the look of grim finality on Alex’s face meant that the worst was near. As she stared from her hiding place, the years seemed to fall back. No longer was he a powerful chief but instead, the man she’d once loved. The fist of heartbreak caught her and tears dampened her cheeks. They’d grown so far apart over the past two years, and now she didn’t know if she would see him alive again.
If she had one last moment with him, there were too many words to speak. Too many things she’d locked away in her heart for far too long.
Her palm pressed against the tree bark. Though Alex couldn’t see her, she kept her gaze fixed upon him, as if she could memorise his face and hold it for ever.
A fiery pain blasted through her right side. Laren’s knees buckled beneath her and she gasped in shock at the arrow embedded within her skin.
The searing agony stunned her and she could barely keep her senses about her. Though it was a shallow wound, piercing the soft skin sideways, near her ribs, she’d not realised how close she was to the battle.
She forced herself to snap off the feathered end, sliding the arrow free of the wound. Blood poured from her side and she pressed her dark cloak against the flow, fighting the dizziness.
You have to go back to your girls, her mind warned. She couldn’t stay, no matter how much she feared for Alex’s life. One of them had to live, to take care of their daughters.
It wrenched her apart, having to choose between her husband and her children, but she forced herself to continue. If the English gained the victory, they would come looking for the survivors. Her daughters needed her and she had to protect them.
She struggled up to the top of the ridge. Each step sent another wave of pain raging through her side, but she ignored the wound, hiding it beneath her dark cloak. There would be time to tend it later.
When she reached the girls, her elder daughter threw her arms around her waist, weeping. At the ages of four and not quite two, Mairin and Adaira weren’t old enough to understand what was happening. Laren caught her breath, keeping Mairin’s hands away from the injury while she spoke soft, reassuring words.
‘Where is Da?’ her daughter demanded. ‘Is he safe?’
‘I don’t know.’ Laren’s throat tightened with fear, her eyes burning. ‘But we have to wait here for him, away from the soldiers.’
‘I’m afraid,’ her daughter sobbed.
Laren brushed a kiss against Mairin’s forehead. So am I.
The earth trembled as dozens of horsemen surrounded their army on both sides. Robert Fitzroy, the Baron of Harkirk, watched in fury as more of the Scots poured in, reinforced by the French. His hand tightened upon the hilt of his sword and he wanted nothing more than to bathe his weapon in their blood.
The MacKinlochs were supposed to die this day. Hadn’t he burned their fortress to the ground, slaughtering their kinsmen? He’d already planned to set up an outpost here, to secure more land for King Edward Plantagenet, but he could see his victory fading away like smoke.
‘Pull back!’ he ordered and his soldiers obeyed. Though it splintered his pride, he hadn’t survived half-a-dozen battles by making foolish decisions that would endanger his neck.
As they retreated into the hills, Harkirk cast a backwards glance. This wasn’t over. Not by half.
He vowed that the next time he looked upon the face of a MacKinloch, it would be mounted upon a pike outside his gates.
It took a quarter of an hour to reach the ridge and Alex helped his brother up to the top of the hill. Nairna looked worried, for although they had survived with only minor injuries, traces of battle madness lurked within her husband’s face. But Alex felt certain that once they brought Bram home, his brother would make a full recovery.
When they reached the clearing, the first glimpse of Laren sent a roaring breath of relief back through Alex’s lungs. The instinct pulled at him, to go to her. He needed to hold his wife and breathe in the scent of her skin, touching her soft red hair.
Laren started to take a step towards him, but she abruptly stopped, her face ashen. Her hand pressed to her side and then she turned her attention to their girls. Their clansmen were watching, and at their sudden attention she shrank back.
He couldn’t understand why. Aye, they’d grown apart over the past two years, but was it so much to ask that she show him a grain of affection? That she could welcome him back into her arms? The pain in her eyes bothered him, for he didn’t understand it. Wasn’t she glad to see him alive?
Though Mairin and Adaira called out, Laren bent and spoke quietly, as if to prevent them from running to him. Adaira clutched Laren’s leg, burying her face in her mother’s skirts.
A thousand moments passed by in a single second. Pride froze out the aching emotions, and Alex stared back at his wife, wishing she would meet him halfway. But she merely gave him a nod and moved away with the girls, unable to face him.
Something was wrong. She’d closed herself off from him and he didn’t know why. His hand tightened on the door frame and he forced himself to look after Bram. ‘Will you be all right with him?’ Alex asked Nairna, who had helped her husband to sit upon their bed.
‘Aye.’ She poured water into a basin
