‘Your glass windows will be the envy of every priest in the Highlands.’
‘And what if it’s not good enough?’ Laren looked dismayed when Nairna gently took the glass from her.
‘Your glass will inspire the monks,’ Lady Marguerite insisted. ‘It deserves to be part of the abbey.’
Although Laren still appeared unconvinced, Nairna hid the leather package within her cloak and went to where Dougal was waiting.
‘Can you be back by nightfall?’ she demanded.
‘Easily.’ The young man looked irritated that she’d even asked such a question. ‘It’s not that far to the parish.’
Nairna passed him the wrapped window, hoping that her plan would work. ‘Demand seventy pennies, and when he offers twenty, take the glass and start to ride away. He’ll come up in his offer after that.’ She drilled into Dougal the right asking price, inwardly praying that he wouldn’t come home with the wrong amount.
‘I’ll bring it back,’ he promised.
‘If I can rely on you, you can have the foal that my mare Anteria is carrying, after it’s born.’
Dougal brightened and she suspected he would move the sky above them in order to sell the glass. ‘By nightfall,’ he repeated.
‘Don’t let it break,’ Laren pleaded. And when he’d gone, she looked as if she wanted to chase after him and snatch it back. ‘It will be all right, won’t it?’
‘The abbot will want more after he’s seen this one,’ Nairna predicted. ‘Can you make them?’
‘Of course.’
Laren’s shoulders lowered and Nairna stopped to link arms. ‘Don’t be afraid. You have talent and I believe in you.’
The woman offered a faint smile, though she still appeared nervous. ‘I hope he gets a good price for it.’
Marguerite took Laren’s other arm in a show of support. ‘He will.’
The house was now finished, and Bram stood back to look at it. Though it was well after dark, the men had lit torches, working together until the last segment of thatch covered the roof.
Tonight he would sleep beneath his own roof, with his wife. He’d even constructed a bed frame for Nairna and Alex had arranged for the mattress to be brought from the grain hut.
She might not want to be anywhere near him, after what he’d confessed about Callum. When he stared at the bed, he half-wondered if he’d be sleeping on the floor.
The slight noise of women approaching made him turn. Bram saw Laren and her daughters, along with Lady Marguerite and Nairna. When his wife drew closer, he stilled at the sight of her.
She wore a kirtle and matching surcoat of green silk embroidered with pearls. Her dark hair was braided back from her face, with a few long strands covering her shoulders. A small embroidered cap covered her hair with a trailing veil. The gown was one he’d never seen before—it clung to her body, outlining every curve. Her breasts filled up the fabric, and he could see the plump outline of them within the silk.
She was wearing one of Lady Marguerite’s gowns; he was sure of it. And though it pleased him that she’d made an effort to cast aside one of the shapeless, grey gowns she usually wore, it bothered him that she didn’t have a gown of her own of that quality.
‘Nairna,’ he greeted her.
She moved towards him slowly, with her dog trailing her. In her hands she held a drinking horn. Her lips parted and her green eyes were soft in the firelit torches. Bram tried to take the horn from her, but she refused to let go. Instead, she opened it for him, lifting it to his mouth as she offered him a drink.
The ale was cool, as if it had been kept underground. After the day’s hard labour, nothing could have tasted sweeter. She let him drink his fill; when he’d had enough, she took the horn away.
‘Do you like your house?’ he asked.
She nodded, raising her eyes to look at the new structure. ‘I’m glad they were able to finish it tonight.’ Then she sent him a slight smile, before leaving him to stare at the sway of her hips as she returned to the others.
The way she spoke made him wonder if she had plans for this night. His thoughts filled up with ideas of everything he wanted to do to his wife beneath their own roof. The memory of the taste of her skin, the soft sighs she made when he touched her, was enough to send his desire raging.
The women opened up the bundles of food to share, but Nairna didn’t join him. Instead, she stood at a distance, watching him from the shadows. He ate the venison stew that was passed around; although it tasted delicious, his attention was centred upon Nairna.
She moved among the others, thanking each of the men for their labour on the house. A few of them sent her smiles that were a little too friendly, and Bram stood up, joining her. He shadowed her, letting the other MacKinlochs know that Nairna was his. Possessive, aye, but they didn’t need to be staring at his wife.
‘What are you doing, Bram?’ she asked, after she’d spoken to the last person.
‘Protecting you.’
She raised an eyebrow at him, but he took her hand anyway. ‘I hardly think that’s necessary.’
‘They’re going to leave us,’ he said darkly. ‘As soon as they’ve finished eating.’
Nairna gave a faint shrug. ‘Did you see Dougal among the others?’ Though she kept her tone casual, he caught a note of worry in her voice.
‘No.’ Bram had been so busy with the building, he hadn’t really thought about Dougal. But his brother should have been there. ‘And why would you be so concerned about him?’
‘No reason.’ She shrugged, but her eyes were searching. They settled upon Laren, who also looked uneasy.
They were hiding something, and he didn’t like secrets being kept from him. ‘Nairna, what is this about? Where is my brother?’
Nairna sat down upon a tree stump, beckoning for her dog Caen to approach. The animal trotted forwards, settling at her feet like a faithful shadow. Bram recognised it as the distraction it was meant to be. He covered her hand with his own, upon the dog’s head.
‘Nairna, tell me.’ It was a demand, not a request.
‘He—he went to Inveriston.’ She scratched Caen’s ears, and the dog rolled onto his back, licking at her hand. ‘Several hours ago.’
‘Alone?’
She nodded, clutching her hands together. ‘He said he could be there within an hour. He knew where it was and promised to be back by nightfall.’
Bram released a stream of expletives. What in the name of God had she been thinking?
‘He’s four and ten, Nairna. Not a man. And he’s certainly not old enough to go anywhere alone.’ Bram stood up, his fury threatening to spill over. By God, he wasn’t about
