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 love you,’ she whispered, her arms twining around his neck.
He lowered her down to the soft grass and she saw the moment when he regained control of his thoughts. Though his breathing was as staggered as her own, he rolled to his side, studying her.
‘I want you to be my wife, Laren.’
She tried not to let her feelings overshadow what needed to be said. Closing her eyes, she tried to find the right words.
‘Not until you return.’ She wanted to believe that he would love her enough, but she didn’t want him to later hold regrets.
‘Say you will,’ he urged again.
She leaned up to kiss him, distracting him with the physical desire that burned between them. It was easier not to think of losing him when his arms were around her.
‘You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted,’ she answered against his mouth. He took her mouth again, his hands moving over her shoulders, then he brought his palm over her breast.
He let it rest there, waiting to see what she would do. Her nipple rose with a fevered arousal and she felt an answering rush between her legs. She knew, if she allowed it, he would become her lover this night.
His thumb caressed the erect tip and she shifted her legs together at the aching sensation. Temptation warred with good sense and she captured his hand with hers.
‘When you return,’ she whispered. She could not surrender her innocence to him, not when he might be forced to wed another.
He sat up, leaning her body back against him. ‘I’ve brought you a gift to remember me by.’ In her palm, he pressed a small pouch.
Laren unwrapped the leather and poured out a handful of glass droplets. Vivid blue, green and red mingled with white, in a jewelled handful.
‘They’re beautiful,’ she breathed.
‘Father Nolan made them. They reminded me of the treasures I’d give to you, if I could.’
The cool glass warmed beneath her fingers and she held one up to examine it more closely.As she studied them, she wondered how they were made. She knew the priest used sand and fire, but no one dared to interrupt him while he was forging his magic.
Alex kissed her again, holding her close. Though she desired him,
