Seduced by Her Highland Warrior (19 page)

‘Callum?' she called out.

Within seconds, the young man emerged from the trees, his bow gripped in his palm. Laren crossed the space, embracing him. He appeared startled by her appearance and pointed to Sion, a question in his eyes.

‘We brought reinforcements,' she told him. ‘Lord Locharr has several of his men, and I've recruited more fighters.' She introduced him to Sion and asked, ‘Where is Alex?'

Callum pointed to the fortress below and her nerves tightened. ‘And the others?'

He spread out his hands, gesturing that they had surrounded the fortress.

‘Will you lead the other soldiers to join with Alex?' she whispered. ‘He'll need them.'

Callum hesitated, reaching out and pointing to her.

‘I'll be all right,' she whispered. ‘It's dark and no one will see me here. I'll stay out of the way.'

He brought her to sit down and built a low fire behind a small pile of stones. Her heart softened at his kindness. When the flames offered a warmth, she removed her gloves and held out her hands before the heat.

Callum set his hand upon her shoulder and motioned that he would take Sion and the others below. Then he pointed to himself and to her.

‘You don't have to return for me,' she said. ‘I know you want to join them.'

His expression grew tight and he shook his head. It was then that she noticed something gripped in his other hand. Laren reached out and gently opened his palm. Inside, she saw a blue silken ribbon.

‘This was Lady Marguerite's, wasn't it?' she asked.

He gave a single nod, curling his fingers around it once more. The stony resignation on his face was of a man who knew he could never have the woman he wanted. As the third son, he had nothing to call his own. Never could he marry the daughter of a Duke, no matter what his heart wanted.

Laren's throat ached, for she knew exactly how he felt. She'd believed herself beneath Alex for so long, that being with him seemed an impossibility. Their worlds were so far apart…and yet he had never cared about her family's poverty, not the way she had.

As she stared at Harkirk's stronghold, she thought of how hard Alex had worked for Glen Arrin. He believed it was worth rebuilding. He'd seen beyond the ruins, knowing
that it could be something beautiful beneath the desolate exterior.

The way he'd seen beneath her family's circumstances, fighting for her.

He loves me,
she realised. And she'd hidden herself from the people, never believing she was worthy of his love.

But I am worthy,
she thought. A strong resolution flooded through her, for she wasn't going to let Alex die. Not while she breathed.

A new truth had surfaced, while she'd gone to visit the clans. Being Lady of Glen Arrin wasn't about giving orders to the people or putting on a false confidence. It was about taking care of her loved ones. It was something she'd always known how to do. Something that had always been inside of her.

The clan needed Alex, just as she did. And she wouldn't hesitate to fight for the man she loved.

She reached out to Callum and curled his fingers over the ribbon once more. ‘Marguerite cares for you,' she told him. ‘Find her, when this is over. Tell her what's in your heart.'

A look of regret crossed his face and he shook his head. With one finger, he touched his lips, reminding her that he'd lost the ability to speak.

‘That doesn't matter to her and you know it.' She reached out and took his hand in hers. ‘You're hurting by being apart from Marguerite, aren't you?' She offered him a tentative smile. ‘Surely she would find it romantic if you were to steal her away, taking her back with you.'

Callum sent her a look of disbelief, before drawing a line across his throat.

‘Aye, her father might kill you.' She sent him a wide smile. ‘But you'd die a happy man.'

A guttural laugh broke forth from Callum. The unexpected sound took her aback and he touched his throat as though he couldn't believe it had come out.

‘You'll speak again,' Laren predicted. ‘And I think you'll have a stronger reason to, if you find her.'

Callum met her gaze. In his eyes, she saw the mirror of the person she had been before. Someone who didn't believe it was possible to be loved.

He took her hand and pressed the ribbon into it. A moment later, he disappeared into the darkness, with Sion at his side.

L
aren jerked to her feet when she heard footsteps approaching. Though she couldn't see who was there, it wasn't Alex or one of the others. She hid herself within the trees, crouching low behind a bush. Within seconds, she heard the sound of dirt poured upon her fire. Darkness blinded her and her pulse tightened.

‘I know you're there,' came a whispered voice. ‘But you shouldn't have lit a fire. They'll see it from the fortress.'

Laren didn't speak, not knowing if it was a trap of some sort. Her fingers curled around a tree and it took several moments for her eyes to adjust. The scent of ashes cloaked the atmosphere, a cloying odour that heightened her fear.

When a hand touched her shoulder, she let out a shriek. A boy stood in front of her, older than Mairin, but not yet an adolescent. His hair was ragged against his neck and he wore warm clothing against the cold. ‘You have to come with me. She wouldn't want you here alone.'

‘She?'

‘Lady Harkirk.'

Laren didn't trust any Harkirk, Lady or not. But what was a child doing alone in the hills?

‘Is she your mother?'

‘No. Come.' He took Laren by the hand. ‘They can see your fire from the fortress. I'll bring you to another shelter where you'll be safe.'

‘I have to wait here,' Laren argued. She pulled her hand free. Although it was growing colder without a fire, she could huddle among the fallen leaves if she had to. Then another alarming thought occurred to her. ‘Does Lady Harkirk know that I am here?'

The boy shook his head. ‘I came on my own. I wanted to see what the fire was.'

‘Who are you?' Laren asked. ‘You're not English. Are you one of Harkirk's prisoners?'

The child shrugged. ‘Not any more. She helped me to hide.'

Given the boy's age, Laren was glad of it. No young child should be forced to labour alongside adults. ‘Where do you live, then? Where are your parents?'

The boy didn't answer and Laren suspected they were dead. When the child started to disappear into the trees, she called out, ‘Wait. Don't go, yet.'

‘I have to leave. If you come with me, I promise you'll be safe. But the soldiers are coming. They saw your fire.'

Laren didn't know what to do. Although she'd believed that the fire Callum had built would not be visible from behind the stones, clearly the boy had seen it. If he'd found her, the soldiers could, too.

‘Where are you going?' she asked, following the boy into the trees.

‘Come with me and I'll show you.'

Another thought occurred to her, one that deepened
her fear. ‘Did you…see any other children at Harkirk's fortress? A young girl, almost two years of age?'

The boy nodded. ‘Lady Harkirk has her. She's taking care of her.'

All the blood seemed to rush to her head and Laren leaned up against a tree. Thank God. Adaira was alive. Hot tears rushed to her eyes, and she admitted, ‘The child is my daughter. I need to bring her back. Is she inside the fortress?'

‘She is.' The boy offered his hand to her. ‘If you come with me, I'll take you to my shelter. Lady Harkirk will come in the morning and you can ask her about your daughter.' There was a slight note of regret in the boy's voice, as if he were thinking of his own family.

Laren hesitated, torn between obeying Alex and learning more about Adaira. The night air was growing colder and she knew the dangers of sleeping without a fire to keep warm. The lack of shelter would make it a painful night.

‘I'll go with you,' she agreed at last. If there was any chance of learning about Adaira, she had to take it. ‘But I'll need to return before morning.' She didn't know if Alex would return, but she wanted to be there if he did.

The boy held out his hand and she followed him down the hillside.

 

‘You,' ordered a voice. ‘Take your spear and join the others.' The captain gestured towards a group of a half-dozen men who were leaving the fortress.

Alex waited for further information and the English soldier added, ‘One of the men saw a fire on the hillside. Find out who was trespassing.'

He bowed his head, letting nothing betray his features. Would Callum have been foolish enough to light a fire?
Aye, it was freezing outside, but he couldn't think of any reason why his brother would do such a thing. Unless it was meant as a signal of some sort.

Inwardly, he cursed, reaching for a torch. Since he was dressed in chainmail, Callum wouldn't know it was him in the darkness. His brother might unleash a storm of arrows before they ever reached the hillside.

‘You won't be needing that,' one of the others said, seizing the torch from his grasp.

Alex thought about arguing, but then reconsidered. He needed to maintain the disguise for now. Better to drop back and disappear into the trees as soon as he had the chance.

The men travelled in pairs and Alex made certain he was in the last group. When he started to move away, the soldier on his right followed. ‘Where are you going?'

‘I thought I heard a noise coming from this side,' Alex said. ‘I'll go and have a look.'

‘We stay together,' the man argued. ‘It's safer.'

But when Callum's arrow struck the first soldier, Alex tore off his helmet and ran out of his brother's range. The wind was bitter, ripping through his skin with the cold. He dived for cover and hurriedly stripped off the chainmail armour, wearing only his trews and a light tunic.

It was freezing outside, but he bit back the discomfort and kept to the trees as the soldiers charged forwards.

‘Callum, hold your arrows!' he shouted in Gaelic, letting his brother hear his voice. The arrows stopped abruptly, and Alex suddenly realised that his brother was nowhere near the camp where he'd left him.

The remaining two soldiers retreated back to the fortress, and it wouldn't take long before they gathered more
men. He needed to get his brother out of there, before anyone found him.

Callum appeared through the trees, another clansman at his side.

‘Who is that?' Alex demanded.

‘I am Sion MacKinnon,' the clansman answered. ‘Your wife recruited us to fight after talking to Lord Locharr. There are others from the surrounding clans as well. About three dozen.' He gestured towards the trees, and Alex spied a few of them, spread out on both sides.

His wife? Alex stared blankly, not understanding. Laren had gone to seek help for them?

‘She paid them in silver and gave Lord Locharr one of her glass windows, in exchange for our service,' MacKinnon continued.

He couldn't even think of what to say, he was so stunned that she would venture out of Glen Arrin, much less speak to the clan chiefs. ‘Are they all here?'

‘No. Some are waiting a mile from here. We wanted to attack with several groups on all sides.'

‘Where is Laren now?' Alex demanded, hoping to God the man would say that she'd remained at Glen Arrin.

But his brother Callum turned and pointed to the hillside, where the fire had been burning earlier.

‘You left her there alone?' Fury poured through Alex and he reached for his brother, wanting to choke him for letting her stay. Callum unsheathed his dirk and held it out with a warning look. He held a finger to his lips. Then he pointed towards the fortress, reminding Alex that the soldiers were going to return.

‘Help me find her,' Alex commanded, and Callum sheathed the knife again. To Sion, he ordered, ‘Go back and tell your men to join with ours, around the perimeter
of the fortress.' He gave instructions and the MacKinnon disappeared to obey.

Alex climbed up the hillside, searching for his wife. Callum led him to where he'd left Laren, but the fire was now cold. It was too dark to track her footprints and he called out to her in a harsh whisper, but there was no reply.

As he searched through the woods, with every moment that passed, his fear sharpened. He should have listened to his doubts, for now he might lose both Laren and their daughter.

And he couldn't live with himself if that happened.

 

Laren couldn't sleep, despite the straw pallet the boy had offered her. The wind blew through the crevices in the crude shelter. Made of stone and wood, it seemed that the boy had built it himself.

‘How long have you been here?' she asked, when she saw that he wasn't sleeping either.

‘I don't remember.' He huddled beneath an old woollen blanket, gathering the edges to keep warm.

‘You shouldn't stay here,' Laren said. ‘It's not any safer for you than it is for me.'

‘And where would I go? Everyone's dead,' he said, drawing up his knees. His voice held a quaver, as though he were holding back tears.

‘You could come back with me,' Laren offered. ‘Tell me how I can get Adaira back and I'll make sure you have a place to live.'

The boy lowered his head to his knees and, after a few minutes, Laren realised he was crying. She came up beside him and touched his ragged hair. ‘It will be all right. You'll see.' She whispered words of comfort to him, and in time, the child laid down on the pallet. She covered him with the
rough blanket and noticed that his features were softer than she'd originally noticed. He was so young, possibly only a few years older than Mairin. She wished she'd remembered to ask his name.

Laren closed her eyes for a moment and a shudder of dizziness swept through her. She'd forgotten to eat anything tonight and was ravenous. Her back ached and the terror that lay dormant suddenly roared to life.

I shouldn't have left Glen Arrin,
she thought to herself.
Alex will be so angry when he finds out.
But she'd believed that it was safe with so many clansmen to defend her. Now, she wasn't so certain. She lay down beside the boy and, in time, her physical exhaustion overcame the fear.

 

When she awakened in the morning, she saw an English noblewoman staring down at her.

‘Who are you?' the woman demanded in heavily accented Gaelic. Laren sat up slowly, but she didn't leave the boy's side. The woman was dressed in a burgundy samite gown trimmed with fur. Her gloved hands were slender and her brown hair was bound up in a golden barbette trimmed with rubies.

‘I am Laren MacKinloch,' she answered. ‘I suppose you must be Lady Harkirk.'

The woman nodded, but there was a shadow of unhappiness in her eyes. ‘You shouldn't have come here. It isn't safe.'

‘Lord Harkirk has my daughter prisoner. Where is she?'

‘If you're asking about the young baby, I left her with my maid,' Lady Harkirk answered. ‘She has red hair, like yours. Blue eyes?'

‘Adaira is her name.'

Lady Harkirk lowered her head and nodded. ‘My
husband is using her to lure the MacKinlochs here. After what happened a few months ago, he wants vengeance.'

‘I don't know if you have children of your own,' Laren said, ‘but my daughter is an innocent. And I will do whatever I have to, to get her back.'

‘It won't be easy.' Lady Harkirk risked a glance back at the fortress, then shivered.

The young boy yawned and stretched upon the straw pallet. Lady Harkirk pulled back her cloak and revealed a bag she'd brought with her. There was a small amount of food inside and Laren wanted to cry at the sight of it, she was so hungry. But the child needed the food and she said nothing, letting him take what he needed.

The boy devoured the meat, but he tore off a bit of a bread crust, handing it to Laren. ‘Here,' he offered.

She savoured the small crust, though it did little to take the edge off her hunger. It reminded her of the nights when she'd gone hungry with her sisters. Since she'd married Alex, food was never something they'd lacked.

Laren rose to her feet, but as soon as she stood, her legs buckled. The boy caught her before she hit the ground and she let out a curse, lowering her head between her knees.

‘You look pale,' the Lady said. ‘If I had more food, I'd—'

‘No. I need to find my husband.' Laren fought to remain conscious, angry with herself for the weakness of her pregnancy. She took slow, deep breaths, and then managed to face Lady Harkirk. ‘They're going to attack your fortress.' Laren stared at the woman, praying there was compassion within her. ‘If you can help me to get my daughter out, I can stop them from fighting.'

Lady Harkirk's expression grew bitter. ‘If my husband dies in battle, it would only be a blessing.' She returned
to the entrance of the shelter. ‘I'll do what I can to help you, but I can't bring your daughter out of the fortress. I've already risked too much, coming here alone.'

‘Bring her near the entrance, at nightfall,' Laren said. ‘We'll find a way to get her out.'

Lady Harkirk stared at her, then lowered her head. ‘No. I don't think I can. Not without him suspecting something.'

‘If my daughter dies—'

‘She won't,' the lady assured her. ‘I protected this one from harm.' She pointed towards the young boy, before she shivered and wrapped her cloak around her for more warmth. ‘I can't say how I'll manage it, but be ready to claim her at nightfall.'

Laren stood up and faced the Lady, eye to eye. ‘She's just a baby. And I won't lose her.'

Lady Harkirk took her hand. ‘I'll keep her safe.'

 

Alex's eyes were dry and raw from lack of sleep. He'd searched every last inch of the forest, but there was no sign of Laren anywhere.

Had she been taken when Callum had left her alone? If anything happened to her, he blamed himself. The thought of her falling into Harkirk's hands infuriated him.

‘If she's in that fortress, we'll find her.' Bram had returned early this morn, with the promise of aid from Nairna's father. He gripped Alex's arm in silent support. ‘We may as well assume she's there.'