Seduced by Her Highland Warrior

by Michelle Willingham

  Laren took a deep breath, wiping the tears away. For now, she had to bring the girls to Ross’s home for shelter.

  ‘Why are you crying, Mama?’ Mairin asked, coming to her side. ‘Are you sad?’

  ‘I’m just tired,’ she lied. She had to hold herself together right now. Alex would be busy sorting out places for the rest of the clan to live; likely he wouldn’t join them until later tonight.

  ‘Da!’ Mairin shouted, breaking free of her. Laren turned and saw Alex striding towards them. Her heart sank, for he looked furious. Instinctively, her hand went back to her wound, pressing against the flow of blood.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded, raising up his hands. Upon them, she saw her own blood.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘I’ll be all right.’ To the girls she said, ‘Mairin, I want to talk to your father for a moment. Take Adaira down to the bottom of the hill and wait for us.’

  Her daughter paled at the sight of Alex’s face and didn’t argue, retreating with her sister.

  ‘What happened?’ he demanded.

  ‘It was just an arrow. It pierced the skin here…’ she pointed to her bleeding side ‘…but it’s only a small wound. I’ll have Vanora help me with it.’

  ‘Were you trying to hide it from me?’ In his voice, she heard traces of fear, mingled with his anger.

  ‘You had too much on your mind and I didn’t want to be a bother, not when it’s something so minor.’

  ‘You were shot with an arrow, Laren. Why in the name of God would you think I wouldn’t want to bother with that?’

  The fury on his face was like nothing she’d ever seen before. She kept her face averted, not knowing how to soften it. ‘The girls have lost enough this day, without having to be afraid for me.’

  ‘And what about you?’ he demanded, his voice falling into a harsh whisper. He reached to cup her face and Laren instinctively drew back. If he touched her right now, the control over her feelings was going to shatter. She could steel herself against his anger, but not his kindness.

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ she managed. She started to walk away, but when she glanced back at him, there was disbelief mingled with his frustration. He followed her and when they reached the girls at the bottom of the hill, he bent down to lift Mairin into his arms. He gave her a tight hug as he examined her; then he turned to Adaira, lifting her into his other arm.

  He loved their girls. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d lay down his life for them. With Mairin and Adaira, he softened, letting them see a father who cared about more than their welfare. And, in return, they adored him.

  ‘Are you well?’ he asked the girls. ‘You’re not hurt, are you?’ He inspected them and then his gaze moved to her, as if in accusation.

  Laren met his eyes and pronounced, ‘They’re all right.’ But although her husband had muted his anger in front of the girls, she sensed it simmering beneath the surface.

  Adaira started to fuss, reaching towards her. When Laren stretched to take her, Alex held their daughter tight. ‘Stay with me, sweet.’

  She was grateful for it, for she didn’t think she could bear the weight of Adaira, not with the wound.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ Alex asked, reaching into his pouch for some dried meat. The girls each took a piece and started gnawing on the venison. Though he offered her a piece, Laren refused it. The very thought of food made her ill.

  He set Mairin down, keeping her hand in his as they moved to the far side of the fortress.

  At the sight of Glen Arrin, Laren’s face turned grim. The keep was a burned mass of wood and hot coals, the dark smoke rising from the damaged structure. Every possession she had, save the clothes on her back, had been in the keep. The tapestries she’d woven, the girls’ gowns. The bed that Alex had made for them when they were first married. The tears broke free again, despite Laren’s efforts to stop them.

  ‘What will we do?’ she asked her husband, knowing that his pain was as deep as her own.

  His emotions remained tight, his jaw clenched at the sight of the ruins. ‘Bury the dead. And start again.’

  Alex led them to Ross’s house and ensured that it was safe before he allowed the girls to enter the small thatched dwelling. He remained outside and Laren couldn’t read the emotions in his stare. Without asking, he pulled back her dark cloak. The blood had soaked through the woolen gown she wore and he ordered her, ‘Don’t move. Vanora!’ he called out, hurrying toward the matron who was approaching from the hillside. ‘Laren was hurt. We need your help.’

  The older woman hastened to reach her side and when Alex pulled back the cloak again, Laren’s cheeks flushed. Though she’d planned to ask Vanora for her help anyway, Alex was behaving as if the injury were life-threatening.

  ‘Oh, my dear, what happened to you?’ Vanora clucked and fussed over her, and Alex stepped back to let her examine the wound.

  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ Laren said quietly when the woman went to fetch her needle and linen to bind the wound.

  The blistering look in Alex’s eyes told her that he didn’t believe a word she was saying. He was making her nervous with the way he hovered over her. ‘You should go and look after the others,’ she suggested. ‘The clan will need you to guide them now.’

  He ignored her, his gaze fixated upon her blood. ‘I’m not leaving you when you’re hurt.’

  ‘Please, Alex,’ she whispered again, ‘it’s truly nothing to worry about.’ She was holding back her pain by a thread and she didn’t want to show weakness in front of him. Swallowing hard, she added, ‘The clan needs you now.’

  ‘And you don’t?’

  There was a bitterness behind his words that she didn’t understand. When she tried to take a step towards him, he stiffened. ‘If you want me to leave, then so be it.’

  Between them, the cool distance seemed to magnify. Vanora waited in the doorway, but Laren didn’t want to go inside just yet. She wanted to ease his mood, to make him understand that she wasn’t trying to push him away.

  Though he’d already left, she struggled to catch up with him. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to Glen Arrin.’ The words were inadequate and they didn’t begin to touch the way she was feeling now.

  He spun, advancing upon her. ‘I couldn’t give a damn about Glen Arrin right now. You were shot and tried to hide it from me.’

  Laren took a step back, not at all sure of how to respond. Alex caught her shoulders before she could retreat, drawing her to face him. She didn’t want to bear the brunt of his anger, not when she was hurting so badly. But when she finally risked a look in his eyes, she saw the raw fear.

  ‘You could have died today,’ he said. ‘And you think I’m worried about a pile of burned wood and ashes?’ He raked a hand through his hair, struggling to push away his temper.

  She didn’t move, couldn’t speak. Beneath his choked anger was a man who cared about her. The realisation seemed to cut off the air in her lungs, for she hadn’t known it. Over the past few years, their marriage had deteriorated until now she rarely saw him during the day or even at night. Being together had become a habit instead of a necessity.

  ‘I’m all right,’ she whispered.

  ‘Are you?’ His stare was harsh, disbelieving.

  Her cheeks were wet and she didn’t know what to say or do. It was then that she noticed a reddish stain seeping from her husband’s sleeve. From the hardened look on his face, it had to be hurting him, yet he’d said nothing at all. Neither of them was willing to admit to injury, she thought, with irony.

  ‘What about you?’ she ventured. ‘Do you want me to look at your arm?’

  ‘No. See to the girls and their needs.’

  Not mine. She heard his unspoken words and they cut her heart a little deeper. Once, he’d have let her touch him, and though she wasn’t the most experienced healer, he’d have submitted to her ministrations. No longer, it seemed.

  Laren moved closer. She wanted to tell him that she would stand b
y him through this catastrophe. She wanted to reach out, to let him know that she still cared.

  He looked back at her and in his eyes she saw the magnitude of his loss. She knew that he wouldn’t come home until late at night, after she was already asleep. Though she wanted to hold him, to rest her head against his chest, he had other, more important duties as the chief.

  A hard lump gathered in her throat, but he lowered his head and turned away from her.

  The selfish part of her heart wished he’d chosen to stay.

  Alex walked across the fortress, his mind caught in a fog of helplessness. The scent of smoke permeated the air, choking his lungs. But even as he approached his brothers, he couldn’t stop thinking of Laren.

  Confusion and anger collided inside him, along with a heavy fear. The arrow could have pierced a vital organ, spilling her life blood. The thought shook him deeply, for although he’d grown distant from his wife, he didn’t want to lose her.

  It felt as though he’d been clubbed in the stomach. She hadn’t wanted him to stay or to help her. But why?

  ‘Are you all right?’ came his brother Dougal’s voice. ‘I thought you might want help.’ Only ten and four, Dougal had never witnessed a battle like this before—only cattle raids and clan skirmishes. There was a new maturity in his brother’s eyes, along with a sadness that mirrored his own.

  Alex nodded, grateful for the distraction. ‘We should bury the dead.’

  Within minutes, they were joined by their other brother Callum, who had recently been freed as a prisoner of war. Callum hadn’t spoken a single word, not since his release.

  Alex bent down and picked up one of the bodies. His brothers helped and they began the gruesome task of gathering up the fallen. The faces of friends and kinsmen haunted him; he wished he could have done something more to protect his clan. But he revealed none of his grief to his brothers, keeping his expression guarded.

  He seized a torch and a shovel, taking them outside the fortress. He chose a spot where the ground was soft and balanced the torch within a pile of heavy stones. He adjusted the makeshift bandage on his arm, so it wouldn’t bleed while he worked. Though it had grown dark, the three of them began digging a burial pit. The backbreaking work was what he needed right now to distract him from the sense of overwhelming loss.

  He was the chief of the MacKinlochs. They would look to him to make the decisions, to know what should be done next.

  You were never meant to be leader, an inner voice taunted him. His father Tavin had chosen Bram to be his successor. As the second-born, Alex had listened on the outskirts, drinking in all the knowledge, never dreaming that he would have to use it.

  He’d made a thousand mistakes in the early years. But he’d learned from them, and never once had he revealed his frustrations…not to his kinsmen, and not to Laren. It was easier to pretend that all was well, for they needed a leader of strength. The men had come to trust him, knowing that they could bring their troubles and he would find the answers they needed.

  He swore he’d find a way to rebuild what had been lost. Somehow.

  Over the next hour, he worked with Callum and Dougal at his side. Having his brothers with him brought him a slight reassurance. Even if their lives had fallen apart, their keep lying in ashes, at least they were together.

  Once the pit was finished, they buried the men and spoke a prayer for their souls. ‘Do you have a place to sleep tonight?’ Alex asked his brothers.

  Callum nodded and pointed to one of the other houses that had been untouched by fire. Dougal joined with his brother and added, ‘Bram offered, but he and Nairna—’ His words broke off, his ears turning crimson. Alex could guess that the two young men had no desire to dwell with a husband and wife who were trying to start a family.

  ‘Walter has no wife and he offered to let us stay in his home,’ Dougal finished.

  Since everyone had a place for shelter, Alex picked up the torch. ‘Get some sleep while you can. We’ll start again in the morning.’

  They walked back to the fortress and Alex glanced up at the clear skies. Stars gleamed against the midnight blackness and there were a few hours before dawn. The faint scent of peat mingled with the night air, a familiar aroma that welcomed him towards Ross’s home. When he opened the door, he saw his friend and Vanora sleeping on the opposite end. Laren rested upon a pallet, the two girls in her arms. A bandage was wrapped across her side and he couldn’t see her face.

  Alex stretched out on his side behind her, studying his wife as she slept. Her red hair hung over her shoulder and she slept in the gown she’d worn all day. She’d removed her cloak and spread it over the girls as a blanket. Even in sleep, she guarded and protected their daughters. She’d always been a good mother to them.

  He reached for a strand of her hair, curling the silken lock over his hand. Laren stirred in her sleep, moving restlessly.

  ‘It’s just me,’ he murmured. He released her hair, his hand clenching into a fist.

  She finally did roll on to her back. In the dim moonlight he spied the gleam of tears on her cheeks. From the tension in her posture, he saw that she was trying to brave her way through the pain.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m all right.’ She kept her voice low, so as not to wake the children. But when she turned back to her left side, it occurred to him that their polite, quiet marriage had shifted on to unstable ground.

  The arrow might well have pierced his own flesh, awakening him to the reality that his wife didn’t confide in him any more. If she felt unable to reveal a wound, what other secrets had she kept?

  Laren disappeared each day for hours on end, never telling him where she was going or what she was doing. A tightness clenched his throat, for he’d never asked her. He’d been so busy worrying about the keep and its occupants, he’d forgotten about his wife. At the time, he’d believed he was merely giving her the freedom to come and go as she pleased, not wanting to make demands of her.

  Perhaps at a deeper level, he hadn’t wanted to know why she was leaving, for fear that she wanted to avoid being with him.

  He stared up at the ceiling of Ross’s home, knowing he wouldn’t find sleep this night. It had taken a single arrow to crack his illusions apart. They didn’t have a true marriage any more, only the barest shadow.

  In the darkness, he rolled over to watch his wife trying to sleep. He couldn’t imagine a life without her in it.

  He just didn’t know what he had to do to get her back.

  Chapter Two

  In the early morning Laren opened her eyes and saw Alex watching her. His eyes were heavy, as though he hadn’t slept at all. ‘How are you this morn?’ he asked.

  ‘Tired,’ she admitted, gingerly easing to a seated position so as not to tear the stitches. The wound was a dull ache now, the pain worse than yesterday.

  ‘I want to see your wound.’ Though his words were spoken quietly so as not to awaken their daughters, she detected an edge to his voice.

  Laren pulled apart the dress seam they’d cut last night, removing the bloodstained linen she’d slept with. Alex stared at the wound, his hand moving forwards, but he stopped shy of touching her.

  ‘You’re staying inside with the girls today. I don’t want you anywhere near the ruins, not when you’re hurt.’

  ‘It wasn’t a mortal wound, Alex,’ she reminded him, feeling like a petulant child daring to argue with her parent. She bound up the wound again, adding, ‘There’s much to do and the girls and I will help where we can.’

  Vanora came forward with Ross, and Alex turned to her. ‘See to it that Laren rests and doesn’t tear the stitches.’

  He was talking about her as though she weren’t sitting in front of him. Frustration and resentment brewed inside her, but Laren held silent. The wound had torn her flesh in two places, but the stitches held it together and it wasn’t too deep. Yet there was no sense in arguing with him, not when he was in no mood to listen.

  Soon enough, Alex left
the house, not even bothering to break his fast. It was clear that his mind was focused on all of the work to be done. Ross joined him, the two men going off to survey the damage.

  Vanora approached her, after the men were gone. ‘I’ve made you a poultice,’ she offered. ‘We’ll wrap it against your wound and it should be healed in a few more days.’

  ‘I’m not staying inside when there’s so much to do.’ The members of their clan would spend the entire day repairing what damage they could. She didn’t want them to resent her by remaining absent.

  ‘I agree with you,’ Vanora said. ‘There’s no point in sitting inside with all there is to do.’ She unwrapped Laren’s wound, packing the herbs against her raw flesh.

  ‘Mama, does it hurt?’ Mairin asked, her face worried when she saw the bandage.

  ‘Not really,’ Laren said, pressing a kiss onto her daughter’s forehead. ‘Vanora has some oat cakes for you if you’re hungry.’ With the distraction of food, her daughter scrambled away.

  ‘She reminds me of my daughter Nessa when she was younger,’ Vanora sighed. ‘I do miss her, now that she’s gone back to Locharr.’ With a glance to Laren, she added, ‘But I’m glad she wasn’t here when we were attacked.’ She reached out and gave the baby a warm hug.

  Adaira toddled towards Laren, her baby lips puckered. ‘Kiss, Mama.’ Though she was not quite two years old, she alternated between wanting to cling to Laren’s legs or demanding that she do everything by herself.

  Laren leaned down and pressed her mouth against the baby’s, feeling the sweetness of innocent affection. ‘Go with your sister, sweeting.’ To Mairin, she directed, ‘Get Adaira a cake to eat.’