Free Seduced by Her Highland Warrior by Michelle Willingham Page B

brief shadow of uncertainty passed over his face. Though no one could fault his efforts, she knew, as he did, that the people didn’t want to rebuild the fortress in stone.
    â€˜We need to be safe from invasion,’ he continued. ‘And I think it’s time we sent Mairin and Adaira off to be fostered. We’ve waited too long already.’
    Her heart went cold, though she’d known the time would come. ‘Adaira is just a bairn.’
    â€˜Do you want them here if Harkirk attacks again? It’s too grave a risk.’ His hands tightened at his sides. ‘I don’t want them hurt.’
    She knew he was right, but the idea of sending her daughters away was like cutting off her arms. ‘They’re so young.’
    â€˜We could send them further north to the Orkney Islands,’ he offered. ‘My cousin and the Sinclairs would take them. They’d be safe from the English raids.’ His face darkened at the mention of their enemy. ‘This war isn’t over yet.’
    Laren could hardly see, for her eyes were blurred with tears. ‘I’d rather wait until the spring. The journey would be safer for them.’
    â€˜And what if we’re attacked in the meantime?’
    â€˜I want to spend these last few months with them.’
    â€˜You need to consider what’s best,’ he argued. ‘You’re thinking with your heart, not your head.’
    â€˜And what if I am?’ she shot back. ‘Why should I be so eager to send my girls away?’ Her stomach hurt at the thought of being so alone.
    â€˜Because you don’t want them to die.’ His voice was cold, with no sympathy at all.
    Laren said nothing, trying to blot away the searing memories. It had been almost three years now, but she hadn’t let herself grieve. She’d locked away the pain of her son, forcing herself to think of the children who were alive and needed her.
    â€˜In the spring,’ she repeated. ‘Let me have this last winter with the girls.’
    He let go of her hand. ‘I’ll make no promises. If there’s even a sign of danger, they go.’
    She supposed that was the best she could do. ‘All right.’ Glancing around, she said, ‘Do you want me to see about a meal for the men?’
    â€˜I think Nairna has already organised it.’
    When Laren looked over at her sister-in-law, she saw that Alex was right. The women were busy cutting up mutton, while others were starting to set up hearth fires for cooking.
    â€˜I’ll see what I can do to help them, then,’ she said, starting to move away from him.
    â€˜Laren,’ he interrupted. ‘Tonight, when I speak to the men, perhaps you could address the women. Hear their concerns and tell me what it is they’re thinking.’
    â€˜I can’t,’ she answered immediately.
    â€˜I’m not asking you to speak to them,’ he reiterated. ‘Only to hear them. I don’t think that’s too difficult.’
    In his eyes, she saw the fervent wish that she would suddenly cast off her shyness and become someone else. Someone strong, who didn’t hide herself away.
    She closed her eyes, wishing she had the strength to try.
    January, 1303
    The tiny body was cold and rigid within the grave. Her son, her beloved David, was gone.
    Laren couldn’t voice a single word. He’d been alive for only four days and it seemed impossible that he’d breathed his last.
    Hadn’t she felt his soft face against the curve of her breast? Hadn’t he cried until she’d comforted him, reassuring him of how much she loved him?
    Beside her, Alex was silent. The shock of their son’s death had been an ill omen, now that her husband was chief. It cast a shadow over them and she felt as though they were a thousand miles apart.
    Her body was weakened from giving birth, but she couldn’t bear to eat or drink. The numbing grief consumed her. Though Alex said