Highlanders Collection. Ann Lethbridge

all, his brother had married during Bram’s imprisonment.

      ‘Would you mind if I went to speak with Laren?’ she asked. ‘I’d like to meet her daughters.’

      ‘Go, if you like. But I’m not staying here much longer. You can meet me in the grain hut.’

      He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss upon her palm. The warmth of his breath made her flesh rise up and a ripple of anxiety flowed through her as she wondered if Bram would find her pleasing as a wife.

      Nairna followed the winding stairs to the second floor where there were only two chambers. Voices came from inside the first room and she listened a moment to the sounds of girls chattering.

      She pushed the door open slightly and saw two girls, one hardly more than four, and a chubby baby girl, perhaps a little over a year old. Each had hair as red as an autumn leaf, with sweet faces and bright blue eyes.

      A pang of envy struck Nairna hard, seeing the beautiful children. One day, she reminded herself. She had to hold faith that God would answer her prayers.

      Laren was brushing the older girl’s hair, while the child whined, ‘Mama, that hurts!’

      ‘Mairin, stand still and let me get the tangles out,’ Laren said. No longer did the chief’s wife appear timid and overwhelmed. Instead, she seemed relaxed and in command of her children.

      But as soon as she caught sight of Nairna, the brush stilled. ‘Was there something you needed?’

      ‘I wanted to meet your children,’ Nairna said, smiling at the girls. The youngest daughter ran over and grasped Laren’s skirts before burying her face to hide. Her wispy red hair stuck out around her ears in wild curls and Nairna had the urge to kiss the soft little cheeks.

      ‘This is Adaira.’ Laren extricated her daughter from her skirts. ‘Mairin is my eldest.’

      The child gave a slight curtsy, but looked suspicious. She strode forwards and studied Nairna. ‘I don’t like your gown.’

      ‘Mairin,’ her mother warned. ‘Don’t be rude.’

      Nairna pulled a stool over and sat down. ‘That’s all right. I don’t really like it, either, but I don’t have many gowns.’

      ‘Me, either.’ Mairin sighed. ‘I wish we’d gone away with the others.’

      ‘Why didn’t you?’ Though Nairna spoke to the young girl, her eyes met Laren’s.

      ‘Our da needs us,’ Mairin pronounced. ‘He’d cry if we left.’

      Laren’s face softened at her daughter’s prediction. ‘It’s time that both of you were in bed. Come now, and say good night.’

      She leaned down to kiss each of them and Nairna studied the gloves that Laren still wore. Though it was cold enough, true, she couldn’t imagine why the woman kept them on unless it was to hide something.

      As each child was tucked into bed, Laren sent Nairna a nod of dismissal.

      ‘Wait. I wanted to speak with you.’ If there were any answers to be had, the Lady of Glen Arrin would know them. ‘Please.’

      Reluctance coloured Laren’s expression, but she finally acquiesced. ‘For a moment.’ She led Nairna down the small corridor to the other chamber.

      Inside, a stunning tapestry hung from the walls. The bold colours were captivating and something about the design struck Nairna as unusual. It was a common scene of Saint John the Baptist, yet the colours were vibrant.

      ‘Did you make that?’ Nairna asked. It was artistry such as she’d never seen before. Worthy of hanging within a palace, if the truth be known.

      Laren nodded. ‘What did you wish to ask me?’ From her dull tone, it appeared that she was uncomfortable with having to converse.

      ‘Why did the women leave?’ Nairna asked.

      ‘Because of the English raids,’ Laren said. ‘Lady Grizel, Alex’s mother, led them to take refuge with Lord Locharr. There was too much fighting and she thought they would be safer there.’

      ‘And you chose not to go with them?’ Nairna prompted. Though it was only curiosity, she hadn’t expected the look of hurt that crossed Laren’s face.

      ‘They left without me. And for almost a sennight I didn’t know where they’d gone.’ Laren gripped her elbows, taking a breath. ‘I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to join them. But my chance is gone. Alex won’t ever let us leave.’

      ‘But the fighting has stopped, hasn’t it?’

      Laren’s expression tightened. ‘Oh, I’ve no doubt it will start up again. It always does.’ Murmuring a farewell, she returned to her girls.

      Nairna was left to wonder what she meant by that.

      Bram wasn’t inside the grain hut when she first arrived, but he returned within minutes. Nairna didn’t know if he’d spent the time talking with Alex, but his hair was wet, as though he’d washed in the stream. The dark strands hung against his neck, contrasting against his face.

      When he reached her, she saw that his beard had grown ragged. It appeared that he’d tried to cut it, but had failed to do a good job of it. Nairna reached out to touch his face. ‘Do you want me to shave you?’

      He hesitated, rubbing the rough surface. Then he nodded.

      ‘Let me get some warmed water,’ she offered. ‘Sit and wait a moment.’

      When she went to fetch the shaving soap and blade, she wondered if tonight would be the night when they consummated their marriage at last. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that there was no reason to be afraid. It was simply a matter of lying still, accepting his attentions and praying that their union would result in a child.

      But the more she thought of it, the more her nerves tightened. What if she didn’t please him? The other night, he’d stopped when she’d reacted badly to his touch.

      Stop worrying, she warned herself. It might be for nothing anyway. After all the training Bram had done earlier and the time he’d spent constructing the house foundation, he had to be exhausted. He might prefer to sleep instead.

      When she returned with the shaving supplies, Bram was sitting upon a large sack of grain. Weariness was evident in his lowered shoulders and in his eyes. She unwrapped the cloth bundle and when he stiffened at the sight of the sharp blade in her hand, she finally understood his reaction. The weapon disturbed him; no doubt it evoked memories of the soldier cutting his throat.

      ‘Do you trust me?’ she asked quietly, setting the blade down within reach.

      ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. A dangerous smile played at his mouth and Nairna wet a piece of linen in the hot water.

      ‘I’ll stop, any time you ask me to.’ She lifted the linen to his cheeks, wetting the surface. The faint wisps of steam rose against his face and she let the warmth penetrate his skin.

      ‘Close your eyes,’ she murmured. When Bram obeyed, she took the soap and lathered her hands, bringing them to his cheeks. Gently, she soaped his face, letting her fingers move across the beard and down his neck. It was strange that such a common touch evoked feelings inside her own body. It was as if she were touching herself instead of him.

      Though Bram kept his eyes closed, his hands moved around her waist, bringing her to stand between his knees. Nairna used the dagger to shave him, and at the first touch of the blade his thumbs dug into her side.

      Instinct still ruled his mind, so it seemed.

      ‘It’s all right,’ she whispered. ‘Just remain still.’

      He obeyed and she spoke of mindless matters while she shaved him, revealing the smooth masculine skin. She didn’t know if he even heard a word of it, but not once did he relax. His expression was grim, as