longer pained her.
Bram sent her a hard look. âIsnât Alex coming?â
âNo,â Laren answered, âbut he knows about the glass.â When he started to ask another question, Nairna broughther horse over and shook her head, speaking softly to her husband. Thankfully, Bram let it go and led the way toward Inveriston.
Â
All throughout the ride to the parish, Laren agonised over her conversation with Alex. Sheâd hoped that he would be surprised by the glass, even proud of her. Instead, heâd hardly said a word. The longer she thought about it, the more upset she became.
Sheâd poured her heart into the glass, giving it life with her breath. It was more than art. It was pieces of herself, destroyed by fire and born again into something beautiful.
Her hands clenched upon the reins of the horse, her cheeks growing colder from the wind. She wished they could go back to their life years ago, when they had lived with only each other. When they could close out the world and lie in each otherâs arms, content and whole.
She wanted him to love her the way he once had. When just being herself was enough for him.
Regardless of how far theyâd drifted, he was the man she wanted. She still loved him, even though heâd become so different. He spent so many hours away from her and the girls, only coming back after heâd traversed every inch of Glen Arrin and talked to every family.
Or had he done so because he didnât want to come home any more? Her head lowered. The wrenching pain of the marriage was pulling her heart in two.
She watched Nairna and Bram riding alongside one another. Though the couple didnât speak, their eyes met from time to time. Their love was strong, their happiness tangible. She wanted that back for her own marriage.
You have to be the wife Alex needs, her mind asserted. You have to be stronger and face the people.
She didnât know if she could cloak herself in confidence, becoming another woman. Or if it would mean giving up the glass she loved.
Laren stared at the green hills, watching the mist drift across the trees. Transient and light, the low clouds were hardly visible in the sunlight. The way she sometimes felt among the clan. They didnât see her or know her. The truth was, she wasnât at all happy at Glen Arrin, aside from the time she spent with her daughters or with her glass.
Perhaps she should try to befriend the other members of the clan, not for Alexâ¦but for herself. It might lessen the loneliness that she felt when he wasnât there.
Laren clutched the leather-wrapped package of glass and the closer they came to Inveriston, the more her stomach hurt. Please, God, let it have value.
Her nerves trembled as Bram drew their horses to a stop and helped her down. Laren followed them inside the stone courtyard. While as Bram set up the meeting with the abbot, she stared at the interior of the monastery.
Within the chapel, she heard the echoing rise of the monks singing. The space was dark and enclosed, with only a small square window near the top, angled to prevent the rain from entering.
They wonât want my window, she told herself. It wasnât at all practical, for they would have to knock down part of the wall to open up the space. The more she eyed the monastery, the more she saw how plain it was. Men who lived and worshipped in such a space would not want colours to distract from their prayers.
Before she could form another thought, Nairna was leading her forwards and unwrapping the leather parcel of glass. While her sister-in-law extolled the qualities of the glass, explaining how the light could enter, Laren studiedthe abbot. His wrinkled face was impassive, unimpressed by what he saw.
Her gaze fell to the ground. It wasnât good enough, as sheâd feared.
But then he spoke. âThirty pennies.â
Her gaze snapped to Nairnaâs in disbelief. Bramâs hand came down upon hers in a
Bram sent her a hard look. âIsnât Alex coming?â
âNo,â Laren answered, âbut he knows about the glass.â When he started to ask another question, Nairna broughther horse over and shook her head, speaking softly to her husband. Thankfully, Bram let it go and led the way toward Inveriston.
Â
All throughout the ride to the parish, Laren agonised over her conversation with Alex. Sheâd hoped that he would be surprised by the glass, even proud of her. Instead, heâd hardly said a word. The longer she thought about it, the more upset she became.
Sheâd poured her heart into the glass, giving it life with her breath. It was more than art. It was pieces of herself, destroyed by fire and born again into something beautiful.
Her hands clenched upon the reins of the horse, her cheeks growing colder from the wind. She wished they could go back to their life years ago, when they had lived with only each other. When they could close out the world and lie in each otherâs arms, content and whole.
She wanted him to love her the way he once had. When just being herself was enough for him.
Regardless of how far theyâd drifted, he was the man she wanted. She still loved him, even though heâd become so different. He spent so many hours away from her and the girls, only coming back after heâd traversed every inch of Glen Arrin and talked to every family.
Or had he done so because he didnât want to come home any more? Her head lowered. The wrenching pain of the marriage was pulling her heart in two.
She watched Nairna and Bram riding alongside one another. Though the couple didnât speak, their eyes met from time to time. Their love was strong, their happiness tangible. She wanted that back for her own marriage.
You have to be the wife Alex needs, her mind asserted. You have to be stronger and face the people.
She didnât know if she could cloak herself in confidence, becoming another woman. Or if it would mean giving up the glass she loved.
Laren stared at the green hills, watching the mist drift across the trees. Transient and light, the low clouds were hardly visible in the sunlight. The way she sometimes felt among the clan. They didnât see her or know her. The truth was, she wasnât at all happy at Glen Arrin, aside from the time she spent with her daughters or with her glass.
Perhaps she should try to befriend the other members of the clan, not for Alexâ¦but for herself. It might lessen the loneliness that she felt when he wasnât there.
Laren clutched the leather-wrapped package of glass and the closer they came to Inveriston, the more her stomach hurt. Please, God, let it have value.
Her nerves trembled as Bram drew their horses to a stop and helped her down. Laren followed them inside the stone courtyard. While as Bram set up the meeting with the abbot, she stared at the interior of the monastery.
Within the chapel, she heard the echoing rise of the monks singing. The space was dark and enclosed, with only a small square window near the top, angled to prevent the rain from entering.
They wonât want my window, she told herself. It wasnât at all practical, for they would have to knock down part of the wall to open up the space. The more she eyed the monastery, the more she saw how plain it was. Men who lived and worshipped in such a space would not want colours to distract from their prayers.
Before she could form another thought, Nairna was leading her forwards and unwrapping the leather parcel of glass. While her sister-in-law extolled the qualities of the glass, explaining how the light could enter, Laren studiedthe abbot. His wrinkled face was impassive, unimpressed by what he saw.
Her gaze fell to the ground. It wasnât good enough, as sheâd feared.
But then he spoke. âThirty pennies.â
Her gaze snapped to Nairnaâs in disbelief. Bramâs hand came down upon hers in a
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