“I suppose, if you wish to call it that.” The carpenter shrugged his broad shoulders and a smile lifted his ruddy cheeks. “It pleases my wife.”
“Ah, say no more.” Grinning, Liam returned the figure to its place and joined Domnall and Will.
He inspected the wood shavings scattered over the tabletop and the partially carved piece Domnall worked with at present. He lifted the small figure and a laugh bubbled out of him when he made out a pair of curled horns. “’Tis a good likeness.”
The big man chuckled. “I caught a glimpse of your tangle with the ram.”
From a room off the rear of the cottage, a young man, closer to Will’s age, stepped out. Though, ’twas the only comparison the two youths shared. The lad was almost twice Will’s breadth. Saints alive, Domnall must’ve married a great, hulking woman.
The carpenter waved the lad over to the table. “This is my son, David. Son, you know Will already. This is Laird MacGregor.”
Liam said, “Oh, I’m not—”
“Pleased to meet you, Laird.” David extended his huge hand for a shake, which Liam warily accepted.
“The pleasure is mine, David.” ’Twas a mercy the lad released his hand without crushing his fingers.
“If you’ll excuse me, I promised my mother and some of the women I’d help move trestle tables for the feast.”
“Ah, there’s a good lad.” Domnall thwacked his son’s back with a heavy hand, sending him on his way. Settling in a sturdy chair opposite of Liam and Will, he peered between them. “Now, what can I do for the two of you?”
Will leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Well, MacGregor had the idea to build a water wheel here in the village. We’d hoped you might be up to the task.”
“A water wheel, eh?” Interest sparked in the man’s light green eyes. “I’ve seen a few in my time.”
“Think you could construct one?” Liam queried.
Domnall rose from his seat and moved to a small, side table tucked in the corner. Opening a drawer, he produced a sheet of vellum, an ink pot and quill which surprised Liam more than the man’s substantial mass. ’Twas rare for villagers to own parchment and ink. Much less, know how to read and write.
The carpenter returned to the table and unplugged the pot, dipping the reed stick in the ink. Within a matter of minutes, the man scrawled out a rough design of a water wheel.
Nodding in satisfaction, Domnall agreed. “Aye, I could do it or at least, I’m willing to try. I’ll speak to the blacksmith and stone-hewer first and see if they can craft the pieces I’ll need for the millstone to work properly. It’ll take a good bit of lumber as well. I’m certain a few of the larger lads in the village can help with the task.”
Pleased with the carpenter’s knowledge and enthusiasm, Liam reached out to shake the man’s big hand. “You have my thanks, Domnall. Please let me and Will know what we can do to help.”
“How soon are you hoping to have it done, my lord?”
“If you’re up to the task, as soon as possible.”
A wide grin split the other man’s face. “Then I suppose I should get to work.”
Once they bid farewell and departed the carpenter’s cottage, Liam remarked to Will, “Well, that was much easier than I imagined.”
“Why should it have been difficult?” Will glanced at him. “Domnall’s an excellent builder and prefers to keep busy. With little to do around the village of late, I suspected he would not hesitate to take on the project. I assure you, his work will not disappoint you.”
The clever young man’s insight astounded Liam. ’Tis truth, Will would make a fine laird one day. Of course, another matter stood at the forefront of Liam’s mind. He’d not forgotten the lad and Nora’s reactions at the evening meal, nor had he forgotten Beatrice’s actions.
Barring the wretched maid whom he’d handle himself, he asked, “Has any of the clan troubled Nora further?”
The lad shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. Though, she would not tell me if any of them did. You must’ve noticed by now she tends to keep to herself.”
“Aye, why’s that?”
“Her past, I guess.” Will shrugged. “Too many things have happened to make her cautious of everyone. Granted, with good reason.”
Liam cut a probing stare at Will, eager to pry more details from the young man. At once, the lad stiffened as if he regretted opening his mouth. Narrowing his gaze, Liam prodded deeper.
“Tell me, how did you come to know of water wheels?”
Staring at the ground as they strolled along the village pathway, the young man’s dark brows tugged low with a frown. “Geordie’s clan had one.”
“Geordie?” Liam questioned. “Ah, the old man. I did not know the three of you hailed from another clan. I thought you were Frasers?”
Will flourished a hand in front of him as if to explain. “Distant relation to Fraser.”
Liam’s step faltered slightly. Distant relation?
Nay, now that was simply untrue. He’d known Fraser his entire life. The man’s distant relations spanned to his niece Arabella, who’d wed Calum, and her brother, Iain, a powerful English lord with a substantial holding of his own in the north of England.
Distant relation, his right foot. “Which clan would that be?”
“I’m sure you would’ve never heard of them,” Will mumbled.
“Oh? Mayhap, I have. I’ve met quite a few over the years.”
Will stumbled to a halt, and Liam paused to glance over his shoulder at the youth. The stricken look on the young man’s face bordered on panic, which raised the hair at the Liam’s nape. Guilt jabbed at him for pushing the lad.
“Will, I should not—”
“Please, my lord. There are things I cannot explain. Not because I do not wish to, but merely because it would upset Nora if I let loose certain details. Can we let the matter rest at that for now?”
The forthright admission raised far more questions and concerns, but he understood the lad’s desire to protect his sister. Liam would’ve done much the same for his own kin. At some point, however, he wished Nora would confide her secrets to him and allow him to bear some of the burden she carried.
Nodding his understanding, he cuffed the youth’s shoulder. “Aye, Will. I did not mean to pry.”
“No need to apologize. Truly, I wish I could say more. ’Tis a duty, in truth.” A slow smile lifted the young man’s lips. “Mayhap, if you toil harder with your pursuit of my sister, you shall get the tale from her soon enough.”
Liam’s head jerked. “What?”
His limp was barely noticeable for the moment. Will carried on along the dirt footpath toward the cottage he shared with his sister, leaving Liam standing behind like a fool to frantically decipher the meaning of the lad’s words.
“Hey, get back here!” he yelled after the boy. “What the devil does that mean?”
Had Nora spoken of him to her brother?
“Nay, I’ve said enough,” Will called over his shoulder.
Laughter trailed after the lad, mounting Liam’s growing frustration. Much to Liam’s chagrin, the blasted, clever young man had spun the situation in his favor.
Chapter Thirteen
Stifling a yawn, Nora squinted her eyes against the midday sun and hoisted the three sizeable lidded baskets she carried higher in her arms to steady the load. Unable to peer around the bulky carriers, she slowly made her way from the forest to the village green. Every ten paces or so, she questioned her stubborn aversion to requesting aid. In that instant, she’d gladly welcome another set of hands to help with the cumbersome bundle.
Then again, she could’ve simply made three separate trips from the woods. Resigned, she blew stray hairs from her eyes and took her time crossing the meadow, careful not to trip and spill the flowers she’d spent the better part of the morn gathering. Saints, she was weary to the bone.
Of course, the blame she laid solely on Liam.
After his thoughtful gesture and sea
ring kiss, sleep eluded her for the remainder of the night. Instead, she’d lain awake, gazing at the fading embers in the hearth while Will’s faint snores droned in her ears. Over and over in her mind, she recalled their brief encounter in her garden beneath the full moon. More especially, the feel of his lips on hers.
Alas, far too soon, the sun inched over the horizon to peek through her small cottage window. Somehow, she managed to shake off her weariness and drag herself from bed to attend her duties. However, had she not promised the women in the village she’d gather enough flowers to decorate the trestle tables for the upcoming feast, then she might’ve slumbered abed a wee bit longer.
Of course, busying herself plucking blossoms in the solitude of the forest hardly helped clear her head. Her traitorous mind strayed to Liam most of the morn. Even now, her lips tingled with the memory of his kiss. Saints, ’twas ridiculous.
Nora snorted. She was ridiculous.
Annoyed with her foolish thoughts, she hastened over the field until her slippered foot struck a rock, causing her to fumble. The top two baskets teetered precariously atop the one grasped in her arms. Struggling to balance the load, she weaved to and fro to steady the cumbersome burden. Just when she was certain the baskets would topple over, the top two were lifted away, permitting her an unimpeded view of Laird MacGregor’s wife, Arabella, and his sister, Mairi.
Nora’s jaw slackened at the sight of Liam’s kin. She cursed her rotten luck. Saints, she truly should’ve remained abed much longer that morn.
“Good day, Nora. Arabella and I were on our way to lend a hand with the feast. Seems we happened along at just the right moment.” Mairi beamed a bright smile, enhancing the light hue of her blue gaze.
Nora narrowed her eyes a slight fraction. Intuition told her the pair wished for more than to merely lend a helping hand. Surely, Liam had not spoken of their kiss to his family. Had he?
For a few scant moments, she peered between the two women, taken in by their brilliant smiles and matching beauties, before she recalled her manners.
“Thank you for the aid, my ladies. No doubt, the villagers shall be happy to set the pair of you to work.”
As sunlight glimmered off her red-gold locks, Arabella proffered a kind smile. “Please, call us by our given names.”
“Aye,” Mairi agreed. “I’ve a feeling the three of us shall become fast friends in no time.”
Nora lifted her brows at the comment, unsure if Liam’s cousin truly meant the words or if the woman sought to flatter her.
“’Tis such a fine day.” Tipping her face toward the sun, Mairi balanced the basket on one hip. “Please, lead the way, Nora.”
With a healthy measure of apprehension, Nora strolled alongside the pair, each of them carrying a basket full of blossoms. The closer they drew to the village green, the more her stomach twisted with unease, as if an emblazoned mark across her forehead announced the truth of what she’d done with Liam the prior eve.
Needing to fill the silence, she cast a quick glance between the two women. “’Tis kind of you both to help.”
“I, for one, am glad to be out of the keep for a change.” Arabella lifted of her chin and inhaled a deep breath of fresh, spring air.
Mairi snorted. “At least, until your bossy husband ushers you back inside.”
Arabella rolled her eyes in exasperation. “He’d better not if he knows what’s good for him.”
Nora ducked her head to stifle a grin. ’Twas far too easy to imagine Laird MacGregor overprotective of his wife.
“You made it!” Sarah waved from where she sat at one of the trestle tables the men had moved to the meadow. Her friend’s gaze moved from the lidded baskets to the three of them. “Saints, you’ve been busy this morn, Nora. And I see you’ve brought along more help. ’Tis a pleasure to see you both again, my ladies.”
“Lady Arabella and Lady Mairi sought a breath of fresh air.” She placed her wicker carrier on the tabletop and unlatched the lid to vibrant splashes of color.
“Good to see you again, too, Sarah.” Mairi set her basket beside Nora’s.
Sarah ran her fingers over the delicate flowers. “These are perfect, Nora. They shall look stunning draped around the tables.”
Doris, the village baker, waddled over to peruse the contents. The stout elder plucked a blue blossom from the basket and a soft smile eased the ancient creases in her aged face.
“I cannot believe you found bluebells this early, lass.” She lifted the flower to her nose to sniff and her eyes slid closed for a brief moment. “Bless his soul, my dear Neil used to bring these home each evening in spring after he worked in the pastures.”
Heartened by the older woman’s sweet memory of her late husband, Nora gathered a bunch of bluebells and swiped a length of twine from the table. Wrapping the flowers in a tidy bundle, she presented the small bouquet to the baker with a smile. “Take a bundle with you, Doris, to brighten your day.”
“Ah, Nora.” Doris accepted the flowers as if Nora had given her a coffer full of shining jewels. “You’re a sweet lass. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.” With a soft squeeze of Nora’s arm, the older woman toddled along. “’Tis time I’m off. My tarts are not going to bake themselves. I’ll send some along with Will for you later, Nora dear.”
Doris would get no complaints from Nora. The baker’s honeyed berry tarts were a favorite among the clan. Along with her oatmeal cakes. No wonder the village anticipated the harvest feasts each season. Between the variety of roasted meats, pottages and stews, breads and sweet desserts, everyone would dine well.
Arabella lifted the lid of her basket to peek inside. “That was sweet of you, Nora.”
“I’m sure you and Mairi would’ve done the same.” She shrugged off the praise. “Besides, Doris has always been kind to me and Will.”
The redhead plucked a yellow flower from inside the basket. “I’m sure she has, but my guess is you have a kind heart.”
After Doris hobbled away for her bakehouse in the village, the four of them settled around one end of the trestle tables and sorted blossoms into stacks by hues. After they’d sorted the flowers, they cut lengths of twine needed for their tasks. While Mairi and Sarah strung together garlands of primrose, rowan and gorse, Arabella and Nora bundled small bouquets of heather, bluebells and bits of green foliage.
Behind her, the village green hummed with activity, the good-natured chatter bringing a smile to her lips. Warm rays of mid-afternoon sun heated her scalp and back, chasing away the lingering chill in the air. Her fingers moved with a quick, practiced touch as she assembled bouquets. In truth, ’twas a task she enjoyed, working with vibrant colors and the delicate beauty of nature.
The cool breeze ruffled the stray hairs of her braid and she cast a glance over her shoulder. Several villagers constructed massive fire pits in anticipation of the roasted game that would cook over the fires the day of the feast. Others arranged tables, benches and casks of ale and spiced wine, placing tankards and goblets out on tabletops.
“How’s Laird Fraser?” Sarah’s query drew Nora’s attention.
Snipping a bit of twine away from her garland, Mairi rolled her eyes. “As sour as ever and anxious to leave his chambers.”
“I’m relieved at how much he’s improved,” Arabella added. “I’m sure he’s looking forward to getting out of doors and dining well at the feast. ’Tis truth, so am I. Especially after the baker spoke of honeyed tarts.”
“Me, too. ’Tis one of my favorites,” Sarah agreed with a smile. “My John’s arranged a hunt with your husband and Liam on the morrow to gather game for the feast.”
A laugh bubbled out of Arabella. “Aye, ’tis how we got out of the keep without too much of an argument. If my husband can do as he pleases, then so shall Mairi and I.”
“’Tis not as if we’re truly alone.” Mairi snorted, nodding toward the sheep pastures a short distance away.
Nora glanced at the pens, shielding her eyes from the sun, and squinted at the two M
acGregor warriors leaning against the fencing with their arms crossed.
Arabella turned to wave at the pair. “Hello, Sean. Gavin.”
Their stances lax and uninterested, the men tipped their heads and grumbled acknowledgements which struck Nora as amusing.
“Do not worry. They’re used to our teasing by now,” Mairi assured her.
She grinned. “At least, Laird MacGregor cares enough to look after both of you.”
“Oh, there’s no question of that. My husband’s a fierce protector. Now that I’m carrying, the man will scarcely let me lift a blasted scrap of linen. But, I understand his reasoning. He worries after what happened to my uncle.”
“’Tis truth, many of us do.” Slipping a rowan blossom onto the twine, Sarah frowned. “I could hardly believe my ears when John told me what happened. And then to blame poor Liam. ’Tis a good thing our Nora spoke to your husband, Lady Arabella.”
Nora shot a quick glare at her friend, warning Sarah to bite her tongue, but the woman merely winked.
Dropping the garland in her lap, Mairi offered her an appreciative smile. “We can never thank you enough for your help, Nora.”
She squirmed awkwardly on the bench. The invisible brand she imagined seared into her forehead burned deeper, scalding into her mind. Unwilling for Liam’s kin to think the worst of her, she was compelled to speak the truth. “We did not…he slept on the floor,” she blurted. “Alone.”
For several long moments, the three women gaped at her abrupt, spontaneous admission. Mortified, she swallowed hard while her cheeks burned hot. By the Saints, why had she opened her blasted mouth?
Arabella placed her finished bouquet on the table and shifted to face Nora, but she refused to meet the redhead’s gaze. Absorbed in her task, she continued to twine together bundles of heather and bluebells as fast as her fingers would labor. Alas, the other woman would not be denied. Arabella grabbed hold of the flowers in Nora’s hands and snatched them from her grasp. With a deep sigh, she cast a sideways glance at the woman, meeting her emerald gaze.
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