Undeterred by Kenneth’s taunts, Fraser waved the sword at the rest of the soldiers. “If anyone else is of the same mind as that arse, then pack your belongings and get the hell off my lands, or you can join him in the dungeons.”
Several nays and answering grunts rose from the crowd. As Kenneth’s enraged shouts subsided and the men gradually dispersed, Liam stood beside Fraser, while Calum and John moved in closer. The four of them remained silent for long moments, watching the activity resume in the clearing.
’Twas then Liam nearly bowled over, his back aching from the fight. He sheathed his sword and rubbed at the discomfort in his lower back. “Mayhap, another poultice is in order.”
Calum bit out a laugh. “You had me worried, Cousin.”
Liam agreed, “For a moment, I worried myself.”
He peered down at the cut on his arm, wincing at the flow of blood which had seeped onto his sleeve. Now that he’d taken notice of the cut, his arm began to sting from the wound.
“I should’ve listened.” Fraser’s gruff admission drifted to Liam’s ears.
He peered at the older man, compelled to ease the burden of his guilt. “I do not blame you in the least. I doubt I would’ve listened either. ’Tis hard to imagine anyone you’ve trusted for so long would betray you.” Curious, he lifted a brow. “Why did you spare him?”
Fraser met his stare. “Why did you?”
He considered the question before shrugging. “’Tis truth, I just wished to repay him the kindness of sitting in your foul, accursed dungeons for a while.”
“Rest assured, the whoreson will rot in there.” Fraser passed John his weapon.
Calum peered around Liam. “I did not think you had it in you anymore, old man.”
Fraser craned his neck, scowling at the man. “I’m capable of plenty. You’d do well to remember that, Boy.”
A thought struck Liam. “You know, since you are in need of a new commander, allow me to make a suggestion.”
He could think of no better warrior for the task than John. The soldier was loyal to a fault, diligent, and balanced with a decent level of humility. He’d look to the man any day to guard his back.
“Do not tell me.” Fraser crossed his arms behind his back and rocked forward on his heels. “You’re laird now. ’Tis your decision.”
Liam sputtered out a cough. “About that…”
Chapter Twenty
NORA SPREAD DIRT over the clumps of meadowsweet and centaury she’d gathered in the forest earlier that morn. Straightening from her stoop, she pressed a fist into her lower back, stretching the overused muscles. Since the rise of dawn, she’d spent the morning hunched over, digging in the earth, whether in the woods gathering wild herbs or replanting them in Lady Fraser’s new garden within the keep’s walls. From valerian to comfrey, she collected a range of medicinal herbs that might befit a healer. However, throwing herself into the task had done naught to quiet her spinning mind.
After last eve, two words permeated through her head—Liam and marriage.
Alone, the two simple words seemed innocuous, but paired together—marriage to Liam—sent Nora spiraling into a muddled hole with no clear course.
She’d yet to reveal her and Will’s tangled pasts, their uncle’s treachery, or their questionable future to Liam. No doubt, he’d seek her out for answers at some point during the day. Not that she could blame him. His patience extended much farther than hers ever would.
Why had she not simply told him the truth last eve and had done with the matter?
In truth, she had no good excuse for prolonging the inevitable. Reason told her that he’d embrace her words with openness and aid her and her brother in any way possible. ’Twas Liam’s helpful nature. Though, an irksome, irrational part of her brain urged Nora to gather her and Will’s belongings and flee west or north, far away from their uncle. Mayhap, even south into England.
Heaving a sigh, she stabbed the spade into the turned soil in front of her. ’Twas not as if she’d actually carry out the foolish notion. However, the temptation lingered in her mind. Of course, she had a sneaking suspicion no matter how far or wide she traveled, Liam might always find her.
Saints, she truly loved the man.
The thought of wedding him delighted her, filling her with something she’d not felt in a long while—hope. Hope for a future she’d never considered possible for herself.
Before Liam, the notion of marriage had never crossed her mind. Mayhap, because she’d been far too consumed with worrying after her brother and simple everyday life to entertain such far-fetched ideas. Then again, she’d never met another man quite like Liam MacGregor.
She yearned to grab hold of the chance for a new beginning he offered her, but too much uncertainty hung around her shoulders, sucking her deeper into a mired pit. Despite her love for Liam, she owed Will her protection, first and foremost. Until her brother was out of harm’s way for good, then she could never truly consider the possibility of a life with Liam.
The source of her and her brother’s troubles stemmed from their uncle. So, what was she to do about Tavish MacNab?
“Nora!”
Mairi’s shout wrenched Nora from her dismal thoughts. She glanced across the garden, shielding her eyes from the sun to meet the other woman’s inquiring gaze. “Aye?”
A smile curved Mairi’s lips. “I said you’re awfully quiet.”
Wiping her dirty hands on her apron, Arabella straightened and leaned back on her heels. “I do not believe you’ve spoken more than two words all day.”
Two words? Sweet Mother, was the blasted woman a seer?
Nora cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I’m lost in my thoughts this morn.”
Lady Fraser glanced up from the row of horehound and yarrow she worked with. Her blue eyes, identical to her son’s, lit with interest. “Is there something on your mind, lass?”
“Nay, my lady.” She grabbed the spade from the dirt and fidgeted with the handle. “Merely idle thoughts.”
“Have you spoken to Liam this morn?”
The question caught Nora off guard and her head snapped up to spear the older woman with her gaze. Lady Fraser resumed plucking and fussing with her row of herbs, as if she’d not spoken a word. On the other hand, Mairi and Arabella shared a quick look which drew Nora’s immediate notice.
She narrowed her eyes. “Nay. Why?”
“No reason, I suppose.” Lady Fraser shrugged. “Both of you disappeared from the feast last eve. I just thought…”
Nora jolted to attention, her spine as stiff as a board of timber. The pace of her heart quickened to an erratic thud. “Nay, I mean…we spoke to each other in passing.”
God willing, a bolt of lightning would not strike her for the partial truth. ’Twas not as if she could openly discuss the details of her eve with Liam. Especially to his kin.
“Oh?” Lady Fraser glanced at her.
Her expectant gaze bore into Nora, as though the weight of her direct stare might tug words from Nora’s mouth.
Desperate to change the subject, she gained her feet, dusting off her hands on her apron. “I’d say your garden is starting to come together, my lady.”
Lady Fraser rose to her knees, peering out over the rows of herbs. “Aye, lass, I cannot thank you enough. ’Twas a pleasant surprise this morn. I’m astounded you found such a wide variety this time of year.”
Finished planting her portion of the herbs and not in a mood to converse, Nora tidied her patch of garden, placing the trowel in her wooden bucket with the rest of her gardening tools to carry home. “If you ladies will excuse me, I shall take my leave. I have a few duties to attend at home.”
The three women paused in their duties to glance at her.
“Is there something we might help with?” Mairi offered.
“Nay, but thank you for asking.” She proffered a smile and reached for the bucket.
Lady Fraser sprang to her feet. “Damn it! I cannot keep my blasted mouth shut!”
“Liam plans to ask for your hand.”
Momentarily stunned, Nora opened and closed her mouth thrice, but speech eluded her.
Behind Elena, Mairi and Arabella rose to their knees, their avid gazes watching with interest.
Lady Fraser shook her head, her worried gaze searching Nora’s. “Forgive me, lass. I had to speak for my lad. He’s a good man, even-tempered with a big heart. Prone to silliness, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out for yourself. You’re the only woman he’s expressed an interest in wedding, and I’ve never seen him more determined. I promised I would not speak a word of it and, for that, I’m truly sorry. But I could not hold my tongue. I’m merely proud my son has found a woman he loves and wishes to spend the rest of his life with. Oh Saints, lass, please do not be wroth with me for blabbing.”
Nora smiled at Elena’s motherly appeal. She did not blame the woman for speaking on her son’s behalf. Had it been Will, then surely she might’ve done the same. “He asked last eve, my lady.”
“He did?” Elena’s loud squawk of surprise pierced Nora’s ears and she cringed.
In a flash, three squealing women enveloped her in a firm embrace which wrung the breath from her lungs. Taken aback, she stood locked in a constricting hug while the women’s excited chatter rang out in the small plot of garden.
Managing to disentangle herself, she cleared her throat. “Lady Fraser…”
The three continued to prattle on while laughing and embracing each other.
“Lady Fraser…” Nora spoke louder in a bid to gain the older woman’s attention.
More flapping arms and excited chatter swallowed her words. Before the women moved on to the details of her wedding, Nora heaved a deep sigh and tried to ignore the incessant throb in her temple.
Her patience waning, she shouted, “I’ve not accepted.”
The statement snared their immediate attention, silencing the three and sapping the happiness from their countenances. Their bright smiles slipped to frowns of concern.
Lady Fraser grasped her wrist, worry evident in her drawn features. “What’s amiss? Has he done something? You can tell me, lass. I’m not above cuffing some sense into the lad.”
Saints help her. She’d no notion how to explain her predicament to Liam’s mother, nor did she wish to divulge the private details of her life before she spoke to the man. Though, ’twas hard to scramble for a suitable response with his kin staring at her, awaiting answers.
“He’s done naught, my lady. In truth, there are matters he and I must discuss before either of us makes any decision regarding marriage.”
If Nora thought that might improve matters, then she was sorely mistaken. If anything, her vague statement garnered more unease from the women. As they moved in closer, she stepped back a pace, bending to grab her bucket of gardening tools at her feet. Wrapping her arms around the pail, she chose to deftly avoid their questions altogether.
“Lady Fraser, I vow I love your son. If we can work our way through this, then we shall work our way through anything. Please, do not worry. He and I shall sort matters out.”
Or at least, she hoped.
Anxious to escape the garden, she treaded backward, careful not to trip over the rows of herbs. “If you’ll excuse me, there is much I must do.”
Without waiting for a response, she fled from the small, private garden, leaving the women gaping at her. In her mad dash, she almost toppled over the waist-high gate in her haste to exit the garden enclosure.
She cursed her blasted awkwardness the entire way through the courtyard as she headed for the village. After years of concealing her and Will’s past from the clan, ’twas no simple feat explaining her fears and concerns where her uncle was concerned. ’Twas even harder revealing her hopes for her brother’s future.
Though, she never spoke of such matters with Will. One day, she truly wished to witness her brother reclaim his birthright.
Villagers greeted her as she wound along the dirt pathways, but she barely heeded a word. With a thousand thoughts sifting through her mind, she could’ve walked straight into a cottage wall and failed to notice.
When she reached her home on the edge of the settlement, she unlatched the postern and threw open the gate. She swept through, allowing the gate to slam after her, which matched her current frustrations. Stepping from stone to stone, she walked to the entrance and dropped the bucket of gardening tools outside the door with a noisy clatter.
For a moment, she paused with her hand on the latch and inhaled a deep breath, taking in the utter peace and quiet surrounding her. Sarah and the boys must’ve helped to clean the village green after last eve’s festivities. It was a task Nora should aid the other women with but, for now, she was content to enjoy a bit of solitude. At least, before Liam decided to knock upon her door.
Lifting the latch, she dragged her feet over the threshold and closed the door, leaning her back against the timber boards. Closing her eyes, she dropped her head against the wood.
“Kind of you to join us, Cousin.”
The familiar grating voice blared a warning inside Nora’s head. Her eyes snapped open and her head jerked to stare across the small cottage. Disbelief held her rooted to the ground, while searing talons of fright gripped her chest, crushing the life from her.
The tall, gaunt figure of Fergus MacNab returned her stare with the sword in his hand aimed at her brother’s chest.
Chapter Twenty-One
NORA’S STOMACH PLUNGED past her wobbling knees to the ground at her feet. In harsh pants, the breath wheezed from her constricted lungs. Her head swam while black dots blinked before her eyes. Christ, ’twas not the blasted time to pass out.
With a harsh mental shake, she snapped from her momentary stupor and latched on to another emotion entirely—anger. A deep, searing anger that had smoldered inside her since the death of her parents.
Finding her voice, she spat out, “What are you doing here?”
“Oh come, Venora, did you truly think we’d forgotten our kin after all this time?” The ill-toned pitch of her cousin’s voice raised the hair at her nape.
Five years had done little to soften the vile toad’s appearance. He’d grown into his tall, lanky frame. Though, his features still comprised of the same sunken cheekbones and narrow, pointed nose he’d had since his youth. His dark, stringy hair gleamed with a slick sheen which spoke of his lack of hygiene.
Her gaze shifted to her brother, who sat meekly on the edge of her bed with his forearms resting on his bent knees. He exuded such a collected air of calm she envied him. In her current frame of mind, ’twas impossible for her to project an unruffled demeanor.
Will met her gaze, his keen eyes narrowing a fraction before darting to the door behind her. She read his silent plea—for her to flee for help.
As if she’d leave him to fend for himself.
Ever so slightly, she edged backward for a different reason entirely. Beside the door, on a shelf beneath the windowsill, sat a pair of gardening shears. If she could just grasp them…
Before she managed more than a pace, the door swung open, shoving her forward. She jerked around and came face to chest with a bulky MacNab warrior. His mouth twisted with a leer that made her skin crawl.
“You cannot believe I was foolish enough to come alone, Cousin,” Fergus said.
The soldier latched the door and paused beside the table, effectively blocking her path to the shears.
At an utter loss of what to do, she stalled. “How did you find us?”
Of all the times Liam visited her cottage unannounced, by the Saints, let the man arrive posthaste.
“It would seem Fraser does not keep the most trusting of vassals in his service.”
Nora frowned at the information. Fergus lowered his sword, but
remained by Will’s side. With the weapon in striking distance of her brother, Nora studied the man’s every move.
His lips pulled back with a grin. “His commander was more than happy to approach us with a proposition once he learned Fraser intended to hand over his lairdship to his bastard son. Of course, my father and I were more than obliged to collect our long-lost kin.”
“Why can you not leave us alone?” Nora was not above pleading if it might spare her brother. “We want naught to do with the clan. Have we not made ourselves scarce for years?”
Fergus tossed his head back with a laugh. “I think we all know ’tis not quite that simple.” He lifted his sword, tapping the flat edge against Will’s arm. “I see the lad’s nearly a man grown. Who knows what grand ideas he has in that head of his?”
Bile rose in the back of her throat. The fears she’d lugged with her for five long years stood right in front of her, the danger every bit as real as the weapon aimed at her brother. Her mind spun in circles, with no clear way out of their present situation. Christ, she had to do something—anything—but what?
A rap at the door filled the quiet cottage and Nora nearly jumped out of her skin. Her heart leapt with the hope Liam might stand on the other side. But that hope promptly vanished when she considered the armed warrior blocking the entrance.
“Get rid of them now, and not a word, Venora.” Menace suffused Fergus’ low-spoken words.
The MacNab warrior narrowed his eyes in warning and slipped to the other side of the entryway, permitting her enough room to open the door and peer outside. She sent up a quick, silent prayer before the hinges groaned as she cracked open the entrance.
Her heart sank when Geordie stood on the opposite side. His bushy brows raised in question. She longed for naught more than to sound an alarm, but she had no wish to entangle the elderly soldier in peril.
Nora coughed into her hand. “Forgive me, but I’m not feeling well at the moment, Geordie.”
Despite his advanced age, the older man’s eyes narrowed with a sharp awareness. “Is everything all right? What of Will?”
Reckless Scotland: A Scottish Medieval Romance Bundle Page 115
