My Steadfast Love (Highland Loves Book 2)

by Melissa Limoges

  His cousin gripped the pommel of the sword sheathed at his side. “Now, open the damned door or I shall not be as forgiving if I have to say so again.”

  Kenneth’s cheeks burned crimson and his chest rose and fell. At last, he reluctantly surrendered to Calum’s unsettling stare and tugged the key from a pouch along his waist to toss at his cousin. With a parting glare aimed at Liam, Kenneth spun in his buckskin boots and stormed from the dim, narrow passage with his men in tow.

  Calum wasted no time thrusting the key in the lock and twisting. He swung the heavy iron gate wide.

  Symon stepped around them, nodding to Liam as he passed. “Laird, I’ll let Lady Arabella and Lady Mairi know he’s safe and sound.”

  “Aye, a sound notion,” Calum agreed. “The pair has, no doubt, worn a hole in the floor with all their blasted pacing.”

  Once Symon retreated through the sloping tunnel for a set of crude steps leading up to the entrance, Liam ducked his head to step out of his short-lived prison. These few, long hours were enough for him to appreciate his freedom. He ignored his cousin’s pinpointed stare.

  Calum did not mince words. “What the hell mess have you gotten yourself into now?”

  Liam scrubbed a hand over the itchy whiskers along his jaw. “For once, Cousin, I swear ’tis not of my own doing.” Though the old boar ran a close second to his commander as Liam’s least favorite person at present, honest concern for the man prompted him to inquire. “How’s Fraser?”

  “Ailing something fierce, but he’s alive.” Calum motioned to the stairs. “Come, let’s leave this foul place. The smell’s wretched.”

  He would hear no complaint from Liam. Anxious to leave the somber dirt and stone behind him, he started up the tunnel with his cousin at his side.

  “How’s my mother?”

  “Beside herself with worry, but grateful her husband draws breath. She’ll be pleased to learn her son has been located.”

  He glanced at Calum. “She did not know I was here?”

  “Nay.” The other man shook his head. “No one knew where you’d taken off to. I thought you might’ve saddled your horse and headed for home.”

  Precisely his plan until Kenneth intercepted him. Relieved his mother had naught to do with his imprisonment, he breathed a small sigh. “What the devil happened?”

  “After you quit the hall, Elena and Fraser rejoined the banquet. ’Twas much later in the night when he complained of an ache in his head and stomach. No one thought much of it until he turned as white as snow. Arabella suggested he retire for the eve, but the man could barely stand on his own two feet. Your mother suspected something was amiss. Symon and I all but carried Fraser to his chambers. Elena managed to get one of her potions down his throat which made him purge the contents of his stomach. The poor man spent the remainder of the night and early morn retching into a bucket.”

  Liam pitied Fraser. No one deserved such a fate on the eve of their wedding. As he and his cousin mounted the steps, their shoulders brushed from the close quarters.

  Calum continued, “’Tis a boon your mother was quick to act. No doubt, she spared his life. ’Twas not long before word spread round the keep, and then the accusations started. After everyone in the hall heard you in the solar…”

  Aye, and he could kick himself for his careless behavior. Liam rubbed circles over his aching temple. “Look, Cousin. I vow I would never—”

  “Damnation, Liam.” The back of Calum’s hand slapped against Liam’s chest, halting him in his tracks. “In truth, do you think I would not believe you?”

  Liam peered at the few remaining stairs left to climb. He lifted a shoulder. “It would seem everyone else believes so. I mean, I would not bl—”

  A swift cuff to the back of his sore skull stole the rest of his words. He jerked his head up to scowl at his cousin in the dim passage. “What the hell was that for?”

  “You daft arse.” Calum growled in annoyance. “Saints, we’ve known each other all our lives. I know you better than anyone. Stop wallowing in your hurt feelings with your mother and Fraser. We’ve no time for any of that nonsense. We need to find who the hell did this to Fraser and why they intended for you to shoulder the blame.”

  “’Tis evident someone who was not pleased with Fraser’s decision.” Liam snorted. “Probably that whoreson, Kenneth.”

  Calum grunted. “After that encounter, I’m beginning to wonder myself.” Climbing the last steps, he unlatched the entryway door. “Symon spent most of the morn questioning the kitchen maids, but to no avail. No one saw a thing. I took the liberty of arranging a taster for any fare or drink that passes through Fraser’s chambers.”

  Liam nodded, pleased with his cousin’s foresight to think ahead. “Saints, what the devil am I to do with the clan? Especially since they believe I’ve poisoned their damned laird.”

  “I know not, but you’re going to have to think of something fast to earn their trust. I’d rather not run Kenneth through if he tries to lock you away again, or worse.”

  “Earn their trust?” Liam scoffed at the ridiculous statement. “I did not do a blasted thing to lose it in the first place.”

  “You’re a clever sort.” Calum pushed open the door and welcoming sunlight streamed inside. “Make sure the clan knows of the woman, for a start. She can vouch for you. Then, ’tis up to you to find a way to gain the clan’s trust.”

  “Because that shall be no trouble,” Liam remarked dryly. He stepped outside the darkened passageway, squinting his eyes against the brightness of the midday sun. “And what damned woman? You cannot mean the blonde serving maid from the hall?”

  The two of them lifted the heavy beam to bar the dungeon entrance, dropping the thick wood in iron brackets with a solid thump.

  Calum cut him a sideways stare. “Saints, Liam, how many women were there last eve?”

  The accusation piqued his irritation. “There were no damned women at all.”

  His cousin snorted. “Well, a certain dark-haired female came to your aid. Tall and slim. Venora’s her name, I believe.”

  Oh Saints, nay. Anyone but that accursed female. Liam spat out a curse. “Nora?”

  “Aye, she and her brother, the young man with the limp, sought out Symon in the hall and demanded to speak with me.” A smile lifted the corners of his cousin’s mouth. “I’ll admit, I was a bit surprised. She’s different from your other women.”

  Other women? Saints, his cousin spoke as if he bedded a female every blasted eve. ’Twas a lot fewer and much further in between if the truth was known. As for Nora, what the hell was the lass playing at? “I vow to you, I did not bed the woman.”

  “She admitted you spent the eve in her cottage.” Calum narrowed his gaze. “Why else would she claim such?”

  “Who the devil knows?” Truly, ’twas confounding. “’Tis true, I spent the eve on her cottage floor, but naught else. I swear it.”

  “Well, she claims you were with her and, for the moment, that’s the only thing keeping you from rotting away in the dungeons until we find who’s truly to blame for this wretched mess.”

  Christ, Liam suspected Nora was naught but trouble from the beginning, but her omission of facts merely confirmed his thoughts. Why would she make such a bold admission? Especially after she’d all but pushed him out of her cottage with her rude behavior. Hell, he should denounce the claim out of sheer spite, but his cousin had a point. At least for the time being, her confession spared him an undesirable seat in the foul dungeons and, for that, he was grateful.

  Good manners dictated he should pay the lass a visit to express his appreciation. Though, he hardly wished to deal with more of her scathing side eyes and frosty glowers. On the other hand, he supposed annoying the woman had its merits.

  Sucking in breath after breath of fresh, crisp air, he ran a hand over his dirty hair and lifted his face toward the sun. The heat warmed his damp clothes and soaked into his chilled skin.

  “By the Saints, Liam,” Calum exclaimed. “
I cannot believe you let that arse best you.”

  Nonplussed, he faced his cousin. “Who?”

  “Kenneth.” Calum pointed to Liam’s swollen eye.

  Instead of answering, he gazed past the outer courtyard to a patch of rolling green pasture. A few hours’ ride east of MacGregor lands, the terrain was much the same—fertile soils and grazing meadows with a stretch of dense forest to the west.

  With the annual wool harvest a sennight away, several of the clansmen secured wattle-fenced pens to hold the sheep flocks. Every woolen beast from one end of the holding to the opposite required a good shear before the arrival of the warmer summer season. Half the yield would clothe the clan, while the other half went to the burgh market in Inverness to trade with the Flanders merchants. The coin would fill Fraser coffers and carry the clan through another year.

  Afterward, the fields needed tilling and seeds planted to ensure a bountiful harvest throughout the summer months and into fall. As well as repairs to structures after weathering winter. He may have no wish to run a keep, but he understood what was vital for a clan to survive and prosper. With Fraser ailing, the clan could do with added support.

  Christ, why was he even thinking of such matters to begin with? ’Twas hardly his concern.

  “’Twas not Kenneth,” Liam admitted at last.

  “Then who?” Calum asked.

  He mumbled, “Nora.”

  His kin’s resounding guffaw rang out in the courtyard. Liam supposed ’twas only fair. He’d laughed at Calum’s expense on many occasions.

  “The woman’s barking mad.”

  Chuckling, his cousin cuffed his shoulder. “Or the wisest of them all.”

  Liam twisted a wry stare at the man. “I’m pleased you find this amusing.”

  “Aye, I do.” Calum’s merriment dwindled to a grin. “You should visit Arabella and Mairi. The pair will be anxious to see for themselves you are well.”

  “Afterward,” he agreed. “I have a few matters to attend first.”

  Namely, a visit to his mother, despite how much he dreaded the notion. Without the influence of drink firing his emotions, he felt a bit foolish for his childish flight of anger the prior eve. Not that the revelation he’d learned pleased him, but he was a large enough lad to admit he’d behaved poorly. In fact, what concerned him more at the moment was the state he might find his mother in. In this case, he’d prefer her tears to anger.

  Calum resisted inquiring. No doubt, his perceptive cousin guessed his intent.

  “Mayhap, a quick dip in the loch might serve you well beforehand,” he suggested.

  Liam glanced down at his soiled clothes and wrinkled his nose. Between spilled ale, a healthy measure of whisky, and his time in the dank dungeons, he reeked.

  “Should you have need, you know where to find me.” With a parting nod, his cousin headed through the rear of the courtyard for the keep’s main entrance.

  “Calum,” Liam called after him.

  The big man twisted around, walking backward. “Aye?”

  “You have my thanks.” A few simple words hardly conveyed just how much.

  Calum had no trouble grasping the words left unspoken. “We’re kin, Liam. ’Tis our duty to look after one another.”

  Leave it to his cousin to utter some maudlin drivel. For the first time that morning, a smile worked over his lips. Aye, a thorough wash in the loch sounded like a solid bit of advice. The cold water might strip away some of his troubled thoughts and clear his head. Especially before he paid Elena Fraser a visit.

  *

  Calum paused outside his bedchamber and raked a hand over his face. Saints, he was weary to the bone, but he’d gladly hand over several sound nights’ rest in exchange for Fraser’s life. ’Twas a blessed relief his longtime ally and friend survived.

  Lifting the latch, he cracked open the door and his gaze immediately sought out the slight form of his lady wife. Seated in a high-back chair across the chamber, Arabella had shoved aside the furs from the window, allowing the sun entry. The rays beamed on her shining red curls and bathed her pink cheeks with a soft glow. She shifted to face him and her waiting smile cut straight to his heart.

  As long as he lived, he’d never grow tired of the beautiful sight.

  “Where’s Mairi?” He stepped inside the chamber.

  “She’s gone to look after Aunt Elena and Uncle Hammish for a while. Did you find Liam?” Concern laced the words.

  “Aye, love.” Barring the entrance, he glanced at the dying embers in the hearth. “Let me build the fire. ’Tis a slight chill in the air.”

  In her present condition, he took every measure to see his wife contented and cared for.

  “Nay, I have a better notion.” With a lift of her hand, she offered a sweet grin. “You’re here now. You shall keep me warm.”

  Without a flicker of hesitation, he crossed the chamber in a few long strides and accepted her small hand in his. He helped her to rise long enough for him to slide behind her, drop in the seat, and pull her down onto his lap.

  She shifted to face him, wiggling her bottom over his thighs, and swung her legs over the chair arm. Her expectant emerald gaze met his. “Well? Where was he?”

  No doubt, he would not sleep a wink until she had answers.

  Calum breathed out a sigh, anticipating her reaction. “The dungeons.”

  “What?” Arabella jerked upright and almost toppled off his lap onto the floorboards.

  He tightened his hold around her middle and hauled her closer. “Kenneth and a few of the others blamed Liam for what happened.”

  “But, he did not do it!” Her lovely face twisted with outrage. “Liam would never hurt Uncle Hammish.”

  “You and I know that, Sweetness, but the others do not.” In a bid to soothe her temper, he rubbed circles over her back. “Let Liam and me handle matters. In the meantime…” Damn, he expected his next words to gain her ire. “Promise me, you will not roam the keep without a proper escort. At least, until we find the bastard responsible.”

  Ah, there is was—the look. Flushed cheeks, the tight pinch of her brow, her bottom lip thrust forward. Anytime he displeased her, he received the look. She despised naught more than an escort trailing after her, but he had little choice. Until he and Liam caught the person who’d made an attempt on her uncle’s life, ’twas not safe.

  “Arabella,” he groaned. “Please, for once, do as I ask without debate.”

  “I always do as you request,” she tartly replied with a lift of her chin.

  Calum raised his brows at the blatant lie. Affixing a firm stare, he grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling her gaze to his. “Promise me.”

  With a roll of her eyes and a deep puff of air, she complied. “All right. I promise. Are you pleased now?”

  “’Tis naught to do with pleasing me,” he explained. “I love you, Arabella. Is it amiss of me to worry about you?”

  Her luring emerald gaze softened. She raised a hand to caress his scarred cheek. “Nay, I love you, too, Husband.”

  Calum tugged her close and captured her lips with a long, languid kiss. When she pulled away to draw breath, he nudged her head to rest on his shoulder. He leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. The faint pattern her fingertips traced over his skin lulled him closer to sleep.

  He mumbled, “Keep a watch after Mairi for me, will you? You know how she thrives on vexing me at every turn.”

  Her soft laugh heated his neck. “No more than you vex her.”

  “Rest a while with me, Wife?”

  Warm lips pressed a kiss just below his ear. “Aye, Husband.”

  Chapter Six

  Liam tugged at his clean linen tunic for the tenth time since taking a much-needed wash in the loch. Clearing his throat, he swiped at the cold sweat dotting his forehead and squared his shoulders. He reckoned ’twas now or never.

  Ignoring his unrelenting unease, he motioned for one of the guards posted outside of Fraser’s ch
ambers to knock. Whether the four soldiers questioned his guilt or not, none of the men spoke a cross word or otherwise, to his everlasting relief. At his bidding, one guard rapped softly on the chamber door.

  As soon as the iron latch jingled, Liam’s heart sped to an erratic drum, as if the organ might rip free and plummet to the floor at his feet. Christ’s bones, the whole affair left him rattled and wary. What would his mother say?

  The aged oak parted to reveal his younger cousin, Mairi. Her pale blue eyes, akin to her brother’s, widened with recognition.

  “Liam!”

  In a flurry of movement, she launched against his chest, uncaring if she knocked the wind from him, and enveloped him in tight embrace. And in truth, he cared not either. Her genuine, warm welcome whittled his apprehension by half.

  “Symon told us everything.” She pulled back to worriedly search his face. “Oh, Liam, what did they do to you?”

  Mairi lifted a hand in an attempt to poke and prod at his swollen eye, but he swatted away her efforts. “’Tis fine.”

  Liam definitely refused to admit to his cousin that a much smaller woman had bested him. He peered over her shoulder inside the chamber, his gaze immediately drawn to the massive bed dominating one side of the room. Tucked away beneath a bundle of furs, Fraser’s pallid form lay quiet and unmoving. Mouth set in a grim line, his mother sat silent in a cushioned chair at her husband’s bedside.

  Mairi followed his gaze and then faced him with a knowing look. She rose on her toes to peck a kiss on his cheek. “You two should speak. I’ll leave the pair of you alone for a bit.”

  He gladly accepted another reassuring embrace from his cousin before she retreated from the room, shutting out the prying eyes of the guards as she sealed the door behind her. The window near the bed lay opened to allow a flush of fresh, cool air into the chamber. Distinct scents of herbs and medicinals hung in the chilled chamber. For a moment, he simply stood with his back to the door, staring at his mother’s regal profile.