My Steadfast Love (Highland Loves Book 2)

by Melissa Limoges

  Hesitant of what he should or should not say, he shifted from foot to foot, pondering his next move. As he grappled for the right words, Liam chose to busy himself adding another thick log to the fire in the hearth, rather than face his mother just yet. He poked at the embers, stirring the flames to life, and watched as the blaze slowly consumed the fresh wood. When he gathered enough courage to open his mouth, he twisted around to catch his mother observing him.

  Her sapphire eyes, the same shade as his own, reflected no trace of censure or accusation, but merely a bone-deep weariness. Worry and lack of sleep creased her pale features. Strands of graying-blonde hair stuck out at all angles around her head as if she’d not combed it in days.

  “Do not just stand there gawking. Come.” She beckoned to the stool beside her. “Join me.”

  Never a woman to hold her tongue, Elena Fraser spoke her mind without a spit of trouble. A fact that earned Liam’s praise. Those few brazen words went a long way in fracturing the unsettling silence and calmed the galloping thrum of his pulse.

  Liam padded to the opposite side of the chamber and took a seat on the knee-high stool next to her chair.

  In one quick glimpse, her keen gaze assessed his swollen eye. “I can make a poultice to bring down the swelling in no time.”

  One corner of his mouth curled with a half-smile. No doubt she could. “Nay, do not fret over it. ’Tis not a bother.”

  As healer of Clan MacGregor, his mother tended to everyone’s injuries, down to the slightest nick or scrape. And at times, whether the person wished her aid or not. The foul smelling salves and draughts she plied him and Calum with sprang to mind.

  However, the sore eye he claimed as the price of his foolish overindulgence the night before. Even if it had come at the small hands of an odd, prickly woman.

  On the bed in front of them, Fraser stirred from his deep slumber long enough to roll onto his side with a pained grunt. Beneath his unkempt beard, his wan features contorted with discomfort.

  Liam cast a quick, worried glance at his mother, but she waved away his concern.

  “Do not fret. He’s restless but much improved. Sleep’s just what he needs to heal.”

  They both watched the older man as he drew in labored breaths through his cracked lips. When the silence yawned between them, Liam decided to speak his piece, whether she believed him or not. The matter would not cease in his mind until he professed his innocence.

  “Mother…” Her tired gaze drifted to his, and he placed a hand to his chest. “I vow I had naught to do with this.”

  A glower twisted her delicate features while anger darkened her indigo eyes.

  Her ire inspired a wave of dread to span over his skin, rising gooseflesh along his arms.

  “Christ’s sake, Liam. We may’ve had our differences, but ’tis no excuse to spout such ridiculous nonsense. You’re my only son. No matter how much you might loathe me or him”—her gaze flickered to Fraser’s prone form—“I know in my heart you would never carry out such a foul deed.”

  Shifting closer, he reached across her lap and tugged her twined fingers apart. He clasped one of her small, cold hands between his. Her usual glossy hair had dulled with her tireless efforts to look after her husband throughout the night. She lifted her bowed head and a sheen of tears gathered in her eyes, which stabbed straight to his heart.

  “I’ve never hated you. Not for a single moment in my life.” He glanced at their joined hands. “I’m sorry, Mother. For Fraser. And for last eve. I should’ve waited. Listened to what you both had to say. Mayhap if I had done so, then maybe this might not—”

  “Stop, Liam.” She squeezed his hand. “The fault is not yours to bear.”

  He searched her troubled gaze.

  “There are many things I could’ve handled better as well. As a mother, ’tis my duty to you. I should’ve spoken of my past with Hammish long before now. But I…I feared if I told you the truth, you’d think less of me. Believe me when I say regret has eaten away at me for years. For you, for him.”

  Frowning, he opened his mouth to reassure her, but she held up her free hand, halting him.

  “Please, allow me to finish. Last eve, Hammish and I acted in poor judgment. We should’ve waited to speak of his decision to stand aside until after the banquet. ’Twas not fair of us to thrust you into a corner as we did.”

  “The two of you most assuredly caught me unaware,” he agreed. An overwhelming urge compelled him to ask. “Did you love my father…Robert?”

  She blinked in astonishment, but answered without hesitation. “Of course I did. Robert MacGregor was a good, honest man, Liam, and he loved both of us dearly.”

  “Did he know about…?”

  Granted, ’twas not the proper time to speak of such matters, but he could no more prevent the words from leaving his lips than he could the beat of his heart. He wished to learn the truth to the questions whirling round in his head.

  “Aye. From the start.” Her small hand folded into a fist within his grasp. “Hammish and I were far too young and foolish for our own good. ’Twas sheer stubbornness that tore us apart. I made a shameful decision which I must live with for the rest of my days.” Her face crumpled as she struggled for words. “When I learned I carried a child…I withheld the truth from Hammish. Before the last fall harvest…he never knew you were his son, Liam.”

  Digesting the words, he swallowed hard at the stunning revelation. For years, he and his cousins puzzled over his mother and Fraser’s bitter hatred of each other but, now, their hostility made far more sense. He recalled their heated argument last autumn. ’Twas not long after when the pair announced their intentions to wed.

  The truth of his birth should’ve roused his anger. The mere fact she’d kept the knowledge from him for so long. ’Twas odd, but the short, pained admission allayed his injured feelings to some degree. The bitterness and sting of betrayal he’d wallowed in the prior eve was absent. Instead, a wash of pity and sadness swam to the surface. Not for himself, but for the pair of them. For what the two lost and the forced years of distance.

  “’Tis a much longer tale.” She untangled her hand from his hold and patted his bent knee. “Mayhap…we can speak on the matter another time, if you wish.”

  “Aye.” He nodded. “I would like that.”

  Somehow, the short account began to seal the rift between them, when the night before, he imagined naught ever would. He peered at Fraser, startled to find the older man’s mossy-green gaze locked on him.

  His mother sat forward, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. “What can I do? Do you need anything?”

  Fraser shook his head. “What I need is for you to rest, Wife.”

  His voice spilled out in a raspy whisper, but there was no mistaking the command.

  Elena huffed, “When you’re on your feet again, then I shall.”

  “Liam,” Fraser mumbled.

  He leaned closer to hear. “Aye?”

  “Look after your mother, will you?”

  The thoughtful request banked the fires of any ill will Liam harbored for the older man. ’Twas plain to see Fraser loved his new bride a great deal. In light of her tale, mayhap he’d always loved her.

  Liam assured him with a grin. “I shall. At least until you’re up for the task, old man.”

  With a faint, satisfied nod, Fraser drifted to sleep once more.

  Liam shifted to face his mother, noting the dark circles beneath her tired eyes. “He’s right, you know. You should get some rest. Have you slept at all?”

  “I’m fine and I shall rest, but later.” She leaned back in the chair and fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. “I have a request to make of you, Liam.”

  Saints, those words never boded well. Warily, he studied her as she took her time spitting out the appeal.

  She treated the matter as if she approached a frightened doe. “I know you have no desire to lead the Frasers, or any clan for that matter.”

  Liam glanced heavenwar
d at the sturdy wooden beams and rafters overhead. Christ, he should’ve guessed. Alas, ’twas too late to tuck his tail and dash for the door.

  “Wait, hear me out. Please, Son.”

  Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly met her beseeching stare. “What would you have me do?”

  Though, he suspected the wretched answer.

  “I think you know. I’m only asking until Hammish is hale and hearty. You know how important the wool harvest is. ’Tis only a sennight away.” She wrung her hands. “And what if the villain tries to harm him again? Or worse? What if he succeeds the next time?”

  Her concerns were not unfounded, but he’d do everything in his power to prevent such from happening. “Nay, there shall not be a next time. Calum and I will find the bastard who did this.”

  “Please, Liam.” She searched his gaze, her sorrowful eyes pleading with him. “Will you do this?”

  Had the same matter not led to their disagreement the night before? “Why not ask Calum?”

  “Your cousin already bears a heavy weight on his shoulders. And now, with Arabella carrying…”

  Needing the distance, he rose to his feet, his knees cracking beneath his weight, and moved to the other side of the chamber to gaze into the flickering fire.

  “Can you think of no one else?” he muttered. “There must be someone.”

  Anyone.

  “There is no one I trust more with this task and my husband’s welfare than my own son.”

  Had she shared her tale to gain his compassion before springing her request upon him? If so, her blasted plan succeeded. When had he ever denied her a thing? He’d merely visited her to declare his innocence and apologize for his hasty temper. Somehow, he unwittingly found himself dragged into the very position he’d scorned last eve.

  Curse his damned conscience.

  “Please, Liam. I—we need your help.”

  The woman excelled at chipping away at his resolve. Did she not comprehend what she asked of him? And what of the rest of the clan? She must realize the Frasers would not willingly accept his word without a great deal of resistance. Especially since most believed him responsible for poisoning their laird to begin with.

  He rolled his eyes. Of course, the thought led to what Calum had spoken of earlier—gaining the clan’s trust. How better than in the capacity of laird. The position presented an advantage for him and his cousin to seek out the villain who’d harmed Fraser. The sooner he found the arse, the faster he could abandon the pretense altogether. Surely, he could handle the task for a sennight. A fortnight, at the most. Just until Fraser was well enough to assume his duties.

  Blast and damn! A notion struck. He directed a sideways stare at his mother. “Did Calum suggest this?”

  “What, nay. He and I spoke, but nay.” Color suffused her cheeks for the first time since he’d stepped foot in the chamber.

  He shot back, “In case you were not aware, you’re a wretched liar.”

  Annoyed with his kin’s meddlesome efforts, he shifted to scowl at his mother. “All right. I’ll do it. Just until your bridegroom’s on his feet.”

  Astonishment lit her features and she sat forward on the edge of her seat. “You will?”

  “Did you think I would refuse?”

  She blinked. “Well, aye.”

  After last eve, he understood her doubts. In fact, he reserved plenty of his own. He muttered, “I’ll make an announcement at the evening meal.”

  ’Tis only for a short while, he reminded himself. In truth, how much trouble could watching over the clan in Fraser’s stead truly be?

  Chapter Seven

  The sun stretched high in an expanse of seamless, blue sky when Nora walked to the stream flowing alongside the village’s grain mill. Somber quiet shrouded the surrounding settlement as the clan awaited further word of Laird Fraser. Everyone, including Nora, was relieved to learn he’d survived the eve with the aid of Lady Fraser’s skillful healing.

  She dipped her bucket beneath the spring’s cold surface, allowing the wooden pail to fill with fresh water. She leaned forward to hoist the heavy load out of the stream, but almost toppled over the edge of the bank from the weight. A steadying hand gripped her shoulder.

  “Careful, Nora,” Sarah warned.

  Nodding her thanks to her friend, she hefted the bucket from the water and plunked the heavy burden on the grassy bank.

  A smattering of cackles farther downstream drew Nora’s attention. A group of five or six clanswomen doubled over with laughter. She spotted Beatrice, one of the keep’s kitchen maids, among the females.

  The woman shouted, “Would serve you right after bedding that MacGregor dog.”

  Nora’s cheeks burned with humiliation. When she’d confessed to Laird MacGregor to spare his cousin, she failed to mention Liam had slept on the floor of her cottage—alone. Namely, because she doubted the man would’ve believed her, given his cousin’s reputation. Not to mention, she suspected the clan would assume the worst of her once word made its way through the village. Though, she’d not expected the rumor to spread quite as fast. No matter how much she prepared for the whispers and cruel gossip, the vile words shocked her to the core.

  Before Nora found her tongue to issue a sharp rebuke, Sarah barked out a laugh. “Come now, Beatrice. We all know ’tis you who spends each eve on your back with your ankles round your ears.”

  Nora choked as an unbidden laugh tumbled from her throat.

  The shapely blonde’s features twisted with outrage. With a final parting glare, she spun on her heel and flounced from the bank with her gaggle of followers.

  Caught between astonishment at her soft-spoken friend’s scornful words and admiration of her stalwart defense, Nora darted a quick glance at Sarah.

  A few years older than Nora, the comely brunette offered an encouraging grin. “Pay no mind to those vicious harpies.”

  “You have my thanks.” Nora returned a grateful smile.

  Sarah shrugged away the words. “’Tis no matter. You would’ve done the same for me. Here, allow me to give you hand.”

  “’Tis all right. I can manage.”

  “Holy Mother, Nora. Allow someone to help once in a while,” Sarah admonished.

  With a sheepish grin, Nora poised her two buckets of water on the ends of the timber carrying pole she used as a yoke. Sarah helped her to lift and balance the load over her shoulders, which Nora conceded was a much easier feat with another pair of hands.

  Honestly, she should not care at all, but a burning curiosity impelled her to ask. “Do you believe MacGregor?”

  Wiping her hands on her gown, Sarah paused to consider, then nodded after a moment. “Aye, I do. I’ve spoken with John…he told me about…well, you know.”

  Nora sighed. “Ah, that.” She wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. “I vow I did not bed the man. He merely slept on the floor. Alone. The lout was too sotted to know up or down. I doubt he could’ve stood on his own two feet much less…”

  “Oh.” Understanding sparked in Sarah’s gaze before her brow furrowed. “Then, why let everyone believe you bedded him?”

  “There was little choice in the matter at the time. What was I to do? Will and I knew of his innocence.”

  “Saints, Nora, you cannot let the clan think the worst of you.” Sympathy lined the young woman’s features.

  “What’s done is done.” Changing the subject, she peered around the empty bank. “Where are the boys?”

  Rolling her eyes, Sarah lifted her pail from the bank as they started across the open field toward the village. “As soon as my lads spotted your brother and Geordie headed for the loch with their fishing lines, they tore after the pair before I could stop them.”

  Nora grinned at the thought of three wee lads trailing after Will, chattering excitedly the entire time. Her brother claimed exasperation each time Sarah and John’s children followed him to the loch when he fished, but she knew better. Will had taken a shine to the boys, going as far as teaching the
m to catch smaller fish such as brim.

  Mindful of her full buckets, Nora took her time while she walked with Sarah along the dirt pathway winding through the village. The old alewife, busy brewing a new batch, called out an affable greeting as they veered onto a smaller trail leading to their cottages on the border of the sprawling settlement. Stacked rock and stone fences separated each thatch-roofed cottage and lined the walkway.

  “Good day, my ladies.”

  The familiar masculine lilt sent a frisson of alarm trickling the length of Nora’s spine. Her gaze jerked up from examining her full buckets to the striking figure of Liam MacGregor, blocking the path in front of her and Sarah.

  Sunlight gleamed on his blond hair and painted his features a golden hue, bestowing him with a youthful appearance. The light tunic he donned clung to his broad shoulders and chest. His relaxed stance exuded an air of strength and confidence. For a moment, Nora stared at his blackening, swollen eye, a silent reminder of their previous encounter the prior eve.

  Affixing a charming smile in place, he strode toward them. “Allow me, ladies.”

  He reached to grab one of Nora’s buckets, but she twisted away, sloshing water over the rim. “Thank you just the same, but I have them, my lord.”

  His mouth hung open and he glanced between her and Sarah, as if taken aback by her refusal.

  Sarah cut her a sharp, sideways stare. “Do not be silly, Nora. We would appreciate the help, my lord.”

  Frowning, Liam warily watched Nora, as if she might strike him, while he removed the carrying stick from her shoulders, bearing the heavy weight with no effort. He bent forward to grip Sarah’s water pail, relieving the woman of her burden as well. Juggling three full buckets of water without a bit of difficulty, he tipped his head. “Lead the way, ladies.”

  “’Tis kind of you, my lord.” Sarah shot Nora an amused glimpse and stepped around Liam. She glanced over her shoulder. “You are Liam MacGregor, Fraser’s—”