My Steadfast Love (Highland Loves Book 2)

by Melissa Limoges

  Alas, as his friendship with the lass grew and his feelings deepened, ’twas an unsettling prospect he’d have to face, sooner or later. She’d ask of his past, of the women he bedded. He knew it as sure as the maid wished to cause mischief.

  Inhaling a drag of air, he held his breath as the blonde filled John and Sarah’s tankards. The woman paused just behind Nora and reached for her tankard. As she tilted the pitcher to pour, her hand jerked at the last moment, dumping the contents over Nora’s head.

  Liam’s gaze swung from the gleam of satisfaction in the maid’s eyes to Nora, who jumped to her feet, her chair scraping over the stone floor. She sputtered and wiped ale from her face and chest. In a flash of rage, he sprang to his feet and slammed his hands on the trestle table’s hard surface.

  “What the hell is the meaning of this?” His shout resounded throughout the hall.

  The maid ducked her head, but not before Liam caught her slight grin. “’Twas an accident, my lord.”

  The syrupy sweet tone goaded his anger. “Not a damned chance. I watched you with my own eyes. ’Twas deliberate. You’ll apologize right this damned instant.”

  The maid’s burning gaze snapped to his. “I most certainly shall not apologize to your whore.”

  Aside from a round of collective gasps, the hall fell into absolute silence. Uncaring of the audience of onlookers, he locked his gaze on the vile woman, not mincing words when he spoke. “As of this moment, you’re relieved of your duties in this keep. You shall find plenty of work planting in the fields.”

  Affronted, the wench sputtered, “You cannot do that. You’re not laird here.”

  “For now, aye, I am. Do not fret, I’ll be sure to inform Laird Fraser of your conduct.” From the front of the hall, he caught a glimpse of Symon stalking toward the dais. “Would you be so kind as to escort this woman from the keep?”

  “Would be my pleasure.” Symon stepped onto the dais, reaching for the maid’s arm but she jerked away and hurled the pitcher to the stone floor, sending shards of clay to scatter amongst the rushes. The horrid woman spun around and stomped from the hall with Symon trailing after her.

  From somewhere in the chamber, a high-pitched voice muttered, “Good riddance.”

  At least, he was not alone in his dislike of the foul wench.

  Liam hurried around the table to Nora, who stood damp and shaken. Quelling the urge to envelop her in his arms, he slipped the mantle from his shoulders and passed the lightweight cloak to her.

  “Nora…I’m sorry, lass. Allow me to help.” He attempted to wrap the mantle around her, but she waved away his efforts with a shaky hand.

  At the sight of her worn, sodden gown, damp hair and downtrodden features, a sharp pang pierced his chest with a stinging blow. At present, he’d relish hurling the serving wench into the cold stream in the village.

  Her cheeks a dark crimson, Nora studied the front of his tunic rather than meet his gaze while tears brimmed in her eyes. “Please, my lord, ’tis no matter. Thank you.”

  Will stepped around him, taking the cloak from her clenched hands and settled the material over her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you home, Nora.”

  “Allow me to escort you.” Desperate to soothe her upset, Liam reached for her arm, but Will tucked his sister close to his side.

  “’Tis fine, my lord. I have her.” The lad proffered a tight smile at Liam. “Thank you.”

  Powerless to help, Liam watched as the pair retreated from the hall, heedless of the clan’s stares and whispers. His heart gave a painful kick, while his fury climbed to new heights.

  Was this what the Frasers thought of her? That Nora, one of the most sensible, virtuous women he’d ever encountered, played the part of his whore? Why? Merely because she taken a chance and believed him when no one else would?

  Enraged, he turned a harsh glare on the clan. “I vow, if I ever hear anyone speak of Nora in such a vile manner again, I shall not hesitate to have them removed from this damned hall. Do I make myself clear?”

  A chorus of “ayes” and grunts did little to pacify his soured mood. Dragging his feet, Liam returned to his seat, dropping into the chair with a solid oomph, while his head swam in a thunderous cloud of frustration. In truth, he was unsure who angered him more—the maid or himself.

  Why had he not taken measures to protect Nora from the clan’s loose tongues? The image of her sweet face bearing defeat seared into his mind, racking him with guilt. A nudge to his arm tugged him from his dark thoughts. He cut a sideways scowl at his cousin.

  “At last, you understand.”

  Liam glared at his kin. “Understand what?”

  Calum swallowed a deep drink before replying. “The difficulties that come with feeling affection for a woman.”

  *

  His cousin’s words lingered in his mind long after Liam quit the great hall. Affection for a woman? He snorted to himself, though the laugh sounded weak to his own ears. Especially since he stood outside Nora’s cottage, disappointed her quaint home sat still and swathed in darkness. Much akin to his present mood.

  Sighing, he’d endeavor to speak with her on the morrow. That is, if she’d speak to him at all. He walked away with a heavier heart than he’d arrived with.

  He retraced his steps along the well-worn paths through the darkened settlement which lay in eerie silence. Most of the villagers had retired for the night and fallen into the comforting embrace of slumber. Liam envied them their peaceful escape from waking life. Somehow, he suspected sleep would elude him this eve.

  Moonlight peeked through the clouds, illuminating the somber, stone keep in the distance. Torchlight lit the walkway as he ambled toward the outer courtyard, in no particular hurry to seek out his bed.

  “MacGregor’s looking for you, my lord. He’s in the stables,” one of the guards informed him as Liam passed through the front gates.

  Nodding his thanks, he had half a mind to continue on to his bedchamber. Even if he’d find little solace with a restless night. Knowing Calum, the man would seek him out there as well.

  He veered course and headed left for the stables situated on the far end of the courtyard. As he slipped in through a side entrance, the scents of horseflesh and hay filled his nostrils. Two or three hand-held lanterns hanging from posts lit the open interior, allowing Liam to easily spot his cousin outside his stallion’s stall.

  “Looking for me?” He strode past Calum to the neighboring enclosure.

  His cousin glanced over. “Aye. Where did you go?”

  Instead of replying, Liam leaned over the railing, reaching out a hand to brush over his roan’s muzzle. The horse softly nickered his approval.

  “If I had to guess, ’twas something to do with a certain dark-haired lass.”

  Rolling his eyes, Liam stroked the gelding’s nose. “Does it matter?”

  Calum shrugged. “Nay, I suppose not. I merely thought you might wish to talk.”

  “What’s there to discuss?” he muttered.

  A deep rumbling laugh tumbled out of the man and Liam leveled a glare at his cousin. “I fail to understand what the hell’s so amusing.”

  “You! For a damned change, you’re not the one laughing.” Calum’s booming laughter resounded from the planked walls, rousing neighs from a few of the horses in their stalls. “Would you care to know why?”

  “I cannot imagine,” Liam commented dryly. “Though, I’ve no doubt you’re going to tell me whether I wish you to or not.”

  With a final swipe of his hand over his stallion’s side, Calum pushed away from the stall and paced closer to Liam, leaning his forearms over the railing beside him.

  “What I find amusing is that you of all people, after all these years, have finally fallen for a woman.”

  “Fallen?” Liam spat out. “I’ve not fallen for any woman.”

  Calum lifted a brow. “Are you sure? Seems to me you’re well on your way, Cousin.”

  Dropping his head to lean on his forearms, Liam kicked at th
e bits of straw littering the dirt floor at his feet. Hell, was he falling for Nora? Did that explain the odd feelings he experienced and his overwhelming awareness of the woman when he was in her company? The fluster of agitation in his stomach when he looked upon her comely, frowning features? And what of that traitorous organ in his chest with all its blasted pounding of late?

  “’Tis not so terrible, is it?” Calum asked.

  Liam lifted his head to peer at his kin. “I do not understand what I feel.”

  “Does any man?” His cousin snorted. “Trust when I say the feeling improves.”

  “’Tis just…” He paused, unsure if he wished to share his burden with Calum. The man carried enough responsibility without Liam dumping trivial matters in his lap.

  “We’ve always been able to talk freely to each other, Liam. Now should be no different.”

  “I cannot explain why, but I feel…responsible for the lass. And the truth is, I want to be. I wish for her to trust me, to feel these same damned feelings that are turning me inside out. This mess with the maid in the hall, ’tis my fault. I left Nora unprotected to that vicious harpy’s wrath. The clan thinks the worst of Nora simply because she believed in me, and I’ve done naught to defend her. If I cannot look after one lass, how the devil could I ever handle an entire clan?” He shook his head. “’Tis no matter at any rate. Soon enough, I shall not have to deal with any of this any longer.”

  “Oh? And what of Nora?”

  Leave it to his cousin to cut straight to the point which frustrated Liam more. “What of her?”

  Calum tilted his head, spearing Liam with his penetrating, crystalline stare. “You would merely walk away from the lass? I do not believe that for an instant.”

  Neither did Liam, if he were truthful with himself. He’d sorely let Nora down this eve, and he’d no notion how to make amends with the woman.

  “Listen, Liam. I know all of this is new to you—Fraser, the clan, Nora. But you’ve handled yourself well with the clan the past sennight. You’re every bit as much of a leader as me or Fraser. What you need to understand is some matters are out of your control. What happened this eve was one of those instances. ’Tis no more your fault than ’tis Nora’s. Do not fret over the clan. There’ll always be those who seek to cause trouble. ’Tis naught you can do to stop it. Just know the situation shall soon right itself.”

  The words reassured Liam. A year younger than his cousin, he’d often looked up to Calum for direction. ’Twas uplifting when the man praised him. Though, he’d hardly given his kin much to compliment over the years.

  Calum shifted to lean his back against the stall door. “As for Nora, the two of you will work through matters. Just do not dawdle with your feelings as I did with Arabella. I could’ve spared us both a great deal of trouble by simply telling her how I felt. And for God’s sake, do not let Fraser get involved.”

  Liam chuckled at the reminder of the difficulty the older man created between his niece and Calum. The last thing he needed was for Fraser to send for a blasted priest as he’d done to his cousin and Arabella. Especially before Liam had an opportunity to fully examine the depth of his feelings for Nora.

  Hell, marriage.

  ’Twas the first time the notion spurred something other than a wash of dread in him. Especially with the thought of Nora as his bride. No doubt, the lass would frown throughout the entire ceremony. He smiled at the image in his mind.

  With one final scratch behind his gelding’s ears, he turned to lean against the planks of timber, mirroring Calum’s stance. “Speaking of meddlesome kin, I’m aware you spoke to my mother.”

  His cousin feigned ignorance as poorly as Elena Fraser was a liar.

  Before the other man uttered a denial, Liam added, “She confessed the two of you discussed how I should lead the clan in Fraser’s stead.”

  Calum barked out a laugh. “Well, what did you expect me to do?”

  “You could’ve not said a blasted thing,” he wryly suggested.

  “You’re not deceiving anyone, you know. Those of us who truly know you are aware you play the fool on purpose, Liam. Sometimes, I think you’ve grown so used to the role, you fail to understand your true potential.”

  Hell, was he that damned transparent?

  “Aye, aye, I understand.” He waved away the rest of his cousin’s lecturing. Not that he truly minded. In truth, he was grateful for the heartening words which had somewhat improved his rotten mood.

  Calum cuffed him on the shoulder. “Come, let’s head back to the keep. I have a comely wife awaiting my return.”

  Liam snorted as he shoved away from the stall. Extinguishing the lit lanterns, he and Calum secured the outer doors to the stables for the eve. They fell into step beside each other, strolling through the courtyard. Aside from stray patrols, the bailey stood in empty silence.

  “Any word from Symon?”

  Calum shook his head. “Nay, naught worthy of comment.”

  “Damn,” Liam growled.

  “You know he’s relentless. If Kenneth’s planning something, Symon will find him out.”

  He nodded in assent.

  ’Twas what made the MacGregor commander an invaluable warrior—loyal to a fault, determined, and skilled with a sword. Symon was dogged in his pursuits.

  Calum paused at the base of the keep’s front steps. “So…”

  Liam halted alongside him and raised a brow. “So what?”

  A broad grin stretched his cousin’s scarred visage. “What of Nora?”

  “By the Saints, man!” he exclaimed in exasperation.

  Calum tossed his head back and howled with laughter, the annoying sound grating in Liam’s ears. “’Tis not so amusing when you’re the one being badgered, is it?”

  Scowling, he stomped up the stairs. “Do not start with me.”

  Chuckling, Calum followed close behind. “Would you rather I sent for Father MacKinley now?”

  “I fear I’d have to hurt you, Cousin.”

  Calum’s laughter grew. “I’d like to see you try.”

  He pushed open one of the front doors, holding it wide for his cousin to pass through. “I do not suppose you might warn Arabella to guard her tongue around Nora?”

  Calum snorted. “’Tis about as much use as telling you to leave off pestering people.”

  Liam grimaced. In other words, he was doomed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Liam’s knuckles barely grazed the aged oak to knock before the door swung open. Elena Fraser’s eyes widened, no doubt surprised to see him standing on the other side.

  “Do not dare to leave this chamber without an escort.” Fraser’s roar thundered throughout the bedchamber.

  Her astonishment shifted to irritation in the bat of an eyelash. She scowled over her shoulder at Fraser, who sat upright in bed, his glare every bit as fierce as his bark.

  “Do not tell me what to do, you arse.”

  Brows lifting to his hairline, Liam gaped at the pair. He immediately regretted his poor timing. Before he managed to retreat a step, his mother faced him with an impish grin.

  Rising on her tiptoes, she pecked a kiss along his jaw and whispered in his ear. “Make sure he does not become too riled.” She yanked the sleeve of his tunic, pulling him inside the room. “I’ll give the two of you a bit of privacy.”

  “Get back here, Wife,” Fraser bellowed, loud enough to wake the dead.

  She countered the command with a resounding slam of the door.

  For a moment, Liam glanced awkwardly between the door and Fraser. He watched as the old laird struggled to arrange the mound of pillows bunched behind him.

  Taking mercy on the man, he strode to the bed. “Here, allow me.”

  He plumped the padded linen, lifting the cushions upright so that Fraser might lean his back against them.

  Fraser grudgingly muttered, “Thank you.”

  His ruddy cheeks flushed darker beneath the aging rusty hue of his beard. Liam wagered Fraser despised accepting aid f
or such a menial task.

  He hazarded to ask, “All is well?”

  Puffing out an aggravated sigh, Fraser flapped his arm at the closed door. “Your blasted mother refuses to allow me to leave this wretched bed. Then she saunters around the damned keep without an escort, even though I’ve repeatedly asked her not to traipse about the place alone.”

  Liam snorted. “Asked?”

  He doubted Fraser understood the difference between a request and a command.

  “Of course I damned well asked her,” Fraser asserted.

  “Do not fret so.” He chuckled. “I arranged for John to trail after her. He’s waiting below stairs.”

  Fraser grunted. “’Twas mindful of you, Boy.”

  “Seems you and I are too familiar with her mischievous ways.”

  Amusement twinkled in the older man’s green eyes. “Stubborn, you mean?”

  “Aye, the pair of you suit each other well.” Liam grabbed the armchair, dragging it closer to the bedside. “You’re looking much better.”

  Fraser cracked a grin. “Thanks to your obstinate mother. ’Tis glad I am to have wed such a remarkable healer.”

  Liam understood the sentiment well. Without his mother’s quick thinking, Fraser might not have survived the night. ’Twas unsettling when he truly thought of what might’ve occurred had she not recognized the signs of poison.

  “How’s the clan?” Anticipation shone in the older man’s direct stare. “Everything all right? Not giving you any trouble, are they?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Liam assured. “The wool’s harvested and ready for market, and the village is preparing for the feast, which I assume you’ll attend. They’re eager to see you for themselves.”

  “I’d like to see your mother try to stop me,” Fraser groused. “Word is, you tangled with an ill-tempered ram.”

  Liam rolled his eyes. “Of course, out of everything, you would hear that.”

  “There’s very little I do not hear.” A half-smile peeked through Fraser’s unkempt beard, lifting one corner of his mouth. “’Twas good of you to have helped the clan as you’ve done.”