My Steadfast Love (Highland Loves Book 2)

by Melissa Limoges

  A playful grin curved his lips. “So…how was it?”

  She almost laughed at the silly question. The man jested at the most ill-timed moments. Spurred by his witty query, she could not help but tease the self-assured smile from his face.

  She lifted a shoulder with a half-shrug. “’Twas tolerable, I suppose.”

  If anything, his grin stretched wider. He swatted her backside before hauling her flush against his chest. “Ah, lass, what am I to do with you?”

  For a long while, she merely savored the warmth of his embrace, his strong arms around her. The steady beat of his heart thumped beneath her palm. She wished this single, enchanting moment could span a lifetime.

  The smile eased from his lips. The earnestness in his deep blue eyes gave her pause.

  “Nora…” Liam swallowed hard. “Marry me?”

  The earth could’ve shifted and split apart at her feet and Nora would’ve been less astonished. Saints alive, was he serious?

  Hundreds of thoughts flooded her mind, scattering her good sense to the wind. Her mouth flapped open, the words absent from her tongue.

  His palms framed her face. “You do not have to give me an answer now. But promise me, you’ll consider it.”

  Relieved he’d offered yet another reprieve, she nodded and leaned her cheek to rest on his shoulder while his question circled in her mind. How could she marry the man she loved when he knew naught of her past?

  Mayhap, ’twas selfish of her but for now—just this once—she intended to bask in the comfort of his arms. The morrow would come soon enough, and she’d have to explain how her uncle plotted to murder him and his father and the fact that she was not a Fraser at all.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Liam stood on the edge of the training grounds with his cousin, observing Fraser and MacGregor warriors alike practicing their skills. Midmorning sun glinted off the sharp edges of striking weaponry, while clangs of steel, coupled with male grunts and the shifting of dirt at the men’s heels, bustled through the expansive meadow.

  Bowmen lined the far end of the pasture, their arrows aimed for straw targets near the tree line of the forest. To one side, mounted warriors steered their horses through a gamut of obstacles Fraser designed many years before. From wooden targets and barriers to rotating sacks of grain hoisted by windlasses, the track tested the men’s reactions and endurance.

  Liam remembered the course well from his youth when he and Calum received their training under Fraser. However, what he recalled more than anything was the blasted man’s punishments. Too often, he and his cousin ended up on the wretched end of a loaded grain wagon, forced to haul the damned cart back and forth over the grounds as penance for their mischievous deeds. Though, several of the jests he and his cousin played on Fraser had been well worth the price.

  Calum bumped Liam’s arm, tipping his head toward the other end of the field. Beyond the men sparring in the middle of the grounds, he caught sight of Fraser making his way across the clearing. Not far behind, Kenneth and John followed.

  “About time,” Liam muttered.

  He’d spoken with Fraser earlier that morn, suggesting the old laird might join him and Calum in the fields to take in a bit of fresh air. Of course, Liam had something else in mind altogether.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” his cousin asked with a degree of apprehension. “What of your injuries?”

  “A slight twinge. Naught more.” He shrugged off his cousin’s concern. He refused to allow a minor ache to halt his plans for the commander. “Trust me, I’ve been waiting for this moment since the damned dungeons.”

  As Fraser sauntered closer, his harsh countenance eased into a confident grin. “’Tis a fine day to be out of doors.” He motioned to the sword at Liam’s side. “You lads getting in a bit of training?”

  Liam snorted at the reference. No matter their ages, he was certain Fraser might always refer to him and his cousin as lads. Though he knew the answer, he asked out of courtesy. “Aye, care to join us for a round?”

  “Nay, I’m content to merely watch this morn.” Fraser grasped his arms behind his back, rocking on his heels, as he looked on at the dozens of men scattered over the field involved in one activity or another.

  “Good to see you hale and hearty after our last meeting, my lord,” John remarked.

  Liam tapped a finger to his temple. “’Tis truth, I’m not certain how much more my head can take.”

  Calum barked out a laugh. “If you’re worried about your good sense, then do not concern yourself. You lost that long ago.”

  His cousin’s ridiculous statement drew a round of laughter from each of them. Except Kenneth.

  Liam shifted to face the commander, who tried his best to feign indifference. The taut stance of his sizeable frame and clenched, square jaw boasted of his derision.

  For the most part, Liam considered himself an even-tempered, affable sort of fellow. He’d no reason to purposefully dislike anyone. Unless, of course, the person gave good cause. From the poisoning to tampering with his prized gelding, Kenneth had far surpassed the level of his tolerance. The man’s guilt was evident to Liam from the very start.

  With two failed attempts on his and Fraser’s lives and Symon away trailing after Beatrice, Liam could no longer afford for Kenneth to freely roam about the holding. Saints only knew what the devious arse might endeavor next. ’Twas a risk he was unwilling to take. Not to mention, Fraser needed to see what his commander was truly capable of for himself.

  “Eh, Kenneth, ’tis been a while since you and I have sparred. What say you to a round?”

  The brawny soldier craned his neck to peer at Liam. His narrowed gaze glittered with a self-assured gleam. The confidence in his abilities to best Liam shone through with a quirk of his lips.

  Crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest, he sneered. “Are you sure you can handle the task, MacGregor?”

  A few inches shorter and a sight leaner than the other man, Liam eyed the commander. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

  God willing, a lick of cunning and a wealth of agility would be enough to carry him through. After years of sparring with Calum, he’d learned to use his nimbleness to his advantage against larger opponents.

  Kenneth nodded, his smile widening. “If you’re sure you can manage…”

  The commander’s doubt hung in the charged air between them, kindling Liam’s determination to see the task through and expose the commander for his foul deeds. He cut his cousin a quick look the man had no trouble interpreting.

  Slipping his longsword from the scabbard at this side, he stepped out onto the field, slashing his blade from side to side to loosen the tension in his shoulder. Stalling, he made a show of stretching and readying himself which, in turn, irritated Kenneth.

  As planned, Calum called out, “Have you and Fraser spoken of what we discussed last eve?”

  Liam lowered his sword at his side, presenting a casual, lax posture. Though, he felt anything but relaxed. His body hummed with the awareness his enemy stood only a few short yards away, intent to run him through given the opportunity. He merely needed to goad the man into action which should pose no trouble.

  “Nay. What is it?” His curiosity sparked, Fraser glanced between him and Calum.

  Gripping the pommel of his sword with a steely grip, Liam shifted to face the older man in a deliberate measure, leaving his flank exposed to attack.

  “’Tis truth, I’ve given your announcement much thought as of late. This past fortnight, working with the Frasers, has opened my eyes in a fashion.” Balancing on the balls of his feet, he braced his feet in a rigid stance. “Are your feelings the same as they were the eve of the wedding?”

  Fraser’s mouth dropped open, surprise lighting his green eyes. “Of course they are. I’m not given to changing my mind, lad. You should know I meant every word. I’ve devoted my entire life to my clan, and I do not regret it for one instant. But, I’ve lost too many precious years with
your mother, and I’ve no intention of missing any more.” Fraser stood taller, puffing out his barrel chest. “In truth, naught would please me more than to see my own son lead in my stead. That is, if you’re willing.”

  For now, the ruse would have to do. Later, he would explain to the older man. “I shall gladly accept.”

  The arrow hit its intended mark.

  Liam caught the faint hiss of steel followed by a whoosh of air. Twisting his upper body, he raised his sword in the nick of time to parry Kenneth’s powerful blow. The jarring force sent a pang through his lower back.

  “What the devil?” Fraser bellowed, undoubtedly astonished by his commander’s reaction.

  Bearing his weight against the weapon, Liam shoved Kenneth backward a few paces. He tossed a quick glimpse at Fraser, relieved to see his cousin and John moved ahead of the older man, effectively blocking him from the reach of Kenneth’s sword.

  Though he’d gone over his plan with Calum and John the eve before, during the light of day, his scheme to entrap the commander might prove a bit more difficult. Especially with the throbbing twinge in his back.

  Brandishing his sword in front of him, he met Kenneth’s glare. “Why should the decision displease you?”

  “Because you deserve naught,” the commander spat out before he launched his attack.

  Kenneth charged forward, delivering heavy blow after heavy blow. Deflecting each strike, Liam struggled to sustain his footing against the onslaught. He jerked aside to avoid a slash of the blade. Disregarding his cousin and Fraser’s shouts and the growing crowd of gawking soldiers on the field, Liam focused solely on the task at hand. He held his defense, allowing the other man to tire himself.

  The commander redoubled his efforts, raining down one strike after another. Angry growls and grunts accompanied each hard swing. As Liam jumped from side to side, jagged pain pierced his back and he misstepped, leaving his flank exposed. Kenneth snared his chance and swung, clipping Liam’s upper arm.

  He hissed at the stinging bite and staggered backward, catching his balance before he toppled to the ground.

  “Stop dawdling, Liam.”

  Calum’s shout shattered his attention and he threw a quick scowl at his cousin. Even if the man was right.

  To hell with this, he’d had enough.

  Centering his focus, he sprang forward, swinging his sword in an arc, straight for Kenneth’s midsection. The commander jumped backward and Liam pressed his attack. Grasping from some unknown store of stamina, he assumed an offensive position, delivering strike after strike and catching his opponent off guard. Panting to catch his breath, the big man lunged from side to side, parrying each blow. Tiring from his efforts, Kenneth labored to keep up with Liam’s assault.

  Despite the heavy thump in his chest and the fiery burn in his arms and shoulders—naught mattered to Liam but defeating his opponent. Heedless to the shrill screech and clatter of their blades or the barks and shouts from the Fraser soldiers gathered round, he moved with relentless precision. With one powerful swing, their swords met and held. Drawn in close proximity, he and the commander exerted the force of their strengths, both of them waiting for the other to fold beneath the pressure.

  The strain aggravated the soreness in Liam’s back, and he ground his back teeth. No match for the commander’s sheer brawn, he reverted to a different tactic. With losing not an option, he thrust his leg forward, between Kenneth’s, and tangled his foot around his opponent’s leg, dislodging the man’s stance and throwing off his balance. Kenneth’s eyes widened just before he tumbled backward onto the hard-packed dirt.

  The commander’s sword clattered out of reach and Liam seized the opportunity, kicking the pommel of the weapon and propelling it amongst the crowd of soldiers. As soon as Kenneth jerked forward to grab the dirk in his boot, Liam thrust the tip of his blade at the man’s throat, pressing him down.

  “Do not dare, or I’ll run your arse through.”

  In that instant, he meant every damned word. ’Twas hard not to permit his anger and frustrations to guide his hand.

  Flat on his back with his arms spread wide, Kenneth glared up at Liam from the ground, his glittering gaze spewing hatred. His broad chest rose and fell from his labors.

  He raised his chin a few degrees. “What now, MacGregor? You do not have the ballocks to kill me.”

  Between the spasm in his back and his utter vexation, Liam pushed the sword tip forward, scoring skin. “You’re a fool if you believe that. Christ, man, why? Why go to such lengths? Why the devil are you opposed to me as laird?”

  “Why?” Kenneth shouted, his mottled face a dark shade of crimson. “Because you’re a foolish lout who cares naught for this clan. I’ve given my life to this damned clan, and what have I gotten in return? Naught!”

  “You faithless dog!”

  Fraser’s furious growl rumbled in Liam’s ears. He cast a quick glance to his right, where the older man stood a few paces away. The weight of betrayal deepened the wrinkles in his drawn features.

  “All this time, I’ve had a snake in my midst.” Between clenched teeth, Fraser ground out, “I trusted you. My clan trusted you. And this is how you repay us?”

  “Repay you? What of my repayment? I’ve given you years of loyal service, and for what? Your bastard son to come along and piss away what I’ve toiled hard to hold together.”

  “What you’ve held together?” Fraser’s bellow thundered over the field.

  In a flash of movement Liam had not anticipated, the older man twisted around and yanked the sword from the scabbard along John’s belt. Shoving Liam aside, he aimed the weapon’s sharp point at Kenneth’s neck.

  “What I owe you is a damned severed head, you deceitful, lying cur. If anyone lacks the ballocks, ’tis you. What kind of a man plots to poison another on the eve of his wedding, or places burs beneath a saddle? ’Tis naught but the actions of a coward. I should kill you to spite.” A lethal edge suffused Fraser’s tone. “But nay, that’s too simple a punishment for you.”

  Fraser glanced to his warriors standing by, watching the scene unfold. “Place him in the damned darkest hole in the dungeons.”

  Without hesitation, four soldiers rushed ahead to do as Fraser bid, grabbing hold of Kenneth’s arms and hauling the former commander to his feet. As the men roughly escorted him from the field, he shouted over his shoulder, “’Tis not over. Wait and see.”

  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 who
reson 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.