My Steadfast Love (Highland Loves Book 2)

by Melissa Limoges

  Fraser flapped an arm at the men on the training grounds. “Most of them witnessed your blasted acceptance.”

  Several of the warriors paused long enough to confirm the statement much to Liam’s chagrin.

  Unrelenting, the older man jerked a thumb at Calum. “Even your cousin heard the damned words with his own ears.”

  Scratching the back of his neck, Calum offered an uneasy shrug. “Aye, but—”

  “’Tis no damned but about it! He agreed and that’s final,” Fraser insisted.

  “Why are you so adamant?” Liam probed. “I cannot understand. You owe me naught.”

  “Because,” Fraser bellowed. “I trust you, damn it.”

  His brows shot upward at the man’s outburst. For a moment, his mouth dropped open as he studied Fraser’s harsh features.

  The older man continued, “If something were to happen to me, then I need to know your mother and my clan shall be looked after. This worry presses on me. Especially after that blasted arse in my dungeons. I cannot leave your mother’s safety and my clan’s welfare in just anyone’s hands. You’ve proven you’re more than capable for the task, lad. Please, grant this boon and lay my mind to rest.”

  Liam raked a hand over his face. Saints save him. Did everyone in his family have a streak of stubbornness long enough to span the length of Scotland?

  “Well, I can see I’ve missed a great deal.”

  He jerked toward the sound of Symon’s amused drawl. The MacGregor commander stood alongside John. A teasing, half-smile lifted a corner of his mouth.

  His appearance surprised Liam. “When the devil did you return?”

  The dark-haired warrior could not have been absent more than a pair of days at the most.

  Symon remarked, “Long enough to house my mount in the stables.”

  Curiosity prodded him to ask, “What happened with Beatrice?”

  He’d asked Symon to follow the woman and make certain she departed Fraser lands. He feared the blasted wench might linger and cause difficulty for his Nora. For some inexplicable reason, he anticipated more trouble from the vile serving maid.

  “Once she left Fraser lands, she managed to gain a horse from one of the neighboring clans.” Symon snorted. “She’s an enterprising sort, I’ll give her that. She rode hard and reached the MacNabs well after nightfall.”

  Fraser’s bellowed curse sliced through the air. “The damned MacNabs?”

  Liam frowned at the older man’s strong reaction. “Who the hell are the MacNabs?”

  Sighing, Calum shook his head. “I see Nora’s not upheld her end of our bargain.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Why the devil did you not tell me?” Liam demanded of his cousin as the two of them marched through the village, bound for Nora’s cottage.

  “Hell, Liam. I struck a bargain with the lass.” Calum cut him an annoyed glance. “What would you have me do?”

  “Tell me the blasted truth, for a start,” he bellowed.

  “As if you would’ve done the same,” Calum countered. “You and I both know you would’ve danced around the matter until I forced it from your lips.”

  Liam rolled his eyes rather than continue to argue with the man.

  After his cousin and Fraser promptly ran through the unsettling tale of Nora and Will’s past, he took off for the village, determined to confront the lass with the information he’d gleaned. Information she should’ve shared with him herself but failed miserably.

  Christ, and to think he’d even offered the lass a reprieve the eve prior. Of course, he’d no notion of the importance of the details she’d withheld from him. ’Twas a vital matter she should’ve spoken of from the beginning. Especially since she’d harbored suspicions after Fraser’s poisoning.

  Why the devil had the woman held her tongue? Did she believe he’d think less of her in some manner? Or force her and Will to leave? Too many unanswered questions spun in his mind, propelling his frustration to a steep peak.

  Saints, why were females prone to concealing pertinent details? For the life of him, he could not comprehend the creatures or their haphazard reasoning.

  Countless thoughts pummeled through his mind as he turned the corner, marching a straight path down the dirt trail leading to Nora’s. Beside him, his cousin kept pace with his hurried steps.

  “You might wish to calm yourself before you speak to the lass,” Calum suggested.

  He slanted his cousin a sideways stare. “I am calm.”

  Calum snorted. “As a raging storm.”

  Liam rolled his eyes at the embellishment. Given the present situation, he was as blasted calm as he could manage. ’Twas not anger that compelled him to seek Nora out, but frustration—frustration with his own ignorance. As he and Nora became acquainted, he suspected the lass concealed a host of secrets behind those dark eyes of hers, but he’d never prodded her for answers. In some instances, he’d not even bothered to inquire at all.

  As soon as they reached the end of the lane, his step faltered at the sight of Nora’s door standing ajar. His hand lingered on the gate when he spotted the bucket beside the door turned over in the yard with Nora’s gardening tools scattered about the dirt. Moving inside the yard, he spied stray droplets of blood near the entrance and a swell of alarm rushed through his frame.

  He slapped the back of his hand to Calum’s chest, halting his cousin. “Something’s amiss.”

  Heeding the warning, his cousin unsheathed the dagger at his side, while Liam gripped the pommel of his sword.

  Heart drumming a furious beat in his chest, he paced closer and pushed the cracked door wider, but an obstruction blocked the entrance. Glancing down, he sucked in a startled breath. Just inside the doorway, a booted, male foot lay wedged against the planks of timber.

  Gripped by a flood of fear, he shoved the door wide enough to slip through. On the other side, Geordie lay sprawled in a pool of blood, barely clinging to life.

  Shock resounded through Liam at the sight of the elderly man. His gaze swept a swift pass over the cottage, searching for Nora and her brother, before dropping to his knees beside Geordie.

  “Quick, Calum. Bring my mother.”

  His cousin’s head poked through the entrance and a sound curse split the air. Without another moment’s hesitation, Calum sprinted from the cottage, his booted feet pounding over the dirt.

  Liam lifted the man’s crimson-stained tunic and winced at the grievous wound along his side. Ripping away a portion of the man’s tunic, he used the fabric as a compress to stem the dark flow of blood from the deep gash. A strangled moan drifted from the older man. His bleary, gray eyes cracked open, meeting Liam’s gaze.

  “Laird.” His weak voice cracked. “They took them…I tried.”

  Liam barely held the panic hurtling through him in check. He clenched his teeth to halt his bellow of outrage.

  “Who, Geordie? Who took them?” Though, he could guess.

  A tight ball of anxiety took up residence in his chest, heightening his unease.

  “Fergus MacNab.” The elderly man sputtered a jarring cough, the sound rattling in his chest. “Sorry. I could not…”

  Moved by the old soldier’s efforts, Liam grasped Geordie’s cooling hand in his own, hoping to infuse life into the man once more. “Your bravery is boundless, Geordie. Rest, help is on the way.”

  Geordie’s eyes slid closed, and his features paled a deathly shade of white. The rise and fall of his chest grew increasingly shallow as life slipped away from the elder. Frustrated he could do naught to save the man, Liam pressed harder on the compress while he considered the faithful vassal.

  The first morn after he’d awakened in Nora’s cottage, he wondered of Geordie’s relation to Nora and Will. ’Twas not until Calum and Fraser’s explanation earlier when Liam fully grasped the depth of the elderly MacNab warrior’s devotion to Nora and her brother. Despite his advanced age, the man upheld his sworn duty, protecting his charges with his life. ’Twas hard to find that profundi
ty of loyalty in anyone.

  Liam silently cursed the damned MacNabs. Saints, he’d not known who the hell the clan was until an hour past. So many details ticked into place—Nora and Will’s guarded natures, Will’s damaged leg, the lass’ ill-tempered bouts, her usual frowning features. Everything made far more sense.

  He released a harsh breath. Christ, his lass must be mindless with fright.

  Faint footsteps outside the door pricked his ears. Unsure if a threat remained, he grabbed for his sword and straightened to his knees, his eyes locked on the opened doorway.

  “Liam.”

  Numb with relief, he sank back on his heels at the sound of Symon’s voice. The commander slipped between the parted entrance, his gaze darting to Geordie.

  Symon grimaced. “Damn.”

  Aye, Liam understood the sentiment well.

  “Your mother’s on the way.”

  Glancing down at the elderly soldier, Liam nodded, though he doubted there was much his mother could do at that point. With the wound too deep to mend, the man had lost far too much blood. His heart sank when he realized Geordie no longer drew breath.

  Christ, he had not anticipated the elder would slip away quite so soon.

  Resting his bloody hands flat of his bent knees, he met Symon’s dark, solemn gaze. Aside from his cousin, the MacGregor commander was one of the few men he trusted with his life and counted as a true friend. He could ask the warrior to ride straight to hell with him to slay the devil, and the man would not hesitate to join him.

  “They have my lass and her brother,” he muttered.

  Nodding, Symon raised a brow. “When do we leave?”

  “Posthaste.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  Damned if Liam had a notion. ’Twas no blasted time to assemble a force of men. Not with the MacNab laird and his cur of a son resolved to murder Will and Nora. His only hope was to ride like the hounds of hell chased after him and pray he caught up to their party. If not, then he’d no damned clue what to do.

  Unwilling to allow more precious time to slip away from him, he straightened to his feet and crossed to the small bed in the corner of the cottage, grabbing the coverlet. He shook out the pelt and gently covered Geordie’s body. He would ensure the old man would receive a proper burial befitting that of an honored warrior. ’Twas the least he could do in reverence of the warrior for his years of faithful service to Nora and Will.

  *

  Resolved to see his task through, Liam hastened through the village with Symon close on his heels. Intent to reach the stables and saddle his gelding, he scarcely heeded villagers as he swept past. Once he stepped foot on the wooden bridge leading to the front gate, his mother hurried from the courtyard followed by Calum and Fraser, who carried her satchel of medicinals.

  Her wide gaze met his and he shook his head.

  She scurried forward, pausing in front of him. “Are you certain?”

  “Aye.” Though, he loathed to admit Geordie was gone.

  Her brows pulled low with concern. “I expect you’re leaving.”

  Studying her distressed features, he nodded.

  One soft hand cupped his cheek while she rose on her tiptoes to kiss the opposite. “Be safe, my lad.”

  Sweeping his arms around her, he enveloped her in a firm embrace. “Always.”

  Over her shoulder, Fraser caught his eye.

  “John’s gathering a few of the men now.” Fraser’s clipped words spoke of his seething anger.

  Releasing his mother, Liam nodded his thanks. “’Tis a vain attempt, but I have to try.”

  “Understood.” The older man added, “We shall be ready to ride within the hour.”

  Liam almost crossed his eyes in vexation. As if he did not have enough to contend with at the moment. “We?”

  Puffing out his barrel chest, Fraser affixed a harsh glare to his hardened features. “If you expect me to sit idly by and do naught, then you’re a blasted fool. The lass and lad were under my protection and I am the one who failed them. We can stand here wasting time, or we can head for the stables. Your decision.”

  Taken aback by the man’s ferocity, he cut a sharp glance at his mother. Standing firm, she nodded and lifted her chin in challenge.

  Saints help him. Any other time, he might’ve argued with the ridiculous man, but he could not afford the time. In that instant, more pressing matters weighed on his conscience. Such as retrieving his damned lass and her brother. Everything else paled in comparison.

  Heaving a deep sigh, he agreed with a growl. “Fine. We leave within the hour.”

  Not waiting for a response, he marched for the stables, anxious to get moving before more time was lost. He could only hope his lass’ tenacity and Will’s cleverness would keep them alive until he arrived to reclaim his family.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The terrain blurred together in a blend of muted colors while cold wind stung Nora’s face. Their small party rode at a breakneck pace throughout the day stopping only once briefly to water the horses before resuming their mad dash west over the countryside. Her turbulent thoughts flew into utter chaos as her and Will’s safety slipped further out of reach with each hard pound of the horses’ hooves.

  Between the MacNab soldier’s steely arm wedged beneath her ribs and the rough jostle and jolt of the horse’s swift gait, her entire body silently screamed in protest. With her hands bound and her unsteady perch astride the saddle, she dared not squirm against the soldier’s hold, fearful she’d topple to the hard-packed earth speeding by underneath her.

  Over and over, several prevalent questions rose from the slew of tangled thoughts racing through her mind. She worried for Geordie. Had the loyal old man survived his wound?

  And what of Liam? When would he discover them missing? Could he manage to somehow save her and her brother?

  ’Twas foolish of her, but she’d snatched repeated glances over her shoulder, consoling herself with quick glimpses of Will to ensure he still lived and breathed. Some irrational part of her longed to spy Liam’s appearance through the flying dust and gravel, catching up to them.

  Alas, as the day drew to a close, nightfall cast a blanket of darkness over the land, elevating her agitation by tenfold. Too soon, torchlight glowed in the distance, illuminating a pile of stones that emerged from the inky blackness of night. ’Twas a view she recognized all too well—home.

  Dread crashed over Nora, sinking icy talons in her chest. The once welcoming sight of the MacNab Keep filled her with naught but an overwhelming fear she felt deep in her chilled bones. Choking on the strips of linen crammed in her mouth, she forced herself to suck in steadying breaths through her nostrils. As the horses trotted closer toward the front gate, her trepidation grew.

  Slowing his mount to a slow plod, the soldier behind her released a piercing whistle. “Open the gate.”

  His earsplitting bellow rang in her ears and bore in her aching head. From the wall, an echoed affirmation followed as the grinding metal gears groaned. The portcullis climbed high enough to permit their small party entry into the courtyard. The horses’ heavy clomps resounded through the nearly empty interior.

  A lone figure stood at the top of the keep’s front steps. His sinister grin stretched wider as the men reined their mounts yards away. Bathed in torchlight, Tavish MacNab descended the stone stairs. With a head full of dark hair, squared jaw and a tall, lean frame, he resembled her father. The stark reminder sent a jolt of alarm through Nora. ’Twas unfathomable a man as vile as her uncle could bear such a striking resemblance to the goodness that was her father.

  Craning her neck, she glanced to her left, seeking out Will to gauge his reaction. Despite his bound hands and gag, he appeared collected and unruffled. How the devil could he remain calm at a time like this?

  His dark eyes met hers for a flicker of a moment before latching on to their uncle. The unfettered hatred glittering in his gaze gave her pause. Over the years, whenever they’d spoken of their kin, Will had
never displayed such a deep-seated anger as he did in that moment.

  “Saints, you pair are a sight for sore eyes!” Tavish’s raucous laughter boomed through the silent courtyard. “Oh, come now. Do not despair. ’Twas inevitable we would find the two of you at some point. At least your mother and father had the good grace not to flee and hide themselves away like cowards.”

  The crude words sliced through her fear, and a loathing disgust promptly filled the vacuity. Were her hands unbound, she might’ve reached for the shears stowed in the pocket of her apron and carved out the horrid man’s eyes.

  Fergus dismounted, brushing away the dust from his clothing. “’Twas as simple as you said it would be.”

  Tavish snorted. “Of course. After the information Kenneth and Beatrice passed along, I did not think you would find trouble. It would seem Fraser’s softened since he’s found himself a bride.” Pivoting toward the opened doors of the front entrance, he barked out, “Get out here and give them a hand.”

  ’Twas all Nora could do not to growl at the mention of Beatrice’s name. Christ, if she got her hands on the foul woman…

  Four MacNab soldiers filed through the doorway, reluctance evident in their sullen demeanors and dragging feet. Nora’s brows lifted at the familiar faces of Owen and Gordon. She remembered the young soldiers well from her youth. The pair had sworn fealty to her father not long before his murder.

  Features set with a deep scowl, Owen treaded closer and lifted his arms to grab her from the saddle. As soon as his gaze connected with hers, recognition flashed in his light eyes. His hold around her middle faltered for a brief instant, nearly causing the warrior to drop her. The man’s mouth parted in surprise before he righted himself. Owen shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Gordon who aided her brother from the saddle. Identical looks of astonishment reflected in their eyes.

  Bemused, Nora was uncertain what to make of their responses.

  “Fraser and MacGregor will not be far behind,” Fergus warned his father as he strode inside the keep without a backward glance.