Reckless Scotland

by Vane, Victoria

  “I see our Nora cracked you a good one.”

  Nora cried out, “Geordie.”

  Liam gaped at the older man. Was he serious? The lass was to blame?

  Unmoved by Nora’s sputtering efforts to quiet him, Geordie added, “Well, ’twas your own fault after all.”

  Liam’s head snapped back as if he had been slapped. His fault? What had he done to earn her scorn?

  By God, what had he awakened to this morn? Who were these damned people? For a scant instant, he questioned if he were still abed and lurching his way through a wretched nightmare.

  “’Tis a long story. An entertaining tale if you truly think about it,” Will blathered out an explanation. “You see, ’twas naught but a…misunderstanding, my lord.”

  Liam shot a dry look at the young man for his choice of words.

  By the Saints, between his pained head, the trouble with his mother and Fraser and, now, dealing with his barking mad hosts, ’twas quite enough for one day by his estimation. And the blasted day was still young.

  ’Twas a fine time to saddle his mount in the stables and head for home, leaving all this madness behind. He hefted himself up from the stool, ignored his roiling belly, and headed for the door. Grabbing ahold of the latch, he paused to cast a final glimpse over his shoulder. In a better mood, he might’ve laughed at the identical looks of disbelief the three wore.

  Moving a tentative step closer, Nora wrung her hands in front of her. “Please, allow me to explain, my lord.”

  He shrugged off her words. “Truly, there is no need.”

  The lass opened her mouth to speak again, but he held up a hand to silence her. “You have my thanks for the food and a warm place to lay my head, but I believe—”

  A loud banging against the door clattered in his ears and shook the wooden latch in his hand. He lifted a brow at Nora, who simply shrugged and shook her head, indicating she expected no one else.

  “Oh, er…” Geordie interjected with a sheepish grin. “One of the guards at the front gate mentioned Laird MacGregor sought you out. Mayhap, I might’ve told him where to find you.”

  ’Twas not surprising his cousin searched for him. No doubt, Calum had noticed his absence from the hall.

  “Allow me, then.” Liam swung the door wide and came face to face with Fraser’s commander. Behind the man, four of the guards closed in around his flanks.

  “Kenneth,” Liam greeted with a nod.

  The warrior’s hostile, accusing stare bore a hole through Liam.

  He frowned. “Wha—”

  “Grab him!” Kenneth stepped aside and the soldiers funneled through the entrance, catching Liam off guard. The men grabbed his arms and shoulders while he fought their hold. One pressed a meaty arm over his throat, subduing his struggles.

  Will and Geordie leapt to their feet, rattling bowls and utensils on the tabletop. Geordie thundered, “Wait just a damned minute.”

  Small compared the commander’s bulky frame, Nora pushed her way through to stand in Kenneth’s path, glaring up at the man. “What’s the meaning of this? Have you gone mad? He is your laird.”

  Kenneth’s stern features twisted with disgust. “He is no laird of mine.”

  He thrust Nora out of his way with a simple sweep of his hand. Liam might’ve laughed as a flush of outrage reddened the lass’ cheeks, but the hard press of muscle tightened against his windpipe.

  The madwoman shoved hard at Kenneth’s chest, but the action had little effect on the strapping commander.

  She lifted her chin. “I demand to speak with Laird Fraser right this instant. He shall settle this nonsense.”

  “Well, I’m afraid ’tis not possible.” Kenneth’s menacing glare shifted from Nora to Liam, impaling him with a gleam of utter hatred. “The laird’s been poisoned.”

  Liam’s heart turned over in his chest, the words robbing him of his already limited air.

  Nora’s gaping mouth accompanied her sharp intake of air.

  “Poisoned?” Geordie shouted.

  “How?” Will pushed in front of his sister, tucking her behind him. “Who would dare?”

  Kenneth’s condemning stare lingered on Liam. “His son.”

  Chapter Four

  The frigid grip of dread latched on to Nora as soon as Kenneth growled out the word poison. Fear took hold, sending a racking shiver through her frame. Her uncle—’twas how he’d murdered her father and mother. Her mind spun in several directions, all of which terrified her to the bone. Her stunned gaze flew to Will whom she’d sworn to protect.

  As if he’d plucked the notion from her distressed mind, he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Calm yourself, Nora. ’Tis a coincidence. Naught more.” His fingers tightened. “Do you hear me?”

  His words offered cold comfort. Few things in life happened by sheer coincidence. Had she not learned the hard lesson before? For his sake, and mayhap her own, she expelled a shaky breath and nodded in agreement. Though she hardly shared her brother’s calm sentiment, he need not know of the alarm wreaking discord in her mind. As his older sister, ’twas her responsibility to bear the burden and worry for the both of them.

  Powerless to stop Fraser’s men, she could do naught but stand helpless as Kenneth and the others dragged Liam through the holding’s settlement. Villagers who’d arisen with the dawn paused in their morning duties and others still indoors rushed from their cottages to witness the spectacle.

  As Nora looked on in dismay, the rest of the commander’s words sank in. Liam was the laird’s son?

  A spring coiled in the pit of her stomach, winding her up taut. She may not count herself the most discerning of people, but she heeded her instincts. They’d served her well in the past and, at the moment, they wailed a distinct warning. Something was most assuredly amiss with the situation.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I do not believe it.”

  “Nay, me either,” Will muttered.

  “Nor I,” Geordie added, crowding in the doorway behind them. “In truth, ’tis not possible.”

  “Aye,” Will agreed. “We both saw the laird alive and well, long after Liam quit the hall. Not to mention, he was deep in his cups when Nora knocked him on his arse.”

  “What?” Her head snapped around to stare at them. “I did no such…”

  Both Will and Geordie peered at her with raised brows, halting the weak denial on her lips.

  Fie on both of them!

  Aggravated, Nora glanced away from the pair with a lift of her chin. So what if she had knocked the man on his arse? Besides, ’twas the grain wagon that had truly done him in—not her. At the time, he’d deserved no less. But what Will and Geordie stated was true.

  After her ill-fated meeting with Liam in the courtyard, he spent the remainder of the eve on the floor of her cottage. Not once had he stirred from his deep slumber. She should know. She’d lain awake for much of the night, wary of the man occupying space on her floor. How and when could he have poisoned Fraser? Unless he arranged the whole sordid affair. But her gut cautioned otherwise.

  She eyed her brother. “Did you know Fraser had a son?”

  His shoulders lifted with a shrug and he shook his head. “Nay, at least not until last eve. I’m guessing from their argument in Fraser’s solar, neither did Liam.”

  Geordie snorted. “Or the rest of the hall, for that matter. ’Tis not hard to imagine why he’s fallen under the clan’s suspicion.”

  Nora’s brows rose. Indeed, ’twas easy to presume such, but Liam MacGregor did not strike her as a fool.

  Pondering what little information she knew of the man, she chewed her bottom lip. By all accounts, he’d bedded plenty of women, if the unsavory chatter of some of the clan’s women was any judge. Add her first meeting with the man, which sorely lacked evidence of a shining character, and any reasonable person might saddle him with the foul deed.

  Alas, the nettling twinge deep in her belly would not permit her to assign blame just yet. Instead, she chose to side
with her intuition in this instance.

  Once before, she’d witnessed the cold, blank, soulless stare of a murderer. The stark reminder raised the hair at her nape, but she shoved aside the unsettling thought. Not one single speck of that accursed look, or remotely close, resided in Liam’s animated blue eyes. He might be a lecher of the highest degree, but she did not believe him capable of poisoning his own father, and not in such a blatant manner.

  Shifting in the doorway, she glanced from Will to Geordie. “We have to do something.”

  The old man’s shaggy brows furrowed. “Such as?”

  “I know not, but we cannot allow Kenneth and the others to throw him in the dungeons for a crime he did not commit.”

  The commander would do so without batting an eye. Nora could not say why, but she’d never cared for the harsh man since her arrival years before.

  “So, you really believe him, then?” Will asked. “Even after his behavior last eve?”

  “Aye. I’m not certain why, but I do.” She met her brother’s level stare with one of her own. “Besides, poor manners have naught to do with poisoning a man.”

  He nodded, as if pleased with her response, and cuffed Geordie’s shoulder. “Come along, I have a plan.”

  The three of them took off for the keep—Nora at a quick pace, Will with a swift limp, and Geordie heaving along behind. The morning sun climbed higher in the clear skies, warming her shoulders and chasing away the spring chill. She rushed through the village and over the bridge leading to the front entrance of the outer courtyard, unsurprised word of the poisoning hummed in conversations as she passed clansmen and women. Several of the Frasers traded accusations back and forth, inciting the clan’s mounting anger.

  ’Twas all it took. Naught but a false notion. Soon, they’d demand Liam’s head on a pike at the front gates without definitive proof of his guilt.

  The sense of urgency hastened Nora’s pace. She wound through crowds gathered in the courtyard and climbed the steps to the main entrance of the keep. Inside the great hall, ribbons, flowers, and lengths of tartan decorated the austere chamber from the celebration the prior ever. Though, serving maids busied themselves cleaning away the traces of the banquet.

  Instead of breaking their fast, Frasers and MacGregors alike sat huddled around bare trestle tables. With their heads pressed together, hushed conversations swirled from one end of the chamber to the other, voicing concerns and suspicions.

  Lifting on her tiptoes, she combed over the hall, searching for Fraser’s new bride among those gathered. She nudged her brother. “Do you see her?”

  Will scanned the hall. “Who?”

  “Lady Fraser.”

  He tossed her an incredulous stare. “I’d assume she’s above stairs, caring for her new bridegroom. Would you not think?”

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “Wait here with Geordie.”

  Nora spun away, heading for the main stairs near the entrance, but Will grabbed her wrist, halting her in her tracks.

  “Where the devil are you going?”

  “Above stairs. To request an audience with Lady Fraser.”

  Her brother stared at her as if she’d sprouted horns. “Are you mad? You cannot believe the guards will just let you stroll inside the laird’s bedchamber.”

  Of course, when he stated it like that, the impulsive notion sounded foolish. “What else are we to do? Stand here, staring at each other?”

  “I have a plan, Nora.”

  “Well, ’tis worth a try.”

  “All right, try your way.” He held up his hands in surrender. “But when you return below stairs, we shall try mine.”

  Ignoring his remark, she mounted the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her. When she reached Fraser’s private chambers on the third level, she paused long enough to catch her breath. In an attempt to compose herself, she combed her fingers through her hair and smoothed her hands over her old work gown. Saints, she must look a fright.

  Nora climbed the last step and rounded the corner to enter the narrow, stone passageway. As soon as the entrance widened and torchlight filled the stretch of hall, her stride faltered. At the end of the corridor stood four guards, outfitted for battle, blocking Fraser’s chamber door from sight.

  Gathering ahold of her pluck, Nora clasped her hands in front of her and meekly moved ahead. As she drew near, their indifferent countenances gave naught away. Spying John, who lived with his wife, Sarah, and their three small boys in the cottage over from hers in the village, she approached the familiar face.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to trouble you, John, but ’tis imperative I speak with Lady Fraser.”

  His features softened and he stepped ahead of the others. “I’m sorry, Nora, but I cannot permit it. No one’s allowed inside unless at Lady Fraser’s request.”

  “Please, John.” She lifted her clasped hands to her chest. “Kenneth has taken Liam to the dungeons, but he’s innocent.”

  “Innocent? Are you sure?” His keen gaze narrowed.

  “I cannot explain. I just know he did not do this.”

  “Do you have proof to support the claim, lass?”

  Behind him, she noted the other guards’ gazes kindled with interest. She opened her mouth to speak, but swallowed the words before they slipped from her tongue.

  Holy Mother, she could not bring herself to describe how Liam MacGregor ended up on her cottage floor last eve. Had not the clan already condemned him? What would they do to her? Accuse her of conspiring with the man and lock her away with him?

  Her mouth pressed in a firm line. She’d no wish to entangle herself any further in this mess. Pushing aside a shard of guilt, she lowered her chin and shook her head. “Nay, I do not.”

  He murmured, “I’m sorry, Nora, but there is naught I can do.”

  Nodding her thanks, she offered a wan smile before retreating down the passageway. She descended the stairs, dreading the knowing smirk Will would no doubt have plastered over his self-assured face.

  As soon as she stepped on the first level’s landing, she spotted Will leaning against the stone wall at the base of the stairs. A wide grin curved his lips. Though she loved her younger brother, at times, she struggled not to throttle him with her bare hands. Especially as he grew older and his clever tongue sharpened with pinpointed accuracy.

  He lifted an arrogant brow. “Any success?”

  “Nay.” She speared him with a searing glower.

  “Aye, I thought as much.” He chuckled. “Frankly, I’m astounded you believed that might work.”

  She rolled her eyes and glanced around. “Where’s Geordie?”

  “Listening to all the fodder in the hall.” Will grabbed ahold of her hand to help her down the final step. “Shall we try my way now?”

  She hesitated to ask. “Which is?”

  “Just follow my lead.” He nudged her into the great hall.

  Left with little choice, she yielded to his request. As they strode, side by side, into the hall, she spoke beside his ear. “Where are we going?”

  “To speak to Laird MacGregor’s commander.”

  She stumbled over her own feet and Will gripped her elbow to right the near miss. She hissed, “Have we not had enough trouble with one commander?”

  “Christ, Nora, just trust me for a change,” he growled in exasperation.

  Five years his senior, ’twas hard to remember her brother was nearly a man grown. Loath to admit it, she had the tendency to treat him as a bairn at times.

  “I’m sorry. I do trust you.”

  He nodded. “I know. Come on.”

  Tugging her sleeve for her to follow, he continued his path straight to the trestle table half-filled with MacGregors along the far wall. The men silenced their murmured discussion as she and Will approached. Each man’s gaze traveled a quick pass over both of them before feigning disinterest, but Nora knew better. Despite their lax postures, the soldiers sat vigilant and ready to act if necessary.

  “My lord,�
� Will addressed a dark-haired, stern-faced warrior seated amid the center of the group. “We must speak with Laird MacGregor, at once.”

  The grim commander took his time studying her and Will before he leisurely stood and leaned over, placing his large fists on the wooden table separating them.

  “First, who are you?” Authority laced the deep timbre of his voice.

  “Will Fraser”—her brother tilted his head at her—“and this is my sister, Venora.”

  Without as much as a blink, the man said, “Now, tell me. Why must you speak to my laird?”

  “We bring tidings of Liam.”

  The announcement earned them each MacGregor’s undivided attention. The commander stood to his full height and rounded the table to stand directly in front of Will, his imposing form towering over her brother. “Go on.”

  Despite the commander’s daunting posture, Will straightened his shoulders, his gaze unflinching. “With respect, my lord, ’tis a matter I must share with the laird himself.”

  The commander’s eyes narrowed, as if testing her brother’s mettle. Just when Nora imagined the man would deny the request, he tipped his head toward the hall entrance. “Follow this way, then.”

  The breath Nora held hissed out of her. She sidled closer to Will’s side as they shadowed the commander’s long stride from the chamber.

  Heedless of the Frasers’ curious stares, she leaned in close to her brother. “How did you know who he was?”

  “Unlike you, I actually speak to the rest of the clan.” He cut her an annoyed glimpse from the corners of his eyes.

  After they’d fled their uncle’s clutches and sought sanctuary with Fraser, the laird introduced Geordie as a distant cousin from the east. Not a soul questioned his word, though some in the clan might’ve shared a sideways glance or two. ’Twas not her fault if some still failed to acknowledge her as naught more than an outsider over the years, which she was, in truth. But the Frasers knew naught of their pasts.

  Aside from the laird and a handful of his most trusted men, no one knew. Not even her friend, Sarah. In fact, Nora hoped the truth remained buried. That is, until Will wished to reclaim his legacy.