Reckless Scotland

by Vane, Victoria

  “’Twas not Kenneth,” Liam admitted at last.

  “Then who?” Calum asked.

  He mumbled, “Nora.”

  His kin’s resounding guffaw rang out in the courtyard. Liam supposed ’twas only fair. He’d laughed at Calum’s expense on many occasions.

  “The woman’s barking mad.”

  Chuckling, his cousin cuffed his shoulder. “Or the wisest of them all.”

  Liam twisted a wry stare at the man. “I’m pleased you find this amusing.”

  “Aye, I do.” Calum’s merriment dwindled to a grin. “You should visit Arabella and Mairi. The pair will be anxious to see for themselves you are well.”

  “Afterward,” he agreed. “I have a few matters to attend first.”

  Namely, a visit to his mother, despite how much he dreaded the notion. Without the influence of drink firing his emotions, he felt a bit foolish for his childish flight of anger the prior eve. Not that the revelation he’d learned pleased him, but he was a large enough lad to admit he’d behaved poorly. In fact, what concerned him more at the moment was the state he might find his mother in. In this case, he’d prefer her tears to anger.

  Calum resisted inquiring. No doubt, his perceptive cousin guessed his intent.

  “Mayhap, a quick dip in the loch might serve you well beforehand,” he suggested.

  Liam glanced down at his soiled clothes and wrinkled his nose. Between spilled ale, a healthy measure of whisky, and his time in the dank dungeons, he reeked.

  “Should you have need, you know where to find me.” With a parting nod, his cousin headed through the rear of the courtyard for the keep’s main entrance.

  “Calum,” Liam called after him.

  The big man twisted around, walking backward. “Aye?”

  “You have my thanks.” A few simple words hardly conveyed just how much.

  Calum had no trouble grasping the words left unspoken. “We’re kin, Liam. ’Tis our duty to look after one another.”

  Leave it to his cousin to utter some maudlin drivel. For the first time that morning, a smile worked over his lips. Aye, a thorough wash in the loch sounded like a solid bit of advice. The cold water might strip away some of his troubled thoughts and clear his head. Especially before he paid Elena Fraser a visit.

  *

  Calum paused outside his bedchamber and raked a hand over his face. Saints, he was weary to the bone, but he’d gladly hand over several sound nights’ rest in exchange for Fraser’s life. ’Twas a blessed relief his longtime ally and friend survived.

  Lifting the latch, he cracked open the door and his gaze immediately sought out the slight form of his lady wife. Seated in a high-back chair across the chamber, Arabella had shoved aside the furs from the window, allowing the sun entry. The rays beamed on her shining red curls and bathed her pink cheeks with a soft glow. She shifted to face him and her waiting smile cut straight to his heart.

  As long as he lived, he’d never grow tired of the beautiful sight.

  “Where’s Mairi?” He stepped inside the chamber.

  “She’s gone to look after Aunt Elena and Uncle Hammish for a while. Did you find Liam?” Concern laced the words.

  “Aye, love.” Barring the entrance, he glanced at the dying embers in the hearth. “Let me build the fire. ’Tis a slight chill in the air.”

  In her present condition, he took every measure to see his wife contented and cared for.

  “Nay, I have a better notion.” With a lift of her hand, she offered a sweet grin. “You’re here now. You shall keep me warm.”

  Without a flicker of hesitation, he crossed the chamber in a few long strides and accepted her small hand in his. He helped her to rise long enough for him to slide behind her, drop in the seat, and pull her down onto his lap.

  She shifted to face him, wiggling her bottom over his thighs, and swung her legs over the chair arm. Her expectant emerald gaze met his. “Well? Where was he?”

  No doubt, he would not sleep a wink until she had answers.

  Calum breathed out a sigh, anticipating her reaction. “The dungeons.”

  “What?” Arabella jerked upright and almost toppled off his lap onto the floorboards.

  He tightened his hold around her middle and hauled her closer. “Kenneth and a few of the others blamed Liam for what happened.”

  “But, he did not do it!” Her lovely face twisted with outrage. “Liam would never hurt Uncle Hammish.”

  “You and I know that, Sweetness, but the others do not.” In a bid to soothe her temper, he rubbed circles over her back. “Let Liam and me handle matters. In the meantime…” Damn, he expected his next words to gain her ire. “Promise me, you will not roam the keep without a proper escort. At least, until we find the bastard responsible.”

  Ah, there is was—the look. Flushed cheeks, the tight pinch of her brow, her bottom lip thrust forward. Anytime he displeased her, he received the look. She despised naught more than an escort trailing after her, but he had little choice. Until he and Liam caught the person who’d made an attempt on her uncle’s life, ’twas not safe.

  “Arabella,” he groaned. “Please, for once, do as I ask without debate.”

  “I always do as you request,” she tartly replied with a lift of her chin.

  Calum raised his brows at the blatant lie. Affixing a firm stare, he grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling her gaze to his. “Promise me.”

  With a roll of her eyes and a deep puff of air, she complied. “All right. I promise. Are you pleased now?”

  “’Tis naught to do with pleasing me,” he explained. “I love you, Arabella. Is it amiss of me to worry about you?”

  Her luring emerald gaze softened. She raised a hand to caress his scarred cheek. “Nay, I love you, too, Husband.”

  Calum tugged her close and captured her lips with a long, languid kiss. When she pulled away to draw breath, he nudged her head to rest on his shoulder. He leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. The faint pattern her fingertips traced over his skin lulled him closer to sleep.

  He mumbled, “Keep a watch after Mairi for me, will you? You know how she thrives on vexing me at every turn.”

  Her soft laugh heated his neck. “No more than you vex her.”

  “Rest a while with me, Wife?”

  Warm lips pressed a kiss just below his ear. “Aye, Husband.”

  Chapter Six

  Liam tugged at his clean linen tunic for the tenth time since taking a much-needed wash in the loch. Clearing his throat, he swiped at the cold sweat dotting his forehead and squared his shoulders. He reckoned ’twas now or never.

  Ignoring his unrelenting unease, he motioned for one of the guards posted outside of Fraser’s chambers to knock. Whether the four soldiers questioned his guilt or not, none of the men spoke a cross word or otherwise, to his everlasting relief. At his bidding, one guard rapped softly on the chamber door.

  As soon as the iron latch jingled, Liam’s heart sped to an erratic drum, as if the organ might rip free and plummet to the floor at his feet. Christ’s bones, the whole affair left him rattled and wary. What would his mother say?

  The aged oak parted to reveal his younger cousin, Mairi. Her pale blue eyes, akin to her brother’s, widened with recognition.

  “Liam!”

  In a flurry of movement, she launched against his chest, uncaring if she knocked the wind from him, and enveloped him in tight embrace. And in truth, he cared not either. Her genuine, warm welcome whittled his apprehension by half.

  “Symon told us everything.” She pulled back to worriedly search his face. “Oh, Liam, what did they do to you?”

  Mairi lifted a hand in an attempt to poke and prod at his swollen eye, but he swatted away her efforts. “’Tis fine.”

  Liam definitely refused to admit to his cousin that a much smaller woman had bested him. He peered over her shoulder inside the chamber, his gaze immediately drawn to the massive bed dominating one side of the room. Tucked aw
ay beneath a bundle of furs, Fraser’s pallid form lay quiet and unmoving. Mouth set in a grim line, his mother sat silent in a cushioned chair at her husband’s bedside.

  Mairi followed his gaze and then faced him with a knowing look. She rose on her toes to peck a kiss on his cheek. “You two should speak. I’ll leave the pair of you alone for a bit.”

  He gladly accepted another reassuring embrace from his cousin before she retreated from the room, shutting out the prying eyes of the guards as she sealed the door behind her. The window near the bed lay opened to allow a flush of fresh, cool air into the chamber. Distinct scents of herbs and medicinals hung in the chilled chamber. For a moment, he simply stood with his back to the door, staring at his mother’s regal profile.

  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 sh
all. 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 heavenward 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.”