“There’s no need to delay the harvest. We shall go forward with it as normal and send half the wool to market as the laird’s always done. I’ll do anything I can to help. All of us MacGregors will. Just as the Frasers have helped our clan with harvests.”
“For someone who knows naught of running a keep, you seem mighty sure of yourself, MacGregor,” Kenneth sneered. “I thought you wanted naught to do with the clan. Is that not what you told Laird Fraser last eve? Or was that part of your ruse to steal his clan?”
Anger prodded at Liam, poking at the invisible wound the commander opened earlier that morn. The blasted man deserved a swift kick in the arse.
“I’ve no designs to steal any clan. I’ll admit, the words I spoke were true. In truth, the thought of leading a clan had never crossed my mind before.”
Why would it? With Calum as laird of the MacGregors, when would the need for him to have led arisen? Not that he coveted his cousin’s position. Never once had Liam harbored any ill-will toward Calum. He comprehended the weight his cousin bore for his clan. ’Twas not a simple feat the man had accepted.
“The responsibility, the burden…’tis a lot for anyone to undertake and I do not do so lightly.” His gaze shifted from the commander to encompass everyone in the hall. “I do not profess to know all the intricate inner workings of managing a holding, but I’m willing to at least try. For Laird Fraser’s sake, and yours. I’m not perfect, nor have I ever claimed to be. As far as I’m aware, none of us are. All I ask of you is to join me until your laird is well once more.”
For a long, excruciating moment, Liam feared Kenneth might continue to sow seeds of discord or that not a single Fraser would comply with his request. The heavy mass in his gut sank to his feet. He tugged at the restricting collar of his tunic.
Bless the lad’s soul, Will hefted his tankard in the air and shouted, “Aye, MacGregor.”
Nora followed suit. Then another, supported by another. Soon, most of the Frasers held their tankards high in the air in agreement. A few remained unmoved, while a handful, namely Kenneth and a small number of his men, sat fuming in silence.
For now, Liam would grab ahold of the small victory and deal with the dissidents later. He signaled a nearby maid to fill his goblet, then raised his tankard for a salute. “To Fraser’s fast recovery and to a prosperous wool harvest.”
To his ever-loving gratitude, the hall surged with a round of cheers. His shoulders slumped with relief and the tight knot in his chest loosened. Swallowing a sip of ale, Liam nodded his thanks to Will and Nora.
The lad hooted with excitement, while Nora proffered a faint smile. Mayhap Liam was mistaken, but he imagined he spied a hint of respect lingering in her dark eyes. At the thought, his pride soared to a peak.
This foreign sensation—speaking to a clan, garnering confidence and pushing them onward—was entirely fresh, exhilarating, and downright heartening. At last, he understood the appeal of leadership, but there was no sense growing accustomed to the feeling.
*
Much later, after most of the clan bedded down for the eve, Liam strolled outside the keep’s stone walls as was his habit. Since he was a lad, he’d enjoyed the peaceful solitude of night when almost every other living creature had fallen into slumber. The tranquil silence afforded him an opportunity to clear his head and sort through any matters lingering at the forefront of his mind.
Many times in the past, Calum would join him on his walks. But since his cousin’s marriage, their late-night outings had ceased. ’Twas understandable, of course. The man adored his wife and preferred her company.
Chilled gusts of wind wound around structures and rustled the leaves of a few large oaks that remained standing in the courtyard. Tugging his mantle closed over his chest, he rubbed his hands together to ward off the cold. Overhead, hundreds of twinkling stars blanketed the clear night’s sky. The faint gurgle of the stream outside the courtyard whirred through the air.
Liam ambled along the worn, stone path leading to the stables in the far corner of the courtyard. His nearly-quiet, booted steps punctuated the droning silence. Within moments, another soft shuffle of movement behind him pricked his ears and he pivoted to face whoever approached.
He nearly groaned aloud at the familiar sight of Kenneth stalking toward him. Shadows cloaked the man with a sinister aura that suited the commander a bit too well. Even in the dim moonlight, Liam could easily distinguish the scowl carved in Kenneth’s features. No doubt, the man had waited for a chance to catch Liam alone after the evening meal.
Suspicious of Fraser’s commander, he shifted his stance, allowing his hand to linger near the dagger sheathed along his side. He trusted the man about as much as he would a pack of hungry wolves.
He affixed a false smile on his lips. “Kenneth. Nice eve for a stroll, eh?”
The stern soldier paused a few paces away, his displeasure apparent in his rigid posture. “If you believe for one instant your pretty speech in the hall has won my clan over, then you’re sorely mistaken.”
Truly, he could not fathom the source of the commander’s disdain. “I merely plan to help Fraser with the harvest, Kenneth. Naught more.”
“And afterward? When the laird acknowledges you as his bastard heir?”
“So what if he does?” Exasperated with the hostile man, he shrugged. “Does not change the fact I’ve no intention of stealing his clan out from under his nose. Besides, I’m not entirely sure why our personal affairs should concern you.”
He did not need torchlight to discern the commander’s face flushed crimson. The other man practically shook with rage.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve served as Fraser’s commander nearly a score of years. Who the devil do you think handles matters for the laird?”
“For now, I shall.” Liam did not waver.
“You?” Kenneth spat out. “You forget I know you. Everything’s naught but a jest to you. You could no more care for a clan than you could any of the women you drag in and out of your bed.”
Liam ground his teeth in frustration. “Do not be so hasty to presume you know a damned thing about my character.”
“I’ll presume anything I damned well wish. You’re naught but your cousin’s bastard shadow.”
Despite the infuriating words, Liam struggled to uphold his cracking composure. “What the hell’s your problem, Kenneth?”
“You! You’re my problem.” The commander’s voice resounded through the courtyard. “You’ve not toiled hard a day in your wretched life. You’ve done naught to deserve this clan. Not as I’ve done.”
Liam narrowed his eyes at the revealing assertion. “Are you suggesting—”
“Tread carefully, MacGregor.” Kenneth’s growled warning slashed through the swathe of tension between them.
Never one to cower from a challenge, Liam lifted his chin. “Or what?”
Without another word, Kenneth stalked forward, their shoulders smacking together, as the commander continued on to the stables.
Liam narrowed his eyes on the soldier’s retreating form until the inky blackness of night swallowed him whole. If any doubts lingered in his mind over Kenneth’s guilt, the man just banished them altogether.
Chapter Nine
Over the following days, the holding teemed with a flurry of activity as everyone planned for the upcoming wool harvest and subsequent outdoor feast on the village green. Despite a few reproachful glances and hushed whispers here and there from some of the younger women, Nora toiled hard along with the rest of the clan. Between threading twine to hold the shorn, bundled wool to stripping kindling to coil together for the wattle-fenced enclosures, her overworked fingers ached to the bone.
“Holy Mother, tell me we’re nearly done with this blasted fence,” Sarah grumbled.
Nora glanced over her shoulder at the dwindling pile of long sticks on the grassy knoll overlooking the pastures where they worked. “Almost. Just a bit more.”
She and Sarah had spent most of the mild, sunny morning
twirling lengths of twine around the sticks to hold the fencing together. In the fields below, the men continued to herd more of the flocks into the enclosures to shear, while others in the clan bunched wool in bundles for the looms and market, sending loose scraps of fabric floating on the breeze.
“Saints, help me. I cannot take much more of this,” Sarah exclaimed.
Once they’d wound the last stick to the section of fence, Nora swiped a hand over her damp brow. “You’ll be pleased to know, we’ve finished. That’s the last of it.”
“’Tis a blessed miracle.” Her friend blew out a breathy sigh. “I’ve never despised a bunch of sticks in my entire life as much as I do now.”
Chuckling, Nora bent her fingers, working the cramps free. “’Tis a task I’m not sorry to see come to an end.”
Lifting herself from the grass, she rubbed the knots from her lower back. She extended a hand to Sarah and helped the other woman to her feet. “Come on, we should inform the men so they’re able to finish with the last of the pens.”
Peals of laughter and a chorus of cheers climbed from the pastures below. Curious, Nora shielded her eyes from the midday sun and squinted across the clearing. A rather ample-sized crowd had gathered outside the largest of the sheep enclosures.
“What do you suppose is going on?” she wondered aloud.
“I’ve no notion, but we should find out.” Grinning, Sarah grabbed her hand and tugged her down the knoll. They hitched up the skirts of their gowns and hastened over the empty field to the pastures.
Nearly half the clan had paused in their duties to cluster around the main sheep pen. Some of the younger lads balanced on fence posts, craning their necks for a better view. Shouts of encouragement merged with hoots and howls of laughter.
Eager to learn what stirred the clan, Nora pushed her way through the throng with Sarah trailing close behind. She and her friend managed to wiggle through to secure a portion of the fence. Nora peered over the railing and gaped at the scene inside.
Liam MacGregor and a handful of clansmen chased a fleecy bundle of ram around the enclosure. As soon as one of the men closed in to grab the animal, the ram, despite the burden of its massive woolen coat, reared up with a set of curled horns to butt the man. Enraged by the men’s efforts to capture it, the contrary animal reversed positions, pursuing his enemy in circles round the pen.
The men shouted warnings and sprang out of the way of the animal’s horns, drawing riotous glee from the spectators. Liam’s cousin, Calum, sat perched atop of the railing, barking out advice during his mirth as the men scattered throughout the enclosure. Unable to contain her amusement, laughter tumbled out of Nora at the ridiculous sight.
Despite Liam’s wish not to look after a clan as he’d admitted at the evening meal, the man had certainly taken his duty in earnest. At first, she questioned if he’d uphold his word to the Frasers, but he’d done so tenfold. Each day, he toiled hard with the men, repairing fences, rounding up sheep and baling wool along with everyone else. His diligent efforts had not gone unnoticed by the clan either. Lingering doubts and suspicions soon shifted to grudging respect.
Sarah nudged her arm. “He’s a handsome fellow, do you not think?”
Nora choked on a laugh. “Who? The ram?”
“Not the blasted ram.” The other woman waggled her brows. “MacGregor.”
What sort of question was that? Of course she found Liam handsome. Trouble was, he knew his appeal. As well as every other woman in his vicinity. “Is there a woman breathing who does not think so?” She pointed at the fawning ladies on the other side of the pen. “I can see their fluttering lashes from here.”
Sarah laughed harder. “You are too much sometimes, Nora.”
Nora refused to comment. ’Twas not as if she cared about those silly women and their vain attempts to gain his attentions. Even if the wretched sows were responsible for a majority of the slanderous whispers tossed around the village over the past few days. How ironic those same frivolous females thought to ensnare Liam MacGregor with a quick tumble.
Nay, handsome was too tame a word for the man. Unnervingly striking suited him much better. She’d taken full notice of his lean, muscled form and fair features from the start, but what did it matter? At one time, she might’ve been a chieftain’s daughter, but no more. In the present, she was simply Nora Fraser—aloof, distrustful, no features to remark upon, and destined to remain unwed.
“Here he comes.” Sarah elbowed her in the side, yanking Nora from her futile musings.
Shoving aside the touch of rancor, she focused on Liam as he sprinted from one end of the pen to the other. With the demented ram close on his heels, he dashed for her little section of fence. His golden hair clung to his damp brow. The lacings of his tunic gaped open to expose an expanse of bronzed skin and dusting of flaxen hair beneath. The faint shadow of a bruise was the sole reminder of the swollen eye she’d given him almost a sennight ago. He met her gaze and a lopsided grin spread over his countenance.
“Ladies,” he called out as he loped past.
Nora snorted and shook her head at the foolish man. Every time she stumbled into Liam, he donned that ridiculous grin of his, winked and made a point to speak. Frankly, ’twas odd he sought her out at all. However, a wee part of her relished his attention.
Cornering him against the fence, the ram attempted to charge, but Liam pushed his booted foot to the animal’s head to still his efforts. He grabbed ahold of the beast’s curved horns to subdue him, but the ram shook free of his grasp. Two men caught up to Liam, leading the sheep away to the other end of the pen.
Liam paused in front of Nora, leaning against the railing to catch his breath. He turned a charming grin on her. “Enjoying the entertainment, lass?”
Disregarding the thudding pound in her chest, she managed an indifferent shrug. She echoed the same sentiment the last time he asked her opinion. “’Tis tolerable, I suppose.”
He tossed his head back and released a deep, robust laugh which drew her notice. Her gaze lingered on the corded column of his neck. Swallowing against the sudden dryness in her mouth, she watched the flex and movement of his throat as he spoke. Spoke? Startled, she forced herself to pay attention.
“…the evening meal?”
“I’m sorry, I did not hear,” she yelled over the boisterous crowd.
He leaned closer. “I said, will….me…the evening meal?”
She wrinkled her nose at the broken question. Saints, she could not hear a blasted thing over the clamor around them. Irritated, she glanced to the other end of the pen and her eyes nearly popped from her head. Closing in fast, the ram charged straight for Liam.
Nora grabbed his hand along the top of the railing and squeezed. “Run, Liam!”
When his only response was a confused tilt of his head, she jabbed a finger at the woolen beast trotting their way.
He glanced over his shoulder and spat out a surprised curse. Agile as a wildcat, he used his arms to lever himself up to sit astride the top of the chest-high fencing. In the next instant, the ram crashed into the threaded strips of kindling, stirring gasps and roars from the clan.
Nora reared back as the animal’s horns snared between the sticks. Two of the men took advantage of the sheep’s blunder and restrained the animal. They flipped the beast onto his rear, subduing him completely. Cheers rang out from the crowd when the ram’s woolen rampage of terror came to an end.
Her mouth gaping open, she glanced up at Liam. Calm and composed, he winked at her.
With an enticing grin, he leaned down closer to her face. “I said, will you join me in the hall for the evening meal, Nora?”
The manner in which he dragged out her name unfurled a strange flutter in her belly. Coupled with the speeding thump of her heart, Liam rendered her speechless.
What was the ridiculous man doing to her? Too often the image of his smiling face floated in her mind over the past few days.
’Twas a mercy one of the clan shepherds demanded h
is attention. “All right, MacGregor. ’Tis your turn to shear the beast.”
He hopped from the fence, landing on his feet. “I shall leave that task with you lads.”
“Oh, nay.” The shepherd shook his head.
Calum called out, “Come on, Cousin. Are you frightened of the wee beast?”
Goaded by his cousin’s teasing, Liam thrust his open hand at the shepherd who wasted no time slapping a pair of shears in his palm.
“He may not have bedded you before, but it would seem he has a liking to now,” Sarah spoke near Nora’s ear.
She directed a dark scowl at her friend, sending Sarah into another bout of laughter. This time, however, Nora did not share her friend’s mirth.
*
Raking a hand through his damp hair, Liam strode from the loch in the forest to Nora’s cottage. He applauded his decision for a thorough wash after shearing that foul-smelling, demented ram. A task he refused to repeat for the rest of his days.
Nora’s friend, Sarah, stood outside her cottage door with her hands on her hips, admonishing three young lads who ignored her warning and continued to wrestle on the ground. Chuckling, he lifted a hand in greeting as he passed.
Once he’d met her husband, John, he’d taken an immediate liking to the fellow. A diligent and fair soldier, the man had his hands full with his wife and their three young sons.
Stepping through the gate to Nora’s cottage, he spotted her hunched over, tending to her small garden on the side. A grin curved his lips when he thought of the attention and nurturing she expended growing vegetables. Not unlike the care she’d shown for her brother and the elder who shadowed Will’s steps at times.
She glanced up and swiped a dirty hand over her brow, smudging grime along her forehead. A frown tugged at her lips, which he’d come to realize was her usual countenance. Though, he quite enjoyed those rare glimpses of her smile when she thought no one noticed. The look eased the lines of worry from her features and infused light into her alluring, dark eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
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