Reckless Scotland: A Scottish Medieval Romance Bundle

by Victoria Vane

  Kenneth’s words had left him suspended in a state of disbelief. How the devil had Fraser been poisoned? And who the hell would dare? Then, for Fraser’s commander to blame him, of all people, frustrated Liam beyond understanding.

  By the Saints’ hairy toes, he’d only just learned of his relation to Fraser the eve prior, but ’twas hardly a reason to plot to murder the man. No matter how infuriating the revelation.

  Granted, his mother’s betrayal cut deeper than he cared to admit. Even in the light of day, the open wound throbbed with a smarting sting. To worsen matters, an uncomfortable pressure clutched his chest in a tight vise, wringing the breath from his lungs.

  After his cruel words last eve, what must she think of him? Had his mother believed him capable of such a heinous deed? Had she ordered Kenneth to lock him away in the dungeons?

  The foul odor in the musty, confining chamber filled his nose as a climbing sense of apprehension twisted his stomach in knots. A multitude of unanswered question hurtled through his head, setting his teeth on edge. He lifted his head to stare at the row of heavy iron bars holding him imprisoned. By the looks of things, he’d not find the answers anytime soon.

  ’Twas evident someone else strongly opposed Fraser’s decision to hand over the clan as much as Liam. What if the villain sought to harm his mother as well? He growled in frustration. Christ, he needed to speak to her straight away.

  But how the hell was he to break free?

  He’d attempted everything short of trading his soul to reason with Kenneth, but the vexing man scoffed at his every word. The sodding arse relished locking him away deep in the bowels of the earth. When, precisely, he’d wronged the man was a mystery to Liam, but Kenneth’s disdain bled through his scathing glare.

  Muffled shouts wound down the tunnels from above, drowning out the faint drips of water to reach Liam’s ears. He sprang to feet and moved the few short steps to the iron bars. Grabbing ahold of the cool metal, he pressed his face between the obstructions to catch sight of who approached. As the commotion drew near and the voices distinct, he sent up a quick, silent prayer of thanks.

  “Where the hell’s my cousin?”

  Despite the precariousness of his situation, Liam grinned at the fury in Calum’s tone. At times, he may annoy his cousin for the sheer sport of it, but there was not another person alive who he trusted more with his life.

  In the next few moments, Calum and Symon stormed into view and paused in front of Liam’s cell. His cousin’s furious gaze darted a quick glance over him before turning his rage on the Fraser commander, who rushed down the tunnel after them with two of his men.

  “What the hell’s the meaning of this?” Calum fumed. “Release him at once.”

  In a bold display, Kenneth moved in between Calum and the iron bars holding Liam captive. “Never,” he spat. “He tried to murder my laird, and you would have me set him free?”

  Calum shifted his stance, leaning in closer to the commander’s face. Between clenched teeth, he gritted out, “He had naught to do with this, and you know it.”

  A lethal edge overlaid the grated words. The close confines of the low-lying tunnel pressed in around them, and the stale air grew stifling as tensions mounted. For once, Liam restrained his insolent tongue while he viewed the exchange with unease. Neither man bared a sign of forfeiting their positions. Both held firm, their fixed stares unyielding.

  Kenneth lifted his chin in direct challenge. “I know no such thing.” He flapped his arm to indicate the two guards behind him. “We heard him with the laird. Hell, the entire hall did! If that’s not enough to prove his guilt, then give me a reason to release him.”

  Liam inwardly cursed his carelessness. He’d given no thought to anyone in the hall hearing his argument in the solar. In the future, he’d take better care to keep the details of his personal affairs private.

  Jaw clenched taut, Calum gritted through bared teeth, “The woman he bedded last eve. ’Tis reason enough.”

  Liam’s lips parted in surprise. Woman he bedded? He’d been well into his cups but, most assuredly, he would’ve recalled that. He remembered the blonde serving wench from the hall, but he rejected her brazen offer and earned the woman’s ire in the process. Surely, the bold woman had not boasted of such a ridiculous claim.

  His cousin gripped the pommel of the sword sheathed at his side. “Now, open the damned door or I shall not be as forgiving if I have to say so again.”

  Kenneth’s cheeks burned crimson and his chest rose and fell. At last, he reluctantly surrendered to Calum’s unsettling stare and tugged the key from a pouch along his waist to toss at his cousin. With a parting glare aimed at Liam, Kenneth spun in his buckskin boots and stormed from the dim, narrow passage with his men in tow.

  Calum wasted no time thrusting the key in the lock and twisting. He swung the heavy iron gate wide.

  Symon stepped around them, nodding to Liam as he passed. “Laird, I’ll let Lady Arabella and Lady Mairi know he’s safe and sound.”

  “Aye, a sound notion,” Calum agreed. “The pair has, no doubt, worn a hole in the floor with all their blasted pacing.”

  Once Symon retreated through the sloping tunnel for a set of crude steps leading up to the entrance, Liam ducked his head to step out of his short-lived prison. These few, long hours were enough for him to appreciate his freedom. He ignored his cousin’s pinpointed stare.

  Calum did not mince words. “What the hell mess have you gotten yourself into now?”

  Liam scrubbed a hand over the itchy whiskers along his jaw. “For once, Cousin, I swear ’tis not of my own doing.” Though the old boar ran a close second to his commander as Liam’s least favorite person at present, honest concern for the man prompted him to inquire. “How’s Fraser?”

  “Ailing something fierce, but he’s alive.” Calum motioned to the stairs. “Come, let’s leave this foul place. The smell’s wretched.”

  He would hear no complaint from Liam. Anxious to leave the somber dirt and stone behind him, he started up the tunnel with his cousin at his side.

  “How’s my mother?”

  “Beside herself with worry, but grateful her husband draws breath. She’ll be pleased to learn her son has been located.”

  He glanced at Calum. “She did not know I was here?”

  “Nay.” The other man shook his head. “No one knew where you’d taken off to. I thought you might’ve saddled your horse and headed for home.”

  Precisely his plan until Kenneth intercepted him. Relieved his mother had naught to do with his imprisonment, he breathed a small sigh. “What the devil happened?”

  “After you quit the hall, Elena and Fraser rejoined the banquet. ’Twas much later in the night when he complained of an ache in his head and stomach. No one thought much of it until he turned as white as snow. Arabella suggested he retire for the eve, but the man could barely stand on his own two feet. Your mother suspected something was amiss. Symon and I all but carried Fraser to his chambers. Elena managed to get one of her potions down his throat which made him purge the contents of his stomach. The poor man spent the remainder of the night and early morn retching into a bucket.”

  Liam pitied Fraser. No one deserved such a fate on the eve of their wedding. As he and his cousin mounted the steps, their shoulders brushed from the close quarters.

  Calum continued, “’Tis a boon your mother was quick to act. No doubt, she spared his life. ’Twas not long before word spread round the keep, and then the accusations started. After everyone in the hall heard you in the solar…”

  Aye, and he could kick himself for his careless behavior. Liam rubbed circles over his aching temple. “Look, Cousin. I vow I would never—”

  “Damnation, Liam.” The back of Calum’s hand slapped against Liam’s chest, halting him in his tracks. “In truth, do you think I would not believe you?”

  Liam peered at the few remaining stairs left to climb. He lifted a shoulder. “It would seem everyone else believes so. I mean, I would
not bl—”

  A swift cuff to the back of his sore skull stole the rest of his words. He jerked his head up to scowl at his cousin in the dim passage. “What the hell was that for?”

  “You daft arse.” Calum growled in annoyance. “Saints, we’ve known each other all our lives. I know you better than anyone. Stop wallowing in your hurt feelings with your mother and Fraser. We’ve no time for any of that nonsense. We need to find who the hell did this to Fraser and why they intended for you to shoulder the blame.”

  “’Tis evident someone who was not pleased with Fraser’s decision.” Liam snorted. “Probably that whoreson, Kenneth.”

  Calum grunted. “After that encounter, I’m beginning to wonder myself.” Climbing the last steps, he unlatched the entryway door. “Symon spent most of the morn questioning the kitchen maids, but to no avail. No one saw a thing. I took the liberty of arranging a taster for any fare or drink that passes through Fraser’s chambers.”

  Liam nodded, pleased with his cousin’s foresight to think ahead. “Saints, what the devil am I to do with the clan? Especially since they believe I’ve poisoned their damned laird.”

  “I know not, but you’re going to have to think of something fast to earn their trust. I’d rather not run Kenneth through if he tries to lock you away again, or worse.”

  “Earn their trust?” Liam scoffed at the ridiculous statement. “I did not do a blasted thing to lose it in the first place.”

  “You’re a clever sort.” Calum pushed open the door and welcoming sunlight streamed inside. “Make sure the clan knows of the woman, for a start. She can vouch for you. Then, ’tis up to you to find a way to gain the clan’s trust.”

  “Because that shall be no trouble,” Liam remarked dryly. He stepped outside the darkened passageway, squinting his eyes against the brightness of the midday sun. “And what damned woman? You cannot mean the blonde serving maid from the hall?”

  The two of them lifted the heavy beam to bar the dungeon entrance, dropping the thick wood in iron brackets with a solid thump.

  Calum cut him a sideways stare. “Saints, Liam, how many women were there last eve?”

  The accusation piqued his irritation. “There were no damned women at all.”

  His cousin snorted. “Well, a certain dark-haired female came to your aid. Tall and slim. Venora’s her name, I believe.”

  Oh Saints, nay. Anyone but that accursed female. Liam spat out a curse. “Nora?”

  “Aye, she and her brother, the young man with the limp, sought out Symon in the hall and demanded to speak with me.” A smile lifted the corners of his cousin’s mouth. “I’ll admit, I was a bit surprised. She’s different from your other women.”

  Other women? Saints, his cousin spoke as if he bedded a female every blasted eve. ’Twas a lot fewer and much further in between if the truth was known. As for Nora, what the hell was the lass playing at? “I vow to you, I did not bed the woman.”

  “She admitted you spent the eve in her cottage.” Calum narrowed his gaze. “Why else would she claim such?”

  “Who the devil knows?” Truly, ’twas confounding. “’Tis true, I spent the eve on her cottage floor, but naught else. I swear it.”

  “Well, she claims you were with her and, for the moment, that’s the only thing keeping you from rotting away in the dungeons until we find who’s truly to blame for this wretched mess.”

  Christ, Liam suspected Nora was naught but trouble from the beginning, but her omission of facts merely confirmed his thoughts. Why would she make such a bold admission? Especially after she’d all but pushed him out of her cottage with her rude behavior. Hell, he should denounce the claim out of sheer spite, but his cousin had a point. At least for the time being, her confession spared him an undesirable seat in the foul dungeons and, for that, he was grateful.

  Good manners dictated he should pay the lass a visit to express his appreciation. Though, he hardly wished to deal with more of her scathing side eyes and frosty glowers. On the other hand, he supposed annoying the woman had its merits.

  Sucking in breath after breath of fresh, crisp air, he ran a hand over his dirty hair and lifted his face toward the sun. The heat warmed his damp clothes and soaked into his chilled skin.

  “By the Saints, Liam,” Calum exclaimed. “I cannot believe you let that arse best you.”

  Nonplussed, he faced his cousin. “Who?”

  “Kenneth.” Calum pointed to Liam’s swollen eye.

  Instead of answering, he gazed past the outer courtyard to a patch of rolling green pasture. A few hours’ ride east of MacGregor lands, the terrain was much the same—fertile soils and grazing meadows with a stretch of dense forest to the west.

  With the annual wool harvest a sennight away, several of the clansmen secured wattle-fenced pens to hold the sheep flocks. Every woolen beast from one end of the holding to the opposite required a good shear before the arrival of the warmer summer season. Half the yield would clothe the clan, while the other half went to the burgh market in Inverness to trade with the Flanders merchants. The coin would fill Fraser coffers and carry the clan through another year.

  Afterward, the fields needed tilling and seeds planted to ensure a bountiful harvest throughout the summer months and into fall. As well as repairs to structures after weathering winter. He may have no wish to run a keep, but he understood what was vital for a clan to survive and prosper. With Fraser ailing, the clan could do with added support.

  Christ, why was he even thinking of such matters to begin with? ’Twas hardly his concern.

  “’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’ r
est 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.”