Sarah shrugged away the words. “’Tis no matter. You would’ve done the same for me. Here, allow me to give you hand.”
“’Tis all right. I can manage.”
“Holy Mother, Nora. Allow someone to help once in a while,” Sarah admonished.
With a sheepish grin, Nora poised her two buckets of water on the ends of the timber carrying pole she used as a yoke. Sarah helped her to lift and balance the load over her shoulders, which Nora conceded was a much easier feat with another pair of hands.
Honestly, she should not care at all, but a burning curiosity impelled her to ask. “Do you believe MacGregor?”
Wiping her hands on her gown, Sarah paused to consider, then nodded after a moment. “Aye, I do. I’ve spoken with John…he told me about…well, you know.”
Nora sighed. “Ah, that.” She wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. “I vow I did not bed the man. He merely slept on the floor. Alone. The lout was too sotted to know up or down. I doubt he could’ve stood on his own two feet much less…”
“Oh.” Understanding sparked in Sarah’s gaze before her brow furrowed. “Then, why let everyone believe you bedded him?”
“There was little choice in the matter at the time. What was I to do? Will and I knew of his innocence.”
“Saints, Nora, you cannot let the clan think the worst of you.” Sympathy lined the young woman’s features.
“What’s done is done.” Changing the subject, she peered around the empty bank. “Where are the boys?”
Rolling her eyes, Sarah lifted her pail from the bank as they started across the open field toward the village. “As soon as my lads spotted your brother and Geordie headed for the loch with their fishing lines, they tore after the pair before I could stop them.”
Nora grinned at the thought of three wee lads trailing after Will, chattering excitedly the entire time. Her brother claimed exasperation each time Sarah and John’s children followed him to the loch when he fished, but she knew better. Will had taken a shine to the boys, going as far as teaching them to catch smaller fish such as brim.
Mindful of her full buckets, Nora took her time while she walked with Sarah along the dirt pathway winding through the village. The old alewife, busy brewing a new batch, called out an affable greeting as they veered onto a smaller trail leading to their cottages on the border of the sprawling settlement. Stacked rock and stone fences separated each thatch-roofed cottage and lined the walkway.
“Good day, my ladies.”
The familiar masculine lilt sent a frisson of alarm trickling the length of Nora’s spine. Her gaze jerked up from examining her full buckets to the striking figure of Liam MacGregor, blocking the path in front of her and Sarah.
Sunlight gleamed on his blond hair and painted his features a golden hue, bestowing him with a youthful appearance. The light tunic he donned clung to his broad shoulders and chest. His relaxed stance exuded an air of strength and confidence. For a moment, Nora stared at his blackening, swollen eye, a silent reminder of their previous encounter the prior eve.
Affixing a charming smile in place, he strode toward them. “Allow me, ladies.”
He reached to grab one of Nora’s buckets, but she twisted away, sloshing water over the rim. “Thank you just the same, but I have them, my lord.”
His mouth hung open and he glanced between her and Sarah, as if taken aback by her refusal.
Sarah cut her a sharp, sideways stare. “Do not be silly, Nora. We would appreciate the help, my lord.”
Frowning, Liam warily watched Nora, as if she might strike him, while he removed the carrying stick from her shoulders, bearing the heavy weight with no effort. He bent forward to grip Sarah’s water pail, relieving the woman of her burden as well. Juggling three full buckets of water without a bit of difficulty, he tipped his head. “Lead the way, ladies.”
“’Tis kind of you, my lord.” Sarah shot Nora an amused glimpse and stepped around Liam. She glanced over her shoulder. “You are Liam MacGregor, Fraser’s—”
“Kin,” he quickly supplied.
Heedless of their idle chatter, Nora quickened her pace along the tidy row of cottages, anxious to reach her own. Not a soul lingered out of doors, but she imagined a hundred pairs of eyes searing an accusing hole through her.
When Kenneth and his men dragged the man away earlier that morn, she had not foreseen another encounter with Liam MacGregor quite so soon, if ever again. She inwardly cringed at the notion of what his cousin must’ve told him. Now that the man was there, adding more strife to her unsettling day, what was she to say?
To her blessed relief, they reached Sarah’s cottage.
Her friend pushed open the plank gate, allowing Liam passage. “Anywhere will do, my lord. I can manage from here.”
While he placed the water pail beside the cottage door, Sarah grinned at Nora. “Will I see you at the evening meal?”
Nora slanted a scowl at her friend who winked. The woman knew better than to ask such nonsense. ’Twas a rare occasion that she ever dined in the hall. Rather than answer the ridiculous question, she rolled her eyes and trailed after Liam, who continued on to her own cottage next door.
Nora moved around him and the buckets, unlatching the postern. She motioned to the rows of sprouting vegetables and turned soil along the wall of her cottage. “Thank you. You can set those there, if you please, my lord.”
Liam inspected the beginnings of the garden she’d started a sennight before as he unloaded his burden. “Ah, I see you’ve prepared for spring. What have you planted here?”
Uncertain why he cared, she shrugged. “Mostly turnips, carrots and cabbage.”
Plucking her watering trowel from the ground, she dipped the wooden ladle in the bucket and sprinkled water over the freshly-planted rows of seedlings.
“Why do you not just dump the bucket of water over them and be done with it?” he asked.
“Because the new seeds and sprouts are delicate. You must take care not to pack them too tight in the earth and smother them. Otherwise, they might not grow at all.”
As she took her time watering the rows of her garden with care, the sounds of spring arose from the forest not far beyond the village’s edge. Larks’ songs chimed from the trees, filling the air with a melodious tune. Red squirrels scurried in the underbrush, foraging for food. In the distance, the grinding stone spun at the mill, while the cadence of the blacksmith’s hammer struck a harmonious ring. At the same time, Nora grew painfully aware that Liam studied her every move.
When she was finished with her task, she dropped the trowel in the empty bucket and swiped her damp hands over her work apron. With a fortifying breath, she faced the man but chose to stare at the collar of his tunic.
“Do you suppose we could speak now?” Humor laced the question.
“Of course, my lord.”
“Liam,” he asserted.
“I’m sorry?” She met his shining blue stare.
Even with one wounded eye, the hue shone through with startling clarity, reminding her of her mother’s sapphire ring locked away with the rest of Nora’s meager belongings in her small chest. ’Twas one of the few remaining tokens she possessed of her mother’s.
“Please, call me Liam, Nora.” A crooked grin curved his full lips, enhancing his handsome features. ’Twas simple to understand why women sought out the man’s attentions. Mayhap she would’ve, too. If she lacked good sense like the rest.
“Was there something you needed, my lo…Liam?”
His lips twitched and the corner of his good eye creased with amusement. He took a measured step closer, and Nora’s heart leapt in her chest. She untied her apron, holding the coarse material in front of her as a paltry barrier.
If anything, his grin widened. “I wished to thank you for your aid. Had it not been for you, I might still be locked away in the dungeons if Kenneth had his way.”
“Aye, well, ’tis no trouble,” she lied. Though, the partial truth had already cost her. Bea
trice’s crude words burned in her mind.
Rocking back on his heels, his gaze shifted to his boots before returning to hers. Any trace of mirth fled. “Truly, I am sorry for the mess I brought to your door, lass. I’m aware you did not speak the entire truth of our short acquaintance.” He shifted a half-pace closer. “For the life of me, what I cannot fathom is why. Why risk your reputation for me, especially if I behaved in such a poor manner last eve? Why is it you believed me from the start?”
In truth, she lacked a ready answer or, at least, a reasonable one. She fidgeted with the rough fabric in her hands. “’Twas a feeling, I guess.”
“A feeling?” he murmured. His head tilted and one flaxen brow rose. “Do you have those often?”
She lifted a shoulder with a half-shrug. “I was under the impression most did.”
“It might surprise you to learn many do heed their instincts.” With another shift closer, he narrowed his good eye. “Tell me, what is it you feel now?”
Wary of their close proximity, Nora searched his gaze, unsure of the game he played with her because, no doubt, ’twas a game to him. She lifted her chin. “To be frank, other than to express your gratitude, my instincts tell me you’ve come for another matter entirely.”
An odd look flickered over his features, straddling the barrier between amusement and wonder, as if she’d somehow caught him off guard.
His spearing gaze never yielded her an opportunity to glance away. “Interesting.”
Nora was inclined to disagree. By her estimation, naught was interesting about the whole affair. In fact, she wished he’d spit out what he’d come to say and leave her to her day.
“What have I done to warrant your ire, Nora?”
’Twas her turn to flounder. “What do you mean?”
“I must’ve committed a foul offense to have earned your anger, lass.” He gestured to his blackened eye.
For a moment, her mouth sagged open. Was the blasted man serious?
He snorted out a laugh. “Aye, I am serious.”
Her head snapped back. Saints, the man flustered her. She’d not realized the words crossed from her lips.
Her threadbare patience was in jeopardy of snapping. She blurted, “You kissed me.”
“A kiss, eh?” He tilted his head a fraction. “Is that all?”
She gaped at him. “Is that not enough?”
“Well…” He rocked back on his heels. “Oft times, ’tis not nearly enough.”
Straightening her shoulders, she scowled in annoyance. “I can assure you, ’twas more than enough for me.”
Liam chuckled and motioned to his swollen eye. “I believe you made that evident, lass.”
Nora pressed her fists into her sides. “What do you expect? Especially when I did not invite you to take such liberties.”
“Ah, I see.” His smile slipped and he nodded. “You must forgive me. Regrettably, I was well into my cups. ’Tis not my usual behavior in the slightest.”
Nay, because most women simply tossed up their skirts for him, Nora thought with a twinge of bitterness.
“Well? How was it?”
Surely, he could not mean… “How was what?”
A playful grin spread over his lips. “Our kiss.”
Aye, he played a game with her. Either that or the knock from the grain wagon had addled the man’s head. Irritated with the day’s events thus far, she scarcely welcomed his teasing.
Wrinkling her nose, she shrugged. “’Twas tolerable, I suppose.”
As she hoped, the words leeched the mirth right out of the man.
“Merely tolerable?” He lifted a brow. “I do not suppose you might give me a chance to redeem myself?”
The man had taken complete leave of his senses.
“I absolutely shall not. Now, if you please,” she continued, “I have much to do. So explain your true reason for seeking me out.”
A steely glint gleamed in his eyes as his bold gaze roamed over her from head to toe. Not one to back away from a challenge, she allowed her own to travel the length of his strong frame. Nearly a head taller than her, his thick arms and broad chest filled out his tunic with a snug fit. When her gaze drifted to his, a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“’Tis truth, I merely wished to invite you to dine with me in the hall this eve.”
The man most assuredly had suffered an injury to his skull. “Why, in heaven’s name, would I do that? I do not think—”
“Ho, there!”
Will’s booming voice startled her and she pivoted toward the forest. Several yards away, her brother and Geordie emerged from the trees with Sarah and John’s boys trailing close behind on their heels. Both hands full of their latest catch, he and the older man hobbled across the clearing. With a broad, toothless grin, Geordie lifted one of his weighted lines in the air by way of greeting before he swerved for his own cottage behind hers.
Will paused outside the fence in front of their cottage and passed over a bundle of fish to the little lads. “There. Now, off with you heathens.”
The boys squealed in delight and fought over who would carry their reward the short distance home. Unable to stop herself, Nora grinned at the sheer glee on their small faces.
Will said, “’Tis good to see you a free man, my lord.”
She glanced at Liam, startled to find the man peered at her with an odd expression she could not quite name.
The man turned a smile on her brother, cuffing his shoulder. “And for that, you and your sister have my thanks, lad.”
“We shall dine well this eve.” Grinning, Will shoved the line of fish at her.
“Get those out of my face.” She swatted his arm away.
Liam chuckled. “Ah well, I merely paid a visit to invite your sister to join me in the hall this eve. The same goes for you.”
“Truly?” Will exclaimed. “That would be—”
“Nay.” Nora aimed a pointed look at her brother.
“In fact, I’ve called for the entire clan to attend the evening meal.” Liam carried on as if she’d not refused. “There’s an announcement I wish to make concerning Fraser.”
Alarm spiked through Nora. “Is he…?”
“Oh Saints, nay,” Liam rushed to assure her. “He’s well. In need of time to heal, but well.”
Her shoulders slumped in relief and she blew out a gust of air.
“Nora,” Liam said. “I understand your reluctance to dine in the hall, ’tis just…”
His brow furrowed, he glanced at the forest beyond her cottage, as though the dense wood might offer an answer.
While she waited for him to continue, she studied his profile. Her gaze moved from the straight length of his nose down to the broad set of his jaw. The seam of his lips pressed in a firm line. His carefree stance shifted, his posture tensing with a rigid set. For once, the self-assured man’s confidence appeared to have abandoned him.
A perplexing blend of curiosity and apprehension compelled her to inquire, “’Tis what, my lord?”
Cutting her a glimpse from the corner of his good eye, he muttered, “Liam.”
“Liam,” she amended with a glance heavenward.
“’Tis just… I’d hoped…”—he cleared his throat—“it would be reassuring to see at least a pair of faces among the clan that believes in my innocence.”
Ah, ’twas support he sought. In a way, she understood his need. With the Frasers’ mistrust where Liam was concerned, facing the entire clan would be unnerving for anyone. For some inexplicable reason, Nora took mercy on the man.
Despite her reservations, she nodded. “All right. We shall attend.”
His uncertainty laid to rest, the foolish grin he frequently donned slid into place once more.
Unmoved by his charms, she suppressed an eye roll. “What’s the announcement?”
Liam winked his good eye. “You shall have to attend to find out, won’t you?”
Chapter Eight
AS A BATTLE of nerves fought a skirmis
h inside his stomach, Liam paused outside the entryway leading into the great hall. Hell, he’d been more rattled in the last day than he had his entire life. Closing his eyes, he silently beseeched the divine power to lend a store of courage and patience to carry him through the eve.
A firm hand thwacked the middle of his back, pushing the air from his lungs. “Breathe, man.”
Heeding his cousin’s wise advice, he pulled in a deep drag of air. Scents of roasted meats and spices filled his nostrils. He shot a quick glimpse at Calum who stood at his side. The man stared straight ahead into the hall, his taut profile comporting that of a man in his station.
’Twas a talent Calum learned well over the years since he’d been thrust into leading Clan MacGregor after his father’s death. A skill Liam observed from his cousin. And Fraser, in truth. Scarcely changed the fact he’d no more desire to lead a clan than he did the eve prior.
Alas, he no longer had a choice in the matter. His mother and cousin made sure of that. A subject he would be sure to broach with Calum soon enough.
Liam gave himself a hard shake to shove aside his ridiculous fretfulness and remembered who the devil he was. By God, he was a MacGregor. Time for him to act as one.
His confidence bolstered, he nodded at Calum and strode through the entryway into the great hall, heading straight for the high table on the raised dais in the rear. His buckskin boots crunched over the fresh rushes servants had scattered over the stone floors after the previous night’s feast. Regardless of the Frasers’ gauging stares, Liam held his head high as he swept past the lined rows of trestle tables and benches.
When he stepped onto the raised dais, an imbued sense of honor impelled him to choose any other seat rather than the laird’s chair. The action earned him a smirk from his cousin. Rolling his eyes, he settled in a cushioned high-back chair facing the hall.
He took the opportunity to survey the occupants in the chamber, noting the half-filled benches. Every MacGregor who’d attended the banquet the prior eve was present, but the Frasers trickled in by the handfuls. Though, he suspected some might not attend to spite him.
A melancholy quiet blanketed the mood in the hall, while concern lingered on most faces. Hushed conversations along with the clatter of tankards, aided by the busy clamor in the kitchens, alleviated the stifling silence. Servants dashed to and from the kitchens and down the aisles, filling goblets with ale and laying out the evening’s fare. Heaped platters of roasted meats, boiled vegetables, fruits, cheeses and butter covered each tabletop.
Reckless Scotland: A Scottish Medieval Romance Bundle Page 102