Reckless Scotland: A Scottish Medieval Romance Bundle

by Victoria Vane

  “I remember.” She lifted her chin. “I just do not understand why it matters.”

  He moved a step closer, invading her personal space. “Because we are friends, aye?”

  The question appeared to swipe the feet out from under her indignation. She searched his gaze as she fumbled for words. “I…I suppose we are.”

  He could tell the notion surprised her. As if she’d not once considered the idea. What a strange woman. Interesting, but odd all the same.

  “Why do you not have Will fetch water for you?” He stepped away and grabbed the two empty buckets from the wooden stand in front of the cottage.

  Latching the postern after them, she fell into step beside him as they strolled through the clearing.

  “He does part of the time, but I do not like to trouble him. Not with his leg.”

  When she failed to explain further, he prodded her. “What happened to his leg?”

  Her gaze flitted away to the pastures where the clan sheared the last of the flock as the sun began a slow retreat in the afternoon sky.

  “’Twas some years ago.” She shrugged. “He was thrown from his mount and his leg never healed properly.”

  Liam winced at the information. No wonder the young man limped as he did. In truth, the old injury must pain him something fierce at times. “I could speak to my mother.”

  Nora peered at him in question.

  He clarified, “She’s an accomplished healer. Mayhap, there’s something she could do to help ease his discomfort.”

  “Oh nay. Please, do not trouble Lady Fraser. She carries a heavy enough burden at the moment.”

  “’Tis no trouble, lass,” he assured her. “In fact, I’m certain she would welcome the distraction.”

  They paused on the grassy bank alongside the mill where the stream flowed from the forest. She reached for one of the wooden pails but he shot her a sideways scowl, warning her to back off.

  Kneeling along the edge, he leaned down to dip the bucket beneath the clear surface, filling the pail with fresh water. Lifting the heavy weight, he adjusted his position to gain a better grip. While not as difficult for him, for a woman of Nora’s stature the task might prove arduous.

  “You do this often?” He rolled his eyes at the ridiculous question. “Of course you do. ’Twas silly of me to ask.” He dipped the second bucket into the spring. “What astounds me is you’ve not fallen in head first.”

  “’Tis almost happened a few times,” she admitted with a soft chuckle.

  He shook his head, displeased with the hazardous means of fetching water. If she had trouble, then many of the other clanswomen must as well. ’Twas not a chief concern, but a problem he’d rather see remedied. He’d ponder the matter and stumble upon a solution.

  With a full bucket in each hand, he nodded her onward. “Lead the way.”

  She offered, “I do not mind carrying one.”

  He cut her a sharp glance. “Saints, woman, why do you have such trouble allowing someone to aid you?”

  Her nose wrinkled as she considered his question. “I suppose I do not wish to bother anyone or owe a debt I cannot repay.”

  The words froze Liam in his tracks. Had someone demanded something of her in the past? Anger flushed through him on her behalf at the mere thought.

  Her step faltered when she noticed he’d halted and she glanced over her shoulder.

  “’Tis not a bother, Nora, or I would not offer and I’d never demand anything of you,” he asserted with a lift of his brows to accent the words. “Do you understand?”

  “Aye.” She granted him an amused smile. “Thank you, Liam.”

  Once they reached her quaint cottage, he placed the buckets near the freshly-planted garden and plucked the wooden trowel from the stool near the door, passing it over to Nora. She wasted no time, dipping the ladle into one bucket and sprinkling water over the seeds.

  “You know…” He leaned against the corner of the cottage, watching her. “You still have not given me an answer.”

  Absorbed with her task, she did not bother to spare him a glance. “’Tis good of you to notice.”

  Her keen understanding ripped a bark of laughter from his throat. Somehow, he doubted the clever woman scarcely missed a thing.

  “I’m merely asking you to join me in the hall. As a friend. Please, Nora?”

  She straightened to face him, dropping the trowel to her side. Her delicate brows furrowed. “I just thought…with the clan…”

  Nora left the statement hanging unfinished between them which mounted his suspicions. He was aware the eve he spent in her cottage must’ve made its rounds through the clan by now, though he’d not heard a word from anyone. But what if Nora had fallen prey to the clan’s gossip-mongers?

  He pushed away from the wall. “What of the clan?”

  “’Tis naught.” Sighing, she tossed the scoop in the empty bucket.

  “I doubt that.” He narrowed his eyes. “What’s been said, lass?”

  “I do not wish to speak of it,” she insisted.

  What she failed to understand of his character yet was he would badger her until she relented. “Please, Nora. Will you not tell me?”

  For a moment, she peered at him while chewing her bottom lip. “’Tis naught more than idle chatter from a handful of women.”

  “Such as?” he prompted. “And what women?”

  ’Twas her turn to narrow her gaze. “Why?”

  “No reason.” He feigned innocence. In truth, he’d have no trouble confronting the offenders.

  Nora crossed her slim arms over her chest. “I shall only tell you if you vow not to mention a word to them.”

  ’Twas apparent the lass had little difficulty comprehending his intent. Aiming to appease her, he held his hands up in surrender. “Agreed.”

  She glanced at her garden while her cheeks burned a bright crimson. “Those women…they believe you and I…that we slept together.”

  “Ah, I see. What else?” he pressed.

  Shaking her head, she busied herself picking up her gardening tools. “Aside from a little harmless, idle chatter, naught else.”

  The glaring falsehood shone through the firm set of her flushed features. Oh, he could imagine the spitefulness of some men and women alike. He’d realized at a young age that there would always be a few who thrived on such pettiness. Saints, he’d been the subject of a fair share of malicious gossip over the years. And on far more occasions than he cared to admit, but more often than not, the ridiculous blathering was untrue.

  “Nora,” he waited for her to meet his gaze. “I understand. Truly, I do. I’ve been the fodder of idle chatter for years. I’ll not deny there’s a speck of truth to some of the gossip about me but, oft times, ’tis unfounded. Do not allow those women you speak of to rouse your anger. If anyone truly knows your character, then they shall know better than to listen to the drivel of a few jealous women.”

  She frowned. “Jealous? Of what?”

  Liam blinked at her genuine surprise. Surely, she must realize her appeal.

  “Of you, Nora. How could they not be? You’re a clever, comely lass with a kind heart. ’Tis simple to understand why anyone might envy you.” Affixing a charming grin, he placed a hand to his chest. “And I’ll confess, I am rather pleasing on the eye myself.”

  A peal of laughter slipped from her lips. “What I cannot fathom is whether the knock to your head has addled your mind or have you always been somewhat touched?”

  Amused by her quick wit, he snorted. “Well, that’s hardly flattering.”

  With a faint smile, she raised a brow. “If you seek flattery, then you have come to the wrong place, Liam MacGregor.”

  The lass spoke the words in part as a warning, one he had no trouble deciphering. Though, her frankness was an admirable aspect of her nature which drew him like a moth to a flame.

  “I assure you, ’tis not what I seek in the slightest.”

  “What is it that you seek?” She lifted her chin in clear
challenge.

  Peering into her intriguing, dark eyes, he admitted the truth. “Your friendship.”

  Several heartbeats spanned before she nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response. Of course, he could not resist teasing her. For naught else but to witness her exasperation.

  “So, as a friend,” he drawled out the words. “Will you join me in the hall this eve?”

  Nora glanced heavenward. “Saints, you do not cease, do you?”

  “Nay, ’tis not the MacGregor way.” He grinned. “You may consider it a debt paid.”

  She cast him a dry stare. “Be off with you before I blacken your other eye this time.”

  “So is that an aye?” he called over his shoulder as he strode out of range in case she thought to chuck something at him.

  Her resounding curse was answer enough.

  Chapter Ten

  “WHAT HAS YOU grinning so?”

  The soft query pulled Liam’s attention from Nora, seated between Will and her friend, Sarah, at the high table. He glanced at his mother as he escorted her into the hall for the evening meal. At first, he almost ignored the question but he’d never bothered to hide his true feelings from her. So why bother now?

  He admitted, “She’s here.”

  “Who, dear?” His mother blinked in confusion.

  With her hand over his forearm, he guided her across the hall. “Nora.”

  “You care for her?”

  Speaking his mind never hindered him in the least, and this instance was no different. He’d always spoken with openness to his kin. “Very much.”

  “Ah, I see.” A delightful smile eased his mother’s delicate features while a spark of interest twinkled in her blue eyes.

  Oh, he’d piqued her curiosity. Of that, he had no doubt. ’Twas rare for him to speak of a female to his mother. Come to think of the matter, he could not recall an instance when he’d ever spoken of any woman.

  Nodding to a few of the clan as he steered her to the raised dais, Liam grinned at his cousins and Arabella while he settled his mother in Fraser’s chair beside him.

  “Good evening.” He spoke in a cheerful tone, adding a wink at Nora just to see her features crease with a scowl. “’Tis good to see you attend, lass.”

  Of course, she never failed to disappoint.

  Piercing him a sharp glance, she muttered, “You would not accept nay for an answer.”

  Calum barked out a laugh. “I’m beginning to like this one, Liam.”

  Like two hounds fighting over a bone, Mairi and Arabella shared a knowing look that Liam recognized all too well. The pair would vex every waking moment of his day until they plied information from him. He should know. Had he not employed the same methods with his kin on several occasions?

  Though, in this case, there was naught to tell. Nora was his friend, even if a foolish part of him longed for more. And not something as simple and meaningless as a toss in the hay either.

  Liam leaned back in his chair and took a moment to survey the packed hall. Clanfolk lined benches around trestle tables, serving fare from the heaping platters kitchen maids distributed from the bustling kitchens. Good-natured chatter buzzed throughout the chamber, blending with the hissing pop and crackle from the massive, stone hearth on the far side of the room. The mood in the hall had improved by leaps and bounds since the eve of his announcement a sennight ago.

  However, ’twas not without a great deal of effort on his part. He’d spent his days toiling hard with the rest of the clan, hoping to prove they could rely on him to aid with the harvest. Any Frasers who still harbored doubts regarding his involvement in the poisoning reserved their suspicions. The clan’s diligence and willingness to see the task through pleased Liam to no end.

  “I believe the last of the wool shall be harvested on the morrow,” he remarked with a satisfied grin.

  “Aye,” John agreed. “The clan’s finished early this year and the yield should fetch a good bit of coin at market.”

  “I’ll speak with Laird Fraser after the feast in the village in a few days and find out who he sends to trade with the merchants in Inverness.” Liam filled his mother’s trencher with a variety of warm fare.

  “We’ll need a man or two to handle each cart and an escort of guards.” John swallowed a bite of roasted pork. “I believe Kenneth usually accompanies the men.”

  Liam grunted. Not if he had a say in the matter. Until he divined the hostile commander’s role in Fraser’s poisoning, then he was not permitting the man to stray too far. For the most part, Kenneth had steered clear of Liam’s path over the past few days. Not that he was complaining one bit. Without the irritating man around, spewing his venom to the clan, the days had gone much smoother.

  “If needed, you’re more than welcome to send some of our men, Liam,” Calum extended, aware of Liam’s misgivings concerning Kenneth.

  After his encounter with the commander in the courtyard, he’d spoken of the matter with Calum and Symon, relaying the man’s threat.

  Thankful for the offer, he nodded. “I shall keep that in mind.” He turned to his mother, passing her an eating knife. “Do you suppose Fraser might feel well enough for a visit on the morrow?”

  She accepted the small dagger with a chuckle. “Believe me, he’ll receive any bit of company he can get. The man’s incessant badgering to leave his chambers is doing my head in. ’Tis truth, I’m uncertain how much longer I can keep him at bay.”

  Mairi snorted. “Because your husband’s a wretched patient.”

  “I’m sure he shall return to his normal gruff self in no time.” Arabella grinned.

  “As if there were ever any doubt of that,” Liam scoffed.

  Laughter erupted around the table, slowly subsiding as everyone filled their bellies with the evening fare. Mindful of his mother’s cunning, he kept an eye on the woman, soon noticing that her interested stare sought out Nora on more than a few occasions.

  “Tell me, Nora,” she spoke after swallowing a bite of cheese. “Are you eager for the harvest feast?”

  Nora’s gaze shifted from her trencher to Elena. “Aye, my lady. ’Tis only a few days away. I’d wondered, if the laird’s improved, shall the two of you attend this year?”

  “I’m sure naught shall keep the man away this year, lass.” Elena winked.

  A smile edged Nora’s lips. “I’m pleased to hear that. Liam mentioned you’re an accomplished healer. Have you given any thought to starting an herb garden?”

  “’Twas kind of you to say, Liam.” His mother grinned at him and reached over to squeeze his arm. “Aye, lass, since this is my new home, ’tis time I planted one.”

  “I know of a few lush spots in the forest outside the village where many of the herbs you might need thrive. I would be happy to gather some if you wish.”

  Liam’s brows rose. If the lass thought to win over his mother, she’d found the direct path to Elena Fraser’s heart.

  His mother leaned forward in her seat, her features a beacon of delight. “Oh, lass, what a thoughtful gesture. How lovely. But you must promise to help with the garden.” She peered from Mairi to Arabella. “Mayhap, my nieces shall lend a hand as well.”

  “Of course we will,” Arabella affirmed.

  “Aye,” Mairi agreed with a grin. “’Tis thoughtful of you, Nora.”

  “Excellent!” Beaming a brilliant smile, Elena clapped her hands together. “’Tis settled then. After the feast, we shall work on our herb garden, lasses.”

  Saints, the meddlesome women in his family squandered no time at all with Nora. He aimed a warning glare at Mairi, who grinned and waggled her ebony brows. Exasperated, Liam quelled the urge to roll his eyes.

  Well, he supposed ’twas an improvement from his cousin’s usual melancholy of late. Pining after Aaron MacRae had left the woman irritable and in poor humor. Though, he’d prefer her improved mood not to come at his and Nora’s expense. God only knew what drivel the women would fill Nora’s head with outside of his company.

&
nbsp; He shot a sideways glance at Calum, appealing for help managing the women, but his cousin did not bother concealing his amusement. The man reclined in his high-backed chair, sipping ale and watching the exchange between the women with wide grin. Apparently, Liam would receive no aid from that quarter.

  As he listened to the females drone on about gardening and herbs, a notion waded into his mind. He shifted to face his cousin.

  “What do you think of the MacEwans’ water wheel?” he asked, thinking of the paddled wooden trundle their friend, Patrick, had constructed to aid with his clan’s grain production.

  “You mean what the clan uses to turn the mill’s grind stone?” Calum straightened in his seat. “I’m not sure how it works, though.”

  “The constant flow of water from the stream powers the wheel, which is connected to a series of pulleys and pivots that work in unison to spin the stone inside the mill,” Will spoke from across the table.

  Liam peered at the dark-haired youth. “Aye, precisely. You are familiar with them?”

  Will shrugged. “I’ve seen how one works before.”

  The information surprised him. The young man was no more than five and ten summers. As far as Liam knew, Fraser’s holding had never used a water wheel.

  “Oh?” Curious how he came by such knowledge, Liam lifted a brow. “Where?”

  Averting his gaze, Will fiddled with the handle of his tankard. “I cannot recall, my lord. ’Twas long ago.”

  Usually bright-eyed and full of wit, the youth’s timid reaction seemed out a character. Liam glanced at Nora in question, but the wariness in her startled eyes gave him pause. He tilted his head a fraction, a silent query she comprehended without a bit of trouble. Her dark gaze implored him to let the matter drop. Saints, what the devil was amiss with the pair?

  For now, he’d offer a reprieve. But later, he’d fetch an explanation out of the woman. Or better yet, he’d fetch the answers from Will.

  Dismissing his curiosity for the moment, he turned to Calum. “I’d hoped to build one beside the mill in the village.” He leaned back in his seat to peer at his mother. “If Fraser agrees, that is.”