Calum snorted. “’Tis about as much use as telling you to leave off pestering people.”
Liam grimaced. In other words, he was doomed.
Chapter Eleven
LIAM’S KNUCKLES BARELY grazed the aged oak to knock before the door swung open. Elena Fraser’s eyes widened, no doubt surprised to see him standing on the other side.
“Do not dare to leave this chamber without an escort.” Fraser’s roar thundered throughout the bedchamber.
Her astonishment shifted to irritation in the bat of an eyelash. She scowled over her shoulder at Fraser, who sat upright in bed, his glare every bit as fierce as his bark.
“Do not tell me what to do, you arse.”
Brows lifting to his hairline, Liam gaped at the pair. He immediately regretted his poor timing. Before he managed to retreat a step, his mother faced him with an impish grin.
Rising on her tiptoes, she pecked a kiss along his jaw and whispered in his ear. “Make sure he does not become too riled.” She yanked the sleeve of his tunic, pulling him inside the room. “I’ll give the two of you a bit of privacy.”
“Get back here, Wife,” Fraser bellowed, loud enough to wake the dead.
She countered the command with a resounding slam of the door.
For a moment, Liam glanced awkwardly between the door and Fraser. He watched as the old laird struggled to arrange the mound of pillows bunched behind him.
Taking mercy on the man, he strode to the bed. “Here, allow me.”
He plumped the padded linen, lifting the cushions upright so that Fraser might lean his back against them.
Fraser grudgingly muttered, “Thank you.”
His ruddy cheeks flushed darker beneath the aging rusty hue of his beard. Liam wagered Fraser despised accepting aid for such a menial task.
He hazarded to ask, “All is well?”
Puffing out an aggravated sigh, Fraser flapped his arm at the closed door. “Your blasted mother refuses to allow me to leave this wretched bed. Then she saunters around the damned keep without an escort, even though I’ve repeatedly asked her not to traipse about the place alone.”
Liam snorted. “Asked?”
He doubted Fraser understood the difference between a request and a command.
“Of course I damned well asked her,” Fraser asserted.
“Do not fret so.” He chuckled. “I arranged for John to trail after her. He’s waiting below stairs.”
Fraser grunted. “’Twas mindful of you, Boy.”
“Seems you and I are too familiar with her mischievous ways.”
Amusement twinkled in the older man’s green eyes. “Stubborn, you mean?”
“Aye, the pair of you suit each other well.” Liam grabbed the armchair, dragging it closer to the bedside. “You’re looking much better.”
Fraser cracked a grin. “Thanks to your obstinate mother. ’Tis glad I am to have wed such a remarkable healer.”
Liam understood the sentiment well. Without his mother’s quick thinking, Fraser might not have survived the night. ’Twas unsettling when he truly thought of what might’ve occurred had she not recognized the signs of poison.
“How’s the clan?” Anticipation shone in the older man’s direct stare. “Everything all right? Not giving you any trouble, are they?”
“As well as can be expected,” Liam assured. “The wool’s harvested and ready for market, and the village is preparing for the feast, which I assume you’ll attend. They’re eager to see you for themselves.”
“I’d like to see your mother try to stop me,” Fraser groused. “Word is, you tangled with an ill-tempered ram.”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Of course, out of everything, you would hear that.”
“There’s very little I do not hear.” A half-smile peeked through Fraser’s unkempt beard, lifting one corner of his mouth. “’Twas good of you to have helped the clan as you’ve done.”
He shrugged. “’Tis naught.”
“No need to be modest, Boy. You have my utmost gratitude. After our disagreement, your mother and I worried…well, the three of us parted on poor terms. I never would’ve imagined you might step in to look after the clan.”
For a brief moment, Liam hesitated. “We’re kin, Fraser.”
Surprise wavered in the older man’s gaze before he glanced away to search the furs settled over his lap. His brow furrowed, he plucked at a nonexistent speck on the pelts. “I’m truly sorry…for before.”
Liam suspected his first meaningful discussion with Fraser might straddle the hedge between challenging and downright awkward. It would seem he was not mistaken.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I owe you apology as well.”
“Why should you apologize?” Bewilderment clouded Fraser’s creased features. “You’ve done naught to apologize for.”
Liam studied the grains in the timber floorboards beneath his feet. “I acted in haste that night, condemning you before I truly understood the truth of the matter. ’Twas unfair of me and, for that, I’m sorry.”
Fraser huffed a deep sigh. “Elena must’ve told you.”
“Some of it.” He nodded. “She confessed you had no knowledge—”
“That you were my son,” the older man supplied. “Nay, not until last fall when your cousin returned with Arabella.”
Despite learning the truth before now, the words took Liam several moments to absorb anew. At a score and eight years, ’twas not a matter he foresaw handling in his future. Especially since the man he’d known as his father had long been laid to rest nigh to eight and ten years ago.
“Liam, had I known…” Fraser’s mossy stare conveyed a wealth of emotion. A sight the man rarely exposed to anyone.
“I know. You do not have to—”
“Aye, I do. I wish you to know,” Fraser insisted. He dropped his head backward against the headboard with a thunk. “Saints, ’twas so long ago, I scarcely know where to begin.”
Straightening to lean against the embroidered back of his chair, Liam stretched his legs out in front of him, giving the other man his undivided attention. Unwilling to rush the tale, he perched his elbows on the chair arms, twined his fingers together and simply waited for Fraser to collect his thoughts.
The older man shifted to sit up straighter. “As you know, your Uncle Cormac was my closest friend, just as my sister, Arianna, was your mother’s. Once Cormac found himself a bride and my sister wed her Englishman, your mother and I grew closer. She understood me better than I understand my own damned self.” He chuckled. “She was something else. Clever and comely. She knew of my past with my father—let’s just say, ’twas not a kind bone in the arse’s body.”
Liam listened with avid interest while Fraser stared across the chamber at naught in particular.
“Too often I turned to drink for solace. Mind you, ’twas not the right thing to do, but I cared little at the time. Soon enough, your mother and I grew even closer. So close, we gave in to our—”
“Nay!” Liam bolted upright, his spine as straight as a board. Saints, what the devil was wrong with the man? “I do not need to hear that. Spare me the details, eh?”
Christ, ’twas his mother after all. He shuddered at the thought.
“I thought you wished to know the tale?” Fraser scowled.
Settling in his seat once more, Liam wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Well, not that blasted part of it.”
“Fine,” Fraser snapped out. “In any event…Cormac found out about the two of us and approached me with a match. Of course, I was in a piss poor temper and deep into my cups. I ran my damned gob and said some things about your mother, truly despicable things I’d no business saying. Of course, they were untrue, but of all the times for the woman to eavesdrop…alas, she heard every accursed word. Not long after, she learned she’d carried a child…my child. You.” He paused then shook his head. “She’d no wish to ensnare me with marriage simply because she carried a babe, so she never confessed the truth to me.
’Twas my own damned fault, though. I’d left her in a wretched position. Unwilling to wed her and her father would’ve cast her from of the clan.”
Liam cringed at the thought of his mother in such a damning situation. In a way, he understood why she’d withheld the truth. How frightened and alone she must’ve felt. His heart ached for her.
Fraser glanced at him with a scowl. “Aye, I know. What an arse I was.” He blew out a long breath. “Cormac knew the truth and, for your mother’s sake, arranged a match between her and Robert MacGregor. The man did not hesitate to agree. He wed your mother and claimed you as his own without an ill thought or otherwise. As you might expect, I loathed your mother for years when I learned she’d wed another and carried his child. I did not take the news of her marriage well, to say the least. ’Twas hard to accept the woman I loved could turn to another so easily.”
On the contrary, Liam comprehended Fraser’s anger. No doubt, a deep sense of betrayal must’ve consumed the man. “But you did not know ’twas your child she carried.”
“Nay, but who’s to say I would’ve been the type of husband and father both of you needed or, better yet, one you both deserved.” A self-depreciating laugh rumbled out of him. “I probably would’ve made a wretched father, just like my own. In truth, I’m grateful Robert raised you to be the man you are. He was a good man, your father. A better man than me.”
The older man’s words left Liam unsettled. Compassion gripped him with a tight wring, compelling him to ease Fraser’s burden. The man held himself solely accountable for his and Elena’s fractured past, while Liam’s mother blamed herself. ’Twas a double-edged sword, drawing blood and leaving lasting wounds from both ends.
Who knew what might’ve been had their lives taken a different course? But what’s done was done. What was the use of Fraser or his mother lingering in misery and wallowing in self-doubt over a past neither of them could change any more than Liam could.
Liam snorted. “What utter nonsense.”
Frowning, Fraser gaped at him. “What?”
“You’re addled if you believe you would’ve made a wretched father. With as many youths as you’ve spent a good portion of your life training, I highly doubt that. You taught each one of us to be strong, reliable, decent men. ’Tis the mark of a good man who can accomplish such a feat. A good man who stood in as a father to many young lads on several occasions. Do not be so hasty to judge yourself.”
Fraser swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet chamber. “I hope one day…you might come to forgive me.”
’Twas rare for the man to mutter any semblance of an apology, much less a plea for forgiveness. In truth, Hammish Fraser seldom strung together a series of kind words unless, of course, he spoke of his niece, Arabella, or Liam’s mother.
He’d no notion how they might proceed as father and son, or if either of them truly wished to attempt such an undertaking at this point in their lives. Albeit, naught would change the fact that Liam looked up to the man.
“There’s naught to forgive. No one’s infallible, Fraser. We’ve all made mistakes at some point or another that we must live with, but those faults do not have to define our futures. ’Tis onward from here, old man.” He supplied an encouraging grin.
Fraser nodded and a faint smile slowly eased the lines of worry from his aging features. “Saints, we sound like a pair of blathering females.”
“Calum must be rubbing off,” Liam teased.
Fraser tossed his head back with a roar of laughter. “You should not speak of your cousin so.”
Liam barked out a disbelieving laugh. “Me? You’re just as bad.”
“Aye, well.” His laughter waning, he leaned forward. “Help me rise, would you?”
Liam cocked a brow. “My mother said—”
“To hell with what you mother said. Now give me a hand.” Fraser tossed aside the furs. Clad in a long tunic, he shifted his pale, hairy legs to hang off the side of the bed. “I’ll be as weak as a lamb if I allow the woman to keep fussing over me.”
With a firm hand beneath the older man’s upper arm, Liam assisted Fraser from the bed. His first shaky steps strengthened to a sound hobble as he paced the chamber from the bed to the hearth.
“Ah, ’tis better already.” Fraser beamed with pride.
“Now that you’ve improved, I’m sure you’d like to resume your duties,” Liam commented.
“What? Nay.” Fraser waved away the suggestion. “I’m not well enough yet.”
Liam raised an incredulous brow. “You appear well enough to me.”
Without a bit of assistance, the older man shuffled to the bed and dropped down on the edge, rubbing at his chest. “Nay, not yet. Please, continue to see to the clan for me, lad.”
Taking a seat in the chair, Liam rolled his eyes at Fraser’s sudden lapse in health. The man had appeared eager to be on his feet moments ago. He had a sneaking suspicion Fraser might exploit his weakness when it suited the man.
“There’s something I wished to discuss with you.”
“Aye?” Fraser shifted to lean back in bed and cover his legs with the furs.
“You know the water wheel on MacEwan’s land?”
“Nay, but I’ve seen a few others over the years.”
“What say you to building one in the village? If we construct one alongside the mill, it’d ease the burden of grinding grain for the stores and make the task of fetching water much easier for the women.”
Fraser stroked his bushy beard as he mulled over the notion. “Hmm, I did not realize ’twas a problem.”
“When I fetched water with Nora, ’twas easy to grasp how difficult the task must be for a woman of her stature.” He shrugged, glancing away from Fraser’s alert stare.
“Nora, eh?” A ridiculous grin spread over the man’s features.
He ignored the man’s probing altogether. Without a doubt, he refused to allow the man an opportunity to blunder things between him and Nora. “I merely thought it might benefit the clan.”
“I agree. ’Tis a sound idea. Speak to Domnall in the village.”
“Aye, I’ve spoken to Will. The lad and I intend to pay the man a visit on the morrow.”
Fraser’s brows lifted. “Nora’s brother?”
“Aye, what of it?” Defensive, Liam aimed a scowl at the man. “Will has a head for that sort of thing.”
“Calm your ruffled feathers, lad.” Chuckling, the older man held his hands up in surrender. “I do not doubt you. I trust your judgment.”
Appeased by the words, he shifted topics to a matter he’d put off. No longer capable of withholding his thoughts, he broached a subject that might rouse Fraser’s ire.
“I’ve given some thought to the poisoning. I do not suppose you have an inkling as to who?”
Humor fled Fraser’s countenance. “If I had, then the bastard would no longer draw breath.”
Wary, he sucked in a lungful of air before blurting, “What of Kenneth?”
Fraser’s spine stiffened as straight as an arrow. “What of him?”
“I’m not suggesting the man.” In truth, he was but Liam tiptoed around the accusation. “’Twas just a fleeting notion. Is there any reason you might have to suspect Kenneth?”
“Of course not,” Fraser insisted with a sharp bark. The mere notion seemed to frustrate the man. “He’s been in my service for years. The man’s as loyal as they come. Is there something I should know?”
Without any solid proof to support the claim, there was little chance of convincing Fraser of his trusted commander’s treachery.
“Nay, not at all. As I said, ’twas naught but a fleeting notion. Forget I mentioned a thing.”
Liam held his tongue, unwilling to rile Fraser. Though, he wagered Kenneth’s betrayal might cut deep when the knowledge came to light.
*
’TWAS MIDDAY BEFORE Liam left Fraser’s bedchamber to seek out Nora. After a restless night thinking of the lass and then his discussion with Fraser, he dragged his feet
through the village. Despite his wish to remain unaffected and unhindered by responsibility, a yoke of worry was slung around his shoulders, the weight bogging him down.
As he passed Frasers in the village, many called out polite greetings or waved, but he scarcely managed to muster a smile in his present lackluster mood. The persistent, dull ache in his temple only intensified as the day wore on.
When he reached Nora’s cottage, he paused outside the gate long enough to consider what he might say. As soon as he stepped inside and spotted the lass hunched over her garden, his step faltered.
Every last vegetable plant and sprout she’d taken such time and care with had been ripped from the earth and torn to shreds. Gouged holes scattered the disturbed soil, the dirt strewn in disarray. Beside her bent knees lay the broken pieces of her wooden trowel.
Once he stumbled over his shock, a torrent of anger trembled through his frame.
“What the devil happened?”
The words left his throat in a bellow of outrage that startled Nora. At once, he regretted the action when her wide, red-rimmed eyes jolted to his. The sheer pain in her deep brown eyes jabbed him like a punch to the gut, robbing the air from his lungs. Tears stained her flushed cheeks, cleaving straight through his chest.
In a few long strides, he knelt beside her. “Nora, what happened?”
She hurriedly glanced away. Her small fist opened, releasing the dirt from her palm.
When she failed to respond, he gripped her shoulders, tugging her to face him. “Who did this, lass? Tell me.”
Though, he had a fair notion.
Shrugging off his hold, she shook her head. “’Twas naught but an accursed, wild beast.”
Liam raised a skeptical brow at the ripped sprouts and broken trowel, hardly the work of red squirrels. He plucked a piece of the shovel from the ground, clearly ruined by a pair of human hands. “A beast, eh?”
With a defeated sigh, she dashed away the rest of her tears with her apron and began to pick up the pieces of her beloved vegetable garden. She chucked the remnants into an empty bucket.
Saints, why was she not frothing with anger?
“For Christ’s sake, Nora. Tell me,” he urged. “Trust me to handle the matter.”
Reckless Scotland: A Scottish Medieval Romance Bundle Page 107