“John,” Liam shouted over his shoulder. “You and Gabriel check above stairs.”
“Aye, Laird,” the Fraser warrior returned. The pair darted up the empty main staircase to search the chambers for Nora and Will.
Liam proceeded deeper into the hall, wading into the skirmish. The sharpened edge of an axe hurled at his neck and he sidestepped to keep his head attached to his shoulders. The heavy weapon clanged hard against the floor, chipping away wee shards of stone and grit. The bearded wielder raised the broad-axe, his intent to cleave Liam in two. He ducked to one side to avoid a direct hit and swung his sword the opposite, slashing a deep gouge across the man’s fleshy middle.
Uncaring if the arse lived or perished, he continued to press forward through the warring mass, scanning for the two familiar faces he desperately prayed not to spot amongst the madness surrounding him. He spun on his heel to track Calum and Fraser, and nearly slammed into a dark-haired soldier.
The MacNab stumbled back a few paces, lifting his sword the same instant as Liam. For a long, stuttered moment their gazes locked before the other man’s flickered to the tartan hunting mantle slung around Liam’s shoulders.
“MacGregor.” Liam strained to hear the rumble of the man’s voice. The soldier lowered his weapon. “Will said you’d come.”
Not in the mood for idle chatter, he rushed the soldier with a flap of his hand. “Marvelous. Now where the devil are he and Nora?”
The warrior’s gaze searched the crowd. “I lost sight of them.”
Emitting yet another foul curse, Liam had half a mind to slay the man on principle. Instead, he shoved the fool aside as one of the enemy aimed for the soldier’s turned back. He parried the strike, while the warrior pivoted to address his attacker.
The beckoning of a high-pitched whistle pierced the charged air, and Liam jerked his head toward the sound. Along the hall’s front wall, Symon snared his attention and gestured across the hall to one corner.
A few paces away, Calum dispatched his opponent, pushing the man free of his blade with a shove of his foot. “Let’s go.”
With his cousin’s aid, they cleared a path toward the rear of the hall. When he stepped into clear view of the kitchens, the sight of Nora nearly ripped his heart from his chest. Air burst from his lungs as if he’d taken a direct blow to the gut.
Backed into a corner, she knelt over her brother, her shaky hands holding a short sword in front of her to ward off an advancing MacNab.
Pure terror gripped Liam by the ballocks, jolting his limbs into action. Frantic to reach Nora before the arse closed in on her, Liam flew across the hall, his feet barely touching the stone floor. Just as the fool lifted his weapon to strike, Liam launched his body the short remaining distance. He slammed into the man’s midsection, taking the villain down hard to the ground with a solid oomph.
Relentless fury flooded his veins, unleashing a base, visceral need to destroy the bastard for daring to harm his Nora. His frayed restraint snapped, his usual good nature smashed to bits. Tossing his weapon aside, he straddled the whoreson and thrashed the fool within an inch of his life. Even after the man ceased to kick and writhe beneath him, Liam continued to pummel the bastard, assuaging the smoldering wrath threatening to incinerate him from within.
“Dammit, enough!”
Calum’s rumbling bellow scarcely penetrated the demented need guiding his fists. Strong arms wrapped over his chest, dragging him backward off the prone soldier. Dropped hard on the flat of his arse, he sat there with his arms hanging limply over the tops of his knees. Heaving in breath after deep breath, he stared at the soiled, stone floor while he strove to control his trembling frame.
Soft fingers gingerly touched his raw, bloodied knuckles.
His head jerked upright. The comeliest gaze he’d ever clapped eyes on peered back at him with concern.
“Are you all right?” she asked over the whining clamor in the hall.
The sound of her voice was music to his ears. He grunted, “Aye.”
Or at least, he was all right until he spotted the dried blood splattered over her pale cheeks.
Grabbing beneath her arms, he hauled the lass over his thighs and grasped her face between his callused palms. Brushing his thumbs over the smudges, he searched her over for wounds. “Where are you hurt? Tell me.”
“’Tis not mine.” Frowning, she tugged her face free and batted at his hands. “Will’s hurt.”
She scrambled off his lap and crawled to her brother who lay on his side. Calum crouched behind the lad with a dark expression, inspecting the dagger embedded in Will’s shoulder.
“It needs to come out.” His cousin stated the obvious.
Exhausted to the bone, Liam scrapped together enough strength to move closer and knelt beside the young man. He winced at Will’s injury, though the lad had not lost too much blood.
The youth’s dark eyes snapped open, surprising Liam. He’d presumed the lad unconscious.
“Just get it out,” Will croaked. “Hurts more in than out, I’d wager.”
Despite the situation, the wry comment almost pulled a laugh from Liam.
Symon moved in close around them, with the dark-haired MacNab warrior whom Liam had chanced upon in the center of the fray. The MacGregor commander tipped his head toward the hall. “The fight’s drawing to an end.”
Aware the clamor had dwindled, Liam glanced to the center of the hall, pleased to see one set of MacNabs had all but defeated the other group.
“Does the clan still have a healer, Owen?” Nora worriedly asked the MacNab soldier.
“Aye, my lady. Gordon’s bringing her now.” A few years younger than Liam, the warrior knelt beside Will and grimaced at the lad’s injury. “Once she arrives, we’ll remove the blade and move him to a chamber I’m having readied.”
Holding the youth’s arm steady, Calum searched the hall. “Where the devil’s Fraser?”
Owen’s mouth lifted with a smirk. “Laird Fraser and his men have Tavish and Fergus trussed up outside in the bailey.”
Nora expelled a deep gust of air and sank back on her heels. Her shoulders slumped with her obvious relief.
Itching to hold her, Liam settled for grasping her hand and twining their fingers.
The soldier’s solemn gaze met Liam’s. “My lord, I vow I urged them both to remain above stairs and away from danger.”
Unsurprised by the admission, he pinned Nora with a sideways stare. The lass had the good grace to flush a bright pink and duck her head.
“I’d say Nora handled herself well.” Despite the dagger in his back, Will lifted his head to peer beyond Liam.
Glancing over his shoulder, Liam almost bowled over at the sight several yards away. Dead on the floor with, of all things, a pair of gardening shears buried in her chest, sprawled Beatrice. He whipped his head around to spear Nora with his astonishment.
“By your hand?”
With a brazen lift of her chin, she met his gaze squarely. “Aye, and I would do it again, if necessary. She hurt my brother.”
Frustration bled through his shock. He glared at the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with, struck by her unrelenting need to protect her brother. Did she not give a single thought to her own welfare? Grudgingly, he admired her fierce selflessness and loyalty, but not at the cost of her life. Did she not comprehend how much he valued her life? Or how her demise would wholly devastate him?
“My valiant hero,” Will mumbled with a playful grin.
Rolling her eyes, Nora slapped his arm without thought.
The lad hissed in pain. “By the Saints, Nora.”
Her hands flew over her gaping mouth. “Oh, God. Forgive me. I was not thinking.”
“Stand aside, stand aside,” a feminine voice crowed.
Liam glanced at an ancient crone shuffling toward their group, wielding a knotted, oaken walking stick. At her side, her young apprentice carried a medicinal bag almost half the youth’s size. The old woman’s white hair sat ask
ew atop her head while the cloying scents of healing herbs embraced her like a cloak. Her beady eyes widened a measure, her gaze darting from Nora to Will.
“Saints, ’tis true,” she exclaimed. “You both live.” She cracked a toothless grin. “I vow I remember when your mother brought both of you into this world, kicking and screaming up a storm. Ever the fighters you pair were, even then.”
Astonishment lit Nora’s dark eyes. “Glynnis! Sweet Mother, I cannot believe you live!”
“Come now, lass. Why should that surprise you?” The wizened, old crone cackled in amusement. “I’m only nearing a hundred years, lass. I’m sure I’ve another score left in me yet.”
The words choked Liam. Clearing his throat, he darted a dumbfounded glance at the woman. A grin split Glynnis’ ancient features and she winked a blasted, beady eye at him.
With the aid of her walking stick and her young apprentice, Glynnis knelt beside Will, her old bones snapping and cracking with the motion. “Let me have a look, lad.”
Once she appraised the injury, she rifled in her bag, pulling a small jar, a pair of phials, threading and a needle from inside.
“I need you lads to hold him”—she lifted her gaze to Calum and her white brows rose—“while the larger lad here pulls the dagger free.”
Calum met Liam’s gaze, nodding at him to move into position. Careful not to jar Will’s arm, Liam placed steadying hands along the lad’s waist and chest. Owen moved to hold the young man’s lower half, securing his hips and legs from thrashing. All the while, Nora rose to her knees, her fretful gaze latched on to her brother.
“Ready, lad?” Liam asked Will.
He muttered, “Aye, have done with it.”
Hand grasped around the hilt, Calum offered a sharp nod at Liam, signaling him to hold the boy, before he yanked the blade from Will’s back. The youth’s howl of pain resounded through the great hall.
Flinching, Nora chewed on her bottom lip while she wrung her hands in front of her.
Glynnis moved quickly for a woman of her age, directing the young girl to remove Will’s tunic and pour clean water over the wound before wiping away the dark flow of crimson. The old woman uncorked a phial and a noxious odor pervaded the air.
Calum wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Hell, reminds me of your mother’s remedies.”
“’Tis the God’s truth,” Liam muttered.
“This’ll sting a bit,” Glynnis warned Will.
When the bleeding slowed to a bright red trickle, the healer dribbled the thick fluid over the wound, earning a bellowed curse from Will. Glynnis nodded for her apprentice to dry the area before she scooped out a generous amount of brown salve from an earthen jar and slathered the paste over the injury. With practiced efforts, the young girl passed a threaded needle over to Glynnis.
“I’ll be done in a flash, lad.”
True to her word, the old woman’s gnarled fingers worked swiftly, sewing neat lines to stitch the wound and tying off the end in a tidy knot. Snipping away the excess, she nodded in satisfaction at her work.
Liam was quite impressed with the old woman’s efforts as well.
“Sit the lad up for me, will you?” She motioned to Calum, who did not hesitate to answer the old woman’s request.
Working together, Glynnis and her apprentice looped strips of clean linen around Will’s chest, bandaging his shoulder to prevent infection. “Now, let’s put the lad to bed. He needs to rest a while.” She passed a small flask to Nora. “Make sure he drinks a healthy dose. It’ll ease his pain and help him sleep. I’ll be around later this morn to check on him and change his bandages.”
Hunching over, the healer tapped Will’s cheek with a soft, affectionate pat. “Welcome home, Laird.”
Liam blinked in surprise. Saints, the old woman had the right of it. Will was, in fact, Laird of the MacNabs. ’Tis truth, he could think of no one better to lead the clan. From the lad’s keen intellect to his affable nature, Will was a born leader.
Once Glynnis hobbled out of the way, Calum, Symon and Owen moved in around Will, reaching to lift his body from the cold, stone floor to carry him to the readied chamber, but Will lifted his head.
“Wait.” He struggled to focus his red-rimmed gaze. “Help me to rise. I can walk.”
With the men’s aid, the young man managed to stand on shaky legs. Despite his best efforts, Calum and Symon shouldered his weight while Owen led them to a bedchamber, leaving Liam sitting alone on the hall floor with Nora.
For long moments, they sat side by side, watching the MacNabs round up the last of the enemy and haul them away to the dungeons. He chanced a peek at her and found her peering at him.
“Are you all right?” He echoed her earlier query.
She nodded. Her troubled gaze searched his. “How’s Geordie?”
Hesitant to speak of the man’s fate, he shook his head. Tears glimmered in her dark eyes and his heart broke for her. “I’m sorry, my lass.”
He wrapped an arm around her and she leaned into his side, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Hot tears scalded his neck, drawing a wellspring of emotion from Liam. He’d never handled crying females well. Thrown together with the distressing day he’d experienced, Nora’s tears practically gutted him. Pressing his lips to her temple, he closed his eyes and relished the feel of her safe in his arms.
He confessed, “I’ve never felt the grips of true terror until I learned you’d been taken from me. Promise me, I’ll never know that feeling ever again.”
She placed a kiss along his jaw. “I vow it.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
LIAM JOLTED AWAKE with a start, his eyes snapping open. His bleary gaze scanned the sunlit chamber, seeking out Nora’s lean form. With no sign of her, he bolted upright from his slump in the chair. His alarmed gaze shifted to the bed where Will laid on his side, observing him with a grin.
“She’s gone below stairs in search of food for us,” the youth explained, permitting Liam’s frantic heart to relax a measure.
Weak with relief, he sank back in the chair. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he scrubbed a hand over his stubbled cheeks. Hell, after the scene he and his kin arrived to in the wee hours of the morn, he presumed he might awaken with a start, desperate to catch a glimpse of Nora, for a long while to come.
The last Liam recalled, she sat on the edge of her brother’s bed, the pair of them discussing their plans for the MacNabs. Despite his best efforts to remain awake, ’twas not long before he succumbed to exhaustion. With little rest the eve prior, the previous day’s activities had taken a toll on him. Every strained muscle in his sore body ached, especially his spasming back, but he’d gladly suffer the pain in exchange for Nora and her brother’s safety.
Rays of sunlight beamed through the window across the chamber, brightening the otherwise somber, barren surroundings. Aside from a bed and chair, the room held little else. Like most of the keep, Liam noted.
Yawning, he stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tautness through his upper back and neck.
“Nora confessed you asked her hand in marriage,” Will breached the silence, gaining Liam’s full attention.
Dropping his arms, he cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in the high-backed chair. He fixed his gaze on the bright-eyed youth.
“I did,” he admitted. “Though, she’s not given me an answer.”
He endeavored to remain unaffected by her lack of response but, the truth was, her reticence bothered him more than he cared to admit. With Tavish MacNab and his son, Fergus, no longer a threat and her brother restored to his rightful place as laird, he trusted she might give him a reply soon.
Nevertheless, he reserved the doubts mounting in his mind.
Changing subjects, he motioned to Will’s bandaged shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Remarkably well, given the circumstances.” The young man shifted to sit upright with a great deal of grunting and wincing.
“Saints, what the devil are you t
rying to do?” Liam sprang from his seat to aid the lad.
“I thought that much was obvious,” Will commented dryly in between grumbles.
“Aye, Laird MacNab.” Liam rolled his eyes and helped the youth to sit upright.
Will gingerly leaned his stitched shoulder to rest against a heap of pillows. “Sounds odd, does it not?”
Liam shrugged. “Nay, suits you if you ask me.”
The young man heaved a deep sigh. “Was this how you felt when you stepped in for Fraser?”
“What?” Liam lifted a brow. “Scared witless? Stomach in knots? Doubting yourself at every turn?”
“Aye, much the same,” Will agreed with a furrow of his brows.
“I cannot say for sure, but I think the fear shall always remain. Though, I suspect it must subside with time when you gain confidence.” Liam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In truth, I’ve never had the desire to lead anyone. But now that I’ve sampled the task in Fraser’s stead, I’ll admit I quite enjoyed the challenge. Mayhap, ’tis a foolish notion, but leading Fraser’s clan provided me with purpose and a need to prove I could be better man. I wanted the clan to know they could depend on me to look after them.”
Not unlike Nora, Liam added to himself.
“You are a better man.” Will tilted his head. “Have you accepted Fraser’s offer in truth?”
Liam shook his head. “Nay, though I expect I will. Especially if Fraser has a say in the matter. The old boar’s as relentless as I am.” A peal of laughter tumbled out of him. “I suppose I inherited it from the man.”
Will chuckled. “Well, I, for one, am glad to hear you shall accept. No matter what you might think, you are truly deserving of the position.”
“And what of you?” Liam quirked a half-smile. “Are you ready to lead your clan?”
“’Tis odd, but everything happened within a blink of an eye. I have not had a moment to consider if I can handle the task. I’ve always held on to the hope I might one day return to lead in my father’s stead. Things were much different when my father ruled. The holding flourished in his day.” Shaking his head, he stared out of the window across the chamber. “I worry I am too young. What if I’m as wretched a chieftain as my uncle?”
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