22 AT MY SHOULDER
A KNOCK AT the door dragged Liza from her brooding.
She was sitting at the open window. It was getting late. The sky outdoors had turned indigo, and a crisp breeze had sprung up. Nonetheless, she was loath to lower the sacking.
She’d sat here for a while, staring out at Loch Buie.
“Aye,” she called huskily, turning toward the door, imagining that her handmaid, Nettie, had come up to ask if she wanted anything.
Although it wasn’t the shy lass with silky blonde hair who opened the door, but Alec Rankin.
Liza stiffened.
Her soul was bruised and sore this evening. She didn’t have the strength to deal with this man. “What is it?” she greeted him, her voice flat and weary.
Rankin stepped inside and halted; his gaze then swept over her. “I thought I’d look in on ye, Lady Maclean.”
Liza rose from the window seat and turned from him, undoing the sacking and lowering it. “There was no need.”
“How is Craeg faring?” he asked, ignoring her cool response.
She glanced over her shoulder. The question surprised her, although she noted the concern in his eyes. “He wept all afternoon,” she replied huskily as her throat started to ache, “and is in bed now.”
Liza shifted away from the window then, moving to the sideboard where a row of pewter goblets and a ewer sat. “Wine?”
She didn’t want him to linger, but her mother hadn’t brought her up to pour herself refreshment without offering any to others.
“Aye, thank ye,” he murmured.
She poured the plum wine, noting the way her hands trembled as she did so. Clenching her jaw, she tried to pull herself together. She was the laird now; there was no room for weakness, especially in front of Rankin.
“How fares yer arm these days?” she asked lightly, struggling to find something to say.
“Almost healed … thanks to ye.”
She cut him a sharp look but found no teasing light in his eyes.
Passing the captain his drink, she retreated to the fireside, where a large log smoldered. She then sank into one of the high-backed chairs flanking it.
Rankin didn’t take a seat opposite, however. Instead, he remained where he was, cradling the goblet in one hand, his gaze upon her. “He’ll recover, ye know?” he said after a lengthy pause. “Bairns are accepting of things.”
Liza’s chin jerked up. “Will he?” Her fingers tightened around the goblet’s stem. “He’s barely said a word to me since … and when he looks at me, I swear I see fear in his eyes.”
“He doesn’t fear ye. He’s confused … that’s all.”
Rankin did move to the vacant chair then and sank down onto it. “I was the same age as Craeg when my Ma died … and I too struggled to understand what that meant.”
Liza lifted the goblet she grasped to her lips and took a sip, welcoming the heat that pooled in her belly afterward, melting the lump of ice that had settled there ever since Craeg had learned the truth. “Aye, and look at what it did to ye.”
Rankin stiffened, his gaze narrowing.
“Our first experience of death leaves a deeper scar than ye think,” she explained. “It likely made ye into the man ye are today.”
“And what sort of man is that?”
Her pulse quickened as she witnessed the challenge spark in his eyes.
“A pirate, of course.”
He gave a soft, dismissive snort. “I was no helpless victim of fate, Liza. I chose my path because it suited me.”
Taking another sip of wine, she bit back the urge to reprimand him for not addressing her formally. A heaviness pulled at her limbs, and she sank back in her chair. She truly didn’t have the strength to duel with him this eve. Couldn’t he just leave?
But he didn’t. Instead, he settled himself in his chair and crossed one booted ankle over his knee. “And when did death first touch ye ?” he asked finally.
Liza sighed. She didn’t want to talk about herself. Nonetheless, the sharpness in his gaze goaded her, and so she considered his question. “I remember feeling sad that my grandfather died,” she admitted. “I couldn’t accept that he’d never visit us again.” She glanced away then, lost in the past for the moment, watching the flames dance in the hearth.
Silence fell then, and neither of them rushed to fill the void. Despite that it was late spring now—Bealtunn was just over a moon away—the evening air held a sting. Even so, the fire threw out a warmth that wrapped itself around Liza like a hug.
She welcomed it. Nonetheless, the sense of well-being didn’t last long. As always, these days, her mind couldn’t rest. She had three and a half months to prove herself to Loch and couldn’t help but feel she wasn’t doing enough. Her gaze flicked to Rankin, to find him watching the fire, his expression introspective.
“Is my missive on its way?” she asked.
He blinked, coming out of his reverie and looking in her direction before nodding. “A rider left for Duart a few hours ago.” He paused then. “Fear not, Loch will investigate Ross Macbeth.” Rankin reached up then, scratching his chin. “I’d wager he’ll take a birlinn down to Gamhnach Mhòr himself and ask the man some questions in person.”
“I’d never heard of that isle having a laird.”
“There’s been a ruined broch on it for years … I’ve sailed by it many a time … but Macbeth must have repaired it.”
Her brow furrowed. “But even if he and Leod were up to something together, that still doesn’t explain how they got their hands on all that coin.”
“No … that’ll be why Loch shall speak to him,” he said firmly.
Her attention settled on him fully then, her gaze narrowing.
He inclined his head. “What?”
“Do ye find yerself hankering for yer life aboard The Blood Reiver?”
“Not yet,” he replied, his expression giving nothing away. “It’s still early days.”
“I thought ye’d feel … restricted here,” she pushed. Something in his tone made her doubt him.
He shrugged. “I’ve been too busy to give it much thought.” He paused then, his blue eyes shadowing. “It’s a different life at Moy though … I’ll give ye that.”
Liza continued to observe him, her frown deepening. “I don’t understand yer loyalty to the Macleans … if I didn’t know better, I’d think ye respect Loch.”
“That’s because I do,” he replied, his mouth lifting at the corners. “But it was his father I owed a debt to.”
“Aye?” Liza couldn’t help it; she was intrigued now.
He nodded. “When I was a lad, I tried to steal Iain Maclean’s coin purse on the docks in Oban. He caught me in the act, and I thought I was in for a whipping … but instead, he surprised me by handing me a silver penny.” His lips quirked once more. “He also told me that I needed to look a man in the eye when I stole from him.”
The faint smile upon her lips widened. For a moment, she imagined the ragged urchin this man had once been, his blond hair knotted, his face thin and grimy. “He left an impression upon ye then?”
“Aye … he was the first man to ever treat me like I was worth something. Ye don’t forget something like that.”
His candid response caught Liza by surprise. She was used to Rankin keeping things light, to deflecting personal questions. But she didn’t know what to say now.
As if realizing he’d been too open, the captain set his empty goblet down by the hearth and rose to his feet. “I’d better check on the night watch,” he said, his tone reserved now. “Make sure they aren’t slacking.”
“Can ye accompany me to Lochbuie tomorrow morning?” she asked, her tone equally polite. “I’m meeting the stonemasons and some locals there … about building a village wall … and I’d like yer opinion too.”
“Of course,” he replied without hesitation. “What time?”
“Early … as soon as I’ve broken my fast.”
He nodded. “I shall await ye in the barmkin tomorrow morning then.”
Liza watched as he turned and made for the door. He’d almost reached it when she cleared her throat. “Captain.”
He halted, half-turning to her. “Aye, Lady Maclean.”
“I appreciated yer assistance today … with Macbeth … and with Craeg.” She halted then, swallowing as her throat tightened. She couldn’t believe she was admitting this, yet it needed to be said. “My new role is harder than I thought it would be. There’s so much to learn about being laird, and I’m terrified that Craeg will resent me now … but it’s good to know I have ye at my shoulder.” Her cheeks warmed. Hades, she’d said too much and would earn herself a smirk and an arrogant comment that would curdle her stomach.
However, Rankin surprised her, yet again. His lips curved into a warm smile that made her pulse stutter. “And I will remain at yer shoulder,” he replied softly. “For as long as ye need me.”