Chapter 11
Sorcha wrung out the shirt and hung it on the line before the fire, stopping to wipe her forehead as she did so.
The kitchens were warmer than usual, the fires stoked high so that the mounds of wet laundry would dry quickly.
With the snow on the ground, one could not hang the laundry out on the line, so the kitchens were the only choice.
“Lass, ye dinnae have tae help,” Agnes stated again, her own face flushed from the heat. The older woman had said the same phrase repeatedly over the last two hours and Sorcha had waved her off each time. Just because she was wed to the laird did not mean she could not do labor in her own keep.
Plus, her husband was all but avoiding her yet again. “I must have something tae do with mah hands,” she answered, picking up another shirt.
The woman chuckled. “Ye remind me so much of Nelia.”
Sorcha dropped the shirt into the boiling water, using the wooden paddle to move the shirt around. “Who’s Nelia?”
Liam’s aunt froze. “I shouldnae have said anything.”
Sorcha stopped her motions, leaning on the paddle. It was the way that Agnes whispered the words that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.
“Who’s Nelia?” she repeated.
Agnes bit her lip. “I cannae believe he hasnae told ye yet. ’Tis not mah place tae—”
“I willnae ask again,” Sorcha interrupted, irritation in her voice.
Agnes sighed, dropping into the chair. “Nelia was my closest friend’s daughter and that of the blacksmith. She spent many a day in the keep, around Liam. Och, how they used tae race up and down the stairs! Their laughter could be heard throughout the keep.”
Sorcha lowered herself into a chair, mainly because her legs were trembling. Somehow, she did not think that this story was going to bode well for the friends. After all, she had not met Nelia during her time here and if she was that close to Liam, then she would have.
“When Nelia came of age, Liam attempted tae woo her. She gave him a merry chase and I believed that it was because she didnae think that she was good enough tae be his wife.” Agnes smiled fondly, staring into the fire.
“He didnae give up, though, and they were wed when Nelia was in her twentieth year.”
Sorcha felt her heart drop to her stomach. Liam was wed before? Not once had Sheamus mentioned the fact, and neither had her husband.
Well, they had not had much time to discuss anything.
Whenever he was with her, they were not doing much talking.
Though the room was stifling, Sorcha’s cheeks heated when she thought of her behavior with Liam and how she could not keep her hands off her husband.
It was like a dam that had been forced open, her desire for him sometimes overwhelming.
It frightened her how much he had become a part of her life so quickly and how much she missed him whenever he was not around. The last few days had been dismal indeed from not having him around, and no matter how much she attempted to seek him out, she could not find him.
He was avoiding her, and Sorcha was starting to wonder if it was something that she had done.
“What happened?” Sorcha forced herself to ask, not sure if she wished to know.
Agnes drew in a breath. “She became pregnant with their first child. Liam was so happy about being a father, but when the bairn was born, it did not take its first breath.”
Sorcha gasped, the pain in her chest nearly too much to bear. To lose a child, one that was wanted, was something horrid indeed. “And Nelia?”
Agnes wiped her eyes. “She didnae make it through the birth.”
Sorcha couldn’t breathe. No wonder Liam had reacted as he had when she first arrived—a wife that had been brought to replace the one he lost.
“He loved that lass,” Agnes said after a moment, “and thought he couldnae love again.”
Her heart sank. Was he avoiding her because they had grown too close? She didn’t think so. After all, they had only enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh and nothing more. She still knew very little about her husband and clearly, he saw no need to share these intimate details with her about his past.
Sorcha did not know what to think.
“Och lass, I shouldnae have told ye,” Agnes was saying, her expression both sorrowful and horrified that she had done so. “I just thought Liam would have told ye.”
“’Tis okay,” Sorcha forced out, managing a smile. “I am glad that ye told me.”
Agnes did not look as if she believed her, but Sorcha went back to pushing the shirts around in the large vat, her thoughts jumbled.
Why hadn’t Liam told her about his wife and son?
Was the memory too painful? She imagined it was horribly painful, especially if it was a great love that Agnes had portrayed.
Suddenly, Sorcha was not so certain that her newfound happiness was going to last.
Sorcha remained quiet for the rest of the time and when she escaped to her chambers, she was weary from both the work they had accomplished and from what she had learned today.
The only consolation she had was there were letters awaiting her from Moira and Fennella both, wishing to know how her newly married life was faring.
Sorcha wiped the tears away as she read how much her sisters were faring in their own lives and the antics of their children that made Sorcha think about the son that Liam had lost so tragically.
She would not be here if he hadn’t suffered such a loss and her heart was heavy to think that she would have never met Liam.
Sorcha tucked the letters away and moved to the bed. What was Liam thinking about their marriage? Was he worried that he would lose her as well?
Perhaps that was the reason he was avoiding her. Now that they had found some commonality between them, even if it were only in their bed, he was concerned that he would lose yet another wife.
How did one prove that while his loss was great, it was not the means to be his loss every time?
The next afternoon, Sorcha was summoned to the great hall, where a couple was warming themselves by the fireplace, puddles of water dripping off them and onto the floor.
“Welcome,” she said as she approached them. “I hear ye have run intae some trouble on the road?”
The woman turned toward her, her crystal blue eyes filling with tears. “Our horse came up lame in the snow. I apologize for the intrusion, but with the weather...”
Sorcha gave her a kind smile. “Of course, think nothing of it. Ye may stay here as long as ye need.”
The door opened and the trio turned to see Liam striding in, bundled in coat and breeks. Sorcha wet her lips nervously as she glimpsed her husband, torn between wanting to run away and throw her arms around him to comfort him.
Instead, she cleared her throat. “We have guests, Husband.”
“Aye,” Liam replied, clasping forearms with the Scot. “Welcome to McCallum Keep.”
“Mah thanks,” the Scot replied, wrapping his arm around the woman. “I am Roderick, and this is mah wife Gresla. We hail from the Tener clan.”
“Ye are further north than normal,” Liam remarked as a servant came to serve tankards of ale.
“Aye,” Roderick replied. “We were visiting family and the storm came upon us suddenly. I thought we could get tae an inn and would have had our horse not come up lame.”
“Ye are welcome here.”
“Of course,” Sorcha added, giving the couple a small smile. “Come, let me show ye a chamber.”
With that, she led the couple away.
After a few hours, Sorcha dressed with care before she made her way down the stairs for supper, knowing that Liam would be in attendance this evening.
He was the laird and therefore in charge of being present for any guests, which meant they would be together longer than they had been in the last few days.
Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she crossed the room and took her place at his right side, waiting for their guests and her husband to arrive.
What would he say to her? Would he explain his disappearance over the last few days, or would they sit in silence, only conversing with their guests?
She hoped not. No matter what his past had brought, she was his future. Their business agreement was still in place and in order for them to continue on, they would have to converse at some point in their marriage.
Liam was the first to arrive, sitting himself in his chair. “Wife, ye are looking bonnie this evening.”
Sorcha noted the wetness of Liam’s hair, the fresh smell of his soap on his skin. “And ye look right handsome, Husband.”
He didn’t respond as the other couple came to the table and the dinner started.
Sorcha soon found herself discussing matters with Roderick instead of Gresla, who seemed to be enamored by Liam’s explanation of how the keep was constructed.
Sorcha only half listened to the odious man, her eyes straying to her husband more than once as he shared a laugh with the woman or when the woman reached out and touched his forearm, her nails lightly scraping across his skin.
By the time dinner was served, Sorcha wanted to march the woman out into the snow and leave her there.
“Dinnae ye think that is the case, Sorcha?”
Embarrassed that she had not been listening to her companion, Sorcha bestowed a kind smile on him. “Of course, I do.”
He arched a brow. “Ye think that women should fight in battle?”
Flustered now, she nodded. “Why not? A lass can be just as strong as any Scot.”
Roderick cleared his throat. “And do ye know how tae wield a blade?”
“I do,” Sorcha said proudly, lifting her chin. “Mah husband can attest tae mah skills.”
The Scot leaned forward and touched her hand. “I imagine that is not the only thing ye are good at,” he murmured.
Sorcha politely but firmly removed his hand, looking over at Liam. He was still engrossed in a conversation with Gresla, and the woman had slid her chair closer, mere inches from him.
“Liam,” Sorcha said sharply, capturing his attention.
“Wife,” Liam drawled as he picked up his tankard. “Do ye need me tae attest tae yer skills? Well Roderick, mah wife fought for mah hand and won.”
Gresla wrinkled her nose. “I thought that it was tae be the other way around. How barbaric.”
Sorcha pursed her lips so she would not say anything cross and offend their guests.
“’Tis one of the reasons I wed her,” Liam said softly, his eyes on Sorcha. “She surprised me.”
Sorcha cleared her throat and broke the gaze with her husband, her cheeks flustered. If she had surprised him so much, then why was he suddenly avoiding her?
The rest of the dinner was far more muted with the other couple, and Sorcha was relieved when they finally quit the hall for their chambers, feeling the weight on her shoulders of her jealousy and seeing Liam after a few days.
“Sorcha.”
She turned, her heart leaping into her throat. “Liam.”
“Ye did good taenight,” he said, his voice soft. He made no move to sweep her into his arms or to bestow a kiss on her, so Sorcha gave him a tight nod and walked to her chamber, alone yet again. Would this ever change between them?
She wished to have her husband join her again, to laugh with her and bring her body to peaks she had never felt before.
But instead, she was walking to her chamber, alone, and unsure of how to repair their marriage.