Chapter 14
“A
ll are accounted for.”
Liam nodded and pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against. “Then make certain that they all have their supper. I have mah own tae attend.”
Rhynald chuckled, eyeing his friend. “’Tis that why yer all dressed up then?”
Liam looked down at his clean shirt and breeks before glancing at his friend’s clothing. “Nay. ’Tis no different than yers, mayhap a bit cleaner.”
“I’ve noticed ye are enjoying yer new wife,” Rhynald remarked, placing his hand on Liam’s shoulder, and squeezing it. “I’m happy for ye Liam. She makes ye happy.”
“Aye,” Liam admitted, “she does.” The past month had been a difference in their marriage, where Liam had vowed to spend more time with Sorcha to get to know the woman he had wed.
Though the weather had kept them from the outside where he would like to be, they had moved into the laird’s chamber.
When he was not meeting with his uncle or with Rhynald, he was content to sit near the fireplace with Sorcha and talk about their plans for the keep and the village in the springtime.
She had proven to be well versed on the workings of his keep.
Nay, their keep.
Unable to help himself, Liam had tried to think back to his days with Nelia and when they might have done the same.
Nelia had known everything about him, having known him since he was a wee lad, but when they had become man and wife, she had taken up the duties of the lady of the keep and left him largely alone to perform his duties as laird.
She had never sat beside him in his village complaints or argued with him about their wheat fields and the way that he ensured water reached them.
Or how she thought that they could expand the stables to allow for more horses.
The list was endless, and though most lairds would push their wife’s thoughts aside, Liam eagerly looked forward to their discussions.
That and when they would fall into bed and he would silence her words for a few hours.
Not only did he like his wife’s distractions, he saw that the room he had avoided for nigh five years no longer held the sadness it once did.
Instead, it held his wife’s laughter or the way she said his name when he kissed that particular spot behind her knee that got her wiggling in bed.
“Dinnae ruin this,” Rhynald laughed, clapping him on the back. “Does she know yer plans?”
Liam shook his head. He and Rhynald had gotten wind that there was another bandit group near their borders even in this weather, and while his second-in-command wanted him to stay here at the keep, Liam had declined.
This was a means for him to see if his feelings for his wife were true and just. Lately, he could not think of anyone but her and though he was frightened at the prospect, Liam also found himself a bit hopeful for their future.
Now that she knew everything about his past, he could treat it as it was.
His past.
Nelia was a large piece of his life and was a great loss to him, but the dreams he had been having lately had proven to him that she would not wish to see him in such a state, attempting to relive her memory.
She would want to see him happy, and there was a large piece of Liam that believed she might be the reason that Sorcha had found him.
Liam straightened his shoulders, gazing out over the hoards of people, his people, that were eating their supper in his keep.
He could barely walk in his own home for the pallets that were lain or the laughter that sometimes drifted up in the middle of the night.
Outside, the storm raged on, the snow falling in huge drifts, so much so that they could not get the keep doors to open.
He and Rhynald had escaped through a side door this very morn, with snow up to his knees as they had checked on those that had not taken refuge in the keep and on the animals secured in the stable.
His warriors patrolled the area quite frequently, keeping away those that may attempt to steal from their own clan while so many huts were unoccupied.
There were always thieves amongst the living. “I will be telling her this evening,” he finally said. “Make certain we are ready tae ride at dawn.”
“If we can even ride,” Rhynald grumbled, clearly not excited at the prospect of traipsing through the snow and cold weather.
Liam grinned as he strode away, heading to his study where Sorcha, his uncle, and his aunt would be waiting on him for supper.
Normally, their meal was taken at the long table that sat in the great hall, but it had been cleared away to make room for pallets, so they had moved a smaller table into his study so there could be a measure of peace with his close family.
As he entered, he found Sorcha standing by the fireplace, her back to him.
Liam gave himself a moment to admire his wife’s strong form, the way that her green woolen gown draped her body, and felt the stirring below his belt.
Would his appetite for her ever dim? She never complained; if anything, she was more enthusiastic herself about their lovemaking.
But in the last few days, he had noticed a difference in Sorcha.
She seemed tired, far more than normal, sometimes asleep before he arrived at their bedchamber.
He hoped she was not ill. The knot in his stomach tightened at the thought of losing her, especially now that he had just found her as well as a measure of happiness in his life.
Sorcha turned, and Liam forced a smile. “Wife.”
She inclined her head. “Husband.”
He moved to the fire, coming to stand before her. “I have something tae tell ye, lass.”
Her brow lifted. “Aye?”
“I’m riding out at dawn,” he replied, seeing her startled look of surprise. “There’s word of another bandit group and I must see it for mahself.”
“But Liam, there’s a storm out there. Can ye not send others?”
He did not want to tell her the truth, that he needed a few days to sort out his feelings for her. “I will only be gone a few days,” he told her. “I will leave the warriors and only take a few with me. Ye will be safe.”
“I’m not worried about mah safety,” she replied evenly, her eyes flashing. “I am worried about yers, ye oaf!”
“Och, lass,” he said, pulling her against him, his hand settling on her back. “I wilnae go if ye are going tae be angry at me.”
She sighed, laying her head on his chest. “I’m not angry, I’m worried.”
Something warm bloomed in Liam’s chest at her concern. It was nice to have someone worry about him again.
“With half our clan in our keep, ye wilnae even notice me gone.”
She let out a small laugh. “As if I couldnae notice yer absence.”
He grinned. “’Tis means ye will have more of the furs on the bed, lass.”
She raised her head to look at him, mirth in her gaze. “While ye will be sleeping on a cold ground. Ye remember that, Husband.”
He cupped her cheek. “’Tis will be the last. I promise ye, Wife.”
“Dinnae make promises ye cannae keep, Liam. Being still in the keep is not who ye are.”
Yet another reason he knew this woman had been chosen for him. She understood his need to be part of his clan’s safety, and there was no malice in her voice.
It was as if she understood and would forgive him for doing so.
“Och, look mah love. Dinnae they understand we are tae eat?” Sheamus said.
Liam and Sorcha both turned to see Uncle Sheamus and Aunt Agnes in the doorway. “I dinnae think they care too much,” Aunt Agnes replied, patting her husband’s arm. “I remember a time when...”
Uncle Sheamus shushed her as they entered the room, and Liam laughed, seeing the red tips of his uncle’s ears as they all took their seats around the small table.
The meal was brought in and Liam picked up his tankard of ale, taking a large swallow.
“I was just telling Sorcha that I will be leaving in the morn.”
Uncle Sheamus arched a bushy brow. “For what? Have ye not seen the weather?”
“The weather has never bothered me,” Liam replied, though his body shivered at the thought of riding through the storm. “I will be gone only a few days.”
“I’ve given mah blessing,” Sorcha said quietly. “I cannae hold him here.”
Liam reached under the table and squeezed her knee through her dress. “Aye, though I would stay if she did.”
Sorcha gave him a small smile and Liam felt his chest crack open, seeing the worry in her eyes. Was he making the right decision? It was the first time he had ever questioned leaving the keep.
“Come, let’s eat,” Aunt Agnes stated, picking up her fork. “Before it gets cold.”
Liam did the same, his thoughts churning. Maybe he shouldn’t go. He had a wife now, a clan to protect that was literally in his keep. He would be leaving Sorcha to handle it, to take on the burden and ensure their safety.
“Pray excuse me.”
Liam felt Sorcha rise from her chair, getting a glimpse of her pale face before she rushed out of the study, bringing him to his feet immediately. He knew something was amiss with her. Was she ill?
“Oh dear,” Aunt Agnes remarked, coming to her feet. “I will check on her. Stay. Eat yer meal.”
Liam watched helplessly as his aunt went after his wife, leaving the two men at the table.
“I should go.”
“Sit,” Uncle Sheamus stated, waving him into the chair. “Yer wife is in capable hands. They dinnae need us menfolk hovering over them.”
Liam did as his uncle asked, his eyes on the door. “I should send for a healer.”
Uncle Sheamus chuckled. “Lad, I dinnae ken if the healer can be of help for this one.”
Surprised at his words, Liam looked at his uncle. “What do ye mean?”
Spearing his roast with his fork, the older man held it up to his mouth. “Think about it. What would make a woman run away from a fine meal such as this?”
Liam frowned. There could be many reasons that a woman would fall ill.
Then it hit him. Nay, it could not be.
Not Sorcha.
Liam stood abruptly and walked out of the study, heading in the direction of the closest door he could get out of, not bothering with a coat.
His throat was suddenly tight, his stomach churning with the possibility that Sorcha could be carrying his bairn.
Now her sudden tiredness made sense. Nelia had gone through the same symptoms when she had found out.
Stepping outside, Liam blinked as the snow and wind hit him full force, drenching him in a matter of seconds. He barely felt it, letting out a roar that was drowned by the howling wind. How long had she known?
More importantly, was that why she did not want him to leave?
Liam’s breath seized in his chest and he forced himself to step back inside the keep, shivering as he did so.
“Here, lad,” his uncle stated, holding out a blanket. “Ye foolish Scot. ’Tis not the end of yer life if she is increasing.”
Just the word caused Liam to want to step out in the cold again.
“I cannae lose her,” he rasped as his uncle set the blanket around his shoulders. He could not go through that pain, that anguish again. He was already wrestling with his feelings for his new wife, and now this.
“Och lad, I know,” Uncle Sheamus replied, patting him on the back. “I know, but not every situation will come out like the last. Remember that.”
But what if it does? What if I am cursed for the rest of mah days?