Chapter 16
One week later...
“’Tis a sight for sore eyes, is it not?”
Liam rested his hands on his thighs as he gazed at the village and keep below, his heart swelling with pride.
The last time he had stopped to admire the view, he was nothing more than a laird who could not find anything outside of protecting his clan.
His future had been uncertain, and Liam had wanted nothing more than to turn his horse around and go back with his warriors.
Now, somewhere below him, there was a wife waiting anxiously for his return, and when she felt the need to announce it, a bairn in her stomach that would be his next heir.
When he had left her a week before, he was frightened at the prospect.
The sheer thought of Sorcha going through what Nelia had froze his heart, and Liam had nearly lost his mind.
But now that he had a week to digest the information, his thoughts had changed on the matter. He would still be very protective of his pregnant wife, but Sorcha was not Nelia, and this was not five years ago.
This was his future, and it was time that he started living in the present.
“Come,” he said to Rhynald, “let’s not tarry any longer.” He had missed Sorcha. Liam had never thought he could miss someone so much, but he had. Her laughter had echoed in his mind throughout the days and nights that he was away, her smile keeping him warm in his dreams.
But it wasn’t just the fact that he had missed her something dreadful. It was the fact that he had realized, sometime during the freezing days and nights, that he loved the lass. When Nelia had died, he vowed to never let anyone get as close as she had, yet his wife had.
A wife he had not wanted, but one he could not live without now.
Spurring his horse, Liam closed the distance to the keep, hearing the shouts of the villagers as they thundered past. It seemed that the snow was beginning to clear, and more huts had smoke coming from their stacks as he passed.
Which meant their keep would become home once more.
Excited about the prospect, Liam gave over his reins at the stable and walked the remainder of the way to the keep, where his uncle stood in the doorway, a broad smile on his face. “The laird has returned!”
He clasped the older man’s forearm, grinning. “Aye I have. I see that the village has returned tae their homes then?”
Uncle Sheamus nodded. “’Tis about time, too. The last family departed two days ago, and we have spent much of the time cleaning the bloody place and setting it back tae rights. Come! Ye must be cold.”
Liam walked inside and breathed in the smell of fresh rushes on the floor, the merry fire burning in the fireplace. His uncle led him to the study, pouring him a tankard of whiskey before settling into a chair. “Come, tell me about yer journey.”
As much as he would rather see his wife, Liam knew he needed a bath and a change of clothes before he was presentable.
So, he settled himself into a chair as well, drinking the whiskey. “’Tis good tae be home again.”
“I take it the journey was a successful one?” his uncle asked.
“The bandit group was a small one,” Liam replied, his jaw clenched.
“Half starved from the winter.” He could scarcely believe it himself what they had stumbled upon.
He and Rhynald had been prepared to battle the hardened warriors that they were used to facing, but this group was nothing more than scrawny young men who were freezing in the winter.
Some were already dead, but seven remained, too weak to even defend themselves.
Liam had made the decision to not kill them at that moment, taking them back to their camp, and after much thought, going to each one and asking for allegiance.
It was a bold move, but none were members of the McCallum clan, and he doubted that any of them were hardened criminals.
There had been none that hadn’t taken up allegiance with their new laird, and now Rhynald was tasked with bringing them up to snuff to become warriors one day.
Some of the warriors had discussed around the fire when they thought that Liam wasn’t listening that their laird had grown soft. The former laird would have slit their throats and moved on, not caring about their welfare.
True, he would have, but perhaps his wife and his newfound happiness had something to do with his leniency. “I brought them back to the keep.”
Liam waited for his uncle to retort but instead he just grinned, shaking his head. “Who would have thought ye would do something such as that?”
Liam allowed himself a small smile. “I dinnae know, Uncle, but I couldnae kill them.” He couldn’t.
“’Tis the right thing tae do,lad,” Uncle Sheamus said. “And I wager yer new wife had something tae do with it?”
Liam nodded. “How is she?”
“Sorcha is fine. She helped get everyone back tae their homes and set this place tae rights. Yer a lucky Scot tae have such a wife as she is.”
“Aye, we both had a different thought tae this marriage in the beginning.”
“I knew it would not work,” his uncle chuckled, shaking his head. “’Tis was only a matter of time ye saw what ye had in her.” His smile faded. “’Tis doesnae mean ye cannae love Nelia in yer heart, Liam. I know how much ye cared for her.”
“Aye,” Liam said softly, though the pain he was used to coming on whenever he thought of his former wife did not occur in his chest as it should. “I loved her unlike anyone else. There was only room in mah heart for her.”
But then Sorcha had upended his life and stolen his heart like a thief in the night. He could not believe she had done it without him realizing it, but this time apart had brought the truth of his feelings toward her.
He loved Sorcha with every fiber of his being, and should have come to that realization far before now. He was happy with her. She brought the joy back into his life, given him hope for the future for the first time in five years. Liam had never realized how deep his despair had become.
“Now mah heart belongs tae Sorcha.”
“That’s good tae hear,” his uncle boomed, holding up his tankard. Liam did the same and the two Scots drank deeply, the liquid warming Liam’s insides. “I see the happiness on ye, lad. ’Tis a good look on ye.”
Liam placed the tankard before him, lacing his fingers on his stomach. “Aye, I am happy.”
He had no more dreams of Nelia or her giving him her blessing, but in her heart, Liam knew he had done right by his first wife, giving her the sort of life that she had hoped for.
He had loved her fiercely, but there had been others that thought she could not stay with him and had taken her to a better place.
Liam had done his part, grieving over his loss, perhaps a bit too long.
But everything he had done was leading up to the moment that he found Sorcha. She had come in his life and shown him that he could love again, that he could be happy and still hold Nelia’s memory close. She had given him hope when there felt like there was none.
“I know I have told ye before,” his uncle continued, setting the tankard aside, “about mah love for yer aunt, but now I think ye understand what a lass’s love can do tae a Scot.
Without her, I wouldnae be sitting here, talking tae ye.
I have done her wrong many times, but yet she still holds those arms open when I need them the most. I’m no one without her. ”
Liam nodded, the emotion welling in his throat. He felt the same about Sorcha. If he had come back to this keep and she was gone, his despair would be far more severe than it had been with Nelia’s death.
“Well,” the older man stated, slapping his thighs, “I’m certain yer wife will be wanting tae see ye. Go on, give her a Scot’s welcome.”
Liam grinned as he stood, clasping the other man’s forearm. “Thank ye.”
“I think of ye as mah own,” Uncle Sheamus stated, his eyes misting. “And I am proud of ye, Liam. I hope ye know that.”
The conversation stayed with him as he climbed the stairs to the laird’s chambers, finding it empty. It seemed his wife had not yet heard that he was back.
Well, no matter. It would give him a moment to clean the filth of a week’s worth of travel from his skin.
The chamber smelled of Sorcha’s soap as he got the tub filled and stepped in, scrubbing his skin raw.
Where was his wife? He could picture her now, laying on their bed with her hair fanned out around her as she gave him that smile that sent his blood boiling.
It was the dream he enjoyed the most, except this time he would be here in the flesh and could carry out the things he wished to do to her body.
He wished to love her. He wanted to show her that she was his and would be for all time.
After a bath and change of clothes, Liam walked over to the chest he had brought from his chamber and opened it, the lid creaking as he did so.
He located the pouch he was looking for and sat on their bed, pulling open the strings so the items would fall into his palm.
One was his mother’s luckenbooth brooch, the tarnished silver hearts intertwined with each other.
It had been salvaged and given to him so that he could give it to his wife on her wedding day.
Instead of giving it to Nelia, he had one commissioned for her, and now that brooch was pinned to the tartan that he had buried her in.
But this one. Liam knew it had been waiting on Sorcha, and he should have given it to her on the day that they wed. At that time, he hadn’t thought she would be the woman he could not live without, but now, it was time for her to have it, to know what love he held in his heart for her.
The other item was his mother’s wedding band, the inscription telling of the love of the laird for his lady. He had given Sorcha a band, one that had been hastily crafted by the blacksmith as a sign of their union, nothing more.
Now their union was so much more. Liam tucked the items back into the bag and pulled it tight before tucking it into his belt, ensuring the ties were tied tightly to the leather.
He would find Sorcha and they would go somewhere where they would not be interrupted.
He wished to tell her how he felt, and to listen to her words if she was ready to tell him about the bairn.
Then they would reunite in ways that only married couples could.
A grin on his face, Liam made his way down the stairs, groaning as he recognized the elders around the table. It was time for council. “Laird,” the closest one nodded, gesturing to his chair. “Welcome home.”
“Aye,” Liam stated, settling into the chair. He could not brush them off. It was his duty to give them a report on his journey and the plans now that he was back home.
His reunion with his wife would have to wait a bit longer.