Chapter 18
“A
nd what of these ruffians ye have brought tae our clan? What are yer plans?”
Liam leaned forward, clasping his hands before him on the table. “They will train as warriors. They are not outcasts, but boys wanting tae make their own clan. I have offered them allegiance to the McCallum clan, and they have accepted. They wish us no harm.”
The elders murmured amongst themselves and Liam sighed, wondering how long he had been sitting here, explaining his actions and need to bring the bandits home.
It was not his usual way of handling things, but there had been no threat, no need to take an innocent life.
They might not understand his actions, but they would understand the need to do what was right.
“Well,” one of the clansmen stated, pushing back his chair, “I see no cause tae be concerned. If the laird has a plan, then we must trust in his judgment and ensure that he has the clan in mind.”
“Aye,” another said, doing the same. “This discussion is concluded. Welcome home, Laird.”
Liam inclined his head. “Thank ye.”
The elders filed out of the keep a few minutes later and Liam laid his head on the scarred table, feeling drained. He knew they would have questions and concerns about his decisions, but he thought they would wait at least a day before asking him about it.
“That bad?”
Liam lifted his head, glaring at Rhynald. “Perhaps I should have drowned them in the pond.”
Rhynald chuckled as he joined him at the table, kicking up his boots onto the surface. “Then their killings would have been unjust, and ye still would be here.”
“Aye,” Liam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Have ye checked in on them?”
Rhynald nodded. “They are all warm in the bunkhouse. When the ground thaws, we will see what kind of sword fighting they can do.”
Liam nodded. “Thank ye.”
“Nothing I will not do for the clan,” Rhynald declared, pressing his fist over his heart. “Even if ye have given me the worst lot tae shape into warriors.”
“If anyone can, then ye can,” Liam reminded him.
“Liam!”
Both men turned to see his aunt hurrying toward him, with the stableboy at her heels.
“Aunt,” Liam replied, “’tis good tae see ye.”
“Ye need tae listen tae the lad,” she said in a rush, pushing the lad forward. “He has something tae say.”
Liam arched a brow, leaning back in his chair. “Go on then. What is it?”
The boy bit his lip, his face and hands dirty from handling the hay in the stable. “’Tis the lady. She took her horse over two hours ago and has not returned. She didnae even saddle it.”
Liam was on his feet before the boy could finish the sentence, his breath stilling in his chest. “Are ye certain it was her?” he rasped.
The boy nodded and Liam clenched his jaw. No wonder he had not seen Sorcha. She had gone out on that damned animal again, likely riding across the moors.
And now she was missing. “Get some warriors together,” he stated, his heart pounding in his ears. She could be anywhere. Hurt, or...he didn’t want to think of the other. She was not.
He would feel it.
“Aye,” Rhynald stated, already on his feet. “We will be ready tae ride out in five minutes.”
“Saddle mah horse,” he told the boy, attempting to keep his voice even. It was not the boy’s fault that Sorcha had gone out.
The boy nodded and took off out of the keep as his aunt approached him, wringing her hands. “Liam, she’s with child!”
“Aye, I know,” he said. Yet another reason for him to be concerned about her welfare.
“Ye do?”
He gripped her upper arms. “I will get her back. I swear it.”
“Please,” she said tearfully, wringing her hands together. “I cannae bear another loss.”
Neither could he. “Get warm blankets and start a warm dinner. We will be back before ye can blink.”
“Be careful,” she said as he kissed her forehead and started toward the door. His coat was waiting where he had stripped it off earlier and Liam donned it, grabbing an additional cloak for Sorcha. He had not thought about what she would be wearing, but hopefully she had dressed for the weather.
When he opened the door, the wind nearly took his breath away. The temperature had dropped and now freezing rain was pelting the ground, making the situation even more dismal. His wife, his love, was out in this abominable weather.
He had to find her.
He could not lose her again. It would mean that he had not protected her as he had promised, that he had failed as her husband and her laird. If only he had not gone with the warriors! He should have been here with her, discussing their future and his feelings for her.
Liam shrugged on his coat and then strode to the stable, where the terrified stableboy waited with his horse. Liam took the chance to crouch in front of him. “’Tis not yer fault, boy,” he told him. “Mah wife, she has a mind of her own sometimes.”
“She was crying,” he stammered, causing Liam to pause. “I thought she looked far too sad tae be going out intae the storm.”
Crying? Liam gave him a sharp nod and mounted his horse, tying the cloak to the saddle. What had happened to cause Sorcha to cry?
Was she unhappy with her time here?
“We’re ready,” Rhynald replied, coming up next to Liam. “Where would she have gone?”
“The moors,” Liam said softly, the rain already soaking through his coat. “She loves tae ride there.”
“The moors it is,” Rhynald grimaced, directing the warriors he had assembled.
Liam shot forward, urging his horse to run as they headed toward the moors, his heart hammering against his chest. Not only was his wife out there in the elements, she had been upset when she had done so.
The fear coursing through his veins was something he had never experienced before.
Sorcha was his life—his future—and he couldn’t lose her.
Not now.
The rain lashed out as he tore through the fields toward the moors, the sheets of rain making it difficult to see anything before him.
Liam kept his horse moving, knowing that if he were finding it difficult to see, she would be the same way, and a person could get lost with little visibility in the moors.
Liam rode for what felt like an hour before he finally spied something in the distance, his heart stilling in his chest as he realized it was Sorcha’s horse.
Her riderless horse.
When he got to the horse, he grabbed hold of its mane, noting that the horse was limping. “Where is yer mistress?” he whispered. If she had fallen off, she could be injured.
And the bairn. He could not think about the child right now.
“’Tis her horse,” Rhynald shouted over the rain, the expression on his face causing Liam’s stomach to curdle. He was thinking what Liam was refusing to accept. “I will take the men south.”
“I will go north,” Liam shouted. “Be careful of yer gallop. She could be lying on the ground.” If she were, they would trample her without even realizing it.
Rhynald gave him a sharp nod and then shouted the orders to the men, leaving Liam to head north.
Sorcha was resourceful. If her horse had come up lame and she was able to dismount, she would look for the nearest shelter.
He just had to keep his eyes open.
Liam rode farther away from the keep and into the gloomy darkness that the storm had caused, the driving rain further blocking his vision.
He was not going to leave the moors until he found her, no matter how bad the weather grew.
He would not stop until he could hold her in his arms and know that he found her.
Swallowing the emotion in his throat, Liam started to call out her name, hoping that it would carry in the rain. She had to be out there, somewhere.
He would know if he lost his heart.
He plodded on further, careful not to go above a brisk trot so that he could stop if he needed to in a hurry. Finally, after another hour of searching, he spied something in the distance, standing in the midst of the moors, like a tree in the darkness.
Except this tree was wearing a cloak.
It was Sorcha.
Relief flooded his body as he started toward her. “Sorcha!”
She lifted her head and he never saw a more beautiful sight. “Liam!” she called back. “You found me!”
He reached her and pulled her up onto the horse, finding her soaked through. “We have got to get to shelter,” he shouted into her ear, hoping that his men would be doing the same. The weather was worsening by the minute.
She nodded, and he pulled her to his chest, wishing he had something warm to place over her.
Her skin was like ice to his touch. He started further north, knowing he had not passed anything that could be used as shelter on his way to her and spied an outcropping of rocks in the distance, something that would provide shelter from the rain.
Liam urged his horse toward it and soon he was dismounting with Sorcha in his arms, tugging on the reins until they were all under the outcropping.
The air was musty, but a quick look told him that the cave was not being used by animals.
He carefully set Sorcha down on the stone and tied his horse to a rock before going back to his wife.
“Och love, ye are frozen,” he told her, seeing the blue hue of her lips.
Her wide eyes stared at him. “Ye came for me.”
It was not time to discuss this. Spying a pile of twigs that had somehow found themselves in the cave, Liam set himself to building a small fire, creating a spark with the rocks so that it would catch to the dry timber.
Once he had a small glow, he turned back to Sorcha.
“Yer clothing,” he stated, his jaw tight.
“They have tae come off.” If he didn’t get them off her, she would catch a cold and he would not be able to help her.
Or save her.
She nodded, and he helped her remove her cloak and sodden dress from her body, deciding to leave on the shift that would dry quickly.
After placing her clothing on the rocks near the fire, he removed his coat and tunic, leaving on his breeks for some measure of warmth.
“Come here Sorcha,” he said, patting to his lap.
“Body heat is the best course of warmth.” That and he wished to hold her, to ensure himself that she was indeed uninjured.
She did as he asked and he wrapped his arms around her body, rubbing her arms to put some heat back into them. She was safe, right where she belonged and now, he could protect her.
He had found her. Now the bigger question that lay between them was why she had left in tears. What had upset her so that she raced across the moors?
“Liam,” she whispered as he worked on her hands, the fire starting to build some sort of warmth in the cave while the storm howled at the entrance. “Mah horse.”
“I saw her,” he replied. “She was lame. Did she throw ye?”
She shook her head and he loosened a breath. “Are ye hurt in any way?”
“No,” she answered. “Except mah pride.”
He chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Pride is something that can be fixed, love.”
Sorcha pulled back to look at him, wariness in her eyes. “Why do ye keep calling me that?”
He frowned. “Love? Because ye are mah love.”
Had he not proven it to her tonight by coming for her?