Chapter 20
One month later...
Liam strode into the practice ring, grateful for the sun that was shining overhead.
The ground was free of snow for the first time in weeks, and he was looking forward to sparring with his warriors today.
Rhynald was waiting in the ring, flipping his knife into the air as Liam approached him.
“Well, well, did ye finally decide tae leave yer warm bed for us?”
Liam grinned. “Aye, I did. Yer laird needed his rest.”
Rhynald arched a brow. “I wager that there was little rest in that bedchamber given the grin on yer face.”
Liam just shrugged, not wishing to speak about his bedchamber with anyone save his wife.
They had, in fact, spent a great deal of time together recently.
During the day, he tended to the clan duties, even learning to be patient when he had to listen to the clan plights.
His wife spent her days tending to the duties of the keep, under the watchful eye of his aunt.
But at night, they came together for the stolen moments he had come to covet, when his wife was in his arms and he was showing her how much he loved her.
Sorcha’s body was starting to swell with their bairn as well, and just last evening he had cupped her stomach, whispering words of love to their wee bairn.
As much as he was still a bit frightened by the prospect of his wife giving birth, Liam was not letting it show.
Sorcha needed for him to be strong, and that was what he was going to do—be strong for his strong wife.
The entire clan had been told of their news, and once the weather warmed, they would throw a gathering to wish the couple luck with the birthing process.
It was a tradition that the McCallums did for every woman that was increasing, putting the lass in the seat of honor to be worshipped by the clan.
It would be a proud moment for Liam, another memory that he would have with Sorcha.
His love.
“How are the new warriors?” he asked instead, pushing his thoughts of his wife aside for now.
“They are coming along,” Rhynald remarked. “Still have a ways tae go but at least they dinnae look like they are going tae starve to death.”
“Good,” Liam replied. His elders were still optimistic that it had been a good decision by their laird, and he wanted to show them that he had every good intention in mind when he had made it.
“What news of the border?” he asked.
Rhynald frowned. “There is talk that the McClary clan are attempting tae wage a battle tae claim the barren land. The last traveler that passed through swore he saw them camping south of our border.”
“Gather some warriors,” Liam decided. “Take them tae the border and see if what is being said is true.”
“And ye?” his second-in-command asked. “Will ye be joining?”
Liam shook his head. “Ye will do just fine without me.”
He had made a promise to his wife that his duty was to the keep and to her. Not to the lot that could easily take care of the issue for him. It was time for him to think as a laird, and not the warrior that he had been for so long after his loss.
“Are we ready tae have the warrior wars?”
The warrior wars were a way for his men to duel each other for the leader titles of the warrior groups. It kept his warriors from thinking they were above their own fellow clansmen and allowed for even the slightest warrior to become someone of great importance for a year’s time.
“I believe so,” Rhynald stated before walking to the ring and calling the warriors in.
Liam watched as his second-in-command broke them into groups, which would be broken further down into duets that would fight each other for the top prize.
Next season he would allow the bandit group to participate as well, but this season they would be watching from the sidelines as he would.
Soon the wars began, the sound of swords clashing filling the air.
Some of the villagers came out to watch the warriors, which had the men preening around the ring for the loudest cheer.
Liam watched as Scot after Scot was eliminated, until there were only two left for the last group—one being the Scot who had enjoyed taunting him months before.
The man had not lost his cockiness, and Liam was not surprised when he bested the other warrior, holding his sword up in the air as the villagers cheered for him.
Rhynald looked over at his laird and shrugged, knowing that he had won fair and square to secure his spot as a leader of one of the groups. Liam rolled his shoulders and walked into the center of the ring.
“Well done,” he told Malcolm.
Malcolm eyed him suspiciously. “Are ye going tae tell me I cannae be a leader?”
Liam shook his head. “Nay. Ye have earned yer place in my warriors, and now as a leader.”
The other man looked surprised by Liam’s words, lowering his sword.
“A leader serves as a vessel for the warriors in his group,” Liam continued, keeping his expression neutral. “He works his warriors hard but is willing tae fight at their side when called for. Can ye be that person?”
Malcolm swallowed. “I can.”
Liam reached out his forearm. “Then I will be honored for ye tae serve me as a leader.” This was how a laird ensued trust in his warriors. He needed to make certain that the clan and the keep came first with his leaders before their own wants and needs.
Malcolm reached out and clasped Liam’s forearm. “Aye, mah lord. I wilnae let ye down.”
“See that ye dinnae,” Liam replied, releasing the Scot’s arm before striding away.
Rhynald chuckled as Liam rejoined him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I believe ye have stunned him tae silence.”
Liam grinned. “Perhaps so, but I wager that we wilnae have any further issues out of him.”
“What now?” Rhynald asked. “What does the great Laird McCallum wish tae do?”
“I wish tae see if mah second-in-command doesnae need tae be replaced.”
Rhynald’s eyes narrowed, but there was a glint of laughter in their depths. “Then sharpen yer sword, laird, and let me show ye why I deserve mah position.”
Hours later, Liam made his way back to the keep, knowing that his arms would be sore in the morning.
He and Rhynald had sparred for hours, using swords, then daggers, then just shields until Liam had to be the one to tell him that he could do no more.
Rhynald had called him soft, but Liam didn’t care.
He was going to call for a bath and his wife, in that order.
Luckily, he found both waiting for him in their chamber, Sorcha’s cheeks flushed from the warmth of the room. “Did ye enjoy yerself?” she asked him as Liam unstrapped his sword and placed it on the table.
“Aye,” Liam replied, pulling his tunic over his head. He heard his wife’s sharp intake of her breath as she touched his bruised side. “Liam, what happened?”
Liam grabbed her hand, pressing it to his lips. “That is sparring, love. ’Tis fine, I swear it.”
She looked worried, so he pulled her against him. “Ye should see Rhynald. He will be sporting a black eye for a few days!”
She let out a breath. “Well, ye smell like ye have been fighting.”
He pulled back and started to work on the laces of her gown. “Well then, ’tis a good time for us tae take a bath.”
“Liam,” she laughed as he pulled the dress off her shoulders, pushing it down past her hips. “I dinnae need a bath.”
He grinned at her wickedly. “Ye will once I finish with ye, Wife.”
She just shook her head but removed the rest of her clothing, and he did the same, easing his body into the warm water with a long sigh. “Come, Sorcha. Make yer laird happy.”
Her saucy smile had him grinning as she stepped into the tub, the water sloshing over the side and onto the stone floor. “’Tis too small for the both of us, Husband.”
He reached for her, avoiding her limbs and careful not to jostle her too much. When her back was resting against his chest, he sighed, reaching down to cup her stomach. In the coming months, she would swell with their bairn, and he would marvel at the changes that her body would have.
But it would not make him love her any less.
“I was thinking,” Sorcha started, running her fingers over his forearm. “There’s talk that another clan might be looking tae wage a battle with us. If ye feel the need tae go—”
“Nay,” he interrupted her, pressing his lips to her neck. “Dinnae even think that I would go back on mah word.”
“’Tis not about that,” she replied softly, her fingers stilling. “’Tis about ye being happy, and I know ye are happiest when ye are on the battlefield.”
He chuckled, tightening his hold on her. “The happiest I am is when I am right here with ye, love.”
“Are ye certain?”
“Aye,” he replied, his hand lowering under the water. She drew in a breath as he found his destination, grinning against her skin. “And this is the only place I wish tae be.”