Chapter Nine
Over the following days, the holding teemed with a flurry of activity as everyone planned for the upcoming wool harvest and subsequent outdoor feast on the village green. Despite a few reproachful glances and hushed whispers here and there from some of the younger women, Nora toiled hard along with the rest of the clan. Between threading twine to hold the shorn, bundled wool to stripping kindling to coil together for the wattle-fenced enclosures, her overworked fingers ached to the bone.
“Holy Mother, tell me we’re nearly done with this blasted fence,” Sarah grumbled.
Nora glanced over her shoulder at the dwindling pile of long sticks on the grassy knoll overlooking the pastures where they worked. “Almost. Just a bit more.”
She and Sarah had spent most of the mild, sunny morning twirling lengths of twine around the sticks to hold the fencing together. In the fields below, the men continued to herd more of the flocks into the enclosures to shear, while others in the clan bunched wool in bundles for the looms and market, sending loose scraps of fabric floating on the breeze.
“Saints, help me. I cannot take much more of this,” Sarah exclaimed.
Once they’d wound the last stick to the section of fence, Nora swiped a hand over her damp brow. “You’ll be pleased to know, we’ve finished. That’s the last of it.”
“’Tis a blessed miracle.” Her friend blew out a breathy sigh. “I’ve never despised a bunch of sticks in my entire life as much as I do now.”
Chuckling, Nora bent her fingers, working the cramps free. “’Tis a task I’m not sorry to see come to an end.”
Lifting herself from the grass, she rubbed the knots from her lower back. She extended a hand to Sarah and helped the other woman to her feet. “Come on, we should inform the men so they’re able to finish with the last of the pens.”
Peals of laughter and a chorus of cheers climbed from the pastures below. Curious, Nora shielded her eyes from the midday sun and squinted across the clearing. A rather ample-sized crowd had gathered outside the largest of the sheep enclosures.
“What do you suppose is going on?” she wondered aloud.
“I’ve no notion, but we should find out.” Grinning, Sarah grabbed her hand and tugged her down the knoll. They hitched up the skirts of their gowns and hastened over the empty field to the pastures.
Nearly half the clan had paused in their duties to cluster around the main sheep pen. Some of the younger lads balanced on fence posts, craning their necks for a better view. Shouts of encouragement merged with hoots and howls of laughter.
Eager to learn what stirred the clan, Nora pushed her way through the throng with Sarah trailing close behind. She and her friend managed to wiggle through to secure a portion of the fence. Nora peered over the railing and gaped at the scene inside.
Liam MacGregor and a handful of clansmen chased a fleecy bundle of ram around the enclosure. As soon as one of the men closed in to grab the animal, the ram, despite the burden of its massive woolen coat, reared up with a set of curled horns to butt the man. Enraged by the men’s efforts to capture it, the contrary animal reversed positions, pursuing his enemy in circles round the pen.
The men shouted warnings and sprang out of the way of the animal’s horns, drawing riotous glee from the spectators. Liam’s cousin, Calum, sat perched atop of the railing, barking out advice during his mirth as the men scattered throughout the enclosure. Unable to contain her amusement, laughter tumbled out of Nora at the ridiculous sight.
Despite Liam’s wish not to look after a clan as he’d admitted at the evening meal, the man had certainly taken his duty in earnest. At first, she questioned if he’d uphold his word to the Frasers, but he’d done so tenfold. Each day, he toiled hard with the men, repairing fences, rounding up sheep and baling wool along with everyone else. His diligent efforts had not gone unnoticed by the clan either. Lingering doubts and suspicions soon shifted to grudging respect.
Sarah nudged her arm. “He’s a handsome fellow, do you not think?”
Nora choked on a laugh. “Who? The ram?”
“Not the blasted ram.” The other woman waggled her brows. “MacGregor.”
What sort of question was that? Of course she found Liam handsome. Trouble was, he knew his appeal. As well as every other woman in his vicinity. “Is there a woman breathing who does not think so?” She pointed at the fawning ladies on the other side of the pen. “I can see their fluttering lashes from here.”
Sarah laughed harder. “You are too much sometimes, Nora.”
Nora refused to comment. ’Twas not as if she cared about those silly women and their vain attempts to gain his attentions. Even if the wretched sows were responsible for a majority of the slanderous whispers tossed around the village over the past few days. How ironic those same frivolous females thought to ensnare Liam MacGregor with a quick tumble.
Nay, handsome was too tame a word for the man. Unnervingly striking suited him much better. She’d taken full notice of his lean, muscled form and fair features from the start, but what did it matter? At one time, she might’ve been a chieftain’s daughter, but no more. In the present, she was simply Nora Fraser—aloof, distrustful, no features to remark upon, and destined to remain unwed.
“Here he comes.” Sarah elbowed her in the side, yanking Nora from her futile musings.
Shoving aside the touch of rancor, she focused on Liam as he sprinted from one end of the pen to the other. With the demented ram close on his heels, he dashed for her little section of fence. His golden hair clung to his damp brow. The lacings of his tunic gaped open to expose an expanse of bronzed skin and dusting of flaxen hair beneath. The faint shadow of a bruise was the sole reminder of the swollen eye she’d given him almost a sennight ago. He met her gaze and a lopsided grin spread over his countenance.
“Ladies,” he called out as he loped past.
Nora snorted and shook her head at the foolish man. Every time she stumbled into Liam, he donned that ridiculous grin of his, winked and made a point to speak. Frankly, ’twas odd he sought her out at all. However, a wee part of her relished his attention.
Cornering him against the fence, the ram attempted to charge, but Liam pushed his booted foot to the animal’s head to still his efforts. He grabbed ahold of the beast’s curved horns to subdue him, but the ram shook free of his grasp. Two men caught up to Liam, leading the sheep away to the other end of the pen.
Liam paused in front of Nora, leaning against the railing to catch his breath. He turned a charming grin on her. “Enjoying the entertainment, lass?”
Disregarding the thudding pound in her chest, she managed an indifferent shrug. She echoed the same sentiment the last time he asked her opinion. “’Tis tolerable, I suppose.”
He tossed his head back and released a deep, robust laugh which drew her notice. Her gaze lingered on the corded column of his neck. Swallowing against the sudden dryness in her mouth, she watched the flex and movement of his throat as he spoke. Spoke? Startled, she forced herself to pay attention.
“…the evening meal?”
“I’m sorry, I did not hear,” she yelled over the boisterous crowd.
He leaned closer. “I said, will….me…the evening meal?”
She wrinkled her nose at the broken question. Saints, she could not hear a blasted thing over the clamor around them. Irritated, she glanced to the other end of the pen and her eyes nearly popped from her head. Closing in fast, the ram charged straight for Liam.
Nora grabbed his hand along the top of the railing and squeezed. “Run, Liam!”
When his only response was a confused tilt of his head, she jabbed a finger at the woolen beast trotting their way.
He glanced over his shoulder and spat out a surprised curse. Agile as a wildcat, he used his arms to lever himself up to sit astride the top of the chest-high fencing. In the next instant, the ram crashed into the threaded strips of kindling, stirring gasps and roars from the clan.
Nora reared back as the animal’s horns snared between the sticks. Two of the men took advantage of the sheep’s blunder and restrained the animal. They flipped the beast onto his rear, subduing him completely. Cheers rang out from the crowd when the ram’s woolen rampage of terror came to an end.
Her mouth gaping open, she glanced up at Liam. Calm and composed, he winked at her.
With an enticing grin, he leaned down closer to her face. “I said, will you join me in the hall for the evening meal, Nora?”
The manner in which he dragged out her name unfurled a strange flutter in her belly. Coupled with the speeding thump of her heart, Liam rendered her speechless.
What was the ridiculous man doing to her? Too often the image of his smiling face floated in her mind over the past few days.
’Twas a mercy one of the clan shepherds demanded his attention. “All right, MacGregor. ’Tis your turn to shear the beast.”
He hopped from the fence, landing on his feet. “I shall leave that task with you lads.”
“Oh, nay.” The shepherd shook his head.
Calum called out, “Come on, Cousin. Are you frightened of the wee beast?”
Goaded by his cousin’s teasing, Liam thrust his open hand at the shepherd who wasted no time slapping a pair of shears in his palm.
“He may not have bedded you before, but it would seem he has a liking to now,” Sarah spoke near Nora’s ear.
She directed a dark scowl at her friend, sending Sarah into another bout of laughter. This time, however, Nora did not share her friend’s mirth.
*
Raking a hand through his damp hair, Liam strode from the loch in the forest to Nora’s cottage. He applauded his decision for a thorough wash after shearing that foul-smelling, demented ram. A task he refused to repeat for the rest of his days.
Nora’s friend, Sarah, stood outside her cottage door with her hands on her hips, admonishing three young lads who ignored her warning and continued to wrestle on the ground. Chuckling, he lifted a hand in greeting as he passed.
Once he’d met her husband, John, he’d taken an immediate liking to the fellow. A diligent and fair soldier, the man had his hands full with his wife and their three young sons.
Stepping through the gate to Nora’s cottage, he spotted her hunched over, tending to her small garden on the side. A grin curved his lips when he thought of the attention and nurturing she expended growing vegetables. Not unlike the care she’d shown for her brother and the elder who shadowed Will’s steps at times.
She glanced up and swiped a dirty hand over her brow, smudging grime along her forehead. A frown tugged at her lips, which he’d come to realize was her usual countenance. Though, he quite enjoyed those rare glimpses of her smile when she thought no one noticed. The look eased the lines of worry from her features and infused light into her alluring, dark eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
Unable to determine if she sounded perturbed or alarmed, he chose to move closer and kneel beside her to inspect the sprouting seeds she’d planted. “You never gave me an answer.”
In spite of the tiring days he’d spent laboring with the harvest, he endeavored to catch a glimpse of Nora whenever the chance arose. He could not bring himself to stay away from the lass. He’d purposefully sought her out, the need to see her frowning face compelling him. Something about the woman—something he struggled to understand—snared ahold of him and refused to let go.
“An answer?” She fidgeted with the spade in her hand in a manner which spoke of nervousness. “What was the question?”
“If you would join me in the hall this eve.” Unable to resist, he lifted a hand to sweep across her brow, but she jerked back.
Startled, she sputtered, “What are you doing?”
Smiling at her confusion, Liam gestured to her head. “You have a bit of dirt there. Allow me.”
Careful to take his own sweet time, he brushed his thumb over her brow, wiping away the smudge marring her unblemished, bronzed skin. Days of working in the garden and outdoors had kissed her features with a golden flush which suited her.
She sucked in a swift intake of air as her wide eyes watched him. The spade slipped from her hand and her delicate brows pinched together, as if she attempted to work through an intricate riddle.
For once, she could not hide her reaction to his nearness and he delighted in the knowledge that he set her off balance. ’Twas only fair since the blasted, irksome woman sent him toppling askew, head first, as well.
Plucking the spade from her lap, he shifted onto his knees and sank the tool deep in the dirt, turning the soil over to ready for planting as she’d done before he disturbed her. For long moments, she simply sat with her lax hands in her lap and looked on as he dug in her little patch of earth.
Once Nora regained her composure, she reached into a pocket along the front of her apron and retrieved a pouch. She emptied the contents on the ground in front of her.
He glanced at the small bulbs. “Onions?”
“Aye.” She used her fingers to dig a shallow tunnel in the soil. She placed the bulbs an inch apart then blanketed each with dirt but was careful not to pack soil over them.
When he finished tilling the next few rows, he sank back on his heels to admire his handiwork. “What do you wish to plant here?”
“Beans.” Pausing long enough to dig in her apron, she produced another tied bundle and passed them over.
Liam stared at the pouch in his palm, astounded she trusted him with the simple task.
“Just dig a line and sprinkle them in as I did.” She peeked at him. “If you wish, that is. Honestly, you do not have to.”
“Nay, I would like to help,” he replied in truth.
In such close proximity, Liam noticed the speckles of amber swimming in the dark pools of her eyes for the first time. Sunlight cast a radiant luster over her rich, chestnut locks and bathed her cheeks a flushed pink. He longed to lean in closer and sample the softness of her hair against his fingers.
Nodding her thanks, she graced him with a small smile which complemented the radiance of her comely features. After a long moment, he reminded himself not to stare.
Before long, they fell into an easy, companionable silence. The constant need to fill the void with meaningless, idle chatter was absent. Even the urge to entertain or charm whoever was in his company, namely the fairer sex, had not beleaguered him for a change. Not that his charms worked on Nora. The woman seemed impervious and, mayhap, that appealed to him more. Every single reaction she’d shown was honest and true. No artifice or deception, no false flattery. She sought to gain naught from him. No bit of coin, no quick tumble. Just his simple company was enough. ’Twas refreshing.
Birds chirped in the trees overhead while small animals foraged in the forest beyond the cottage. The sounds of spring hummed in the background as he savored the feel of Nora’s strong, comforting presence. Something about the innocent task of planting seeds, side by side, struck him as familiar, intimate almost.
Once they finished their chores, Nora wiped her hands over her work apron and rose to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to fetch water from the spring.”
Straightening to stand in front of her, he snorted. “Do not be silly. I’ll fetch it for you.”
Her bottom lip jutted out with an attractive pout, and she jammed her tiny fists into her lean sides. “I’m perfectly capable of fetching water on my own. I do so all the time, my lord.”
He barely stifled a laugh at her adorable display of anger. Though, he doubted she’d care for his observation in her current mood. “I’m well aware you are more than capable. ’Tis Liam, remember?”
“I remember.” She lifted her chin. “I just do not understand why it matters.”
He moved a step closer, invading her personal space. “Because we are friends, aye?”
The question appeared to swipe the feet out from under her indignation. She searched his gaze as she fumbled for words. “I…I suppose we are.”
He could tell the notion surprised her. As if she’d not once considered the idea. What a strange woman. Interesting, but odd all the same.
“Why do you not have Will fetch water for you?” He stepped away and grabbed the two empty buckets from the wooden stand in front of the cottage.
Latching the postern after them, she fell into step beside him as they strolled through the clearing.
“He does part of the time, but I do not like to trouble him. Not with his leg.”
When she failed to explain further, he prodded her. “What happened to his leg?”
Her gaze flitted away to the pastures where the clan sheared the last of the flock as the sun began a slow retreat in the afternoon sky.
“’Twas some years ago.” She shrugged. “He was thrown from his mount and his leg never healed properly.”
Liam winced at the information. No wonder the young man limped as he did. In truth, the old injury must pain him something fierce at times. “I could speak to my mother.”
Nora peered at him in question.
He clarified, “She’s an accomplished healer. Mayhap, there’s something she could do to help ease his discomfort.”
“Oh nay. Please, do not trouble Lady Fraser. She carries a heavy enough burden at the moment.”
“’Tis no trouble, lass,” he assured her. “In fact, I’m certain she would welcome the distraction.”
They paused on the grassy bank alongside the mill where the stream flowed from the forest. She reached for one of the wooden pails but he shot her a sideways scowl, warning her to back off.
Kneeling along the edge, he leaned down to dip the bucket beneath the clear surface, filling the pail with fresh water. Lifting the heavy weight, he adjusted his position to gain a better grip. While not as difficult for him, for a woman of Nora’s stature the task might prove arduous.
“You do this often?” He rolled his eyes at the ridiculous question. “Of course you do. ’Twas silly of me to ask.” He dipped the second bucket into the spring. “What astounds me is you’ve not fallen in head first.”
“’Tis almost happened a few times,” she admitted with a soft chuckle.
He shook his head, displeased with the hazardous means of fetching water. If she had trouble, then many of the other clanswomen must as well. ’Twas not a chief concern, but a problem he’d rather see remedied. He’d ponder the matter and stumble upon a solution.
With a full bucket in each hand, he nodded her onward. “Lead the way.”
She offered, “I do not mind carrying one.”
He cut her a sharp glance. “Saints, woman, why do you have such trouble allowing someone to aid you?”
Her nose wrinkled as she considered his question. “I suppose I do not wish to bother anyone or owe a debt I cannot repay.”
The words froze Liam in his tracks. Had someone demanded something of her in the past? Anger flushed through him on her behalf at the mere thought.
Her step faltered when she noticed he’d halted and she glanced over her shoulder.
“’Tis not a bother, Nora, or I would not offer and I’d never demand anything of you,” he asserted with a lift of his brows to accent the words. “Do you understand?”
“Aye.” She granted him an amused smile. “Thank you, Liam.”
Once they reached her quaint cottage, he placed the buckets near the freshly-planted garden and plucked the wooden trowel from the stool near the door, passing it over to Nora. She wasted no time, dipping the ladle into one bucket and sprinkling water over the seeds.
“You know…” He leaned against the corner of the cottage, watching her. “You still have not given me an answer.”
Absorbed with her task, she did not bother to spare him a glance. “’Tis good of you to notice.”
Her keen understanding ripped a bark of laughter from his throat. Somehow, he doubted the clever woman scarcely missed a thing.
“I’m merely asking you to join me in the hall. As a friend. Please, Nora?”
She straightened to face him, dropping the trowel to her side. Her delicate brows furrowed. “I just thought…with the clan…”
Nora left the statement hanging unfinished between them which mounted his suspicions. He was aware the eve he spent in her cottage must’ve made its rounds through the clan by now, though he’d not heard a word from anyone. But what if Nora had fallen prey to the clan’s gossip-mongers?
He pushed away from the wall. “What of the clan?”
“’Tis naught.” Sighing, she tossed the scoop in the empty bucket.
“I doubt that.” He narrowed his eyes. “What’s been said, lass?”
“I do not wish to speak of it,” she insisted.
What she failed to understand of his character yet was he would badger her until she relented. “Please, Nora. Will you not tell me?”
For a moment, she peered at him while chewing her bottom lip. “’Tis naught more than idle chatter from a handful of women.”
“Such as?” he prompted. “And what women?”
’Twas her turn to narrow her gaze. “Why?”
“No reason.” He feigned innocence. In truth, he’d have no trouble confronting the offenders.
Nora crossed her slim arms over her chest. “I shall only tell you if you vow not to mention a word to them.”
’Twas apparent the lass had little difficulty comprehending his intent. Aiming to appease her, he held his hands up in surrender. “Agreed.”
She glanced at her garden while her cheeks burned a bright crimson. “Those women…they believe you and I…that we slept together.”
“Ah, I see. What else?” he pressed.
Shaking her head, she busied herself picking up her gardening tools. “Aside from a little harmless, idle chatter, naught else.”
The glaring falsehood shone through the firm set of her flushed features. Oh, he could imagine the spitefulness of some men and women alike. He’d realized at a young age that there would always be a few who thrived on such pettiness. Saints, he’d been the subject of a fair share of malicious gossip over the years. And on far more occasions than he cared to admit, but more often than not, the ridiculous blathering was untrue.
“Nora,” he waited for her to meet his gaze. “I understand. Truly, I do. I’ve been the fodder of idle chatter for years. I’ll not deny there’s a speck of truth to some of the gossip about me but, oft times, ’tis unfounded. Do not allow those women you speak of to rouse your anger. If anyone truly knows your character, then they shall know better than to listen to the drivel of a few jealous women.”
She frowned. “Jealous? Of what?”
Liam blinked at her genuine surprise. Surely, she must realize her appeal.
“Of you, Nora. How could they not be? You’re a clever, comely lass with a kind heart. ’Tis simple to understand why anyone might envy you.” Affixing a charming grin, he placed a hand to his chest. “And I’ll confess, I am rather pleasing on the eye myself.”
A peal of laughter slipped from her lips. “What I cannot fathom is whether the knock to your head has addled your mind or have you always been somewhat touched?”
Amused by her quick wit, he snorted. “Well, that’s hardly flattering.”
With a faint smile, she raised a brow. “If you seek flattery, then you have come to the wrong place, Liam MacGregor.”
The lass spoke the words in part as a warning, one he had no trouble deciphering. Though, her frankness was an admirable aspect of her nature which drew him like a moth to a flame.
“I assure you, ’tis not what I seek in the slightest.”
“What is it that you seek?” She lifted her chin in clear challenge.
Peering into her intriguing, dark eyes, he admitted the truth. “Your friendship.”
Several heartbeats spanned before she nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response. Of course, he could not resist teasing her. For naught else but to witness her exasperation.
“So, as a friend,” he drawled out the words. “Will you join me in the hall this eve?”
Nora glanced heavenward. “Saints, you do not cease, do you?”
“Nay, ’tis not the MacGregor way.” He grinned. “You may consider it a debt paid.”
She cast him a dry stare. “Be off with you before I blacken your other eye this time.”
“So is that an aye?” he called over his shoulder as he strode out of range in case she thought to chuck something at him.
Her resounding curse was answer enough.