Chapter Twenty-Two
“Why the devil did you not tell me?” Liam demanded of his cousin as the two of them marched through the village, bound for Nora’s cottage.
“Hell, Liam. I struck a bargain with the lass.” Calum cut him an annoyed glance. “What would you have me do?”
“Tell me the blasted truth, for a start,” he bellowed.
“As if you would’ve done the same,” Calum countered. “You and I both know you would’ve danced around the matter until I forced it from your lips.”
Liam rolled his eyes rather than continue to argue with the man.
After his cousin and Fraser promptly ran through the unsettling tale of Nora and Will’s past, he took off for the village, determined to confront the lass with the information he’d gleaned. Information she should’ve shared with him herself but failed miserably.
Christ, and to think he’d even offered the lass a reprieve the eve prior. Of course, he’d no notion of the importance of the details she’d withheld from him. ’Twas a vital matter she should’ve spoken of from the beginning. Especially since she’d harbored suspicions after Fraser’s poisoning.
Why the devil had the woman held her tongue? Did she believe he’d think less of her in some manner? Or force her and Will to leave? Too many unanswered questions spun in his mind, propelling his frustration to a steep peak.
Saints, why were females prone to concealing pertinent details? For the life of him, he could not comprehend the creatures or their haphazard reasoning.
Countless thoughts pummeled through his mind as he turned the corner, marching a straight path down the dirt trail leading to Nora’s. Beside him, his cousin kept pace with his hurried steps.
“You might wish to calm yourself before you speak to the lass,” Calum suggested.
He slanted his cousin a sideways stare. “I am calm.”
Calum snorted. “As a raging storm.”
Liam rolled his eyes at the embellishment. Given the present situation, he was as blasted calm as he could manage. ’Twas not anger that compelled him to seek Nora out, but frustration—frustration with his own ignorance. As he and Nora became acquainted, he suspected the lass concealed a host of secrets behind those dark eyes of hers, but he’d never prodded her for answers. In some instances, he’d not even bothered to inquire at all.
As soon as they reached the end of the lane, his step faltered at the sight of Nora’s door standing ajar. His hand lingered on the gate when he spotted the bucket beside the door turned over in the yard with Nora’s gardening tools scattered about the dirt. Moving inside the yard, he spied stray droplets of blood near the entrance and a swell of alarm rushed through his frame.
He slapped the back of his hand to Calum’s chest, halting his cousin. “Something’s amiss.”
Heeding the warning, his cousin unsheathed the dagger at his side, while Liam gripped the pommel of his sword.
Heart drumming a furious beat in his chest, he paced closer and pushed the cracked door wider, but an obstruction blocked the entrance. Glancing down, he sucked in a startled breath. Just inside the doorway, a booted, male foot lay wedged against the planks of timber.
Gripped by a flood of fear, he shoved the door wide enough to slip through. On the other side, Geordie lay sprawled in a pool of blood, barely clinging to life.
Shock resounded through Liam at the sight of the elderly man. His gaze swept a swift pass over the cottage, searching for Nora and her brother, before dropping to his knees beside Geordie.
“Quick, Calum. Bring my mother.”
His cousin’s head poked through the entrance and a sound curse split the air. Without another moment’s hesitation, Calum sprinted from the cottage, his booted feet pounding over the dirt.
Liam lifted the man’s crimson-stained tunic and winced at the grievous wound along his side. Ripping away a portion of the man’s tunic, he used the fabric as a compress to stem the dark flow of blood from the deep gash. A strangled moan drifted from the older man. His bleary, gray eyes cracked open, meeting Liam’s gaze.
“Laird.” His weak voice cracked. “They took them…I tried.”
Liam barely held the panic hurtling through him in check. He clenched his teeth to halt his bellow of outrage.
“Who, Geordie? Who took them?” Though, he could guess.
A tight ball of anxiety took up residence in his chest, heightening his unease.
“Fergus MacNab.” The elderly man sputtered a jarring cough, the sound rattling in his chest. “Sorry. I could not…”
Moved by the old soldier’s efforts, Liam grasped Geordie’s cooling hand in his own, hoping to infuse life into the man once more. “Your bravery is boundless, Geordie. Rest, help is on the way.”
Geordie’s eyes slid closed, and his features paled a deathly shade of white. The rise and fall of his chest grew increasingly shallow as life slipped away from the elder. Frustrated he could do naught to save the man, Liam pressed harder on the compress while he considered the faithful vassal.
The first morn after he’d awakened in Nora’s cottage, he wondered of Geordie’s relation to Nora and Will. ’Twas not until Calum and Fraser’s explanation earlier when Liam fully grasped the depth of the elderly MacNab warrior’s devotion to Nora and her brother. Despite his advanced age, the man upheld his sworn duty, protecting his charges with his life. ’Twas hard to find that profundity of loyalty in anyone.
Liam silently cursed the damned MacNabs. Saints, he’d not known who the hell the clan was until an hour past. So many details ticked into place—Nora and Will’s guarded natures, Will’s damaged leg, the lass’ ill-tempered bouts, her usual frowning features. Everything made far more sense.
He released a harsh breath. Christ, his lass must be mindless with fright.
Faint footsteps outside the door pricked his ears. Unsure if a threat remained, he grabbed for his sword and straightened to his knees, his eyes locked on the opened doorway.
“Liam.”
Numb with relief, he sank back on his heels at the sound of Symon’s voice. The commander slipped between the parted entrance, his gaze darting to Geordie.
Symon grimaced. “Damn.”
Aye, Liam understood the sentiment well.
“Your mother’s on the way.”
Glancing down at the elderly soldier, Liam nodded, though he doubted there was much his mother could do at that point. With the wound too deep to mend, the man had lost far too much blood. His heart sank when he realized Geordie no longer drew breath.
Christ, he had not anticipated the elder would slip away quite so soon.
Resting his bloody hands flat of his bent knees, he met Symon’s dark, solemn gaze. Aside from his cousin, the MacGregor commander was one of the few men he trusted with his life and counted as a true friend. He could ask the warrior to ride straight to hell with him to slay the devil, and the man would not hesitate to join him.
“They have my lass and her brother,” he muttered.
Nodding, Symon raised a brow. “When do we leave?”
“Posthaste.”
“What’s the plan?”
Damned if Liam had a notion. ’Twas no blasted time to assemble a force of men. Not with the MacNab laird and his cur of a son resolved to murder Will and Nora. His only hope was to ride like the hounds of hell chased after him and pray he caught up to their party. If not, then he’d no damned clue what to do.
Unwilling to allow more precious time to slip away from him, he straightened to his feet and crossed to the small bed in the corner of the cottage, grabbing the coverlet. He shook out the pelt and gently covered Geordie’s body. He would ensure the old man would receive a proper burial befitting that of an honored warrior. ’Twas the least he could do in reverence of the warrior for his years of faithful service to Nora and Will.
*
Resolved to see his task through, Liam hastened through the village with Symon close on his heels. Intent to reach the stables and saddle his gelding, he scarcely heeded villagers as he swept past. Once he stepped foot on the wooden bridge leading to the front gate, his mother hurried from the courtyard followed by Calum and Fraser, who carried her satchel of medicinals.
Her wide gaze met his and he shook his head.
She scurried forward, pausing in front of him. “Are you certain?”
“Aye.” Though, he loathed to admit Geordie was gone.
Her brows pulled low with concern. “I expect you’re leaving.”
Studying her distressed features, he nodded.
One soft hand cupped his cheek while she rose on her tiptoes to kiss the opposite. “Be safe, my lad.”
Sweeping his arms around her, he enveloped her in a firm embrace. “Always.”
Over her shoulder, Fraser caught his eye.
“John’s gathering a few of the men now.” Fraser’s clipped words spoke of his seething anger.
Releasing his mother, Liam nodded his thanks. “’Tis a vain attempt, but I have to try.”
“Understood.” The older man added, “We shall be ready to ride within the hour.”
Liam almost crossed his eyes in vexation. As if he did not have enough to contend with at the moment. “We?”
Puffing out his barrel chest, Fraser affixed a harsh glare to his hardened features. “If you expect me to sit idly by and do naught, then you’re a blasted fool. The lass and lad were under my protection and I am the one who failed them. We can stand here wasting time, or we can head for the stables. Your decision.”
Taken aback by the man’s ferocity, he cut a sharp glance at his mother. Standing firm, she nodded and lifted her chin in challenge.
Saints help him. Any other time, he might’ve argued with the ridiculous man, but he could not afford the time. In that instant, more pressing matters weighed on his conscience. Such as retrieving his damned lass and her brother. Everything else paled in comparison.
Heaving a deep sigh, he agreed with a growl. “Fine. We leave within the hour.”
Not waiting for a response, he marched for the stables, anxious to get moving before more time was lost. He could only hope his lass’ tenacity and Will’s cleverness would keep them alive until he arrived to reclaim his family.