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He felt like a young boy again, not able to handle his alcohol. After a few heaving pushes, he was able to stand, but the pain in his head only renewed. “Fecking ale. I shall never drink ye again!” He knew it wasn’t true, but it felt good to be angry at something and to blame something else besides his own idiocy. He looked one way and then the other, trying to figure out his path back down to the Great Hall. He did not want anyone to see him, especially Fergus or Angus, for they would laugh him right out of the castle. He had work to do today, but he wasn’t sure he was up to it. And Brea would want to see him as well. She had been sending him letters ever since his last visit, and he knew she would not remain satisfied for long. She was coming to Mull in a day or two.
He stumbled down towards the steps and looked down to see his stains speckling his waistcoat and kilt. He huffed in frustration. He hoped that no one had seen him in that state, lying like a dog in the hallway, or else he would have a lot of explaining to do to Mrs. MacLean.
He ran a hand through his hair and over his beard, hoping it was not too unruly in case it was Mrs. MacLean who found him wandering the halls. He was certain she would and would not look too kindly upon him. As he entered the main hall, he looked about, hoping to sneak out to his own home without being seen. His horse was still tied in the stables. He walked across the flagstones, listening to the crackle in the hearth, noting the mess left from the night before.
Soon, servants would be entering to clean up, and he wanted to get out before that happened. He was almost at the door. It was within reach, but then he heard that infamous throat clearing from behind him. Squinting his eyes to prepare for the worst, he turned to face Mrs. MacLean. She was standing erect, with her eyes scrutinizing him. “Liam MacLean. I heard ye had graced our upper hallway with yer presence last eve, lad. ‘Twas a good wedding tae be sure.”
“Aye, aye,” he laughed, but as if in punishment, his headache increased sharply. “’ Twas a good wedding, Mrs. MacLean, but I am off now, ready tae return tae me own bed.”
“I see.” She tapped her foot, and Liam knew just what that meant. Mrs. MacLean was a good sort. Since his own mother had died many years before and had been a friend of hers, the old woman had become like a mother to him. “Well, now that ye have done yer best tae insult the guest of this house, I am certain ye need plenty of rest.”
Liam furrowed his brows and cocked his head to the side. “What do ye mean? Insult who?” His mind was swirling, trying to piece together foggy images from the evening before. There was dancing, drinking certainly, and music. He could see Charlotte and Angus smiling happily together. He could envision Elizabeth in her pale blue and blonde beauty, moving gracefully around the dance floor with her tutored limbs. He smiled despite himself.
“One of the servants has seen ye being forward with Lady Darling who has come tae stay with us, and who is a dear friend of Charlotte’s. The slap she gave ye was heard clear around the castle. I wouldnae be surprised if the Campbells heard it on their side of the water!” Her voice was sharp but still motherly in its own way.
Liam lifted a hand unconsciously to his cheek. He did remember that. A slap so hard he was certain never to forget it. But for the life of him, he could not remember what he’d done or said. “Mrs. MacLean, I have nae idea what ye mean. I walked the lady back tae her room as Angus asked me to. That was all.” He hoped that was all, but after Angus had asked him to take her, he couldn’t remember much else.
Mrs. MacLean put her hands on her hips. “Yer flirtatious and philandering ways will get ye intae trouble one day, Liam MacLean. Well, it appears they have done so already, whether ye remember it or nae.”
Liam's stomach sank. Why did Elizabeth slap him? He must have so deeply offended her for that gentle, kind creature to react in such a way. He wanted to lay down. It was all too much, and Mrs. MacLean’s angry remonstrances were only making everything worse. “By God, Mrs. MacLean, I dinnae remember what I have done.” He looked down for a moment, feeling ashamed in front of his stand-in guardian. Mrs. MacLean always knew how to make him feel like a little boy, no much how he’d struggled and fought to grow up and to be seen as a man.
He looked up again, daring a glance at her strong gaze. “Do ye think I ought tae apologize?” He knew what her answer would be before she said anything.
“Of course, lad. Ye must apologize, and despite yer wild ways, ye must think of a way tae do it prettily enough. If the laird or Angus hears about this, then ye know ye are in for an angry sort of discussion.”
Liam groaned like a little boy. “Dinnae say ye will tell him what ye know, Mrs. MacLean. I will try tae think of a way tae apologize tae the lass, but my head is hurting like a bastard. I cannae think straight or make pretty speeches.”
Mrs. MacLean crossed her arms and squinted just a little bit more at him. “I suppose that is punishment enough for now. I willnae tell the laird nor Angus, but who knows what the Lady will do? Most certainly, she will tell Charlotte of what occurred.”
Damn.In his continued state of uselessness, he hadn’t considered that. Women told each other everything, especially if it had to do with men and their antics. He frowned. Maybe Elizabeth was kind enough to forgive him? He would have to think of the perfect words.
He was the sort to do that well, after all. Women seemed to melt into his arms with his pretty turns of phrase. Most of the other men on the island were mere brutes, unable to formulate sentences beyond the desires of what lay beneath their kilt, but Liam was different. He knew what women liked to hear, so he would figure out a way to speak to Elizabeth. Just not now.
He nodded to Mrs. MacLean. “Aye, yer right. Dinnae worry; I will think of something.” Mrs. MacLean opened her mouth to speak again, and he reassured her. “I will do it soon as well. Just as soon as my head stops feeling like ‘tis splitting apart.”
He gave her a tight smile and left with what small amount of dignity he had left. His shoes crunched on the stone just outside of the castle door, and he had his first-morning view of the Sound, so stark in its icy blueness. Curls of mist were spreading over its expanse, and he pulled his coat a little tighter. The coldness of night had not steamed away with the rising sun, and he looked forward evermore to returning to his warm bed before heading across the Sound to hunt again.
He kept his eyes on the water as he walked to the stables. He thought pleasantly of a memory of his mother holding his hand at the side and pointing to it, telling him that the Sound was full of magic. He was told he could merely whisper his wishes at the edge of its coast, and they would come true. If they did not, he either did not wish hard enough or, as his mother said, he was too naughty of a boy.
The second part of that was true. It had always been so. Anyone who had met him as a child had considered him a naughty boy. Even though the years had passed, he still felt like he was that same little boy in many ways. He didn’t know how to be anything else. Angus was wise and strong. Calum was a leader who knew how to make anyone laugh. But Liam was just like a child, content with the moment and enjoying himself. Yet sometimes, he wished that he was different.
Sighing, he rubbed his beard again out of habit, making an attempt to slough off the painful memories of the past and the strong evidence of his continued flaws. He had enough of them for the day. Stumbling up to the stable doors, itching to be atop his horse again, so that she could lead him away to safety, he saw Fergus leaning up against the wall, his arms crossed, and his face merry.
Fergus was like a brother to him. In fact, many thought they were brothers upon first acquaintance, for they looked nearly identical. Yet, Liam was the youngest by a few years, and Fergus was only a slight bit taller, his own red hair and beard tinged with a slight bit of gold. “Aye, lad, ye have returned tae take yer horse back home, have ye? I was wondering when we would see ye again.”
Liam grimaced. “Have ye nae alcohol lingering in yer own brain this morn? I feel as though a pair of sharp claws have been pinched intae mine and will stay thus until I rest.”
Fergus puffed out his chest and stroked his beard mockingly. “I am man enough tae handle my own ale, I think, lad. Ye would think ye had the experience.” Fergus laughed, and Liam closed his eyes and put his hand to his head. The throbbing had begun anew.
Seeing this, Fergus grinned and said, “I see God has seen fit tae punish ye, lad, for all yer antics with the women are now known. Which one of them is angry with ye taeday?”
Inwardly, Liam groaned again. He supposed that rest would not be given to him today, and he would have to suffer through another set of remonstrances.
