Chapter Nine

Liam had awakened only an hour before and was famished. As always, Jarvis had a plate ready for him at his usual table in the back. The tavern was near to full this afternoon and clamoring with conversation about a new babe that was born to Mora and Paidrig.

“Liam?”

His gaze sought who called for him. An auburn haired man approached him from the other end of the room. He wore a reddish-brown coat and a blue surcoat, both fashioned out of costly material. He was not a local, making Liam more cautious. What stranger would seek out his company here?

“Liam?” the man questioned again.

As the man drew nearer, recognition finally hit him. His lips curved into a smile as he came to his feet. “Diarmuid, is that you, my brother?” He drew his brother close in a manly hug of thumping backs and chuckles. He had not seen Diarmuid for over seven years. His little brother had grown thick in the chest and had grown an inch or two taller than he.

“It is I, brother.” Diarmuid pulled away to search his face, his brows suddenly furrowing into a frown.

Liam refused to acknowledge the look of concern shadowing his brother’s gaze. He knew he’d changed since his time with Glamis. His skin was paler, his eyes brighter as if he was fevered, but in truth he felt stronger. He was stronger. “What brings you here?”

“Your last letter spoke of your return to Lochmere.”

He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. He hadn’t forgotten, but he had prayed his family might have given up hope of his return. He hadn’t expected them to send a search party. “I found a place here.” His gaze shifted to Jarvis who stood behind the bar. “A tankard for my brother, please.”

“Coming right up, Sir Liam,” Jarvis said.

“You have settled here?” Diarmuid chuckled. “There is nothing here, but farmers. There is no castle befitting a man who is destined to one day be Lord of Lochmere.”

“I like where I am. ’Tis peaceful.”

Diarmuid’s brows furrowed. “You are one of the Knights Templar. You are a Cantwell, a warrior. ’Tis in your blood to take up arms.”

Liam opened his mouth ready with a retort, but Jarvis arrived with two tankards of ale. Liam nodded his thanks and waited for the innkeeper to return to his duties. Liam leveled his gaze on his brother once more. “I did my service. I am tired of warring. I wish to be left in peace.” He would love to confide in his brother the true reason, but he couldn’t chance it. Most would choose to condemn Glamis for what she was and refuse to understand only her eating habits were different. She laughed and cried. She had hopes and dreams for the future. In this regard she was no different than a human.

Diarmuid studied him over the rim of his tankard. “Father is ill. Mother does not believe he will survive another winter. You are the eldest. You must return.”

Liam pursed his lips. He wanted to see his mother and father, but he feared if he left he would not be able to return for some time, if ever, and he could not bring Glamis with him. She would not be safe. “Let’s not speak of dire needs. Let’s celebrate our reunion instead.”

With some encouragement and promise of more ale, his brother finally relented. Liam didn’t indulge as much as his brother had, but it was on purpose. He wanted his brother to be fast asleep when he made his visit to the forest. He couldn’t risk his brother following him there.

Once the night wore on and his brother began to slur his words, he helped him upstairs to his room. He tossed him on the bed. The ropes groaned in protest as the dead weight plopped down hard.

Diarmuid chuckled. “I believe I’m right bladdered, brother.”

“Aye, that you are.” He removed his shoes and covered his brother with one of the fur coverings.

His brother grabbed his arm before he could leave. “On my travels here, I was warned to turn away. They say this village is haunted by a fiend.”

“Nonsense,” he claimed. “I’ve lived here months and have seen no fiend.”

His brother’s gaze held his. “They say the fiend drinks blood and cannot come out in the day. They say she has found herself a knight to keep her warm.”

“Well, good for her.” Liam chuckled, but fear clutched his gut. “I do hope it is the drink talking, dear brother. There is no such thing as a blood sucking fiend.”

His brother licked his lips as if he wanted to say more, but finally his mouth curved into a slow smile. “You are right. I have had too much to drink and my tongue is fanciful this night.”

Liam patted his brother’s shoulder. “Sleep it off. You will feel better at first light.” He was almost out the door when his brother stopped him, his voice sobering with his question.

“You will break fast with me, so we may discuss father, will you not?”

He turned to meet his brother’s gaze. “Of course. I’ll tell Jarvis to fix us a hearty meal.”