Wee William's Woman, Book Three of the Clan MacDougall Series (50 page)

Nora watched with a significant amount of pride as her husband took to the fields. Aye, she was upset with him that he hadn’t come to her to discuss John’s sparring later, but decided it was a conversation best saved for later. She didn’t want her husband going out onto the fields with his mind elsewhere.

She thought her husband looked magnificent in his battle gear, and the sight of him, dressed in his pads, mail and hauberk. It brought splendid tingles of excitement to her skin. Though he was covered head to toe, she could see the steely resolve in his eyes.

Wee William looked around the crowd for his wife. He was unsure if he wanted her there or not. Though they fought with dull swords, the possibility of injury was still great. He knew she’d worry herself into a frenzy if anything happened to him. He found he rather liked that thought, that if anything were to happen to him, she’d worry and fuss. Although he felt guilty for thinking such a thing, the thought warmed his heart.

But it was the pride he would see in her eyes and the smile on her face when he bested his opponent that energized him. He finally found her, standing with Aishlinn, Isobel, Maggy, and the children. Six months ago, if anyone had told him he would be filled with pride as well as want of a woman, like he felt at that very moment, he would have laughed at them.

Smiling, he sauntered over to his wife, and without speaking a word, he pulled her into his chest and kissed her in front of God and everyone. He no longer cared what anyone would think of him. All he cared about was his wife and the love she showed him.

The kiss lasted far longer than was proper, but again, he cared not for social propriety. He took great pride in watching his wife trying to catch her breath when he let lose his hold on her. He leaned in and whispered into her ear.

“Wife, what boon shall ye give me when I best me opponent?”

Nora licked her lips and giggled. She stood taller on her tiptoes so that she could whisper her answer.

Wee William could feel himself burning red from head to toe. His wife, God love her, was becoming more and more brazen the longer they were married. He couldn’t imagine her giving him such an answer as she just did, only a few short months ago.

His lips curved into a warm smile as he kissed her again, this time on her forehead. “Yer becoming a wanton woman and I like that about ye, wife!”

Nora returned his smile and blushed. “If I’m a wanton, its because you’re full of the devil and made me this way.”

He supposed that was true, therefore he did not argue the point. He gave her a wink and a smile and started to walk away. Elise stopped him.

“William!” she called out to him.

He turned back to her and bent on one knee. “Yes, lass?”

“You won’t get hurt will you?” She looked genuinely worried and it made him chuckle.

“Nay, lass, I will no’ get hurt.”

“And you won’t kill the man, will you?”

Wee William chuckled again and patted her on her head. “Nay, lass, I’ll no’ be killin’ anyone this day. I told ye, we’re just pretending to battle, to see who is the better warrior.”

Elise looked relieved. “I say you’ll win then, because no one is as big as you!”

“Aye, ’tis more than size a man needs to be a good warrior, lass. But I must go now. I’ll explain it to ye later.”

Elise smiled and wished him good luck as he stood and entered the circle. Wee William’s first opponent of the day would be Philip Douglas of the Randolph Clan. Philip was three and twenty and a good warrior. A head shorter than Wee William and not nearly as heavy or well muscled, the lad had speed and leanness on his side.

It was nigh impossible to find an opponent who was as close to Wee William in size or weight or in experience and abilities. He had not been defeated either in training or on the battlefield in nearly ten years. Anyone who had never seen Wee William fight or train, might be led to believe he could be defeated simply because he was so big. Philip Douglas was not so ignorant. He had been fighting against Wee William in three festivals to date and he knew there was a very good chance he’d not win again this day. Still, it was all in fun and he had to at least try.

The matched was called to a start and both men circled each other for a few moments, swords drawn and at the ready as they sized up one another. Philip was the first to swing his sword, to which Wee William answered by blocking it with his own.

Philip believed he might have a chance at beating Wee William if he were to wear the man down. Believing a man of such size would, hopefully, wear down easily, Philip took his time with small thrusts and jabs.

This was not Wee William’s first games. It took only a few moments to understand Philip’s intention. There were other fights to be won at these games and Wee William wanted to take his wife home so that she could make good on her promised boon. He debated momentarily on whether he should at least make it appear as though it was a battle well fought or end it quickly.

As they spun around the circle, he caught a glimpse of his wife. He could read her face as easily as he could read a book. She was attempting to look as though she was not worried about him, but he could still see her apprehension. He decided to end the match quickly.

In the span of three heartbeats, Wee William answered Philip’s upward sword thrust by blocking it with his own. He followed through with his left arm coming down hard on the back of Philip’s head, which sent Philip to his knees. A heartbeat later, Wee William had the young man on his back and his dagger a hairs breadth away from the young man’s throat. It was an easy win, but a win nonetheless.

The crowd erupted in a combination of applause and cheers and disappointment. Wee William knew they would have preferred a much longer and more challenging match, but the day was still early. There would be far better men to fight as the day wore on.

As Wee William helped Philip to his feet and dusted the man off, he looked to the crowd again for his wife. He found her still standing next to Aishlinn, but the look on Nora’s face wasn’t one of pride or adoration. Nora’s face was as white as a sheet and she looked as though she had just witnessed a most horrific sight. He watched in a state of confusion as Nora stared at something across the ring.

Wee William’s heart seized as he watched his beautiful wife fall to the ground.

Twenty-Six

B
ree had decided earlier in the day that she must find out
why
Gillon had lied to her. No matter that Nora and Aishlinn had told her, that the why of his lies was not as important as the lie itself, Bree had to know. If there was something nefarious going on, something that would put her family and her clan in jeopardy, she had to know what it was.

So she set about to find out. In hindsight she questioned her plan of extracting information. Mayhap it would have been better to tell someone what her intentions had been. Mayhap she should have gone to her father and told him what Gillon had told her. Mayhap she shouldn’t have gone to Gillon and told him her own little lie in hopes of learning more.

For if she had done any of those things, she would not now be sitting atop a horse with her hands bound and her heart racing with fear. She would not be Gillon’s prisoner and heading toward Randolph lands.

As it stood, no one knew where she was or what had happened. There wouldn’t be hoards of MacDougall warriors in fast pursuit, at least not yet. Nay, she was going to have to rely on her own wits and instincts if she were to get out of this alive.

Doubt over her wits and instincts had taken hold however. Bree was no longer certain if she should rely on them further. It had been her instincts that had gotten her into the mess to begin with. She battled with the doubt and fear as they rode through MacDougall lands.

When she caught Gillon looking at her as though she were a piece of venison, her resolve to get out of this predicament alive began to return. Nay, she’d not let Gillon Randolph get away with this, not with any of it.

She returned his devious smile with one of her own.
You can go straight to hell, Gillon Randolph.

Wee William rushed to his wife’s side, pushing people out of his way as he knelt to the ground. He could not fathom why she had looked so terrified just before she collapsed to the ground.

He lifted her head into his arms. “Nora!” His voice was laced with worry, dread, confusion, and fear. “Nora!”

Isobel knelt on the other side of Wee William and began to look for signs of wounds or other trauma. “What the bloody hell happened?” she demanded to no one in particular. The crowd around them murmured they did not know.
 

Wee William touched Nora’s forehead. It felt clammy and cold.

“Get her to the keep,” Isobel ordered as she stood.

Wee William scooped his wife up and raced toward the keep. He paid no attention to what anyone was telling him as his mind raced with a thousand reasons as to why Nora had fainted. His mind flashed back to when Elise and John were ill. He knew in his heart that he could not bear the thought of Nora being as sick as the children had been.

With his wife in his arms, he bounded up the stairs of the keep and directly to Aishlinn’s former bedchamber. Gently, as if she were made of glass, he laid Nora on the bed. His eyes scanned her limp body for any indication as to what would have caused her to faint. There was no blood, no signs of a wound of any kind.

Her skin was still cold, her forehead and hands damp. Wee William drew a blanket up and covered her with it as he spoke to her in soft, hushed and worried tones.

“Nora, please wake up,” he pleaded with her.

She did not stir.

Tears of worry filled his eyes as quickly as the terrifying scenarios that played out in his mind.

He held her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it while he pleaded quietly with her to open her eyes, to say something, to please not leave him.

Wee William could not say how much time passed before Isobel and Mary entered the room. Mary carried in a bowl of water while Isobel held linens in her arms. In very little time, they set about placing damp clothes on her forehead and began to examine her again.

Wee William’s head fell to rest near Nora’s. He was rubbing the back of her hand as he prayed silently that she would be well. Mayhap she had just become too hot in the afternoon sun. Or perhaps she had been far more worried over watching him spar than he realized.

Isobel had loosened the ties on Nora’s dress while Mary had removed her boots. Wee William paid no attention.

A short time later, Nora began to mumble and opened her eyes. She looked about the room, confused as to how she had come to be there.

“William,” Nora scratched out when she saw him at her side.

Wee William sat up with a start and the look of relief on his face was undeniable.

“Nora!” he cried out. He breathed a very heavy sigh of relief. “You scared the bloody hell out of me!”

The foggy cloud began to lift as she began to remember. Her heart felt heavy as the image of Horace came to the forefront.

“Horace,” she said.

Wee William looked positively confused. Why would she be thinking of him?

Nora tried to sit, but the wave of nausea roiled in her belly. She swallowed it down and hoped she would not throw up. She closed her eyes and waited for the wave to pass. “I saw Horace,” she whispered.

Wee William shook his head. Nay, it was impossible. Wee William had spent weeks convincing himself that if Horace Crawford had lived, he was too selfish and too big a coward to come to Scotland to retrieve his wife.

“Nay, lass,” Wee William said, trying to sound far more confident than he actually felt at the moment. A voice niggled at the back of his mind that warned him he might be about to lose everything he loved in this world if what Nora said was true. He pushed the thought away. He could not lose Nora.

“Mayhap you were just overly hot from the afternoon sun. Mayhap it was just someone who looked like Horace.” Wee William said. He was trying to convince both of them.

“Nay! I know what I saw, William!” Nora argued. To her very core she knew it was him, the man who had hurt her in so many possible ways. What she could not figure out was
how.
How had he lived? Rowan and Black Richard and the others had taken Horace and his brothers away, to kill them, to make her a widow. Wee William had told her as much.