Someday Her Duke Will Come

by Ellie St. Clair

  “I suppose you have come for some clothing?” she asked .

  “Yes, my attire is not altogether appropriate,” Emilia responded .

  “Come in, I ken I have a dress that you may wear. Thank you Ivor,” she said, dismissing him. Ivor sent the two women a wink before carrying on down the hallway, whistling a tune .

  “He’s certainly not what I imagined him to be,” said Emilia .

  “You have heard of him then?” asked Arabel. “I suppose most know the tales of Ivor and his fame in battle. ’Tis true he is a terror in warfare, but he keeps his might on the battlefield. He’s rather a charming sort when there are women about .”

  Arabel led Emilia to the chest in the corner of the room .

  “Here, now, I have a dress that would suit you,” she said. “You are a rather slim one, aren’t you? We may need a bit of stitching to hold it up on you, but otherwise it should be fine .”

  Arabel concentrated on the material as she had Emilia try on the dress. She pinned and sewed it until she was satisfied. Her fingers were deft and skilled, and Emilia was impressed by her aptitude with the needle and thread .

  “There now,” she said when finished, clasping her hands together in front of her. “You look quite fetching in the MacGavin blue. We shall wash your other garments and you can keep them for… for when you like .”

  Emilia appreciated the kindness of Dougal’s sister, and her willingness to accept her and not ask questions about where she came from and why she was dressed this way. She wondered at the difference in the siblings and their attitudes. She supposed it had all to do with the roles of male and female in this time period, and Dougal’s concern with being accepted as Laird .

  She looked at herself in the smoky mirror in the corner. She had to admit she agreed with Arabel’s assessment, the color suited her. She followed Arabel down the hall and back towards the kitchens. Arabel showed her where they did the washing and the cooking. She didn’t explicitly ask Emilia to help with any of the chores, although she insinuated that should Emilia be staying with them for some time, perhaps she wouldn’t mind helping with the odd task. Emilia was more than happy to agree to keep from being idle, and Arabel sent her into the yard to gather potatoes for the dinner .

  Emilia was picking the best of the bunch and placing them into the bag she had brought from the kitchens when she heard voices to her left. It was two of the clansmen, she assumed, talking low to one another so she could not hear what they said. They were looking her way, but averted their gazes when she looked up to meet their stares .

  She realized it was to be expected that she would be of interest to the clan. Many of the men had seen her at the battlefield, and now she was staying in the home of their laird. The sun beat down on her as she picked potatoes, and she noticed many passed by, interested to have a glimpse of the mysterious woman .

  When she figured she had enough, she returned inside, providing Arabel with the potatoes and helping her peel and chop .

  “If Dougal is gruff with you, do not let it concern you,” said Arabel, her voice low so none could hear. “He likes to maintain a sense of foreboding to others, but he cares deeply for those he loves. He intimidates, but he protects. He has allowed ye to stay here, so as much as he may not show his appreciation for yer assistance, the fact yer still here means something .”

  Emilia nodded, contemplating what Arabel said to her. She could see the truth in Arabel’s words, and understood not only the position of laird, but the role of women in this time. Arabel was a wise woman already, despite the fact she was in her teens. Emilia suddenly stopped peeling the potato. If Arabel was in her teens, how old did that make Dougal? Emilia had spent far too much time admiring his perfect body. He seemed close enough to her age, but times were different .

  “Arabel,” she said, trying for nonchalance. “How old is your brother ?”

  “He is four and twenty,” Arabel said with a small smile, not fooled for a moment by Emilia’s question. “Which is why the elders want him to marry. He is far too old not to take a bride .”

  Emilia nodded. He was young, yes — but only a couple of years younger than her. She breathed a sigh of relief. When the vegetables were done, she wiped her hands on a cloth and excused herself. “I best check on your brother,” she said, and as Arabel nodded at her she turned and made her way up the stairs .

  She pushed open the door gently, finding Dougal fast asleep in bed. She had reached the limit of her knowledge of concussions. She didn’t think there was much else that could be done to treat them, and yet she knew Dougal wouldn’t be content to rest much longer .

  She also knew she would have to keep a close eye on his shoulder and hope the wound wouldn’t become infected. There was no telling what had entered into it along with the sword. They had done a fairly good job of cleaning it but there was no such thing as antibacterial wipes or solutions in these times .

  She sat beside Dougal and looked at his face in peaceful restfulness. His stubbornness was annoying but also understandable. She wished he was a little more agreeable, but she understood he would have no reason to trust her, and that her story was completely unbelievable. She hardly believed it herself, and she was living it .

  Emilia leaned over him to try to take a closer look at his shoulder wound while he slept, but when her hand reached out to lift the bandage, suddenly his large fingers engulfed her wrist .

  “‘Tis difficult for me to rest when a beautiful woman drapes her body over mine in bed,” he said, his voice low in her ear .

  “Laird —“

  “You may call me Dougal .”

  “Dougal, then. I did not mean to — that is, I was just simply checking —”

  “There is no need to explain yourself,” he said. “I find I do not mind all that much .”

  He hooked his other arm around her body, bringing her down towards him. She landed on top of him with an “oomph .”

  “You really must be careful —”

  “Shush woman,” he said, cutting her off and sending her reeling with a hard kiss on her lips. She pushed her palms into his chest, at first in an attempt to push him away. But as his tongue teased her lips, she stopped thinking and her body responded. Soon instead of trying to extract herself, her nails were digging into his broad chest, as she craved more of the passion he was showing her. She had never felt anything like this before. She had been attracted to Bryan, but this — this was altogether different. This was a desire that she felt from the depths of her soul .

  The man was stubborn, arrogant, and rude to her, but that didn’t extract from his sexual appeal. At this moment, she appreciated the dedication to which he undertook his every task, as he showed her exactly the type of lover he would be — one who was thorough, passionate, and who took care for her own satisfaction as well .

  He cupped her button through her dress with one hand while his other lifted the elastic from her hair. He seemed to pause as he couldn’t find the end of it to untie, but eventually slid it down her ponytail and ran his fingers through her freed crimson tresses .

  She was in awe of him, physically. This was the type of man she read about, the masculine warrior who haunted her desires. She gave as good as she took, and did not stop to think of the path they were headed until there was a knock at the door .

  Emilia jumped off him, rearranging her dress as she took up a seat next to the bed and turned to face the door. Dougal simply looked at her with a carnal smile before answering with a, “come in.” It was Ivor, and after a glance from one of them to the other, he seemed quite in tune with what had just occurred in this room as he gave his friend a knowing grin .

  “Dougal,” he said, “My sincerest apologies for interrupting. I felt ye’d want to know at once, however, that we caught a Buchanan lad within the keep. He may have been accompanied by another, but he’s the only one we have found thus far. Would you like to question him, or shall I do so for ye ?”

  Emilia shivered as Ivor seemed thrilled at th
e prospect of his role as inquisitor .

  “I’ll come with ye,” said Dougal, his countenance hard .

  Before Emilia could say anything Dougal, anticipating her resistance, silenced her with a look. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He paused for a moment, as if preparing himself, and then stood. He swayed for just a moment, before making his way slowly along the bed .

  He dressed once more in his sashes, and went to the basin in the corner to splash cold water on his face to wake himself up .

  Emilia watched him closely the entire time, nibbling on her lower lip in nervousness .

  “I should like to see the man suffer myself,” he said, the rage in his face making Emilia take a step back. “I must also show my clan that I am the strong leader they can believe in .”

  “As long as you don’t pass out first,” she finally broke in, unable to stop herself. He turned his glare onto her, but said not another word as he sheathed his sword into his waist belt, and walked out of the room with Ivor, leaving Emilia behind staring after him .

  She blinked her eyes and dug her nails into her palms. She was partially awed with his resolve. She knew it would have taken considerable strength to push himself out of bed, especially without showing any ounce of weakness. But that was who he was. A strong man, whose lack of displays of vulnerability could lead to his ultimate defeat. She noted the patch of blood staining the bed where his shoulder wound had rested against. She had meant to check underneath the dressing but had been… distracted .

  She could not believe she had kissed Dougal MacGavin. What was she thinking? She must return to her own time soon, and therefore could not afford to form attachments here. Yes, she was attracted to Dougal — what woman wouldn’t be — but she could not let it get the better of her. Besides that, she reminded herself, he was rude, and stubborn, and seemed to have a rather high opinion of himself. She tried not to think of his better qualities. She sighed. Damn the man .

  10

  Dougal

  D ougal shook his head as he left the room. He did not know what to make of this woman who had so suddenly appeared into their midst. She was beautiful, intelligent, and strong. Yet she was also very strange and certainly kept her secrets. He could not trust her, not at this point, but that did not keep his desires at bay .

  When he had woken to her leaning over him, he could not keep himself from her. She had tasted as good as he had imaged, like a field of roses. He squared his shoulders as he and Ivor neared the back door. Now was not the time to be thinking of beautiful women, as desirable as this one might be .

  Dougal noted Ivor kept a close eye on him as they made their way to the gatehouse where the Buchanan soldier was being held. He felt like a woman who had succumbed to a fainting spell. He was dismayed by the weakness he had shown, and had to ensure that the clan saw him as the strong leader he was. He noted that many of his people had formed a gathering around his keep, eager to learn more about the captured Buchanan. Dougal also realized that while he had led his men into battle, this was the first time his clan had seen him as their true laird .

  He nodded to Ivor, a sign that he felt fine and knew what he was about, then climbed the steps to the front entrance of his home in order to address the crowd before him .

  “MacGavin brothers and sisters!” he shouted. “Today I address you as your laird. It is a privilege and an honor to do so. We are a long and storied clan, strong on the battlefield, known for our stealth and our heroism. Valor and Victory is our cry — upholding our courage through everything we face as we defeat our enemies! In our homes we treasure our family, be it blood relatives or the clan ties that hold us together. I have been raised knowing I have the full support of the McGavin clan, and I treasure each and every one of you .

  “Two days ago we won a decided victory over the Buchanan clan. The Buchanans, who want to take our land and our homes from us. I know many of you lost brothers, fathers, and sons in that battle. I feel the pain of every one of you, as I lost my own father to Alastair Buchanan many years ago. We have run them off for now, but we must continue to remain strong and vigilant. I vow to spend my life protecting each and every one of you .

  “Today we begin by questioning the Buchanan that has come into our midst. I will face him myself to learn what it is he wants from us, why he’s spying among us. He will not go free for his sins against us. Valor and Victory !”

  As Dougal raised his fist in the air and shouted the battle cry, his clan’s voices ringing with his, he looked up and saw Emilia standing at the back of the crowd. She had an unreadable expression on her face, and he realized with a curse that he cared what she thought, of him and his leadership. He grimaced at the thought as he looked at her, and she seemed to misinterpret his look as she walked away. Bloody women. He had no time for this, as he had told the elders .

  He walked carefully down the steps and through the cheering clan. His vision was still blurred, his head throbbed, and if he looked at the sun high in the sky, pain stabbed his mind. He kept his gaze down and blinked his eyes, grateful for the reassuring Ivor close by his side .

  When they had rounded the corner towards the outbuilding, Dougal paused for a second to catch his breath before continuing inside. There sat the Buchanan, bound in rope and surrounded by MacGavin men. He had a smug look on his face until he caught sight of Dougal and Ivor in the doorway. His smile fell as he looked around for any possible escape .

  “Buchanan,” said Dougal, his voice dripping with ire. “What brings you here, to our home? Do not tell me a lie, as it will only make things worse for you .”

  “I was just out for a stroll, and came upon your fine home,” the Buchanan said .

  Dougal nodded at Ivor, who gave the man a taste of his meaty fist. As he spit blood out of his mouth, he looked up at the giant Ivor the Terrible, and reconsidered .

  “Alright,” he said to Dougal. “Our laird wanted to know if you were still alive. He had heard you were felled on the battlefield and wanted proof of your death. He wanted to know who was in charge of the MacGavin clan, and where you were vulnerable so we could exact revenge .”

  Dougal looked at him closely. “Were you alone ?”

  “Alone….”

  “Did ye come alone, or were others with you that escaped us to return to your clan ?”

  The Buchanan looked from Dougal to Ivor, then at the floor as he considered his options. Ivor took a step towards him .

  “Fine, fine,” he said, shrinking back away from them. “I was not alone. There was another with me, but he was much faster than me and ran when we were found by yer men .”

  As Dougal swore under his breath, Ivor gave the man a backhand across the face for no reason other than he felt like it. Dougal asked the Buchanan if he knew what Alastair planned to do with the information, but he protested he had no idea, that Alastair would never share that with someone like him. Dougal reluctantly believed him .

  He told his men to lock the prisoner inside until he best determined what to do with him. He figured he would eventually release him, once he knew what Alastair’s plans were. While Ivor would like him killed, the man had cooperated, and for that Dougal would spare his life .

  As he began walking back towards the house, he commented to Ivor how warm it was. Ivor gave him a strange look, and told him that the weather had actually cooled over the day. Dougal didn’t like the look Ivor was giving him. “What ?”

  “Ye donna look so well, Dougal,” he said. “Yer skin is pale and pasty and ye look as if you may fall over in the wind .”

  Dougal snorted at him. “Donna be ridiculous, Ivor. I’ve weathered far worse pain than this. So I had a simple knock to the head, what about it ?”

  He returned to the castle, telling Ivor to stay and eat with the family. With his uncle and cousin joining them, dinner was focused around tales of the battle the day before. Arabel had ensured Emilia ate with them, though she sat at the end of the table with her head
bowed, as if she were avoiding Dougal. Which was fine by him. The further away from him she was, the better .

  He explained her presence to his uncle as a traveler they had come across near the battlefield who was on her way to rejoin her clan. His uncle didn’t look like he completely believed Dougal’s words, but he didn’t question them .

  Dougal had not much of an appetite, but instead listened to Diarmid’s tales. The boy had heard of the battle from the men of the clan, and was happy to tell the stories as if he had been there. Diarmid greatly exaggerated Dougal’s wound and subsequent recovery, but Dougal didn’t mind seeing the excitement on the boy’s face .

  When dinner was over, Dougal made his excuses and headed to his bedchamber, exhaustion settling over his body. His shoulder ached, but when Emilia knocked on the door to look at his dressing, he turned her away .

  Should she enter the room, he knew he would take her, and he didn’t know enough about her to trust she wasn’t a spy for the Buchanans or another clan that wished him harm. As he drifted off to sleep, however, his mind turned on him and imagined everything his body wished he was doing with her .

  * * *

  D ougal woke the next morning bathed in sweat, and not from the dreams he had had the night before. His vision had become more blurred, and his shoulder ached furiously. When Ivor stopped in to check on him, Dougal told him to collect the physician but to be quiet about it, so his clan would not learn of the extent of his injuries .

  Ivor shook his head, but didn’t respond. He went to Emilia’s room and knocked on her door, but hearing nothing, he searched the manor for her. He finally found her, wringing water out of her strange clothing she had been washing .

  “Lass,” he said, catching her attention. He didn’t know why, but he trusted this woman, odd as she may be. Certainly more than he trusted the physician who wanted to put a hole into his friend’s skull. “Something is off with the laird. He willna admit it, but he continued to remark on the heat yesterday and now he’s sweating something fierce .”