The Warning Sign
Page 26
She stumbled after Nab, accidentally stepping on wee Angus in the process. The terrier yipped, alerting the deerhounds to his presence in the hall. The two largest bitches scrambled to their feet and lunged after him, as if he were a hare in the thicket. Angus skittered beneath the long trestle table with the deerhounds on his stubby tail, upending benches and knocking over diners who didn’t scatter out of their way quickly enough.
Between Nab being carried aloft and the hounds scuttling between men’s legs below, the great hall was a squirming mass of unwieldy limbs. Then to cap the pandemonium, the door burst open and a hoary breath of winter washed over the company.
And blew in William Douglas, Laird of Badenoch, with it.
He stomped his booted feet on the threshold, shaking free great chunks of white. Even though he’d drawn the end of his plaid over his head, his dark hair was dusted with snow. His brows were drawn together in a frown over his fine straight nose.
Something tingled to life in Katherine’s chest at the sight of him, but she tamped it down. Hope hurt too much. She’d thought herself safe from him for Christmas since a howling storm had roared since midday, but he’d evidently ridden through the blizzard to come after her.
Devil take the man’s stubbornness.
Angus, however, seemed relieved to see him. He made a beeline for William and, with a flying leap, launched himself into the man’s arms. The deerhounds surrounded them, snapping and growling.
“Ho there, wee beastie!” William grabbed the wriggling terrier and held him aloft to keep him from the deerhounds’ jaws while he set down his oilskin bag.
That bag boded ill. It seemed to be full, which meant he planned on staying at Glengarry Castle for a while.
When the terrier stilled, William tucked the little dog into his plaid. Angus snuggled into as small a ball as he could, safe in the folds of the tartan. He didn’t stir a hair when Will thundered at the deerhounds, “Back then, ye worm-eaten bitches!”
The hounds tucked their tails and scuttled away, casting backward glances at William. Angus peeped out from between William’s shirt and the swath of plaid draped over his shoulder, watching the bigger dogs slink back to the fire.
But Will had evidently already dismissed Lord Glengarry’s pack from his mind. As if he sensed her eyes on him, William lifted his dark head and turned to meet Katherine’s gaze. She was still halfway across the great hall, and yet, he seemed to know exactly where she was.
He always did.
How does he do that?
And if he could do that, why could he not also sense how very much she wished him gone?
But at least he didn’t fight his way across the crowded space to her. Nab was still being tossed from one group of men to another, wailing as he sailed through the air. William strode toward the mob.
When Nab landed on a group of hands near him, William grabbed the fool and pulled him down to stand on his own two feet. “The fool’s not a sack of barley to be flung about. What’s this great stramash about then?”
Ranulf MacNaught’s lip curled, but he did no more than clench and unclench his fists at his sides.
Will was a braw fellow, standing half a head above most of the men in the hall. His shoulders were as broad as a stone dresser’s and his reputation for feats of arms bordered on legendary. Katherine didn’t blame Ranulf for being intimidated. Better men than he had cringed under the Black Douglas glare.
“We’re crowning our Abbot of Unreason,” Ranulf said. “Not that it’s any concern of yours.”
“Well, then if Nab’s to be your king for the next twelve days, ye ought to give him a bit more respect.” William turned to the fool. “As the Abbot of Unreason, d’ye ken ye can give any order and your subjects must obey?”
“In truth?” Nab’s gaze flitted around like a midge, refusing to light on any one person for longer than a blink.
“Aye, in truth.” William could be as hard as flint when he chose, but now the kindness in his tone made Katherine’s chest ache. It would be so much easier to do what she must if he were a terrible bully. “What say ye, Laird Nab?”
“I say...I say...” Nab held his hands out at arms’ length. “Everybody step back.”
MacNaught grumbled, but he and the rest of his cohorts did as they were bid.
“Ye can order them to stand on their heads if it pleases ye,” Will suggested.
Nab’s red brows drew together. “It might leave a terrible boot print if Ranulf were to try to stand on his own head.”
William laughed at Nab’s misunderstanding. “It might at that. Though as hard as Ranulf MacNaught’s head is, I’ve doubts on that score. But it doesna change the fact that ye’ve been chosen as laird till Twelfth Night. Ye can make your own rules.”
“Odds bodkins, I’m not a laird.” Nab sneaked a glance at Katherine’s father. Lord Glengarry shot his fool a toothy grin and gave him a nod of encouragement. Nab blushed to the tips of his oversized ears. “Leastwise, I dinna feel like a laird.”
“Perhaps we can remedy that.” Will knelt to rummage in his oilskin bag. He pulled out a long object wrapped in soft doeskin and handed it to Nab.
With care, the fool unwrapped the parcel to reveal a small scepter. It was no longer than a child’s bow, but the gilt-edged silver was engraved with mystical symbols, whose meanings were far older than living memory. The polished stone atop its length gleamed as if it were lit with fire from within.
He would have to bring that benighted thing, Katherine thought, as she folded her arms over her chest.
Nab handed it back to William.
“Nay, ’tis not for me.” The fool sidled a few steps away. “’Tis too fine.”
“Nothing’s too fine for the Laird of Misrule,” William said with a smile that nearly broke Katherine’s heart. She’d fallen in love with that smile.
Loving the man had come later.
“Besides, this is a true scepter of power, mind ye,” Will went on. “’Tis old beyond reckoning and has been handed down in the Douglas family since the beginning, from father to son.”
“Is that so?” Ranulf MacNaught found his voice and a bit of his courage, but Kat noticed he hadn’t drawn any closer to William. “The scepter seems small for something ye’d have us believe is so great.”
“Just because something is small doesna mean it willna do the job,” Will said. “Is that not what ye’re counting on your women to believe, MacNaught?”
The hall rang with laughter at that. Ranulf’s face turned an unhealthy shade of purple, but William ignored his growing rage, turning back to Nab.
“Legend has it that the scepter came to the Douglas clan from the Fair Folk, and as ye know, many of the fey peoples are smaller than we. But it is a mistake to underestimate them.” William laid a hand on Nab’s shoulder and held out the scepter to him again. “Sometimes the small, the seemingly weak, are really the strongest of all.”
Nab reached out and haltingly took the scepter this time. Then he clutched it tight to his chest. “I’ll take good care of it till Twelfth Night, Lord Badenoch.”
“Call me William. Ye’re the laird now. And I know ye’ll have a care for the scepter, else I’d not have lent it to ye. Come, lads. Raise a glass to Laird Nab. Well may he reign, though it be not long!”
After the men drank to the Laird of Misrule’s health, Nab waved the scepter while he instructed his new subjects in the fine art of balancing on one foot while hopping in a circle. The half-drunken crowd followed suit to great hilarity.
William gave Katherine’s father a quick bow in nominal acknowledgment of his host, and then left the foolery behind to head across the room to her.
She wanted to pick up her skirts and flee, but she couldn’t stir a step. It was as if she were trapped in her recurring night phantom, the one where an ogre pounds down a mountainside toward her but she can’t move. Just as in her dream, her feet seemed rooted to the flagstone floor.
Will stopped before her, reached into his plaid, and p
ulled out Angus, offering the little dog to her as if he were a loaf of bread. Of course, this particular loaf squirmed and whined, his stubby legs churning the air as though he might swim through it to her if only William would turn him loose.
“This is yours, I believe.”
Katherine took the terrier from him. Angus melted into her, nuzzling her neck and pressing nosy doggie kisses against her skin. “Thank ye, Will.”
“I have somewhat else with me that’s yours as well.”
She knew better than to ask him what that might be. His dark eyes were speaking for him. Will could be silver-tongued when he wished to be, and she couldn’t bear to hear his protestations of love. Anything he said would ring false. She could endure much, but she drew the line at untruths.
“I suppose ye’ll be wanting to refresh yourself after your journey.” Normally, Margaret served as chatelaine since she was married to Katherine’s brother. It was her place to cater to the needs of guests, but since Margie was in the final days of her confinement, Katherine had taken over those duties when she arrived at Glengarry Castle two days ago. “I’ll show ye to your chamber.”
“So long as it’s also your chamber,” William said, shifting his oilskin pack on his shoulder. “Or has it slipped your mind that ye’re my wife?”
~
I hope you enjoyed this peek at Once Upon a Plaid. Check MiaMarlowe.com to learn where to claim your copy!
Other Books by Mia Marlowe
The “How to” Series
How to Distract a Duchess
How to Please a Pirate
How to Vex a Viscount
The “How to” Book Bundle (All three novels in one!)
The Touch of Seduction Series
Touch of a Lady (novella prequel)
Touch of a Thief
Touch of a Rogue
Touch of a Scoundrel
The Spirit of the Highlands Series
Plaid to the Bone
Plaid Tidings
The Songs of the North Series
Maidensong
Erinsong
Dragonsong
The Royal Rakes Series
Waking Up with a Rake
One Night with a Rake
Between a Rake and a Hard Place
Not in a series
Silk Dreams
Stroke of Genius
Lord of Devil Isle
Sins of the Highlander
Lord of Fire and Ice
Novellas
A Duke for all Seasons
My Lady Below Stairs
Improper Gentlemen