Wee William's Woman, Book Three of the Clan MacDougall Series

by Suzan Tisdale

  Her eyes watered, her throat burned and constricted, and for a brief moment, she thought her innards had caught fire. She choked and spat while she tried to catch the breath that had been stolen from her.

  The men laughed at her, her embarrassment hidden behind the spectacle she was making of herself.

  When she finally got her choking under control, she tried to speak, but the words couldn’t come. Flames burned her throat. Finally, she managed. “Good Lord! That would etch iron!”

  The men chuckled, not so much in agreement, but at her red face and watering eyes.

  “But do ye feel better, lass?” Daniel asked with a tinge of hopefulness to his voice.

  Nora breathed in through her nose and was about to tell him to go to the devil when she realized the fire had subsided and had turned to calming warmth that spread to her toes. Holding her first impression of the awful liquid at bay, she gave a quick nod of her head before taking another pull at the flask. This time, she was careful to sip it and not drink it as if it were water.

  She let out a contented sigh. “Aye, Daniel, I must admit I do feel warmer. And the pain in me back isn’t so bad.” Nora hadn’t realized she had taken on a bit of the Scottish brogue until the men burst out laughing again.

  When their laughter finally subsided, Wee William took the flask from her. “Ye don’t want to over do it on your first round, lass. I think its best ye try to sleep now.”

  Nora did not possess the energy to argue. She felt warm, sleepy, and very much at ease and the ache in her muscles was beginning to subside. She bade them all a good night and lay down where she was, taking the fur with her, pulling it away from Wee William.

  The last thing she remembered before exhaustion claimed her was the sound of soft chuckles and crackling flames, and the warm sensation of being safe.

  As the gentle snowfall turned into a quiet late winter storm, a storm was brewing inside Wee William’s heart. He had volunteered to keep first watch and tried to enjoy the quiet that had fallen inside the small hut. He added a few more branches to the brazier and the flames fluttered upwards for a time before settling back down.

  Wee William looked around the room. His men were fast asleep, snoring quietly. The children were huddled together under warm furs. Little Elise had the look of a cherub while young John, even in his sleep, looked serious and brooding.

  When his eyes fell to Nora, he could not block the sensation that warmed him to his bones. Her long dark tresses were pulled back and disappeared under the dark fur. The warm light of the fire cast an ethereal glow to her beautiful face. Long, dark lashes feathered against skin that had been kissed tenderly by the sun.

  As he sat in the quiet of the night, he watched the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders and felt certain he had lost his mind. Quietly, he ran through all the events that had led up to this quiet moment in time. ’Twas those blue eyes of hers, that had been his undoing.

  Mayhap if her eyes weren’t such a pale blue he would not have been as drawn to her. He tried imagining her with green eyes, or brown, or hazel like his own. As the time passed, he realized it would not have mattered what color they were. In truth, it was what lay behind them.

  In those first brief moments, back at the cottage, her eyes had stolen his breath away. Aye, one was swollen and black, but the other, the one undamaged by the ugly hands of Horace Crawford, had unraveled his senses. Such a fleeting brief moment it had been, but in that small span of time, he saw fear and terror, and some niggling voice in the back of his mind had said take that fear away.

  Wee William grunted quietly as he took a deep breath. Aye, he had lost his mind, ’twas no question about it. He was trying to convince himself that it was simply the fact that she needed his help that made him feel so drawn to her.

  He was getting older, way past the age when most men his age were married and filling homes with bairns. In less than two years he would turn thirty. Mayhap his body was telling him it was time to settle down, build a home, take a wife, and make lots of babes.

  He had been tempted, years ago, to have that life. Had even gone so far as to propose to a young woman he thought he’d been in love with. However, she had broken his heart and he swore to himself and anyone else that would listen, that he’d never be tempted to make such a mistake again.

  Aye, Nora was beautiful. And she was strong, devoted to her family, and kind. A bit naïve perhaps, but with age and experience would come wisdom. She couldn’t be much past twenty he reckoned.

  But above all else, she was scared. And that was his worry, that he was only physically attracted to her out of his strong sense of honor. It was his fervent belief that God had made him as big and strong as He had, so that he could protect those who were weaker.

  Was it these things, along with the fact she had been abused by a brutal husband that made her more appealing?

  ’Twasn’t right to try to start a relationship based on those things alone. What, pray tell, would happen once she had gained her own footing, had begun to make a life for herself and her brother and sister? Would he still be drawn to her as he was now, or would she lose some of her appeal? Was he only attracted to her now because she needed him and he had a strong desire to be needed?

  Time. That was what was needed. Time to get to know her better. Time to let her start her life anew in the strong embrace of his clan. It might take a while for his clan to adjust to having a Sassenach living amongst them, but eventually, they’d come to like her and accept her as one of their own.

  After all, his clan had accepted Aishlinn, almost from the first day she had arrived. While it was true that Aishlinn was a Scot, no one had known that truth for quite some time. Aishlinn had been raised in England. She’d been torn away from the loving embrace of her father, her family, and her clan before she was even born. Torn away by the lies told from the mouth of a madman. The same madman who had fathered Horace Crawford. Wee William supposed the apple didn’t fall far from that crooked and bent tree.

  If his clan had readily accepted Aishlinn, long before any of them knew who she really was -- Angus McKenna’s daughter -- then Wee William reckoned they would also show the same kindness to Nora. It might be a bumpy road, but it was a road he was quite willing to travel. Especially if it meant she would no longer be at the mercy of Horace Crawford.

  It would help that Nora didn’t behave like most of the Sassenach he and his clan were accustomed to. Nora was kind, strong, yet gentle, sweet, and didn’t look down her nose at him or his men. Daniel and David were right; she be no Sassenach.

  His mind was made up. He’d not shave his beard just yet. He would need to make doubly certain that his feelings for this young lass were sustainable and not just some fleeting fancy. He’d never be able to live with himself if he began to woo her now only to find out later that he had acted too quickly. The thought of bringing one ounce of pain to this beautiful young woman made his chest constrict. Nay, he could never do that to her.

  He also doubted that he had the strength to have his feelings trampled and his heart broken again. Nay, he could not survive another heartbreak such as the one he’s suffered through years ago. No woman was worth that. Not even the beautiful one who slept on the floor beside him.

  The light of dawn had come far too soon for anyone’s liking. The storm had subsided a short time before the sun breached the horizon, casting the early morning earth in shades of brilliant pinks, oranges, yellows and blues. Snow clung to the bare branches of oaks, and padded the dark green needles of the pines.

  While they were nearly certain the English wouldn’t waste precious resources on two small children, the former Earl of Penrith had proven how insane an Englishman could be. The earl had searched for months for Aishlinn, who had stabbed him while he attempted to rape her. None of the men wanted to risk a repeat of last summer’s battle against the English.

  The Highlanders already sparse resources were rapidly dwindling. The men ate very little, which did not go unnoticed by Nora. They w
ere stretching their supplies as far as they could and made certain the children were sufficiently fed.

  Other than her father, Nora could not say that she knew of other men who would have made such a sacrifice. She was raised with the belief that the men always ate first, then the children, then finally, the women. It was reckoned that the men needed their strength, as they were the ones who did the most physical labor. Her father was the only man she knew, until today, who did not hold that belief. Her heart swelled with growing affection toward these men who were suffering through their own hunger.

  David and John readied the horses while Wee William and Daniel brought in wood from the pile near the hut. This would allow the wood time to dry and be ready for the next inhabitants of the tiny mud hut.

  Elise insisted upon riding with her Sir Daniel again. Nora knew the little girl was thoroughly enjoying the kind attention he was giving her. It had been two years since the child had any good, strong male influence in her life. The same could be said for John as well as Nora. She could barely remember the last time she was made to feel deserving of anyone’s kindness or charity, let alone the feeling of being liked as a person.

  Nora only half listened to her little sister who happily chatted away about all manner of things, from faeries to ogres, her time at Castle Firth, her favorite foods, flowers, and colors. Daniel, bless him, was thoughtful enough to listen patiently and only occasionally interjected with his own opinions.

  Every so often, Daniel would hand Elise off to John while he and David would break away to scout for any signs of interlopers, the English, or other ne’er-do-wells. It went on like that all throughout the morning.

  While Elise asked a million questions, chattered incessantly about nearly every topic under the sun, Nora contemplated the future. Slowly, doubt began to creep in. She prayed she hadn’t made a mistake by agreeing to go north instead of south.

  When she had made the decision to go to Scotland with Wee William and his men, she had not given much thought to what would happen afterward. Her only thought at that time was getting John and Elise as far from Firth and Penrith as she could. But now? She worried about how would she support her family, how would she make a living and where would they live.

  She had been so caught up by their offer of help to free her brother and sister, as well as their offer of protection, she hadn’t given much thought to anything else. Had she not been so desperate, so anxious to get away from the cottage that held so many bad memories, would she have made a different decision? Had she not been so anxious to get to John and Elise, would she have been able to think more clearly?

  The further away they rode from the only home she’d ever known, the more worried she became. While it was true that they couldn’t have survived the trip to southern England with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and an ox-driven cart, at least there she would feel some semblance of familiarity. She very well could have secured a position in a manor home or a castle or perhaps as a seamstress with a dressmaker shop. That was if they had survived the trip.

  The more she contemplated her current situation the more frustrated she became. She cursed herself for making such a hasty decision with no thought to the future.

  Wee William could sense her unease for she had begun to sit upright. Her fingers worried and rubbed the seam on her cloak.

  “Something bothers ye, lass?” he finally asked. His soft yet deep voice startled her.

  Nora did not want to seem ungrateful for their help and kindness. How on earth could she tell him she was having second thoughts without seeming ungrateful or immature?

  “Ye worry over the future,” It was a statement, not a question.

  Nora turned abruptly to face him. “How do you know that?”

  His lips curled into a warm smile before answering. “Ye wear yer heart on yer sleeve, lass. I suspect I’d be worryin’ over it as well, were I wearin’ yer shoes.”

  Nora turned away and shrugged her shoulders. What difference did it make what she worried over? She had made the decision and must follow through with it. They were too far away to turn back now. Besides, she didn’t have the heart to ask them to make such a sacrifice. She also worried that if she voiced her concerns they might just leave her and the children here, alone and in the middle of nowhere, without any means of going back. ’Twould serve her right for being so foolish.

  Wee William chuckled softly and gave her waist a slight squeeze with his arm. “Lass, ’twould make sense that ye worry over yer future and that ye’d long fer yer homeland. I fear ye worry that ye made a decision in haste when we offered to help ye, am I right?”

  Nora wondered how on earth he was able to read her mind! “I worry over all manner of things, William, but it matters not.”

  “But lass, it does matter, for ’tis yer future we speak of. And that of Elise and John as well. Ye’ve much weight yer carryin’ on yer shoulders, but ’tis a weight ye needn’t carry alone.”

  She was glad she wasn’t facing him at the moment because he was unable to see the tears that welled. For a year, she’d been married to a man who cared not about her worries, her concerns, or her self doubts, for he was the source of them.

  She had learned early on never to voice an opinion, a worry, or a fear. Horace’s punishments were swift and at times, quite brutal. Nora pressed down the wave of uncertainty and tried to push away the ugly memories.

  Her marriage to Horace had been nothing like the marriage she had seen between her parents. Where her parents’ marriage had been one of mutual respect, admiration and devotion, Nora’s had been the complete opposite. It had been nothing like she had hoped for when she had accepted Horace’s proposal.

  “Lass, I offer ye me friendship if ye’ll take it,” Wee William whispered softly.

  He, too, had been worrying about her future and was beginning to feel guilty for convincing her to come with them. But only slightly guilty. He knew there had been very little chance that Nora and the children would have survived a trip alone, unescorted, to southern England.

  Nora swallowed the tears, unable to look at him. Why was he being so nice? Why did he care what happened to her or to John and Elise? What drove these men to care so kindly for complete strangers when her husband had been so harsh, unforgiving and cruel?

  “William,” she squeaked out his name, but could not continue. Words were hopelessly lodged in her throat.

  “Lass, what worries ye the most?”

  She imagined if she started to list all her worries, she would still be listing them long after they arrived wherever it was they were going. Was his concern genuine? Up to this point, neither Wee William nor his men had done anything other than show concern and kindness. “Surely you don’t want to hear my worries, William.”

  “I wouldna have asked if I did no’ care,” he told her.

  Nora let out a heavy sigh. Deciding Wee William would eventually figure out what bothered her, she decided to delay the inevitable. “Very well, then. I worry where we’ll live and how I’ll support John and Elise. Mayhap not all Scots are as kind and generous as you and your men.”

  Wee William laughed heartily at her last statement. “’Tis true, not all Scots are as kind and generous as we. There are evil men wherever you go, lass, always remember that.” He gave her another gentle squeeze.

  “Now, as for where ye’ll live, I assumed it was understood that ye’d come to live amongst our clan. They’re good and decent people lass. Aye, they might no’ be too keen on having another Sassenach livin’ among them, but Aishlinn has done much to show them that not all English are vile and disgusting. Of course, Aishlinn isn’t really English.”

  Nora asked him to clarify what he meant by Aishlinn not being English, for she found his statement quite curious.

  “Ye see lass, Aishlinn’s mum was Scots. Her mum, Laiden, was to marry Angus, our chief, though he wasn’t the chief at that time. Laiden’s real da died when she was young and later, her mum married an Englishmen. Och! If I ever
have daughters, I’ll teach them never to marry an Englishman!” Wee William shuddered at the thought.

  When he felt Nora’s shoulders slump with what he assumed was hurt over his remark, he quickly tried to right his insensitive declaration. “My apologies lass. I find English women far more palatable than English men.”

  Nora wasn’t sure how to respond. “I can only hope that other Scots will be as open-minded as you.” She could not say that she blamed him for his opinion for her own countrymen held the same of the Scots.

  Wee William’s cheeks flushed, but he could not fault her for feeling slightly insulted by his remarks.

  “Please, William, tell me more.”

  Wee William cleared his throat. “Well, Laiden’s mum had married the Englishmen. He had promised never to take them away from the Highlands, but after a few years, he did just that. Laiden and Isobel were heartbroken at havin’ to live so far away from home. They were allowed to visit during the summer months and that is what they did. Laiden grew into a fine, beautiful young woman and she stole Angus’ heart, and he hers. When she learned she carried his babe, they made plans to marry upon his return from one of the clan wars that were happenin’ at the time. Laiden wanted to see her stepfather, who she had grown to love, even though he be English. So she set out on her own, with only one man as a chaperone, to tell him that she was to be married. That, lass, is when the sadness began.”

  Wee William paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. Nora’s interest was piqued. She turned to look at him. “What sadness? What happened?”

  “Well, there was another man who loved Laiden, but no’ in a good way. He wanted to possess her only because she was so beautiful. And, her stepfather was a well to do Englishmen. She stood to inherit a good amount of coin on his death. But Brock, he bein’ the son of a whore who stole Laiden from Angus, he was too greedy in all manner of things.”

  Nora interrupted him, her curiosity piqued. “Stole her?” she asked. “How did he steal her?”