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

by Suzan Tisdale

  She didn’t even pretend to think on it. “The day before my father died was the last time I had a good nights rest.” Since then, her sleep had been plagued with worry and more often than not, nightmares. The latter of which worsened after she married Horace.

  Wee William let out a heavy sigh. “Lass, ye must try to sleep!” he whispered. “Ye’ll be no good to anyone if ye’re worn and exhausted. I can stay with the children….”

  Nora stopped him with a shake of her head. “Nay, I’ll not leave them, William.” She tried to rub the tension from her neck while she grabbed the tankard of ale from the tray. “I appreciate your offer though.” She took a drink, sat the tankard down and stood.

  Nora had thought she’d been tired and sore during their ride to Gregor. But today, it seemed every muscle in her body screamed from lack of sleep and the constant worry. Her head felt muddled and fuzzy whenever she stood. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

  Wee William jumped to his feet and grabbed her elbow. He recognized the signs of utter exhaustion when he saw them. He’d seen it many times before, on the battlefield when men had gone days without good sleep or food, fighting until they had nothing left to give. Nora had that look about her.

  “Nora, I ken ye love yer brother and sister, but lass, ye must get some sleep.”

  Between Isobel, Mary, Eilean, and the others, she’d reached her breaking point. She’d had enough of people trying to care for her when all she wanted and needed to do was care for her brother and sister.

  “Nay!” She scratched out as she tried to focus her eyes. “I will not leave them! I don’t need rest! I need them to get well!”

  Wee William would not take anything she said at this point as a personal attack. The days and nights of caring for the children were taking their toll. He stood a step away, his hands at his sides, and let her continue.

  “What I need is for everyone to leave me the bloody hell alone so I can take care of them! I won’t let them die and you can’t make me leave them! If I leave, and anything should happen,” she could not say it aloud, could not bring herself to admit openly or even in her own heart, that the chances of John and Elise surviving this illness now seemed impossible. Her eyes burned with terrified, grief-stricken tears. Her head hummed and her stomach churned.

  “They’re all I have left in this world, William,” she whispered. Her tongue felt thick, as if it had suddenly grown far too big for her mouth. She swallowed hard as she tried to wipe her tears away. The attempt at lifting her hands seemed unmanageable.

  Nora had not noticed the fact that Isobel had come into the room and now stood just a few steps away. She was holding fresh linens and more herbs. “I believe Wee William is right, Nora. Ye do need to rest.”

  Nora spun and looked at her, the anger quite evident in her eyes. “What is it with all you Scots sneaking up on people like this?” Silent as church mice they seemed. Nora never knew anyone was there until the spoke or appeared in front of her eyes like an apparition.

  “And why must you all be so confoundedly kind and beautiful?” she asked, her speech slurred.

  Nora realized then that she was not making much sense. Isobel was perhaps one of the kindest women she’d ever met. And her beauty often made Nora feel out of place. It wasn’t envy she felt, but something that resembled a strong sense inadequacy. Mayhap it was the lack of sleep and endless worry that made her feel that way.

  The tears she’d been fighting to hold on to came rushing out. She was simply too tired to care anymore about hiding her pain. She had nothing left to give. There were no prayers left, no more bargains to be made with God, no more silent begging and pleading for John and Elise to recover. No more herbs, no more poultices, no more urging them to drink. She could not whisper in their ears again, begging them to fight and to live, simply because she couldn’t bear to be without them. Mayhap it was time to let them go, to end their suffering, to finally allow them peace.

  She fell into a heap between the beds, her shoulders shaking as she cried. “I’m so sorry that I let you both down.”

  Wee William could take no more of her anguish. He scooped her up and held her in his arms and whispered comforting words to her.

  “Please, I cannot leave them,” Nora sobbed into his chest. “I want to be here for them, William. Please, do not make me leave.”

  Wee William’s felt as though his heart would shatter into a thousand pieces. Nora’s pain and anguish tugged and pulled at his soul. He could no more remove her from this room than he could move a mountain.

  “Wheesht lass,” he whispered as he softly kissed the top of her head. “We’ll stay right here, I promise.” He sat down in the chair, adjusting her so that she was more comfortable, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. “We’ll sit here, in this chair and we will no’ leave until ye ask or until they get better.” He kissed the top of her head again.

  Isobel placed the clean linens and herbs at the foot of Elise’s bed before leaving the room.

  “I’m so sorry, William,” Nora mumbled into his chest. “I….”

  Wee William shushed her again as he rubbed the small of her back with his hand. “Wheesht, lass. Ye needn’t speak now. But please, just sleep for at least a little while. I’ll hold ye while ye rest.”

  “I am so very tired, William. And I’m so very afraid that I’ll lose them.” She could not deny that it felt good to rest her head against his chest, just as she had done on their journey here. She felt safe again.

  “I ken that, lass,” he whispered. He was afraid too. Afraid that the children would not live much longer and that when death finally came for them, it would destroy Nora’s very soul.

  Isobel had returned a short time later with a blanket and carefully draped it around Nora’s shoulders. Nora cried until she had no more tears left. Wee William held her closely, allowing her to cry, offering soft, and calming words that all would be better.

  As she finally succumbed to sleep, Nora could have sworn she heard Elise asking for water. But she was too tired to move. She had lost her mind. Elise’s voice was simply the last part of it leaving her.

  Isobel let out a gasp of surprise when she heard Elise ask for water. She rushed to the child’s side and reflexively put a hand to Elise’s forehead. The child was soaked with sweat and her forehead cool to the touch. Isobel poured a cup of water and held it to the little girl’s lips.

  “Its very hot in here, Lady Isobel.” Elise began tossing blankets off and kicking her feet out from under the blankets and furs.

  “Praise God,” Isobel murmured as she helped Elise drink her fill. “How do ye feel, lass?”

  “My head hurts a bit, and I’m very tired,” she coughed slightly, covering her mouth with her small fist. Her ringlets of strawberry blonde hair were plastered to her head. “And I’m very hot!”

  Isobel took cool cloths and began wiping the child’s face, neck and hands. She wasn’t ready yet to call the child cured. People often times appeared quite well for a day or two before succumbing to death.

  “Lets get ye into a clean nightdress,” Isobel said as she pulled the damp nightdress over Elise’s head.

  “That’s better! Thank you Lady Isobel,” Elise smiled up at her and pushed herself to sit. She caught a glimpse of something behind Isobel and moved to see.

  “Wee William!” Elise exclaimed. “Why are you holding Nora?”

  For the first time in a very long time, Wee William found himself completely without words. He held onto Nora, afraid that if he let go, they’d both tumble to the floor.

  “And why are you crying?” Elise asked as she scrunched her brows together and pursed her lips.

  He hadn’t realized he had been crying until she pointed it out. He cleared his throat, sat up a bit taller in the chair and wiped his eyes on his shoulders. “’Tis yer beauty, Princess Elise. Brings tears to a Highlander’s eyes.” He wasn’t exactly lying. It was, perhaps, a beautiful sight to behold. A little girl, who only minutes ago, he was convin
ced was not long for this world, was now sitting up in her death bed, asking for water and inquiring about his tears.

  Elise smiled brightly and even managed a weak giggle. “Sir William! You are silly!”

  He could not contain his laughter. He threw his head back and laughed, relieved, and with a happiness that bordered on giddiness. Nora stirred every so slightly, moving her head as if she were trying to bury it into a pillow. Wee William quieted, and winked at Elise. “We best be quiet now, lassie. We dunna want to wake yer sister.”

  Elise nodded her head. “Why is she so tired?” she whispered.

  “She’s no’ left yer side or yer brothers fer many days, Elise,” Isobel told her as she offered her another drink.

  “I’ve been ill, haven’t I? And John too?” She searched for John and was relieved to see him asleep in the next bed. “How is John?”

  Isobel shushed her and gently guided her to lay back. “Ye needn’t worry, lass. John will be well soon, just like ye. He’s sleepin’ like a good lad.”

  “I feel like I’ve been asleep for a very long time.” Elise said as she yawned. “And my head hurts. I think I slept too much.”

  Isobel ran another cool cloth across Elise’s face. She glanced over her shoulder at Wee William, who looked as though he’d just been given the greatest of gifts. She had no desire to tell him it was by no means time to celebrate or claim a full recovery. If the child were still awake and improving in a few more days, then they would celebrate.

  “Wee William,” Isobel said to him over her shoulder. “Take Nora into Duncan’s old room. Then fetch Mary for me.”

  He couldn’t will his feet to move just yet. He had promised Nora they would remain in this room until she woke or the children’s condition changed. Seeing that Elise was awake and Nora was sleeping through all the commotion, he doubted she’d be too upset with him.

  He stood and adjusted Nora in his arms. She neither stirred nor protested. He smiled across the room at Elise. “I’ll be back soon, lass. Ye do as Isobel bids.”

  Elise returned his smile with a weaker version of his and nodded her head. “Is Nora ill too?”

  Wee William hadn’t given that a second thought until now. He prayed that her heavy sleep was from exhaustion and not the illness that had nearly taken Elise.

  “Nay, she’s just a bit tired from takin’ care of ye and yer brother. Now, rest and I’ll return soon.” With that, he quit the room.

  Wee William was growing more worried as the hours passed by at an agonizingly slow rate. He had stayed by Nora’s side all through the night, touching her forehead every half hour or so to make certain she had no fever. She rarely stirred. Occasionally she would mumble something incoherent, her brow creasing as if she were worried or confused.

  Mary and Isobel had tried to assure him that she would be well and that it was simply a matter of being overcome with fatigue and worry. They were convinced that she would have shown other signs of the illness by now. Nora was simply worn out.

  The following morn, he decided to take his frustrations out on the training fields. With a solemn promise from both Mary and Isobel, that they would send word the moment Nora woke, he quit her room and headed out of doors. He had a fortnight’s worth of frustration built up and he needed a way to release it. For Wee William, there didn’t seem a better way to release his frustration and anger than on the fields.

  “Ye don’ seem yerself today, Wee William,” Duncan badgered as he brought his broadsword down hard against Wee William’s. Wee William barely had time to respond with an upward thrust of his own broadsword. Had he been paying closer attention, he could have knocked Duncan on his arse more than a half hour ago.

  “Could it be yer mind is somewhere else?”

  Wee William stood, out of breath, covered in sweat, and quite angry. Duncan was right, his mind was elsewhere, but he refused to admit it. “Nay, I’m just lettin’ ye think ye’ve bested me this morn, lad,” he panted as he swung his broadsword sideways. Duncan promptly blocked it, spun around and thrust outward. Had it been a real battle, Duncan would have run his sword clean through the arm of his opponent.

  “Wee William, I think ye’ve had enough,” Duncan told him as he studied his friend. In all the years they had been training together, Duncan had never bested Wee William. The man was larger and stronger than Duncan, and he possessed an unnerving speed. If Duncan ever were to best the man, he wanted to do it because he was better, not because Wee William’s mind was elsewhere.

  Wee William growled before calling a halt to the match. Nothing felt right this morning. His mail seemed too small, his sword too heavy, and his mind too muddled. This is why ye should stay away from the women, he told himself. They be far too distractin’ and ye’ll end up dead.

  The perceptive smile never left Duncan’s face. He’d never seen his friend so distracted before and he had a very good suspicion as to its cause. A lovely young lass with long brown hair and pale blue eyes, had stolen Wee William’s heart. Duncan recognized the symptoms of a man overwhelmed with feelings he could not understand, for Duncan had suffered the same fate a year ago. Now he was just a few weeks away from becoming a father for the first time.

  Duncan slid his broadsword into its sheath and watched Wee William wipe the sweat from his face. He could not hold his laughter in.

  Wee William gave him an angry glare. “What be so bloody funny?”

  After a few moments, Duncan’s laughter quieted enough that he could answer. “Why don’ ye just surrender to her, William? I can assure ye, ’tis a battle ye will no’ ever win! And the surrender is verra enjoyable.”

  “What the bloody hell are ye goin’ on about? Did my blow to yer head knock somethin’ loose?” He pretended not to know what Duncan was referring to. He started across the field toward the table set with tankards of ale and buckets of water. Duncan followed, laughing his way across the field.

  “Och! ’Tisn’t what I refer to, William, but who,” he said as he slapped his hand on Wee William’s back as they walked side by side.

  “I canna say that I blame ye. She is a fetching lass. Isobel says she has a heart of gold too. And a verra strong and loyal disposition.”

  Wee William shrugged his friend’s hand away and continued to ignore him. He was angry with himself for allowing feelings for a woman to interfere with his training or to be noticeable enough that Duncan could take note of them. Nora had somehow managed to seep into his every waking thought, and even his dreams. Such images, feelings, and thoughts would surely sentence him to death if he were ever called to battle before he figured them out.

  Aye, he wanted Nora, wanted her more than he could make any sense. His true worry was ending up embarrassed and with his heart broken. He was no more willing to risk being made a fool than he was of Nora learning her dead husband might not be so dead.

  He was in no mood to discuss Nora with anyone, let alone Duncan. They reached the table and each man lifted a tankard and filled them with ale from the cask. Wee William tossed back two to Duncan’s one. At least he could still drink the man under the table. Mayhap, he thought, that’s what I should do. Get so drunk that I canna think of anything, including Nora.

  As Wee William filled his tankard a third time, one of the boys from the castle came running up to the table. “Wee William!” he called out as he approached.

  Wee William’s heart seized momentarily, with an overwhelming sense of dread. In an instant, he had convinced himself that Nora had taken a turn for the worst and now fought for her life. “What is it, lad?” he growled, steeling himself for the worst possible news he could imagine.

  “Mary sent me,” the skinny boy said as he reached the table. “She says to tell ye John is awake and he’s askin’ fer food!” The boy smiled up at Wee William, pleased he was to be delivering good news.

  The scowl never left Wee William’s face. Aye, he was glad that John was faring well, but it was the worry over Nora’s health that consumed him.

  “And what of
Nora?” Duncan asked. He had no doubt in his mind now, that his friend’s primary and only concern at the moment was Nora. If he hadn’t cared about her, Wee William would have had something to say about John’s turn for the better.

  “She still sleeps,” the boy said.

  “Thank you, lad,” Duncan said before the boy went running back to the keep. Wee William stared off into the distance, distracted with what Duncan could only assume were thoughts of Nora.

  “The lass will be fine, William,” Duncan offered as he nudged him with his shoulder.

  “What?” Wee William hadn’t heard him, for his thoughts had indeed been focused on Nora. How long would the woman sleep? It couldn’t be good to sleep so long.

  By now, a small crowd of men had formed at the table, each grabbing tankards of ale. They stood and watched the exchange between Wee William and Duncan.

  “Nora. She’ll be fine. I spoke with Isobel earlier. The lass be simply exhausted. She’s been through much these past weeks.”

  Wee William scowled. He took another pull of ale and continued to ignore the topic Duncan seemed unable to let go of.

  “So will ye be needin’ help to build ye a wee cottage?” One of the men in the crowd asked before ducking behind another man so that Wee William would not know which of them asked the question. The other men chuckled at Wee William’s furious glare.

  “Och! Mayhap ye could build one next to mine and Aishlinn’s!” Duncan laughed.

  “Duncan, I warn ye to shut yer mouth now, lad.” Wee William ground out.

  “William, it be nothin’ to be ashamed of! I ken what yer goin’ through. Yer fightin’ yer feelings fer the woman, and I tell ye it will do ye no good! When I finally admitted how I felt about Aishlinn, why, me life has done nothin’ but improve!” Duncan smiled and patted his friend on the back again.

  Wee William slammed the empty tankard down and finally noticed that all eyes were on him. He stared back at all of them. His anger boiled. Finally, he could take no more. “Why are ye all starin’ at me?” he growled through gritted teeth.