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

by Suzan Tisdale

  In short order, the three hundred Highlanders that had stormed through the town less than a quarter of an hour ago were now leaving. They left in the same thunderous manner as they had arrived.

  Wee William led the way out of the village and down the road that led to Castle Firth. He clung to his wife, praying he had reached her in time, praying that she would soon wake. Nora continued to shake but had yet to open her eyes. Frequently, he would look down at her lying limp in his arms as he sped down the road. His own eyes began to fill with tears of joy and regret.

  Soon they were riding past the gates of Castle Firth where Angus, Duncan and Findley and four hundred other Highlanders had surrounded the castle. They were taking no chances with the English soldiers that were within those walls.

  Angus and the others had surrounded the place an hour ago and thus far, only one man had come to the gate to make inquiry to their presence. Angus had responded by telling the young soldier to deliver a message to the new earl of Penrith. It was a simple message. We have four hundred men surrounding your castle, three hundred more within in the village, and another four hundred waitin’ patiently in the forest to the west. If one soldier so much as peeks his head out a window, a rain of hell and fury will ensue, the likes of which the earl has never witnessed before.

  Obviously the earl took Angus at his word for not another person had been seen since Angus had given his warning.

  Once Wee William felt they were far enough away from Penrith and Firth, he led his horse into a dense part of the forest. Rowan and Black Richard followed him in, gave him a tunic, woolens, and clean blankets then left Wee William to tend to his wife.

  Tenderly and with great care, Wee William peeled away the layers of his wife’s dirty clothes. Goosebumps appeared the moment the mist hit her skin, but still, she did not move nor make a sound. Quickly, he dried her skin with one of the blankets as best he could and pulled the tunic over her head. Next, he covered her legs with the woolens. So large they were and so wee she was, that he was able to pull them up to the middle of her thighs.

  Once he had her in fresh, dry clothing, he wrapped her in both blankets, rubbing warmth into her arms and legs with the palms of his hands. Even with dry clothes and warm blankets, she shook and trembled and grew paler as the moments slowly crawled by.

  “Nora,” he whispered her name as he held her close. Mayhap he had not arrived in time. Mayhap she had slipped into a sleep from which she would never wake. It was killing him slowly, moment by agonizing moment that she did not wake.

  “Mo bhean álainn,” he whispered softly as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  Her skin was as cold as ice and just as pale. There were dark circles under her eyes, dirt under her fingernails and scrapes across her knuckles. The image of his wife trying to claw her way out of the deep hole tore through his heart.

  “Mo bhean álainn,” he repeated. “Please, open your eyes for me,” he pleaded, he begged.

  Tears of anguish and regret formed, threatening to spill. Honestly, he could not remember the last time he cried. He had to have been a boy. But cry he did. Big, large tears fell from his hazel eyes, down his cheeks, leaving trails through his dust covered skin.

  He cried until his body shook, so overcome with grief, anguish, regret, guilt, and sorrow. Aye, he was holding his wife in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest, but it wasn’t enough. He desperately needed to look into her eyes, to see all the love and adoration that she had, at one time, felt for him. He needed to hear the sound of her voice, telling him that all would be well and that she would be fine.

  The steady rain had turned to a fine mist as Wee William of Dunshire held the love of his life close to his heart, rocking back and forth under the canopy of trees. Back and forth, he cradled Nora in his arms, begged her, and pleaded with her to not leave him alone in this world.

  When his pleas went unanswered, he looked upward, sobbing like a bairn, looking to God for hope, direction, and help. He prayed openly, uninhibited and desperate, that God would take his life and spare Nora’s.

  Nora deserved better than to die here, on English soil after all that she had endured these past many days. Nora was all that was good and right with the world. She was a bright light in an otherwise dark world. She was gentle and kind and showed everyone nothing but compassion and generosity.

  Nora was his life, the reason he took one breath after another, and why his heart continued to beat. She was his only reason for living. He cried out to God for Him to please show his wife some grace and mercy. He cried until he was spent and certain he could not shed another tear. Nora was slowly slipping away from him, he could feel it in the way her body slowly stopped trembling and her breathing grew shallow.

  He had no idea how much time had passed as he begged and made deals with God. Soon, Nora had stopped shaking all together.

  He pulled her limp body away so that he might see her face. He brushed away loose strands of her dark hair and tenderly caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. She was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen, even as she teetered near death.

  Just when he thought he had shed all the tears that he owned, they began to fall again, though not nearly as torrential as earlier. This time, they fell away from his face, dripping off the end of his chin. He continued to caress Nora’s cheek and to pray.

  Wee William whispered soothing words, speaking in the Gaelic. Quite some time passed as he rocked steadily and spoke his words of love to Nora. He spoke them not so much for her, but for himself. If she were going to die this day, then he would feel better knowing he had shared what was in his heart.

  The mist had slowly evaporated, leaving the air heavy and humid. Soon the sun peeped through the gray clouds just as it began its late afternoon descent to the west.

  Wee William pressed his lips against Nora’s forehead again, closed his eyes and whispered softly against her skin. “Le do thoil nach dtéann, Is breá liom tú.” Please, do not go, I love you.

  It was then that Nora took a deep, slow breath and tried to speak.

  “William.” The sound of her weak, ragged voice tore through his heart. Elated though he was to finally hear her speak, his heart warned him that these were her last words.

  “Wheesht, lass,” he murmured against her forehead. “I am so sorry, Nora.” He pressed another tender kiss against her forehead.

  “William,” she tried to speak more forcefully but her throat and mouth were far too dry. “Water,” she managed to scratch out.

  Wee William searched for the flagon of water, found it lying on the ground next to his legs and hurriedly opened it. Nora took a mouthful and swallowed slowly before taking another drink. When she had her fill, she wiped her mouth against Wee William’s shirt. She sighed contentedly and snuggled against him.

  “Do I dream husband, or are you truly here?” she asked him sleepily.

  He choked back his tears and tried to remain as calm as he could. She was dying and he’d be damned if he’d make her last moments on this earth painful. “Aye, lass, I am here.”

  “Well, its about time,” she mumbled against his chest.

  Wee William shook his head and tried to find some humor in her words. He hurt too much and could not find it within himself to laugh. “I am so sorry, Nora.”

  Nora tried opening her eyes again. The bright light of the sun stung. “Is that the sun I see?”

  Wee William nodded his head and murmured aye, it was.

  “It feels good. So very warm. Like you.”

  He could not speak, could not find the right words to respond. He simply held her close and choked back the pain.

  “I dreamt about you William. All the while I was in that hole. I wish we had not fought.” She took another deep breath before letting it out slowly. “It feels good to be out of there. I knew you would come for me.”

  Wee William swallowed back the bile that was forming in his throat. But I did no’ get to ye in time, he thought.

 
Nora struggled to sit up, but Wee William would not allow it. “Rest now, lass.”

  “What happened? Did you find Horace?”

  Och! Why must her last thoughts be of Horace? He supposed she would find some comfort in knowing that finally, the son of a whore had been dealt with properly. “Aye,” he whispered. “He burns in hell as we speak lass.”

  Nora tilted her head up and opened her eyes. She was trying to read his face, to see if he told the truth or if by chance he was lying about that again. “You swear it? You do not lie just to make me feel better?”

  Wee William gave a shake of his head. “Nay, I do no’ lie, I swear it. I killed him myself. His blood still lingers upon me sword. Ye’ll no’ need to worry about him ever again.” He could give her the peace of mind she needed before death claimed her. That was the least he could do for her.

  “So I am a widow?”

  Wee William chuckled softly. She still worried whether or not they were were married properly. “Lass, I told ye the truth. I had Father Michael annul yer marriage to Horace. We were married proper.”

  Nora’s brow creased as she scrutinized her husband. “I think I would feel better if Father Michael married us again.”

  His chest tightened painfully. He was certain she would not live through the afternoon, let alone long enough to return to Gregor for another ceremony. The fact that she still wanted to be married to him lifted his spirits. Wanting to make her last moments as comfortable and beautiful as possible, he agreed. “Aye, we can do that, lass. Anything ye want.”

  Nora closed her eyes and snuggled against his chest again. “Thank you William. Please, take me home now so that we can marry again.”

  He remained silent, rubbing her back with his hand. Several moments of silence passed.

  “William?”

  “Aye lass?”

  “Can we please leave now?”

  Wee William chuckled softly again. Even as she lay dying she could bring a smile to his face. “Why are ye in such a hurry to return home?”

  Nora sighed. “It is very important to me William, that we marry again.”

  Wee William drew her away from his chest and stared down at her. “Why be it so important?”

  She sighed again before her lips began to curve upward ever so slightly. “Because I don’t want our babe born a bastard.”

  Wee William blinked back his tears and gave his wife a fond, loving smile. Bairns. Even now she thinks of bairns. “Wheesht lass, ye need to rest. Now is no’ the time to be thinkin’ of bairns.”

  Nora opened her eyes and lifted her head and smiled at him. “Well, better now than in seven months when I’m telling you to fetch Isobel.”

  He supposed it would not be long now before death claimed his beautiful wife for she was now delirious. He would have given her as many bairns as she wanted. It pained him to think she would never have the chance to carry a child or to be a mother.

  “William, what on earth is the matter with you?” She struggled to sit up but his hold on her was too tight.

  How could he tell her that she was dying? He couldn’t have choked the words out if someone had put a dagger to his throat.

  Wee William had been so distraught with thinking she was dying in his arms that he had not noticed the color had returned to her cheeks or that her voice had grown stronger. Nora tried to wriggle out of his firm hold. Exasperated, she gave up.

  “William, what is wrong?” She began to fret and worry that something had happened to Elise or John and he didn’t have the courage to tell her.

  “Has something happened to Elise? To John?” She began to struggle against his strong arms again. Frustrated, she punched him in his shoulder with her fist.

  “Lass, ye must save yer energy!” Wee William admonished her.

  Nora was as confused by her husband as she had ever been. His response over learning she was carrying his babe was not what she had expected. Of course, she couldn’t be completely certain until they returned to Gregor and Isobel had the opportunity to examine her.

  She had missed her last two courses and she had been throwing up for days. At first, she thought it had been the stress of being taken from her family, her husband and her home, that had brought on the nausea. However, at some point, while still being held as Horace’s prisoner, she had figured out that it was quite possibly more than just stress and worry. She had started feeling quite unwell days before Horace stole her away.

  Wee William finally let loose his hold and allowed her to sit. The expression he wore was quite baffling. Nora was certain he had been crying for his eyes were red and puffy, and tiny white trails lined his cheeks. He looked as though someone had just died. The only thing she could think of was her earlier supposition that something had happened to either John or Elise. Panic set in as she scrambled to her feet.

  “William, you must tell me what is wrong, this very moment!” She felt dizzy and lightheaded when she stood. Had Wee William not reached out and caught her, she would have fallen to the ground.

  “Nora, ye are no’ well! Ye must lie back down now, and rest!” It was then that he finally noticed her rosy cheeks. Certainly a woman who was dying would not have rosy cheeks. And she wouldn’t be able to stand up, let alone yell at him, would she?

  Wee William held her at arms length, a thousand different thoughts and emotions running through his head and his heart. So many that he was unable to grasp a single one. He appraised his wife, taking the time to look her up and down, still uncertain that he could believe what his eyes were showing him.

  “Nora?” he said her name disbelievingly. “How? I -- ye --” He was quite unable to form any kind of sentence.

  Nora stared back at him from shaky legs and a muddled head. “William, please, tell me what is the matter. Has something happened to Elise or John? To Aishlinn?”

  “Nay, they are all well,” he answered with a quivering voice. He blinked and shook his head as if it would help to clear his mind and focus better on his wife.

  “Then why do you look as though someone has just died?” she asked. She gave him no time to answer as a sudden, even more horrifying thought flashed in her mind.

  “It is the babe,” she began. “You do not want the babe? I thought you wanted lots and lots of babes, William. That’s it, isn’t it? You are upset that I want to marry again. You’re upset that I carry your babe. I can’t believe this, William! We talked about this, even before we married!”

  Awareness of what his wife was trying to tell him hit him with as much force as a wall of bricks falling on his head. He felt his legs begin to wobble and his head began to spin out of control. She was not dying and she was carrying his babe. His babe. He was going to be a father.

  He held on to his wife’s shoulders so that he wouldn’t collapse. Nora was going to be fine, praise God! And he was going to be a father.

  Wee William took several steadying breaths as his wife continued to talk. She was warning him that it was his fault she was with child to begin with.

  “You cannot join with your wife two or three times a day, every day, and not expect a babe to be the result of it! I do not care one whit William, if you are happy about this or not! You will marry me again. My child will not be born a bastard because of, well, whatever it is that is going on in that thick, Scottish, man head of yours!”

  There was no way to contain the overwhelming sense of joy. He threw his head back and laughed loudly. He pulled her into his chest and began to kiss her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and her lips.

  “Nora, I am sorry,” he told her between kisses and chuckles. “I thought ye were dyin’, ye were so cold and pale and shakin’. I didna think ye’d survive this day lass. Now, here ye stand before me, tellin’ me ye carry me babe. Nothin’ lass, could make me happier!”

  Nora’s shoulders slumped with relief. In the back of her mind she heard the echo of Aishlinn’s words, explaining that Highlanders were good honorable men, a little stupid and at times, and slightly tetched. Nora realized
Aishlinn was correct in her description of Highlanders.

  Nora smiled brightly as her husband smothered her with kisses, checked her over again from head to toe to make certain she was in fact quite well. He prattled on about how happy and proud he was and how much he loved her. His hazel eyes sparkled and twinkled in the late afternoon sun and she noticed that it must have been days since he had last shaved.

  Wee William of Dunshire was a very honorable, funny, and handsome man. He was a giant of a man, a good man who was going to make a very good father to their children.

  Nora continued to smile and only half listened to him as he retrieved their horse and promised he would have her home soon and she could bathe and eat and sleep in their big, warm bed. She took note of the twinkle in his eye and knew exactly where that last thought had taken him.

  She made her own quiet plans as he mounted his horse and lifted her up to settle on his lap. When they returned to their little cottage, she’d like to spend the next week alone with her husband. It had been quite some time since they’d loved one another.

  Nora tried to listen to him, but her mind flooded with the memory of the day Wee William had come into her life. It felt like ages had passed since they’d taken that first journey from Penrith to Scotland. She recollected how drastically her life had changed in these past months.

  “And do no’ worry if it be a girl child ye have, I’ll love her just as much as I would a son. And do no’ worry that the babe will be too big, like me. Me mum will tell ye that I was a verra wee babe. So wee in fact that they worried that I’d no’ live to see me first birthday.” He gave her a gentle hug as he urged the horse forward.

  Nora had to suppress the urge to laugh aloud as he continued to talk about their babe.

  Aye, he may be a little dumb and more than just slightly tetched. But he’s mine and he loves me and I’m his woman.

  Epilogue

  Eight Months Later