Like a Laird to a Flame

by Pride, Mia

  Scoffing, William cracked a smile. “If anything, they favored the lass over us much of the time.”

  “Precisely. Will ye at least consider the match with Mary?”

  “Have I a choice?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “Of course, ye do, but ye would be a fool not to.”

  “I will consider it.” He had nothing else to say. Turning around, William stormed down the tower stairs, eager to round up his men and engage in mock battles until he could no longer stand.

  Walking through the gardens during the winter was not as satisfying as it was in spring. But after that emotional conversation and the realization that she was doomed to wed a man for the sake of her child, Mary welcomed all the fresh air she could get. Her eyes burned from shedding too many tears, and her grief felt like an endless void, threatening to destroy her from within.

  When the chapel became visible through the barren trees to the east, her stomach clenched. She could not bear the thought of standing before that building, vowing to honor another man. “Lady of Dunnottar.” She said the title aloud, but it felt foreign and disagreeable. What was it about William Keith that left a foul taste in her mouth? He was a fair-looking man and built well, to be sure. He was powerful and seemed the gentle sort, based on how he comforted her in Robert’s solar. Still, it wasn’t wealth, power, or good looks that made a good husband. Though he seemed to respect and love his sister, he was also stubborn and quick to anger. He had appeared pompous during his previous visit, and Mary had avoided him as much as possible.

  “Mary!” Hearing Elizabeth’s voice calling from behind her, she stopped and looked over her shoulder, watching as her friend ran toward her, lifting her skirts to avoid the thin layer of snow. Mary’s hem was already soaked through with the cold, but she found it quite refreshing with all the hot flashes she’d had as of late.

  “Mary,” Elizabeth huffed as she reached her side. “Please forgive my impertinence. I dinnae mean to upset ye.”

  Shaking her head, Mary continued strolling slowly toward the outer bailey, where the sounds of men shouting and metal clanking echoed on the thick air before being carried away by the persistent wind. Her hair fluttered behind her and Mary clutched her arisaid closer to her body. “I ken why ye did it, Lizzie. I have been blind. My family will be vexed if word of my bastard child reaches them. My brother has a foul temper and blusters with pride. He willnae take kindly to an Irvine making a whore of his sister.”

  “Ye arenae a whore!” Elizabeth chided, but Mary scoffed in response.

  “I ken that well enough, but they willnae, and Stephan approached me last night, angry that I wouldnae accept his offer of marriage, called me a whore, and I am certain there was a veiled threat about my family. And, as ye said, my child willnae live a fair life if he is branded a bastard. I should have married sooner before I looked like a mare ready to foal.” Mary looked down at herself and snorted. “My belly is so big I cannae see my feet, and my breasts have swollen to twice their usual size. I daresay they are as big as yers now.”

  “Mary, I wish ye didnae put yerself down. Ye are as bonnie as ever and many men love a fertile woman. Ye can bear children. What man doesnae desire heirs? Ye can run a castle, and ye come from a fine family. Ye have everything a man could want. Stephan is a foul arse of a man, but he is not a threat, and certain not the only man who would desire ye.”

  “Tell that to yer brother. He seemed verra put off by the prospect of marrying me.” The bitterness in her tone was unintentional, yet she could not help but feel rejected by his obvious distress about their potential match.

  “Will would make a fine husband. Ye may never be a love match, but ye ken I wouldnae wed ye to him if I kenned he would be unkind to ye.”

  “And I suppose that is all I can hope for now. I went from a man who loved me more than aught to a man who can hardly tolerate my existence.”

  Elizabeth sighed and stopped when they approached the fields where the men appeared to be sparring. Keith, Irvine, and Douglas men were scattered across the icy fields, all wearing breeches and plaids, and not much else. Elizabeth stared at Robert as he swung his sword and Mary wished to roll her eyes at her friend’s obvious affections for her husband but, in truth, she was simply envious and refused to allow herself to be the jealous sort. “Mary, will ye at least consider a match with my brother? We would be sisters and ye would visit us every Yuletide! Our children would grow up cousins and be the best of friends!”

  When Elizabeth placed a hand on her flat stomach, Mary widened her eyes and gasped. “Nay! Ye are… are ye…?”

  Putting a hand on Mary’s mouth to silence her, Elizabeth flushed bright pink and nodded. “Aye. I believe I am. I missed my courses two months in a row and I have felt wretched. But I havenae told a soul, not even Robert. ’Tis early days yet, ye ken. If disaster struck, Rob wouldnae bear the loss well.”

  Clasping her hands, Mary jumped up and down, feeling as if her child may drop out of her any moment, but too excited to care. “Lizzie! Och! I am so thrilled! This is wonderful! Drum shall have an heir! And, ye ken, regardless if Will and I ever wed, yer child is already the cousin to my own.”

  “I ken, but just think. It would be a cousin on all sides, Mary. We will be sisters. How I do wish for that.”

  The clanging of swords drew Mary’s attention to the fields just as she heard a deep voice shouting commands from the perimeter. Swinging his sword, sweaty muscles gleaming in the light of the late morning sun, Mary’s mouth dropped at the sight of William without his tunic. A smattering of light hair spread across his chest and down his abdomen, a trail disappearing beneath his low-hanging breeches that clung to his powerful thighs and, dare she say, the most sculpted backside she had ever seen. “Oh my…”

  Laughing, Elizabeth swatted her. “Ye dinnae seem to mind his visage.”

  “Huh?” Snapping out of it, Mary blinked and looked back at her friend, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks. “I was… admiring that messenger lad that all the lassies seem to enjoy looking at. He is… easy on the eyes.”

  Smiling knowingly, Elizabeth nodded. “Och, aye. I suppose he is. Though I daresay he is hard to see from this distance, and with Will blocking much of him from the view.”

  “Will? I hadnae even seen him…” Mary cleared her throat and took a deep breath. By all that was holy. She still did not care much for the lout, but Mary had to admit seeing Will wielding his sword without a tunic was a true sight to behold. He was not unattractive. Again, she reminded herself that fair features did not make a man a decent husband.

  Elizabeth suddenly yelped and flinched beside Mary when William threw his sword to the ground and shoved the man he had been sparring with. Taking a closer look, Mary realized William had been sparring with Reginald the entire time. She truly must have been awestruck if she had not noticed Reginald before, but now that she had, it appeared the two men were no longer sparring as she noticed Reginald’s sword was already in the grass as he shoved William in return, shouting something that Mary could not understand.

  “What in heaven’s name are those two fighting over now?” Elizabeth questioned and shaded her eyes with her hands, squinting into the distance.

  “They are fighting over me, of course.” Turning around, Mary followed the boastful and nasally voice of Marjorie and grimaced at the young woman who wore a fine, red damask gown that seemed well enough for the first night of the Yule, yet a wee bit fancy for strolling the grounds during the day. “It appears Reginald’s affections for me have caused William to go into a fit of jealousy.” Flipping her red hair over her shoulder, Marjorie scowled back at Mary and sent her a smug grin. “I saw ye kiss William last night, and I ken ye wish to capture his attention, but even ye must ken that he has no interest in a serving whore.”

  Walking away slowly, Marjorie held her head high and her nose even higher. Mary dearly hoped a fly flew up her nostrils and slid down her throat. Looking back at William and Reginald, they did, indeed, appear to be fighting o
ver something of importance, as foul words drifted into the wind, and William shoved Reginald once more, Marjorie’s name being exchanged between them.

  Looking at Elizabeth, Mary smiled but, inside, she felt a slight twinge of rejection. She did not wish to wed with William but admitted to herself that he was the best match under the circumstances. He, however, preferred to wed the young maiden that drove him mad, rather than her, and she could not truly blame him. He was a man with power and freedom. Why ever would he choose to wed with a woman carrying another man’s child?

  “I believe ye shall start calling Marjorie yer sister soon, not me.”

  Elizabeth stared at the two men and shook her head in confusion. “Nay. There must be an explanation. I ken it.”

  “Elizabeth, when will ye see? I am a ruined woman. No man will wed with me, and I must learn to accept that. If ye will excuse me, I require some quiet rest before the events of the Yule begin this evening.”

  Walking away from Elizabeth, she was glad to see that her friend was not intending on following in her wake. Glancing one last time at William, Mary gasped and quickly looked away again when she saw his eyes following her, just before going back to arguing over Marjorie with Reginald.

  They were both fools and arses. And yet, Mary felt like the biggest fool and arse of them all for ever having considered William for a husband.

  Chapter Four

  “Ye must take Marjorie back. I cannae take the lass anymore!” Reginald grunted as he swung his sword just as William blocked the blow.

  “Take her back? I would gladly take her back to Douglas lands any day,” he quipped, knowing exactly what Reginald meant, but having no intention of being saddled with that banshee’s attention once again.

  “Ye ken her father expects one of us to offer for the lass and it cannae, willnae, be me, William. Ye came with her. I simply entertained her to be kind and now I cannae get rid of her.”

  “I am afraid ye will be the man to take her then, for I am planning to offer for another woman.”

  “What?” Reginald scoffed and dropped his sword into the ice-slicked grass, shoving William back a step. “Who? Ye cannae!”

  “Oh, no?” Throwing his sword down, William shoved Reginald back. “Who are ye to tell me what I can and cannae do?” he shouted, seeing his breath escape in wisps before drifting off into the chilly breeze. He was lying, but only slightly. Offering for Mary had not been a decision he had made just yet, and he had not been at all certain about it until the prospect of being stuck with Marjorie became a frightening reality.

  “Ye cannae because ye arrived here with the Douglas lass and her insane father who brought his warriors and will hack us all down if his daughter is insulted and set aside.”

  “Then ye had better offer for her so that doesnae happen. I’m not the one who invited them. Yer lady did. I made no promises to her, and she has shown interest in ye from the moment she heard we were spending the Yule at Drum!” William shouted.

  Reginald shoved William again and growled. “I willnae offer for her, and I willnae have a battle on my hands!”

  “I will have a battle on my hands, as well, if ye havenae forgotten. My sister is yer laird’s wife, and we have an agreement to protect one another. If the Douglas starts a war, he will fight us all. And I am willing to face that reality. He can find another man to wed his foolish daughter.”

  “Who are ye going to offer for then?” Reginald asked, his chest heaving as he finally calmed down, confusion and frustration written on his features.

  William glanced to the side just as he saw Mary walking past them on the path. Reginald’s eyes followed William’s, and his face dropped. “Ye cannae mean Mary. Ye both cannae be in the same room without almost tearing each other apart.”

  “That isnae true, and I didnae say who I was offering for,” William scowled. “And it isnae yer business.”

  “Ye dinnae need to say. I can see it in yer eyes. Ye fancy the woman.”

  “I most certainly dinnae. If I do offer for Mary, ye can be certain ’tis for reasons a man like ye can never understand.”

  “And what the bloody devil is that supposed to mean?” Reginald pushed William once more, and that was enough. He liked Reginald to a point, but the man wore on him more than Marjorie did. Pushing him to the ground, William leaned over him and clenched his teeth.

  “It means I am a laird and I dinnae have the freedoms ye do to the woo lassies and live in such frivolity. I must take a wife, and I must make an alliance, and I must do it verra soon.”

  Pushing to his feet, Reginald wiped the ice water off the back of his breeches and picked up his sword. “Ye ken what yer problem is, William? Ye believe yerself to be the only person with expectations to meet and a responsibility to his people. Ye are self-important and a bloody arse. Ye may offer for Mary, and she may accept, but dinnae believe for a moment she does so for any other reason than necessity.”

  Picking up his own sword, William took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. “Dinnae believe I do this for any other reason than necessity, as well. For that reason alone, we match well.” Feeling more frazzled than he had before heading to the lists, William grabbed his soggy tunic off the ground and stomped his way back toward the keep, wishing to be done with the Yule so he could travel back to his lands and forget any of this had ever happened.

  “Will!” Stopping in mid-step and groaning with annoyance, William saw his sister walking toward him with a look he knew all too well and wished to avoid entirely.

  “What have I done now?” he asked, picking up his pace when she reached his side.

  “What were ye and Reginald fighting about?” she asked, doing her best to keep up with his long strides.

  “Marjorie,” he briskly replied.

  “Ye… ye are mad!”

  “Ow!” Damn his sister and her ability to reach out and pull on his arm hairs every time she was angry with him. He really should have put his tunic back on before heading back toward the keep. “What the devil is wrong with ye, ye wee hellion?”

  “Me?” Yanking on his arm as hard as she could, William came to a stop once more and crossed his arms. “What the devil is wrong with ye? Ye would choose that ridiculous lass over Mary?”

  “What? Nay!” William replied, crinkling his nose with disgust. “We were fighting over being rid of her. He told me I need to take her off his hands and I refused. ’Tis not my fault she attached herself to him. I didnae ask her to… though I didnae discourage it, either,” he smiled and waggled his brows. “Serves Reg right for tricking us all into believing he married ye last summer.”

  Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth raised a brow of her own. “Ye must get over that, Will. But ye are correct. Marjorie has a mind of her own and follows any lad with a fair face. It isnae yer responsibility to woo her.”

  “I would thank ye for agreeing with me, but I ken ye are only doing so because ye wish me to offer for Mary instead.”

  “Aye. I do. She saw ye fighting with Reginald. We believed ye were fighting over Marjorie, and the lass believes ye were, as well. She is going to cause us all trouble, I vow.”

  William knew his sister was right. They needed to figure out how to appease Archibald Douglas, for no good would come of him being within the walls of Drum and being insulted.

  “What did ye say to Reg that made him so angry with ye?” she asked as they walked through the large double wooden doors of the keep where the hearth fire crackled against the back wall and sent a welcome warmth over his chilled flesh.

  “I informed him that I couldnae attempt to court Marjorie because I intend to make an offer for another woman. He was verra angry to be saddled with her, kenning I refused to steal away her attention.”

  “What… Will?” gripping his arm, Elizabeth looked up at him and smiled. “Ye are going to make an offer of marriage to Mary?” She sounded more delighted than he ever expected. Though trepidation filled his gut, making him feel queasy for committing openly to so permanent a decision, he k
new it was the best decision to make for his people and to protect Mary while gaining an alliance with the Hamiltons.

  “Aye. Ye ken it shall be a marriage of convenience, Lizzie. Dinnae get ideas in yer head. I dinnae ken if Mary will even accept. She is even more against the match than I was.”

  “Oh, Will!” For a slight lass, Elizabeth had strength behind her embrace that threatened to knock him on his arse. “I cannae tell ye how happy this makes me! She and Alexander’s bairn shall be well cared for by a man I truly trust and ye will gain more ties to the Irvines while solidifying a strong alliance. I ken ye can hardly stand one another for now, but mark my words, ye will fall on yer knees for that woman by Yuletide’s end.”

  “Ye are out of yer mind with delusions, Elizabeth. I will offer for her, and we will see if she accepts. Assuming she doesnae break my nose, the best we can hope for is mutual benefit and companionship.”

  “As ye say, elder brother.” Elizabeth did not sound at all convinced, and William wished to shake the stubborn woman. For a lass who wished to avoid love altogether in life before falling for Robert, she sure seemed determined to make a love match for Will. Yet he knew it took a special bond to create what she shared with Robert and what their parents had once shared. He had hoped for such a love when he was younger and naïve, but he was too old for such whimsies. He had a clan to protect and at least Mary was not covered in pockmarks and’ from what he had seen thus far, she appeared to have all her teeth. As long as her child was not born with two heads to feed, he believed this match was the best he could expect from life.

  “Archibald willnae be happy when he discovers I have chosen another woman and Reginald has no interest. I am fashed about the consequences. Mayhap I should wait until after the Yule to speak with Mary.”

  “Nay, ye dinnae have the luxury of time. Mary isnae due to deliver her child yet, but her pains grow more frequent by the day and ye need to secure this alliance and claim her child before a Hamilton discovers she is unwed. Ye handle Mary. Let me and Robert deal with Archibald. I have just the idea to honor his daughter and stroke the Douglas ego while surrounding Marjorie with attention.”