Like a Laird to a Flame

by Pride, Mia

  Reginald raised his own visor and his bright blue eyes rolled in his head. “Never had I thought to answer such a question. I dinnae want to wed that lass, but I dinnae wish to lose to any of these men. I ken I am a better fighter than all of them… including ye.” Reginald winked and William scoffed.

  “Who is Stephan?” Despite all the activity around him and the sound of lances cracking against shields, all William could think about was the man he feared was causing trouble for Mary.

  “That boil of a man? He is an Irvine knight and though he is kin, he has been close to banishment more than once.”

  “What is he to Mary?” William would learn more about the man later. For now, he was interested only in knowing what Mary meant to him.

  Reginald dropped his brows. “That is a different question altogether. I dinnae ken. They were companions as children. He became ill with the pox and was kept indoors by his mother for months. He fought verra hard to regain strength and become a knight, I will give him that honor. But he wasnae pleased with Mary’s relationship with Alex. I ken he loves her, as best as an arse can love a woman, but I dinnae ken more than that. Why do ye ask? Has she mentioned him?”

  “Nay, and that is the issue. I dinnae trust him.”

  “And ye shouldnae,” Reginald agreed, pulling down his visor when his name was called up and his squire ran out onto the field. “’Tis my time to win or lose. I think I shall win, at least this round. Let the crowd see what a real man looks like.”

  “Ye are a bloody fool, Reg.”

  “Och, I ken that.” Urging his horse forward, Reginald moved into the center of the lists, waving and getting into place as his clan roared with excitement. Reginald’s opponent was one of the Keith knights and William suddenly very much hoped Reginald decided to win. Though his knights were well trained and he always supported them, he did not want Marjorie marrying a Keith and living on his lands.

  The two men charged toward one another on opposite sides of the list and William watched as Reginald’s lance crashed into the other knight’s shoulder, knocking the man violently off his horse. The crowd went silent for a moment as they watched and waited to see if the fallen knight was injured. When he slowly got back on his feet with help from his squire and signaled to the crowd, everyone cheered for Reginald who was already receiving a new lance for round two.

  It appeared Reginald was playing to win and William was glad of it, though he still was unsure what he would decide to do. He did not wish to lose, yet he did not wish to remain in the tournament as one of Marjorie’s suitors. Let the crowd believe what they wished. He knew he was a fine warrior and need not prove it to others. War was not a game, and he did not wish to make it so.

  The men lowered their visors when they were ready to charge once more and the horses charged toward one another, kicking up dirt as the sound of duel lances breaking filled the lists. Both men made contact but only one fell from his horse.

  Looking up at the stands, William saw Mary and Elizabeth flinch as Marjorie covered her mouth. Turning back, he saw Reginald remaining on his horse as his Keith warrior fell once more, this time taking a wee bit longer to get back up. Just as William was about to dismount and run to his clansman, the man was able to get up with help and signaled to William that he was uninjured. This was one reason why William disliked these games. He did not need his best men becoming injured, especially for Archibald’s pride or Marjorie’s entertainment.

  Once the area was cleared, a judge declared Reginald the winner and called William and Stephan to the tilt for the final joust of the day. He growled when he realized he was to be paired with that bastard. Slamming down his visor, William took his place at one end of the tilt, accepting his first lance from his squire and blocking out everything else around him.

  When he was in position, William narrowed his eyes on his opponent, suddenly deciding there was no way he would allow himself to lose to this piece of shite who attempted to chase him away from Mary. He would lose another day. Pride did not usually control him overmuch, but he would be damned if he lost to this arse.

  Stephan began to charge toward him, lance aimed high, and William urged his destrier forward, blood pumping wildly in his veins. He wished to impale this man with his lance for insulting Mary but, for now, unseating him would do. When his lance collided with Stephan’s shoulder, he heard the deafening crack of wood and the sound of armor clattering. Reaching the end of the tilt, William turned his horse around and looked down to see Stephan on the hard-packed earth lying on his back with his helm lying several feet away.

  “Where is my next lance, lad?” he asked his squire and lifted his visor, ready to be done with this event.

  “I dinnae think ye will be requiring it, my laird.” The young man’s voice cracked, and William looked back down at Stephan who attempted to sit up with help but fell back once more, whispering something to his squire who immediately ran over to the judges.

  One judge stood to address the crowd, and William saw that Stephan was finally standing but required the help of two other men. “Sir William is the victor!” the judge declared and the crowd roared their approval. “The victors of these events shall continue to the next round on the morrow: archery!”

  Looking at the stands, William saw Marjorie standing up and scanning the winners to see who was left. When she spotted him and Reginald, she began to jump up and down and waved wildly. He groaned and turned his gaze to Mary, who still sat but clapped and looked directly at him, and his heart began to race more than it had during the joust.

  “Ye ken Marjorie now believes us in love with her since we fought to win the first round, aye?” Reginald pulled up beside him on his horse and shouted over the cheering of the crowd.

  “Aye. I do ken.” William groaned, waving at the excited crowd, simply wishing to be done with this madness so he could get out of his armor and hopefully win that kiss from Mary… and ask her a few questions about Stephan and what he meant to her. When he looked up to the stands once more, he saw Mary being practically whisked away by Matilda and Elizabeth, striking fear into him. Was something wrong with her and the child?

  Removing his helm and jumping off his horse, William pushed through the crowd, desperate to catch up to them and make sure all was well. “Elizabeth!” he shouted for his sister and saw Mary look over her shoulder with a look of horror on her face, but his sister did not stop dragging Mary away. Before he had a chance to seek out Robert for answers, Aldrich stepped into his path and stopped him in his tracks.

  “My laird. There is trouble. Brian was found dead in his chamber by a servant. Robert was just informed as the tournament ended.”

  “Brian? How? What happened?” Brian Keith was one of his finest warriors and a good man. He also had rejected the invitation to join the tournament, refusing to attend the event altogether.

  “I dinnae ken yet, my laird. I was told by Laird Irvine to inform ye. He wishes ye to meet him in his solar.”

  William clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath, pushing his shoulder-length, sweaty hair away from his face. Was that why Mary was dragged away? Was she in danger? Mayhap they all were. Searching the area, William caught a glimpse of Archibald Douglas leaning against the fence of the lists speaking to one of his men. When he looked up and saw William, an unsettling smile spread across the man’s face. A clear warning had been sent to William, and Brian had paid the price. If you reject his daughter or insult his pride, you lose your life by the hand of a Black Douglas.

  Chapter Seven

  Tugging on the laces running up the back of Mary’s red velvet dress, Matilda grunted from the exertion. “I didnae let this one out enough, it seems. Ye are growing by the day.”

  “I ken that, Tilda. No need to remind me.” Everyone assured Mary that she and the child appeared to be doing well, but she felt weighed down, tired, and was certain she waddled with every step. “I dinnae think we will be feasting tonight. The Keiths are in mourning and it wouldnae be right to celebrate. E
ven the Yule events must be put on hold.”

  “Aye. ’Tis an awful situation. I kenned him well from my time growing up at Dunnottar, and he was a kind, intelligent, and loyal man. Which is why he wouldnae ever want a wife like Marjorie. Ye ken, one of the servants heard Brian speaking with Marjorie in the hall the night before. She was angry that he refused to join the tournament. He called her a shrew and vowed he would rather die alone than ever marry her. The next morning, he was found dead.”

  A chill ran up Mary’s spine and she closed her eyes, saying a quick prayer for Brian’s soul. She had not known the man, but she had seen him during the feasts and knew William was fond of him. Though she had awaited word from him, William had not come to seek her out and she was worried for him. Would Marjorie or her father harm William if he rejected her again?

  “We dinnae ken what truly happened to Brian, Tilda. Mayhap we shouldnae conclude anything just yet.”

  “We ken his throat was slit in his sleep and the last person seen speaking with him was Marjorie. A Keith wouldnae have done it and no Irvine either. It had to be a Douglas. We havenae had a murder withing these walls ever, according to Robert. I admit I am shaken and full of sorrow, myself.” Matilda sniffled and picked up the comb, carefully running it through Mary’s red locks. “We willnae feast, but we must still eat if we can stomach it. Cook has worked tirelessly to prepare the venison and geese for the evening. And, if ye see William, I want ye to look yer best.”

  “Ye are an interesting woman, Tilda. Why do ye care so much what he thinks of me? I ken ye planned with Lizzie to push us together.”

  Putting the comb down, Matilda sighed and came around to look at Mary with a serious look on her face and a single tear still running down her cheek. Wiping it away, she sniffled and shook her head. “I am a Keith, Mary. But I wasnae born one. I dinnae ken who my true kin are, but I do ken that the Keiths took me in as a wee child and took care of me. I was left inside a basket in a cart. No Keiths were awaiting the birth of a child. It was assumed a traveler abandoned me there. The laird at the time was Robert, William and Elizabeth’s father. I was named after his wife, Matilda, whom he loved dearly and mourned heavily after her passing. He took me into the castle and allowed Lizzie’s tutors and nursemaids to be my own. I earned my keep as her maid, but I was always treated like family. Will may as well be my brother. Mary, I ken him verra well and have come to ken ye verra well, also. Ye both needed a marriage. Ye needed each other. ’Tis been hard on ye here all alone. I saw the sadness in yer eyes every day. I ken ye love Alex still and ye always will. That doesnae mean ye cannae love another man, as well, and from what I see when I look at ye now… I think ye do.”

  “Oh, Tilda.” Choking back tears, Mary embraced her friend, so unsure how she could have been so fortunate to have her and Elizabeth by her side. Before they came over from Dunnottar, Mary had Alexander and his brothers, but no true female companions. “If ye wish me to look my best for William tonight, ye shouldnae make me cry!”

  Tilda laughed and sniffed back tears of her own, and Mary kissed her forehead. “I am truly sorry for what happened to Brian. I ken ye cared for him.”

  “Aye. I did. We all did. Lizzie and Will are surely distraught and I am certain he is ready for revenge.”

  A knock at the door made both women end their embrace as Tilda removed the bar and stuck her head into the hall. “Och, speaking of the man…”

  Matilda stepped aside and when Mary saw William enter her chamber, her heart quickened, as did her child. It was as if her bairn was glad to feel his presence as much as she was. His face was still streaked with mud from the tournament, and lines ran down his cheeks indicating that he had shed tears recently. “Oh, William.” She did not know what to do. Embrace him? Give him his space? “I am verra sorry about Brian. I dinnae ken what to say.”

  “I apologize for presenting myself in this condition, my lady. I havenae stopped speaking with Robert and the other men since the tournament. We cannae believe this has happened, during the Yule of all times. ’Tis what happens when ye break bread with the Black Douglases and I blame myself for his death.”

  “Ye cannae!” Mary cried, stepping closer to him and daring to take his hands in hers. They were large and roughened with calluses as one would expect from a warrior, but the dirt covering them did not bother her at all. The torture in his eyes broke her heart, and she wished to hold and comfort him.

  “I can, and I do. If I hadnae accepted their offer to discuss a match with her, or rejected her and caused this bloody tournament, Brian would still be alive.”

  Matilda touched his arm and frowned. “Ye cannae blame yerself for the actions of others, Will. Ye didnae do this. They did this. They must be punished for this act.”

  “By whom?” William scoffed. “King James is still a prisoner of the English and the regent is as greedy and evil as they come. Archibald is married to the king’s sister! There is nobody to punish them but for us,” he scowled and Mary gasped, knowing at that moment that they were on the brink of a potential war on Drum grounds.

  “We must stop and think clearly,” she demanded. “There are innocent people who could get hurt. ’Tis the Yule. We cannae have a war.”

  “We cannae make them leave without insulting them and causing a battle regardless, and we cannae stay here another sennight and hope no more throats get slit, Mary! We must act!” William raised his voice at her and she recoiled. She knew he was grieving, so she would not get angry, but his need for revenge was unfounded until they knew for certain who killed Brian.

  Matilda walked over to a table against the wall, grabbing the clean basin of water and a fresh linen, then held it up for William to use. Forcing a grateful smile, William muttered his thanks and eagerly dipped his dirty hands in the basin, rubbing them together before splashing water on his face. When he took the linen and dried himself, his gaze landing on her for the briefest moment, Mary felt her heart flutter. Even when covered in grime, he was a handsome man. But beneath the layer of dirt was the beautiful, chiseled face she had grown to cherish. Much like the man himself, he could hide behind a gruff, outer exterior, but Mary was quickly learning that beneath the surface was a caring, loyal, and honorable man whose good heart guided his every decision, including the one to marry her.

  “I am going to go tend to Lizzie now…” Matilda stepped around William and attempted to leave, but Mary ran over and grabbed her arm.

  “Ye cannae leave me unattended with a man in my chamber, Matilda. ’Tis unseemly.”

  Snorting, Matilda looked down at Mary’s belly and crooked a brow. “Do ye wish to tell me more about what is unseemly behavior, Mary? Besides, he is yer betrothed.”

  “Nobody kens that!”

  “The ones who matter do. I must go.” Matilda shut the door before Mary could stop her. Alone in her chamber with a dirty, grieving, and bloodlusting William, Mary cleared her throat and stood still, having no idea what more to do or say.

  “I am sorry I yelled at ye.” William turned to look at her and she smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Which time?” she asked wryly.

  “Every time, Mary. Ye dinnae deserve my ire. Ye are all that is good in this world.”

  His words went straight to her heart, but she knew he was hurting right now and vulnerable. Reading too much into it would do her no good. She knew he found her bonnie, and that was all she could ask for. Any affection could not be expected, though she shocked herself with how strongly she hoped for him to one day feel about her the way she felt about him. It was thrilling and frightening all at once, laced with grief and guilt for loving another man.

  “Well, I dinnae ken about that, but I am sorry, William. May I be of any help?”

  “I do ken it, Mary. I am sorry for all of this. I have brought danger to Drum. I dinnae deserve ye.”

  “Hush now, William. None of that is true. We dinnae ken what happened yet. There are those who are capable of such evil acts in all clans. It could have been an I
rvine, as hard as it seems to believe. Even a Keith. We dinnae ken, William. And ’tis I who dinnae deserve ye. Ye are a laird, so brave, strong, handsome, and loyal to those ye love. I am naught but a servant lass who carries a dead man’s child.”

  “Dinnae ye say that, damn it all, Mary! Ye are verra free with yer words and I dinnae ken how ye can believe such things about yerself. I see the strongest, wittiest, most beautiful woman I have ever kenned. Alexander was a fortunate man to have yer love.”

  Biting her lip, Mary was not certain what was happening, or how they went from speaking about the murder to speaking about love. Now felt like the right time to blurt out that she loved him, and yet it felt like the worst time ever. He was not thinking clearly and humiliating herself would only make things worse.

  “What can I do?” she whispered, pleading with her eyes to allow her to help him in some way.

  William took her hand in his and placed his forehead against hers. “Ye can tell me about Stephan, Mary. I dinnae ken if ye are safe here. The tournament has been canceled and Marjorie is raging in the hall. She doesnae seem to care that a man was killed. She only cares that she willnae have any more suitors. Who is Stephan, and what does he mean to ye?” She could hear the anguish in his voice, and Mary wondered if he cared for her more than she believed, after all.

  Taking a deep breath, Mary licked her lips and shook her head. “He was once my best companion as a wee lass. He became ill, and I didnae see him for months. I was never allowed to see or speak to Stephan, for fear that I would catch the pox, and then he was verra weak and his mother refused all visitors. I was only three and ten when I caught the eye of Alexander. He was the heir to Drum and, though I was the niece of the Laird of Cadzow, I was not worthy of a match with him. He needed a daughter or a sister of a laird, like Lizzie. I was naught but the youngest daughter to the second in line to the seat of Hamilton. By the time my uncle passed and my brother took the lairdship, ’twas too late. Alexander’s father had died and he was betrothed to Lizzie.”