by Pride, Mia
A shadow appeared in the corner of the room where the candle had gone out, casting a long shadow over the wall. She saw him. He was as faint as the very smoke filling the room, but he was there, standing tall and flashing the mischievous grin that had made her once fall in love with him. “Alex…”
The figure nodded, staring at her though he seemed to be fading. “’Tis not yer time, lass. Ye have a long life to live, yet. William will take care of ye and our son. I am sorry it cannae be me, but I want ye happy, Mary. I shall always love ye… be free of me.” Mary blinked back the tears that ran down her face, and when she opened her eyes, he was gone and the candle was lit once more.
“Alexander!” Crying out, Mary heaved as hard as she could, using all the residual strength she did not know she even had, feeling her child being ripped from her body, hearing the cry of new life entering the room.
“’Tis a lad!” the nun whispered reverently. “A stout lad, at that. Just like his father, aye?”
Mary looked at the corner once more and felt her chest tighten with a slurry of emotions. The candle’s flame burned brightly once more, and the shadow was gone. “Aye, just like his father.” Wiping away her torrent of tears, Mary watched the nun wipe her son clean and wrap him in a blanket before handing him over to her.
Holding her child for the first time, Mary smelled his head, full of thick blond hair the same color as his father’s. Her heart was overflowing with love. The most perfect human lay within her arms, and she would die a million times over to keep him safe. All the pain endured to bring him into this world was worth every moment, and she now understood why women had ten children… mayhap not ten, but at least four, she decided.
“Greetings, wee lad. Welcome to the world. I am yer mama.” He whimpered and moved his lips, pushing against her chest.
“He is hungry!” Moving forward, the prioress helped Mary pull her under tunic down, allowing her breast to be freed, her son immediately latching on to the nipple like a starved kitten.
“But, I dinnae have any milk yet,” she whispered, suddenly worried that her child would starve.
“Och, of course, ye do. See there?” Looking down, Mary noticed her other breast was already leaking as a large wet spot formed on the fabric covering the nipple. “God is a wonderful creator, isnae he?” The prioress smiled and patted Mary’s arm. “All ye need to provide him with is nourishment and love, lass. The rest will be provided for ye. I will go get William now. He must be going half-mad.” The nun shuffled out of the room, and Mary smiled down at her new son as he instinctively fed from her body. It truly was a miracle. He was perfect.
When he opened his eyes for the first time, looking up at her while he nursed, she saw his hazel eyes and grinned. It was too early to tell, but it appeared he would be the perfect combination of her and his father.
The door opened once more and William immediately strode in, coming to her side with a hesitant smile. “Mary.” Standing beside her, he touched her son’s wee head and chuckled. “He is a braw laddie, isnae he? He is perfect,” William whispered and looked her in the eyes, his features softening. “Are ye all right? I have been worried over ye. I was afraid I would lose ye.”
Weakness weighed down her limbs, and she felt as if she would fall asleep and never wake up, but she was hale and whole. “I will be fine, Will. Dinnae fash.” Her son continued to suckle at her breast and William stared in awe.
Leaning over, William whispered hotly into her ear. “’Tis a fine thing I had a wee taste of them before he came along. I suspect he will be occupying them from now on.” William waggled his brows and Mary felt flushed at the memory of his mouth on her body.
“I suppose he shall,” she said with a giggle. “He seems verra eager to feed.” Releasing him from her breast, Mary shifted him in her arms, struggling to remove her other nipple from behind her under tunic.
William reached over and pulled the other side down her shoulder, so her son could latch on to the next breast. “Thank ye,” she murmured while trying to get him back on. It was not quite as easy as she had suspected it would be but knew with practice, she would master the skill.
“What have ye decided to name him?” William asked, staring at her son’s wee face with a grin as wide as she had ever seen. “Will ye name him after his father?”
Looking at William, another round of tears began to blur her eyes, and Mary sniffled, doing her best to choke them back. “Aye, I believe that I shall.”
Nodding, William kneeled to the ground and looked her son in his hazel eyes. “Alexander is a fine name for any young man,” When he stroked a finger over the bairn’s soft cheek, Mary knew she was making the very best decision with her son’s name.
“Aye, ’tis,” Mary whispered, placing a hand on William’s forearm. “But I believe he looks more like a William, dinnae ye think?”
Tearing his gaze away from the bairn, William’s eyes widened before crinkling at the corners. “Ye will name him William?”
“Aye. After his father. Ye are his father, arenae ye?” Tilting her head, she cocked a brow at him. The look of surprise mixed with pride in his eyes warmed her heart.
“I am, aye,” he answered, his voice croaking as he pushed back emotions. “And I am honored.”
“William.” Taking his hand in hers, she squeezed it and looked him in the eyes. “I am in love with ye. Ye ken that, aye?”
Shaking his head, he closed his eyes for a moment and then looked at her once more. “Nay, I didnae ken that. Ye never said as much, and I assumed ye still loved Alex.”
“I will always love Alex. But I am in love with ye, Will. There is a difference; a verra important difference.”
“I love ye, Mary, and I already love wee William more than I have ever loved another. We are a family now.” Stroking her cheek, William scanned her face, his bright eyes crinkling at the edges as he seemed to contemplate something. “May I make one request, love?” Mary nodded and looked down at wee William, wondering how she had created such a perfect bairn. “I would like to request that he have Alexander as his second name. After all, he wouldnae be here if not for him.”
“William Alexander Keith. I do like the sound of that. Thank ye, Will. Ye are a verra special man. I am sorry I gave ye so much grief before. Ye ken I can be a stubborn woman.”
“Well, I am sorry if I ever gave ye cause to give me grief. I ken I am also stubborn. But, I do believe I have met my match, and I look forward to losing many a battle to ye for the rest of my life.”
The thought of battle made Mary snap out of the moment, shifting her son in her arms as he finished feeding. “Speaking of battle, I am worried for those at Drum Castle, William. Stephan…”
“Dinnae fash, love. James is on his way there now with orders to command the Hamiltons and Keiths on my behalf. We have learned that Stephan meant to start a feud between the clans, and we will make certain he doesnae succeed.”
Breathing deeply, Mary shifted in the bed and propped her head upon his shoulder. “I wish to be away from here. I want to go home.”
“I wish to take ye home, but ye just gave birth and yer head wound is still paining ye greatly. What ye need to do is rest. I shall remain here with ye until James returns. I wish to help at Drum, but I willnae leave ye here alone. When it is safe, he will come for us. Then, we can be properly wed and go home to Dunnottar. Would ye like that, my love?”
Her heart lifted, as did the weight on her shoulders. As long as William was here with her, she could rest easy knowing they were safe. Her entire body ached and the trauma from her attack was still too fresh. “Aye, I trust ye, and I trust James to do all he can to protect Drum. He is headstrong and prideful, but he isnae a fool. He can be trusted to resolve this, I vow.”
The prioress arrived once more with two other nuns and fresh linens, ready to clean Mary up after the birth, and she was anxious to be out of her misery. Already, it took all her strength to keep her eyes open. Yawning, Mary handed her bairn to William and sighed. Ta
king their son carefully, William’s face made Mary’s stomach flutter. He was so serene, fascinated by wee William.
For now, she was safe. Worry for her kin at Drum still had her in knots, yet there was naught she could do but depend on her arse of an elder brother to do what he did best and command those around him to his will.
Closing her eyes, she drifted away to the sweet sound of her child’s coos, knowing he was wrapped in the embrace of a man who truly loved him. Was her experience with Alexander’s spirit real or just a machination of her overeager mind to see him one last time? Mayhap it was caused by her head wound. She would likely never know but preferred to believe that he would be with them always.
Chapter Twelve
The moment he arrived back at Drum, his hackles immediately warned him of discontent. There were no sounds of war, but it was quiet: too quiet. Looking around, James saw no sign of the men who usually guarded the perimeter, controlling those who come in and out of the castle. It was midday, and the snow was a blinding blanket of glittering ice as far as he could see, with naught but the towering height of Drum before him.
Riding into the inner bailey and approaching the stables, he saw an elderly man grooming a large, black stud and immediately dismounted, pulling his own horse closer by the reins.
“Good afternoon, Sir James. Have ye come to control yer men?” The man’s voice quivered with a lifetime of use, but a tinge of distaste laced his tone.
Though James was several ranks above this man, he knew he had endangered everyone simply by being a raging fool, arriving with the need for recompense upon his sister and the Hamilton good name. Yet, he had not given anyone a chance to speak over his angry demands.
“Indeed, I have, good man. I apologize, but I have forgotten yer name.”
Squinting curiously at James, the man cleared his throat. “My name is Finlay, though I suspect I am of no consequence to a man of yer rank. I will only say this: I have lived on Irvine lands the entirety of my five and sixty years on this earth. Many will call me naught but an old eejit, but I have seen much. Yet, never have I seen such a display of pompous power as I witnessed with yer arrival. And may God strike me dead for speaking my mind to a man who outranks me, but if I die today, then I die kenning I said what I must. Ye have endangered my people… Mary’s people, ye ken.”
Shame fell over James like a heavy, wet blanket, weighing him down. “Have ye a sister, Finlay?”
“Once, aye.”
“And what would ye do if ye received a missive that she was ready to bear the child of a man who thought she was well enough to lie with, but not to marry? And that his kin hid it from yers to hide their shame, and hers? What would ye do?”
Licking his old, cracked lips, Finlay shuffled his feet and went back to brushing the black horse standing patiently before him.
“I reckon I would be terribly insulted and out for blood. However, I would have allowed her to speak before carrying her away and dishonoring her before all those she loved. I wouldnae have come with a score of men, but I suppose a lowly man such as me doesnae have such means.”
Finlay’s point was taken. Nodding, James allowed his shame to seep deep into his bones. He deserved the lashing he was receiving. “What is afoot within the walls?” James jerked his head toward the castle and handed Finlay the reins to his horse.
“Yer men have turned on the Irvines without their laird to command them otherwise. They have released the Douglases from the cellar and currently have our laird, lady, and Sir Reginald held prisoner within their own walls. The rest of yer men have banned up with the Douglases and Keiths, who found a bloodied Irvine plaid and believe them guilty of Sir Brian’s murder. Because ’tis the Yule, no fighting has commenced, but I dinnae ken how long that shall last, and though my people have done naught wrong, we are all in danger, surrounded by scores of warriors from other clans with no lairds to command them.”
“Ye ken a lot for ‘lowly man’,” James replied, wondering how he could know so much.
“Aye. I do. Ye think after all these years I dinnae have my sources? That I simply stay within the stables and pet the horses? All the townsfolk are hidden away in their homes while the women and children of the castle are locked in the tower… except for our lady, who is imprisoned.” The man scowled. “I refuse to hide. Let them run me through. I will die caring for the creatures I have vowed to protect. I cannae control the fate of men, but I will care for these wee beasts until I die, even if that day is today.”
“It shallnae. My thanks, Finlay.” James stormed off, having heard enough. He required that information so he understood what he was up against, but time was not on Drum’s side, and James needed to get inside and fix what he had helped to create.
Boots cutting a path through the fresh, unpacked snow, James ran toward the entrance of the keep, heart pounding in his chest and regret squeezing his heart like an angry fist, cursed fool that he had been. But he would resolve this, on the honor of his kin.
Attempting to open the door, he growled with frustration when he met resistance. Banging his fist, James roared. “’Tis the Laird of Cadzow! Open the damned doors!”
Only a moment passed before he heard movement on the other side. The door opened slowly and he saw the familiar face of his best warrior. “Let me in, Sir Walter.” Not awaiting permission, James rammed the door with his shoulder, and Walter moved aside.
Chaos reigned within the hall, and James searched the room, taking stock of the situation. Shouting curses and threats came from every corner, the Irvine warriors held against the wall of their own home while Hamiltons, Keiths, and Douglases wielded swords and shouted profanities in tandem. It was hard to distinguish the clustered threats and curses, but James understood enough to know that a feud had begun and it was ready to turn violent.
Enough of this. Putting his fingers in his mouth, James released a deafening whistle that made every man in the hall go silent immediately and turn in his direction. “Stand down!” he roared, pulling out his own sword and narrowing his hazel gaze on all the men. “I speak on behalf of the Laird of Dunnottar, as well, who is at the kirk attending my sister. He sent me in his stead to command his men. Put yer swords away and let the Irvines go!”
The Keiths hesitated, but his Hamilton men obeyed. “Our laird wouldnae ask us to stand down if he kenned the truth! An Irvine killed our man!” one of the Keiths shouted, refusing to comply. The others nodded and grumbled their agreement, keeping the Irvines captive and refusing to move.
“Aye, ’tis the truth.” Archibald Douglas stepped forward, looking as pompous as ever with a smirk that resembled a cat who had caught a mouse. “The plaid was found covered in blood. ’Tis undeniable evidence of treachery. The Irvines dishonored yer sister, my daughter, and their peace with the Keiths. They couldnae prevent the spilling of blood between their clans for even the Yuletide.” Archibald spat on the ground and walked slowly toward James. “All Lady Elizabeth went though to achieve peace between the Irvines and clans, being pawned from father to son to son, was for naught. And yer sister paid the price with the bastard she carries. My men willnae stand down. ’Tis time to rid this land of the Irvines and form our own alliance.”
The Douglas men nodded and shouted their consent, shaking their swords and pointing them more forcefully at the necks of the unarmed Irvine men.
“Yer men have no honor, taking arms against unarmed men,” James scowled, but the Black Douglas only shrugged, proving to be the dishonorable cad James had always suspected him to be. “Why do the Douglases draw arms? I dinnae see any cause.”
Archibald’s face turned red as his bluster piqued. “They invited us here for the Yule, only to lock me away in that dank cellar on a false charge of murder! My men were forced down there and held captive. This is naught more than justice! My daughter was humiliated!”
Stepping even closer to the Douglas, James gritted his teeth and clenched his sword until his knuckles cracked. “Listen carefully, all of ye!” he demanded and
then focused once more on Archibald. “Do ye think to blame others for her treatment when ye made her bleed? I cannae command the Douglases, but I can command the Keiths, by order of their laird who will have their hides if they dinnae comply!” His vision blurred from the rage he felt, much of it directed at himself for having contributed to the mess.
“Aye. We ken an Irvine killed a Keith. Yer laird kens this, as well.” The Keiths shouted and raised their swords, demanding revenge and blood. “Silence!” The room verily shook with the deep command of his voice, and every man quieted once more. “We also ken which man did it. Stephan Irvine was working with The Douglas to turn everyone against the Irvines!”
The crowd of warriors became restless once more, but an air of uncertainty now resounded in their mutterings. The Irvine men did not seem at all shocked to hear that Stephan was involved in such a plot, though their faces of contempt proved their disapproval of the man.
“That is a bald-faced lie! I should kill ye where ye stand for spouting such nonsense!”
“The man confessed it himself while he was attacking my sister! He wrote that missive and mentioned the kirk, kenning I would show up and take her away! He killed Brian in his sleep after he heard him rejecting Marjorie. Not only did it place the blame on the Douglases, but it also was naught more than a distraction, so when I showed up to take Mary away, he could sneak out and follow behind. But The Douglas kenned this, didnae he? He kenned he would be blamed for the murder. That gave him a reason to turn on the Irvines. He kenned the bloody plaid would be found, making the Keiths turn on the Irvines, as well. The Hamiltons would turn on the Irvines for dishonoring the sister of their laird, and the Irvines would be outnumbered and easy prey!”
James looked around and was pleased to see the men listening, turning their hot gazes toward the Douglases. “Their treachery kens no bounds and I command the Hamiltons and Keiths to stand down from the Irvines and turn yer gazes and swords on the true enemy amongst us: Archibald Douglas!”