Like a Laird to a Flame

by Pride, Mia

  “I dinnae deserve any of ye,” she cried. “Thank ye, for everything.”

  “Bollocks. Ye deserve the world, Mary, and I will spend every day of my life making certain ye have it.” William picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently while she just looked at him in awe before looking at her child and loved ones surrounding her. They had gone through so much to be here, to plan this. Her throat constricted with emotions as she tried to push them down.

  “If ye dinnae mind, we have scores of Irvines, Hamiltons, and Keiths in the cathedral awaiting a bride and bridegroom. The men need to leave so we may get Mary ready,” Matilda demanded, never one to linger on sentiments.

  Shooing the men out as James carried wee William, Matilda shut the door behind them and turned to look at Mary and flashed a grin Mary knew all too well. “Are ye ready to become William’s wife? Or did we just force ye into something ye dinnae want? Say the word, and I will hie his arse back to Dunnottar with naught but Marjorie for company.”

  Laughing, Mary nodded and shifted in the bed. “I do want this, Tilda. More than I ever suspected I would. Ye were right about yer brother, Lizzie. I have grown to love him verra much.”

  “Aye, I ken it. I heard what was seen when James arrived, and though I am pleased that my match worked as well as I believed, I can do without the details, ye ken.”

  Blushing, Mary put her hand on her cheeks. “I vow never to bore ye with the details.”

  “Good. Now, let’s make a bride of ye!” Elizabeth said with excitement and both women surrounded Mary, giggling like wee lasses.

  Mary closed her eyes and enjoyed Matilda’s careful and gentle hand as she brushed Mary’s hair and hid her wound. Though her days seemed to blend together, her body ached, and she vowed she could sleep for three days straight, Mary looked at her mother’s wedding dress and all her worries, pain, and tiredness vanished. Today, she would marry William Keith, who turned out to be a gem of a man hidden beneath his rough, hard exterior. Once he showed who he was inside, he glowed with love and loyalty, and she would treasure him and the day Elizabeth sat them beneath the mistletoe until her last breath.

  Waiting for Mary in front of her chamber door, William paced back and forth, anxious to wed the only woman he would ever love. She was everything he could ever want, and she loved him despite all his faults and mistakes.

  “Ye will wear a hole in the stone floors if ye keep up yer pacing,” James said from behind him, holding wee William as he slept.

  “I wish to marry yer sister before she changes her mind,” William scoffed, adjusting the Keith plaid resting across his shoulders just over his surcoat.

  “She would be a fool to.” That was the most William could ever expect as a compliment from her brother so, nodding, he decided to accept it.

  When the door opened, Mary stood before him with Elizabeth and Matilda helping to hold her up. He knew she was weak and tired, but before him stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with her red waves carefully twisted up to hide her wound, a blue ribbon and his mistletoe delicately woven through. Her mother’s blue silk dress fit her as if it had been created just for her, with long, flowing sleeves that went past her wrists and a neckline high enough to modestly cover her breasts. Her Hamilton plaid was draped and tied expertly across her shoulder to show her clan pride and he could not wait to see her wrapped up in nothing but his Keith plaid as soon as he could get her unclothed and into his bed once she was healed.

  “Is something the matter, Will?” Doubt laced her tone, and he snapped out of his daze.

  “The only thing that is wrong, is that ye arenae yet my wife, and we must correct that now. Ye look beautiful, Mary.”

  “Aye, ye do.” Looking his sister up and down, James seemed to glow with pride. “Now, hold yer son, Mary, so I may help William walk ye there,” he said gruffly, and William enjoyed watching James squirm every time he attempted to be sentimental.

  “I have a better idea.” William swooped her off her feet. Mary squealed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “’Tis a long walk and I want ye to be able to stand for the ceremony.”

  “Och, ye arenae wedded just yet. Ye cannae carry the bride!” James protested halfheartedly from behind, but William ignored him.

  Giving her a soft, sweet kiss, William began to walk down the long corridor with his bride in his arms. She was so light, so frail, and he hoped she was strong enough for a quick ceremony. “Are ye certain ye want this, Mary? ’Tis not too late. We can wait until ye have more strength.”

  “Nay, Will. I am ready. I can do this.” Mary kissed his forehead, and they continued toward the cathedral where kin from three clans awaited them as James walked behind with their new son.

  As the crowd quieted and parted for William, he saw Father Benjamin standing in front of the altar, a smile on his wrinkled cheeks, clearly happy to be performing their marriage. When William set Mary on her feet and supported her weight, James handed wee William to her and stood on her other side as the women in the crowd pointed and cooed when they saw wee William’s face.

  “I am pleased to see that Mary has so many who love her and have come all this way to prove it,” the priest said in his shaky voice. “We see so many come through those doors and their stories seldom have a happy ending. I am grateful to give ye yers, my lady. Few people are as spirited and strong as ye.”

  “My thanks, Father,” Mary smiled, holding her bairn and looking up at William with a gleam in her eyes that let him know just how happy she truly was.

  The priest began the ceremony in the traditional Latin language, reciting a few liturgies before jumping into the Gaelic vows, knowing Mary was not strong enough to stand for overlong.

  “Blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give ye my body, that we two might be one. I give ye my spirit, ’til our life shall be done.” They repeated these vows in tandem, and William stared into her bright hazel eyes and watched as a small tear dripped out of the corner of one side, running down her cheek. Gently wiping it away, William smiled. “I love ye,” he silently mouthed, and she did the same, turning pink in the cheeks, yet smiling sheepishly. Never in his life had he expected to love a woman with his entire being, so purely, so earnestly, so suddenly. A sennight ago, William was in misery as he evaded Marjorie, knowing he needed a wife, yet having no desire to wed for convenience. Now, he wed for love of the bonniest lass in Scotland.

  A candle behind Mary flickered, and the flutter of a moth circling its flame caught his eyes. Momentarily allowing his gaze to land on the wee insect, how it desired the light and heat, drawn to its mesmerizing flare, unaware that succumbing to the fire’s song would set him ablaze, William suddenly understood why a moth would dare to dance with fire. Mary was his flame, and he the moth, caught in her embrace, willing to risk all simply to be warmed by her glow. She emanated comfort when she was calm, raged like an inferno when she was angry, and William would gladly stand outside her fire, grateful to simply be touched by its warmth for all his life.

  “Will?” Mary whispered his name and he snapped his gaze back to her, the fire that had lit his entire life aflame. “Rings? Have we any rings?”

  Stepping forward, Robert handed the priest two rings and smiled at them both. “They are mine and Lizzie’s. Ye will need yer own in due time, but every union to wear those rings for the past two centuries has a been a long, blessed, and happy one.” Taking wee William from Mary’s arms and stepping back into the crowd, William watched as Robert gently handed the bairn to Elizabeth and reverently touched her abdomen like another hopeless moth caught in the eternal flame of a woman. The two plain bands of silver were blessed by the priest, then he handed one to him, and one to Mary. Once more vows were exchanged, James pulled out his dagger and tore off a piece of each of their plaids, watching as they tied them together in a knot, symbolically uniting the two clans.

  Father Benjamin announced them officially married, and the crowd cheered as William gently took Mary in his arms and
looked down at her glowing face. “Dinnae look now, Mary, but I do believe there is mistletoe above us.” Looking up, Mary saw Robert holding a fresh sprig over her head and she tilted her head back to laugh.

  “I suppose that means we must kiss, Sir William Keith, for I hear ’tis bad fortune not to.” Mary fluttered her lashes and flashed him a wry smile.

  “Well, we cannae allow that, now can we, Lady Mary Keith?”

  Gently pulling her into his embrace, William kissed her softly at first, deepening it slightly before pulling away. He had the rest of his life to ravish his wife. They were bound together forever. But for now, she needed rest. Though she smiled and looked around at the crowd, he could see the tiredness in her eyes. She had given birth less than a day ago and, strong woman that she was, it was William’s job to make certain she was well cared for.

  Scooping her up in his arms, the crowd cheered once more, and William turned to James. “Am I allowed to carry her now, Brother?”

  “Aye, ye are her husband now, and I trust ye with her life.” Those words, spoken so matter-of-factly, meant the world to William as he walked through the cathedral, holding his wee wife in his arms while their clans surrounded them with celebratory shouts and well wishes.

  Arriving at her chamber, William carried his new wife over the threshold and gently placed her on the bed. “There ye are, safe from the spirits that haunt the threshold, my love,” he jested and sat down beside her.

  Mary went white for the briefest of moments and looked over his shoulder at the corner of the room. Turning his own head, he saw naught but an unlit candle in a brass holder and a table with a basin. “Are ye all right, Mary?”

  “Aye. Just… looking for something I once lost,” she said cryptically, taking his hand in hers with a smile. “But I have all I need, as long as I have ye and wee William.”

  Elizabeth walked through the door carrying the bairn and gently handed him over to Mary. “I am so pleased, Mary. We are sisters now! Ye have made my arse of a brother verra happy.”

  “Hey, what did I do to deserve that?” he asked, scowling at his sister.

  “Do ye remember when ye were a wee lad, and ye would always spit on yer finger and shove it into my ear? ’Twas disgusting. Ye ken ye are an arse, Will.” Winking at Mary, Elizabeth crossed the room and left, gently shutting the door behind her.

  “I dinnae remember such a thing… but I will do my best to make certain wee William never torments his wee sisters,” William said with a mischievous grin and stood from the bed, looking at Mary. “How are ye feeling, my love?”

  “Like the most fortunate woman in all of Scotland, nay, the world.” Gripping her hand, he saw her eyes fluttering closed and knew she had used up all her energy.

  “Then I must be the most fortunate man,” he replied. “Ye are tired, Mary, and the bairn must eat. Shall I help ye remove yer mother’s dress so ye can be comfortable?” Mary nodded and he did as requested, unlacing the bodice and slowly working it down her shoulders and over her hips, pulling it down her legs until she was only in her under tunic. She was the most beautiful woman, and she was his. One day soon, he would make sweet love to her again, but for now, he simply climbed into the bed beside her and their son, watching as she fed the bairn, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of her body as it nurtured wee William.

  “I love ye, Mary. My entire world rests in this bed, and when ye are well enough to travel, we will leave for Dunnottar, where ye will be my lady and we will raise many bairns, making love as the waves of the ocean crash against our cliffs. We shall be happy there together, forever.” Kissing her lips one last time, William nuzzled into her side and closed his eyes, wondering how a fool like him had won the love of such a woman, and grateful for once that his sister was more stubborn than he. But, he would never admit that she was always right.

  Contentment flowed through her like the calm rocking of the sea, cradling her in its soothing embrace. William’s soft breath grazed her arms while he slept, and she watched the rise and fall of his strong chest. Wee William finished nursing and fell fast asleep in her arms.

  Mary had been broken. Just a sennight ago, she believed she would never love again, never know happiness with another man. So much had happened in such a short time, and when she recounted the days since the beginning of the Yule and all that had transpired, she realized an entire lifetime could unfold in just a matter of days when one least expected it. She had agreed to marry William for protection, but never had she expected to grow so profoundly in love with him. Though she would miss her kin at Drum, Mary looked forward to a new beginning at Dunnottar, being able to put her skills to use and help the Keith Clan. She knew she would visit Drum often, but not being haunted by Alexander’s memory around every corner would be a welcome change.

  When she thought of the man she had lost on Harlaw Field that day, a sadness still tugged at her stomach. He’d had so much life to live. But, she found that the harsh, stinging slash of pain that had once felt like a mortal wound, now felt like a tender bruise, only painful when touched. And yet, she could smile now, knowing he was living on in their son and was never truly lost. She had found love again, had found life.

  Looking at the unlit candle in the corner of the room, Mary sighed and wondered if she had truly seen Alexander while birthing William, or if it was a mere consequence of her addled brain. “Look what we created, Alex,” she whispered with a smile. “Thank ye for loving me and giving me the greatest gift a man can give a woman. Rest easy kenning William will love him as well as we do.”

  Yawning, Mary snuggled her sleeping bairn against her chest and nuzzled closer to William, feeling her eyes growing heavy as the desperate need for sleep pulled her away.

  A second before her eyes closed, she swore she saw the candle flicker to life in the corner, but when she blinked and focused her gaze, the flame was out, nothing but a wisp of smoke drifting from its wick.

  Alexander was finally at peace, and so was she.

  Author Note

  Hello, lovely reader! Thank you so much for reading “Like a Laird to a Flame”! There is so much history wound into the fabric of this book, so I want to take a moment to go through some fun facts about my characters. The best part of being a historical author is doing all the research on people who lived hundreds of years ago, taking the knowledge you can find, and filling in the blanks to create a story that brings them back to life. I strive to keep them relatable. They are flawed. They have goals, fears, less desirable traits, and hurdles to climb, but they come out the other side better people. Isn’t that always our goal, as well?

  First, let us discuss Sir William Keith who was Laird of Dunnottar Castle, a knight, and Marischal of Scotland, which was a title passed down to the Laird of Dunnottar since the days of the Bruce. The Marischal’s responsibility was to protect the king during meetings of Parliament. In the winter of 1411 when this book takes place, King James I of Scotland was still imprisoned by the English, so he would have been protector of the regent, who was King James’s uncle, Robert Stewart, who was known as a villain and likely the cause of the king’s elder brother’s death, a powerplay for the throne.

  William was Elizabeth Keith’s elder brother, so he was closely tied to the Irvines through the marriage of Elizabeth to Alexander Irvine before he died in Harlaw in July of 1411. She then was made to marry Robert, which is all explained in book one, “For Love of a Laird”. William married a woman named Mary Hamilton, who in reality likely never knew the Irvines before her marriage to him, much less had a child with Alexander, though she and William did have a son also named William, and one named Alexander. So, I sort of combined the two.

  Mary Hamilton was born in Cadzow, and her brother was James Hamilton, 5th Laird of Cadzow. Their mother was a Hamilton, and their father remains unknown. Perhaps he was an Irvine? In the story, I switched it and had her father as a Hamilton and her mother an Irvine, so she would end up back on Irvine lands when her father passed, crossing paths with Alexander and bef
riending Elizabeth, who would introduce her to William. It was all my master plan! Muahahaha! Together, Mary and William had four braw laddies!

  Let’s discuss this interesting character that I introduced to the story: Archibald Douglas, 4th Earl of Douglas. He was from a line of Douglases known as the “Black Douglases” for having been involved in many dark deeds through the generations. In fact, Archibald Douglas likely played a role in helping to capture King James in the early 15th century, which is even darker when you consider that he was married to the king’s younger sister, Margaret. So, why would the Irvines consider an alliance with this man? Well, the Douglases were obviously a very well-connected family and owned much land spread across Scotland. They made a formidable foe, but they would make a mighty ally.

  I have no idea if the Douglases were ally or foe to the Irvines, though they are not listed as an enemy clan. But, he really did have a daughter named Marjorie who was the youngest of five children. I imagine by the time it came time to marry her off, he simply wished to be done with it. He wasn’t very kind to her in the story, was he? Hopefully, the real Archibald at least treated his daughter with more respect. There is no record of who Marjorie married, but a good match would be expected. She was of royal stock, after all, and her attitude proves that she knew as much. But, I plan to help Marjorie grow and mature under Elizabeth’s tutelage and, hopefully, we will get to see her make a good match eventually.

  Whether Reginald Irvine was their brother is debatable. Almost all records only show two sons belonging to Robert Irvine, 2nd Laird of Drum: Alexander and Robert. However, in my very thorough research, I did find mention of a Reginald Irvine in old documents, so he did exist in some way, whether a brother or a cousin. I felt I needed to include him in my stories. As a third brother, he is certainly more lighthearted and carefree, as the weight of the lairdship does not fall on his shoulders. But, he is loyal and fierce at the same time. I enjoy his character very much and have BIG plans for him in book three. If you want a clue, the title is called “Maid for the Knight”. I wonder which maid it could be? I shall let you think about that until it comes out in a few months!