Findley's Lass

by Suzan Tisdale

  Maggy shot to her feet, her hands balled into fists. “France? Nay! What of Liam?”

  “Well, Liam will stay here with me, of course. He’ll remain under my tutelage and care,” Brockton told her, still holding the same smug smile. “I’m sure that if you’re good to your new husband, he’ll allow ye to visit on occasion.”

  Maggy began to pace in front of the window. After everything she had done to keep her sons together, Brockton was tearing it all apart. And for what? Coin? Power? Simply because he could? It had absolutely nothing to do with what was best for Maggy or her sons and it had everything to do with Brockton being nothing more than a cruel, sadistic, and greedy man.

  Her mind raced as it tried to find a way out of this. Rowan was out riding with the boys and Wee William was in the hallway guarding her door. She could call for Wee William and ask him to break Brockton’s neck or throw him from the window. But within moments, Brockton’s men would descend upon her room and take them both prisoner for Brockton’s murder.

  Think, Maggy, think, she scolded herself. Do no’ let fear get in the way of doing what must be done!

  But try as she might, she could not come up with anything to persuade Brockton to delay the wedding. There was simply no way out of it. Her heart filled with dread and disgust. Findley, she thought to herself. She’d not get the chance to tell him how sorry she was, how thankful she was for all he’d done for her and for their time together. She would not be afforded a chance to say goodbye to him!

  Beatrice knocked gently and entered the room at Brockton’s command.

  “There ye are! Please, help yer lady to ready herself for her wedding. And pack her things up, for she’ll be leaving this afternoon.” Brockton told the maid without so much as another glance in her direction.

  Beatrice had just learned of the plans for Lady Margaret to marry the Frenchman. She’d come to her room immediately, knowing the news would be another blow to her spirits. In the hallway, she had relayed the news to the giant called Wee William.

  The look that had come to his face was enough to make her knees knock together in fear. He had her run back down the stairs to send someone to find Rowan and have him return to the castle immediately. By the time she returned to Maggy’s room, Beatrice was out of breath and shaking with trepidation.

  She flitted about in the large dressing room and waited for Brockton to leave. Poor Lady Margaret! Why must Laird Brockton be so cruel?

  “I hope ye burn in hell with yer nephew!” Maggy spat at him. “To the devil with ye!” she shouted as she picked up a book from the ledge by the window and threw it at him. The book landed against his shoulder with a thud and fell to the floor. Brockton shot to his feet, anger ablaze across his face.

  “Ye stupid wench! ’Tis that very attitude that brings ye nothing but trouble! Montague will break that high-spiritedness out of ye soon enough!”

  “Nay!” Maggy shot back. “I’ll no’ marry him and I’ll no’ go to France!” Her hands trembled and her legs shook. There had to be a way out of this. She couldn’t give up her sons!

  In a few strides, Brockton was standing in front of her. “Ye will!” he pointed his finger at her. “I’ll not have ye being insolent. Ye will marry Montague this very day, or I’ll have ye tied and drug to the convent!”

  Wee William heard the shouting and entered the room without knocking. He stood with one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other balled into a fist, waiting for Brockton to make a fatal mistake. If he touched one hair on Maggy’s head, Wee William would think nothing of breaking the man’s neck.

  “Are ye well, Maggy?” Wee William asked quietly.

  Maggy turned to look at him. “Aye,” she choked back tears. “Laird Brockton was just leaving.”

  Brockton might be cruel and unjust, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew there was no sense in raising the giant’s ire for they’d all be out of his hair before the day was out. He nodded at Maggy and quit the room in short order.

  As soon as he shut the door, Maggy collapsed into the chair by the window. Wee William and Beatrice came to her side and offered words of consolation.

  “Nay! All will not be well!” Maggy stammered. “He’s forcing me to marry Montague and I’ll never see me boys or Findley again!”

  “Wheest, lass,” Wee William said as he placed an arm on her shoulder. “I’ve sent for Rowan and the boys. We’ll think of some way out of this.”

  Maggy swallowed hard and looked up at him. “What? By runnin’? Nay, William, I canna run for the rest of me life! Me boys need a home. They need no’ to be lookin’ over their shoulders every day of their lives!”

  “But lass, what other option is there? We can hide ye at Gregor, keep ye out of harm’s way until we can figure out a way to be rid of Brockton,” Wee William offered.

  “And bring the wrath of the king upon all yer heads? What good would that do, William?” she wiped away the tears from her cheeks. Nay, she’d not ask anyone to give up their lives for her sake. She’d not put her sons in danger again.

  “Ye don’ mean to marry the Frenchman, do ye lady?” Beatrice asked, appalled at such a notion.

  “What other option do I have that will keep all of ye safe? What other option do I have to give me boys a future?” Maggy twisted her fingers in her hands.

  “Surely, there must be somethin’ we can do!” Beatrice pleaded.

  Maggy huffed. “Unless both Brockton and Montague drop dead before the noon day meal, then I’m afraid there are no other options.”

  The heaviness of the situation hung in the room like a thick and heavy fog. Each of them were lost in their own thoughts for quite some time.

  Maggy worried over her boys and what Findley would think of her marrying the Frenchman. Beatrice worried over the boys and wondered how long Maggy would survive being married to Montague.

  Wee William worried that Findley would not arrive in time to stop this madness.

  ~~~

  As her only way of protesting the marriage, Maggy chose to wear a simple gown of near black silk. She refused to have her hair done in any form of fashion and chose instead to wear a simple braid that hung down her back.

  Wee William had begged her to try to delay the wedding, at least for a few hours until he and Rowan could come up with an alternative. She refused, resolving to go through with the marriage in order to insure a safe future for her sons.

  Downing a stiff shot of good whiskey, she steeled her nerves to face her impending doom. Her only request was that the boys be kept away from the ceremony. Beatrice had volunteered to keep the boys quiet and in Maggy’s room while Rowan and Wee William stood guard over Maggy. Both believed she was making a dire mistake, and they had made a promise to Findley to keep watch over her. No matter how much they begged her to reconsider and wait for Findley, she could not be moved to change her mind.

  Rowan and Wee William led Maggy to the gathering room. Before entering, she paused at the arched doorway and gave each of them a warm hug. “I thank ye both, fer all ye’ve done,” she whispered. “I’ll never ferget either of ye.”

  Rowan and Wee William had the rest of their men spread throughout the gathering room. Both sent up silent prayers for God to somehow intervene and stop this sham of a marriage. The numbers of MacDougall men was matched by Brockton’s guards as well as Montague’s. Of course the MacDougall's were better trained and armed and could have easily taken charge of the situation. But out of respect for Maggy, Wee William and Rowan kept their tempers in check. Maggy was a stubborn lass and there was very little that Wee William or Rowan could do to stop the wedding.

  Maggy solemnly entered the gathering room and walked toward the dais where the priest stood. Brockton and Montague stood side by side in front of the priest waiting rather impatiently for Maggy to join them.

  The expression on Montague’s face when he saw her for the first time sickened her. He was shorter than she by a good two inches. His dark hair, slick with grease, was combed back and allowed full view of his r
epugnant face. Thin lips sat under a thin nose and his grey-green eyes appeared bloodshot.

  ’Twas lust she saw in those eyes; lust and the look of a man who’d just won some prize that he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. A shiver ran down her spine as she walked with her held high toward the two men who held not only her future, but her sons’ futures, in the palms of their greedy hands.

  Montague whispered something in Brockton’s ear, which brought forth a loud laugh. Maggy didn’t even want to guess what they spoke of. Without the usual pomp and circumstance of a traditional wedding, she marched resolutely to the dais, arms at her sides and her shoulders thrown back.

  With a nod to both men, she turned to the priest and curtsied.

  “You’re even more lovely than Brockton promised,” Montague whispered as they turned to look at the priest.

  Had the circumstances been different she would have told him that he was even more hideous than she imagined. She decided the best thing was to remain quiet.

  The priest began the ceremony to which Maggy didn’t listen. Her mind was elsewhere, far from here. She was somewhere safe, in Findley’s arms, while the boys played and laughed out of doors. The sun was shining in her daydream, and they hadn’t a care in the world.

  Lost as she was in her dreams, she didn’t hear the priest direct Montague to take her hand in his. It wasn’t until she felt his icy, claw-like hands take hers, that she was jolted her from her happy daydream.

  She gasped when she felt his fingers wrap around hers. She turned to look at Montague. That disgustingly haughty smile on his face repelled her even more than his touch. How could she come to him willingly, as a wife, when she couldn’t stand the sight of him? She would be dead before dawn.

  The priest had asked her a question that she had not heard. “Lady Margaret,” he repeated himself. “Do ye take this man?”

  It was in that moment that she realized she simply could not go through with it. How could she promise to love, honour and obey Montague? Reaching inside her own heart, she finally found the strength to protest.

  “Nay,” she said, her throat dry and barely audible.

  She felt Montague stiffen beside her and heard Brockton take in a deep breath. The priest looked very puzzled and repeated his question a third time.

  “I said nay. I do no’, I can no’ and I will no’ marry him!” Maggy cried as she twisted her hand from Montague’s grasp and fled the room.

  “Laird Brockton! You promised me the woman was ready and willing to do this!”

  “I thought she was, monsieur,” Brockton said as he gritted his teeth and watched Maggy running away. “Give me five minutes, and I guarantee the wench will be more than willing to proceed!” he nodded at Montague and went after Maggy.

  Wee William and Rowan had been standing across the room, watching, praying and hoping that Maggy would change her mind. Seeing the sheer anger on Brockton’s face, Wee William smiled. “Rowan, I think we better gather our men and prepare fer a fight!”

  Rowan returned Wee William’s smile and headed to give orders to their men while Wee William went to find Maggy and Brockton.

  ~~~

  “You stupid, ungrateful wench!” Brockton yelled as he slammed the door behind him. He had found Maggy hiding in the solar where she paced back and forth in front of the fire.

  “I canna do it! I will no’ marry that man!” she screamed back at him. “Send me to the convent, I dunna care anymore, but I swear, I’ll no marry that vile man!”

  Brockton locked the door, and headed toward Maggy. “Are ye sure of that? Are ye sure ye want to go to the convent and never see any of yer sons again?” he asked, standing just a step away from her.

  “Aye, I’m sure!” A life in the convent was preferable to marrying Montague. Anything would be better than that. Either way, she would never see her sons again.

  Brockton was seething, working his weak jaw back and forth. She was ruining everything! He had worked hard to broker this deal with Montague. The man had paid a small fortune for Maggy’s hand, a fortune that Brockton could ill afford to lose. With Maggy married and out of the country, Liam’s fortune and birthright would be in his complete control. And if anything unfortunate happened to the boy, he would get back everything Maggy had taken away these past few weeks by returning. She was supposed to have been dead!

  Unable to rein in his anger, he drew back his hand and slapped her across the face. The force of it knocked her to her knees.

  The room spun and bright sparks of light flittered in front of her eyes. Her face burned and her eyes watered, not from fear or pain, but from the bubbling anger that was fast turning to a boil. She looked up at him defiantly, “Ye bastard!”

  As she was scurrying to her feet, he bent over and yelled at her. “Ye are a stupid whore! I gave ye more chances than I should! I should have tripled yer poison the last time I had a chance!”

  So he was behind those attempts on her life! Silently she cursed him to hades. As tried to crawl away, a loud crash came from the other side of the room just as Brockton hit her again, throwing her back against the floor.

  When Wee William discovered the door was locked, he knew he couldn’t wait for someone to bring him a key, and he knew Brockton wouldn’t open it voluntarily. There was no time to waste. He kicked it down with one hard blow slamming it against the wall where it broke into several pieces.

  He hadn’t seen Brockton hit her the first time, but he had witnessed the second hard blow to her face. Instantly furious, Wee William thundered through the broken door, reaching Brockton in just a few long strides. Wee William grabbed him by the collar of his coat and flung him across the room as if he weighed no more than a piece of paper.

  Brockton landed on a chair, the force of it breaking the chair into pieces and knocking the wind out of him. Utter surprise filled his face, which quickly turned to fear when he saw Wee William approaching him again.

  Wee William picked him up by the front of his jacket and threw him against the wall. Framed paintings rattled and fell to the floor, as Brockton slid down to his arse.

  Wee William picked him up again, but this time, instead of tossing him about like a sack of leeks, he doubled his hand into a fist and slammed it across the man’s face.

  Blood poured from Brockton’s nose and lips, and a cut on his cheek as Wee William hit him again and again and again.

  “William!” Maggy was screaming at him. “William, stop!” ’Twasn’t that she really wanted him to stop the pounding he was giving Brockton. Nay, if she’d had her preference she’d let William kill him! But she knew Wee William could be charged with his death and that was something she could not bear to have happen.

  Maggy was pulling at Wee William, grabbing his tunic and trying to pull him away from Brockton. “Please, William! Stop it! Yer goin’ to kill him!”

  Wee William held back the punch he’d been prepared to send crashing into Brockton’s face and glanced over his shoulder at Maggy. “And what be yer point, lass?”

  She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry! “William! They’ll throw ye in the dungeon then ye’ll hang! I canna have ye hang for killin’ him!”

  “And I’ll no’ have him thinkin’ he can treat ye so harshly!” he turned back to Brockton who was limp, bloody, and probably wishing he was dead.

  “He’s no man! He’s a whoreson who needs to learn his manners!” Wee William spat on the floor and prepared to send another hard blow to the man’s face.

  Maggy grabbed his arm with both hands and he lifted her off the ground.

  “Lassie, I warn ye to let go! Let me finish the bugger off!”

  “Nay, William!” she was breathing heavily and hanging on for dear life. “I’ll no’ let ye go to the gallows! Leave him! Please, get me boys and leave before they discover him like this!”

  Wee William thought on the situation for a moment. Shaking his head and sighing heavily, he let go of Brockton as he lowered Maggy to the floor. Brockton groaned and slid down the wal
l slowly. He was unconscious and bleeding heavily from his face.

  “Lass,” Wee William said as he turned to face Maggy, “We need to get ye away from this place.”

  Maggy shook her head and stepped away from him. “Nay, just take me boys and be gone from here, William. When they discover him like this, ye’ll hang fer certain,” she pleaded with him.

  “I made a promise to Findley, lass, to keep ye safe until he returns fer ye,” Wee William took a step toward her. “I canna break that promise.”

  Tears welled in her eyes at the mention of Findley’s name. “William, I ken ye made that promise, and I ken ye mean well. But I’ve told ye before that Findley and I can no’ be together!” She swiped the tears away with the back of her hand. “As long as Brockton lives, there’ll be no peace fer us.”

  A low growl escaped Wee William’s throat. “Then why did ye no’ let me kill him?” She was an exasperating woman!

  “Because I canna let ye go to the gallows! He’s no’ worth it!”

  Wee William growled again, realizing she was indeed stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. As long as Brockton lived, he would never make her life a living hell. But if Wee William killed him, he definitely would be sent to the gallows. And with the kind of friends Brockton had, Maggy would probably be sent as well.

  Maggy turned away from William and felt weak for crying so much of late. She was not a weak woman, but these ups and downs her emotions were going through were beginning to take their toll.

  “Lass, please, let us take ye to Gregor! Marry Findley and let the chips fall where they may!”

  “Do ye no’ think I haven’t thought of that? Do ye no’ think that I do no’ lay awake each night trying to find a way to be with him?” She took a deep breath and tried to settle her nerves. “’Tis all I do each night, William! I miss him so much that it hurts to breathe! And where is he? Why have we no’ heard from him? If truly he loved me…” she let her words trail off, not wanting to admit that that had been one of her fears lately.

  If he truly loved her, would he not have returned by now? Why the long weeks of silence without a word from him? Why had he not at least sent a messenger to let them know where he was or what he was doing?