The swift hand of the blonde headed warrior swung out and landed on the Englishman’s nose. Blood spurted and began to run down his upper lip and across the side of his face.
“I hate the English,” the warrior told him as he pushed his arm across the fool’s chest. “Especially those that beat their women.”
“Ye utter another word, ye coward, and I’ll rip yer tongue out and feed it to ye through yer arse!” Wee William shouted angrily across his shoulder.
He looked back to the young woman as he sat down on the bed. Suddenly he felt the need to reach out and touch her face with his fingers, but immediately pushed the thought aside. Instead, he gently tugged at the hem of her shift to cover her bare legs. He heard her gasp the moment his hands touched the coarse fabric. Once he removed his hand, she lifted herself up by the elbows and scurried to the far side of the bed. She didn’t take her eyes off his as she grabbed the pillow and held it tightly to her chest, as if the pillow could act as a shield.
“Are ye fond of yer husband lass?” he asked in a low, gentle voice, unsure why he’d asked that particular question. A heartbeat later, she slowly shook her head no.
Wee William glanced around the room. The two brothers who had remained quiet during the ordeal were proving to be far smarter than their older brother. Though he’d never had the displeasure of meeting any of them in person, he knew well who each of them were. He’d heard enough stories over the past year to know not a one of them owned either a heart or ounce of compassion.
He turned back to the lass with the beautiful blue eyes and studied her for several moments. That odd and unsettling feeling was growing by leaps and bounds, and for the life of him, he didn’t know what to make of it.
“Does he beat ye often, lass?” he asked quietly. She nodded her head again. His stomach tightened when he saw tears begin to well in her eyes. Damned bloody Sassenach.
“Would ye like to become a widow this night?” he could not have explained to anyone why he asked that particular question. He supposed it had something to do with the odd sensation that enveloped him. Or mayhap he simply hated men who beat their women. Or it could have been that beautiful face and that pale blue eye, filled with fear, staring up at him. Whatever the reasons, he found himself holding his breath while he waited for her to answer.
She swallowed hard, taking very little time to think on his question. Another nod and a whispered, “Aye,” was the answer he hadn’t realized he’d been hoping for until he heard her give it.
“They call me Wee William,” he told her with tilt of his head and a wink.
Her response was not what he was accustomed to. She didn’t stare at him with mouth agape and ask why he was called that when one considered his size and stature.
Nay, this beautiful lass did something he was not accustomed to. Her full lips curved into a slight smile, but ’twas a smile none-the-less, and she offered her hand to him. When he took it in his own and felt her warm skin against his, he knew he was lost. Forever lost, to those soft blue eyes filled to the rim with tears. Lost to that exquisite face, bruises and all. He began to feel as though he had fallen through a deep chasm, but instead of falling hard to the ground, he was floating in the air.
“They call me Nora.”
Two
Nora. He let the sweet sound of her name roll around in his mind for a moment. He concluded it was perhaps, the most beautiful sounding of names. Nora.
He turned his gaze back to her. Nora. There was a special, musical quality to it. What the bloody hell is happening to me? He forced a scowl to his face and stood, best that he could considering the very tight quarters, and looked around the room to his men.
“Take them,” he said in Gaelic.
“Take them where?” Black Richard asked, with a tilt of his head, looking quite perplexed.
“Anywhere. Just take them, kill them, and leave the bodies fer the scavengers.”
Every Highlander in the room blinked before casting an astonished look at Wee William.
“Ye canna be serious, Wee William,” Rowan said.
“Aye, I am,” Wee William answered calmly.
“But Angus said to no’ kill anyone. We’re to find the treasure—” Rowan began to protest.
Wee William wouldn’t allow him to finish. “I ken verra well what Angus said. But since we canna find the treasure, I’d rather we brought their heads back in baskets.” He eyed his friend for a moment.
Rowan and Black Richard cast wearied glances at one another.
The idiot on the table tried to sit up again and began to make demands. “What the bloody hell are you going on about?” he shouted.
Once again, Rowan silenced him with another hard fist to his face. The man fell backwards, his head making a loud thumping noise as it hit the hard wooden table. The man moaned as his head lolled from side to side.
“Wee William,” Black Richard began. “I beg ye to reconsider this.” He pleaded, uncertain just how serious Wee William was with his order.
Wee William grunted. “Did ye no’ hear the lass? She wishes to be a widow this night and I wish to see her request granted.”
Had he lost his mind? The Highlanders stared at one another for a long moment. Mayhap Wee William only wanted the Englishmen to think they were headed to their deaths. Angus had been quite adamant that no lives were to be taken unless it was absolutely necessary.
Believing he wasn’t truly serious about killing the three unarmed men, Black Richard and Garret stood on either side of the unconscious, bleeding brother, and lifted him to his feet. His head fell limp against his chest as the two men dragged him out of the cottage.
Tall Thomas and Daniel motioned for the other brothers to follow, which they did, without protest. They did allow them to pull on their boots before ushering them out the door, though ’twas more than any of them deserved. Rowan followed the group out of the cottage and closed the door behind them.
Once the small home was cleared, Wee William turned his attention back to Nora.
She had been quietly watching the events as they played out before her. She couldn’t suppress feeling a bit of satisfaction each time the large Highlander hit her husband. It was all she could do to not cry out and beg for them to hit him again.
Deciding good manners barred cheering these strangers on, she remained mute. Served the fool right, she thought to herself. When the Highlanders gathered up Horace and his younger brothers, she was left wondering just where they were going and what would happen to them. She was also curious as to what they planned to do with her. She could only pray that they would show her some mercy and leave her unharmed.
“What are they doing with them?” she whispered, afraid to ask what his intentions toward her might be.
Wee William eyed her curiously for a moment. “Did ye no’ say ye wished to be a widow this night?” he asked, as if his question would answer hers.
God has a very peculiar way of answering a girl’s prayers, she thought to herself. How many prayers had she sent to the good Lord asking for a way out of her marriage? How often over the past months had she prayed God would strike Horace dead?
Of course, she’d meant for his untimely death to come by means of a heart seizure, an apoplexy, or a simple strike of lightning. She’d not once imagined a group of tall, angry, fierce looking Highlanders coming in the dead of night to kill him.
Their actual presence did not surprise her over much as there were always strange people coming and going. More often than not they were coming to collect money Horace owed them. Her husband was as odd as he was cruel and was constantly getting into trouble of some sort or another.
Mayhap these men were sent to settle a debt on behalf of someone else, for Horace appeared not to recognize them. She wondered exactly who he had angered to the point that they’d send such big men after him.
Shivers of fear coursed over her as she sat staring up at this most strange fellow. Her teeth began to chatter and the lingering question seemed lodged in he
r throat.
“Are ye cold, lass?” Wee William asked. His voice was deep, and while he was a rather frightening man to look at, there was something odd about his voice. She should have found the sound of it quite frightening. Instead, she found comfort in it.
Nora’s brow twisted into a knot of confusion before she realized she was shivering, from fear as much as the cold night air. Before she could answer, the giant lifted the blanket and tucked it under her chin and around her shoulders. She was quite surprised by his kind gesture. Horace would have yelled at her to stop chattering her teeth whereas the giant seemed to care. She thought that more than odd.
Seeing the fear still alight in her eyes and her shivering body, Wee William spoke softly. “Lass, I’ll no’ harm ye, and neither will me men.”
It wasn’t simply his words that told her he had no intentions of harming her, for if he had, he certainly wouldn’t have cared if she were cold. Something in his hazel eyes told her he spoke the truth.
Her most fervent prayers were being answered this night. ’Twas all she could do at the moment to tamp down the wave of giddiness that bubbled in her heart. She was finally free.
“Have ye a place to go, lass?” Wee William asked her.
In truth, she had no place to call home and no desire to make this one hers. But she did have a mission to tend to, now that Horace and his nasty brothers were on their way to meet their maker. Excited that she was now free and could leave this place and its memories far behind, she flung the blanket off and leapt from the bed.
“Nay, William,” she told him excitedly as she rushed to the trunk at the end of the bed. “I’ve no place to call home, but I do have family I need to get to!”
He was unsure why the thought of her leaving him left a knot in his stomach. But the feeling was there, making him feel foolish. It had to be the blue eyes. He’d always been partial to blue-eyed women.
Nora was mumbling to herself as she quickly pulled her green dress over her head and began lacing it up the front. Once done, out of habit, she went to the spot by the door to retrieve her shoes. Shoes that weren’t there. Horace had hidden them to keep her from running away again.
Wee William’s eyebrows raised in surprise when he heard her curse and he could not contain the smile that formed on his lips.
Nora went back to the trunk, threw the lid up again and searched inside. A moment later, she pulled out woolens and slammed the lid down. Her mind was racing with all she needed to do as she pulled them on over her cold feet.
Hope for a future without Horace in it had returned and she could barely wait to be out of the cottage. Once she had the woolens on, she set to packing what few possessions she had to her name. She took her good blue dress, the shift she wore in summer time, and the other pair of woolens and tied them up inside her shawl.
She jerked with a start when she heard Wee William chuckle. She tilted her head and looked at him. Small wrinkles had formed around his hazel eyes as he stared at her.
It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea why he was here. “M’lord, forgive me, but why are you here?”
The smile left his face as he shook his head.
“Does Horace owe you for a gambling debt?” she asked.
“Nay,” Wee William answered as he let out a heavy sigh. “’Tisn’t me he owes a debt to, lass.”
Nora nodded her head as if she understood. “I see. Then you’re mercenaries sent to collect the debt for another?”
Wee William nodded his head. “Aye, ’tis something like that, lass.”
“He has no money, and nothing of value left to his name,” she told him. “He has gambled everything away.”
Wee William let out another sigh. “’Tisn’t coin we search for, lass. ’Tis far more valuable than coin, or even gold.”
Nora tilted her head slightly as she thought about his statement. What could be more valuable than coin or gold? And who was Horace indebted to that would send Highlanders to English soil in the cold harsh winter?
Clarity dawned and suddenly it all began to make sense. “Aishlinn!” Nora exclaimed as she shot to her feet. “You’re here to claim the debt they owe Aishlinn!”
The scowl returned to Wee William’s face. “How do ye ken of Aishlinn?”
Nora rolled her eyes at him as if he were daft. “I’ve known Aishlinn since she was a little girl! Aye, they kept her tucked away most of the time, but I met her a few times.” Nora came and stood before him. She was able to look him directly in the eye without straining her neck only because he sat on the bed.
“She was a beautiful young girl. They say she died last summer, that English soldiers killed her in a battle against a group of Scots.” Nora rested her hands on her hips as she studied Wee William’s face. When it remained unchanged, she knew without question that that mayhap, was not the truth.
“She still lives and that is why you’re here. You’ve come for her treasures.”
He was so surprised by what she’d just told him that he bolted upright off the bed. His head burst through the thatched roof and sent bits and pieces of it falling onto his shoulders. Cursing, he pulled away the fragments of the roof and drew his head back into the room. Cold air began to fill the room around him.
“What do ye ken of her treasures?” he demanded, bending over to look her in the eye.
For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she didn’t feel frightened by the sound of his loud voice booming through the cottage. Nor did she flinch in response to the deep lines that had formed across his forehead or the most serious expression on his face. Or the fact that he towered over her, even when he’d bent at the waist to look at her. The urge to giggle at the sight of such a large man with bits of straw sticking out of his hair, looking so utterly serious, stern and perplexed, was too much.
The giggle escaped and her face lit up with a smile, stinging her cheek and blackened eye in the process. Her fingers flew to her lips to suppress it, but the damage was done. The line in Wee William’s brow deepened and his lips thinned into a hard line.
She knew she should have been frightened or at the very least concerned about angering him. Had Horace been the one standing there, looking so blasted angry, she would have been running for the hills in terror. She wondered briefly if she hadn’t lost her mind.
“M’lord, I do apologize,” she murmured before thrusting her hands into the pockets of her dress and pinching her thighs to quell her laughter.
Wee William tilted his head, baffled by her behavior. Mayhap the lass was daft or slow. The fact that she was married to Horace was enough evidence that she might not be well of mind.
“I ask ye again, lass. What do ye ken of Aishlinn’s treasures?”
Nora cleared her throat before answering. “I found Aishlinn’s things not long after I married Horace. I came across them one afternoon in the barn.”
She purposely left out the reason why she’d been in the barn, hiding, fearful of her husband and his harsh, cruel, heavy hands. “I knew they must be Aishlinn’s, for Horace would have sold them, if they were his. I knew that if Horace found the silver candlesticks or the trinket box, he’d sell them. I didn’t know at the time if Aishlinn was dead or alive. But I couldn’t let Horace get his dirty hands on her things. So I hid them.”
Wee William took a step forward, his eyes alight with surprise and a hint of excitement. “Where are they now, lass?” He felt hopeful and imagined the sheer delight that would come to Aishlinn’s eyes when he presented her with her treasures.
’Twas then that Nora’s expression changed and she looked rather anxious. She took a deep breath before answering. “I hid them in the cellar.”
Wee William’s eyes immediately went to the floor and he began looking for the door to the cellar.
“M’lord,” Nora whispered, knowing what his eyes searched for. “’Tis under the table.”
As Wee William made his way across the room, the door to the cottage opened and Daniel and David walked in. Their presence gave Wee W
illiam pause.
“Rowan and the others are takin’ the brothers away now, Wee William,” Daniel said in Gaelic.
Wee William nodded his head in approval. “Good. Now help me move the table. I ken where Aishlinn’s treasures are.”
Curious glances flew between the three men before landing on Nora. “How do ye ken?” David asked, surprised by the news.
“The lass,” Wee William told him, nodding his head toward Nora. “She came upon them and hid them before Horace could sell them.”
She hadn’t a clue what they were saying but could assume the discussion involved her for they were all staring at her. She began to grow uneasy.
Wee William seemed kind enough. Still, she had no guarantees as to what his intentions were. Remembering that Horace had been kind to her at one point, until he got what he wanted, brought forth an uneasiness that to spread to her toes. She backed away from them.
“She says the treasures be in the cellar,” Wee William said as he moved the table aside and knelt on one knee. His men joined him and together they looked for the door that led to the cellar. It took only a moment before they found the small knothole and Daniel thrust his fingers in and lifted the door.
The three men stared into blackness for a moment before Daniel grabbed a candle, lit it and held it into the opening. A decrepit looking ladder led down into a large hole that was devoid of all light. It was impossible to estimate how deep or wide the cellar was. Even with the candlelight they couldn’t see the bottom.
Wee William turned his attention back to Nora who now stood across the room, next to the fireplace. She looked positively terrified. Her good eye was opened wide and she had sucked in her bottom lip. He could see her hands tremble slightly.
Wee William looked at Daniel and David. “Hold the candle,” he said as he handed it to Daniel. “I’ll go down.”
With nod of his head, Wee William twisted around and began lowering himself down the ladder. It creaked and groaned and for a brief moment, he thought it would give out. Cautiously, he stepped down a few more rungs then reached up for the candle before resuming his descent.
Wee William's Woman, Book Three of the Clan MacDougall Series Page 2