Duncan tried to look serious for a moment, but it was no use. There was too much pleasure to be had from his friend’s discomfort. “Well, we’re tryin’ to imagine what ye’ll look like without yer beard.”
Everyone laughed, but Wee William. He’d had enough of the needling, the laughter at his expense. In that small moment of time he had made a decision. He wouldn’t be shaving his beard for Nora or any other woman for that matter. Aye, he was besotted with her, cared for her, and his body longed for her. But he would not succumb to the feelings no matter how strong they were. He’d done that once before, many years ago, and it had ended miserably.
His anger had reached its breaking point. A low growl began in his belly building until it escaped in a long, guttural, groan. He lifted the table with both hands and tossed it over with little effort. The casks of ale went rolling about, tankards broke, and men went scattering like leaves into the wind. Duncan’s eyes grew as wide as trenchers as he watched the rage unfurl. He took two cautious steps backward as Wee William spun, looking for him.
“Now, Wee William,” Duncan said, holding his hand up, unable to quash his smile. Aye, Wee William was very much in love, but he was having a harder time dealing with it than most men.
“I’ve had enough of yer mouth, ye little shite! I will no’ be shavin’ me beard fer any woman! I am merely concerned fer her health!” He took a step forward and Duncan took one back. “I’ll no’ be buildin’ a wee cottage,” Wee William said as he took another step. “I’ll no be courtin’ any woman. I’ll no be shavin’ me beard and I’ll no’ be gettin’ married!”
“Why the hell no’?” Duncan could not help but ask the question.
“It be none of yer bloody business! All ye need to ken is that I be no’ the marryin’ sort! Now leave me the bloody hell alone!”
Wee William turned away from Duncan and stomped off toward the loch. Duncan was more than confused as to why Wee William had grown so angry over the friendly needling they’d been dolling out. He’d known Wee William for years and had never known him to be unable to take a little needling from time to time. There could be many reasons why Wee William was so angry, but Duncan couldn’t think of any that made sense. The woman had gotten to him, that much was certain. But why was Wee William fighting the inevitable? It made no sense.
Twelve
Wee William had done his best to stay away from Nora’s bedside.
After his argument with Duncan, he had stripped off his battle gear and jumped in the loch for a nice long bath. After that, he had taken a horse out for a very long ride across MacDougall lands and did not return until after the evening meal.
He had tried to concentrate on inane things, such as battles and politics. He recited the alphabet in Gaelic, English, Latin and French. He attempted to add large sums of numbers in his head. He tried to remember faerie tales from his childhood and poetry he’d learned when he was older.
When that didn’t work, he thought of his brief stay in France during his fifteenth year. He thought of fishing, hunting bear, and tavern fights. He tried to think of his parents, his six sisters, and his nieces and nephews.
None of it worked. No matter where he tried to focus his mind, it inevitably turned toward two women. The one who had broken his heart years ago and the one who had unknowingly stolen it days ago.
He had been just nine and ten when he’d fallen in love with a beautiful young lass named Ellen. She was a comely thing, only a year younger than he, with long blonde hair and big green eyes. Ellen had laughed at his jokes, seemed to listen intently as he spoke of the dreams he had, and occasionally she let him steal a kiss or two.
His friends had tried to warn him that Ellen was not what she seemed. But Wee William would not listen. He was completely besotted with her.
When the day had arrived where he had finally marshaled the courage to ask her to marry him, he shook like a leaf in the wind. He had taken her for a lovely picnic on a sunny spring day. She looked beautiful in her green dress, her hair billowing in the breeze. With trembling hands, he began to pour his heart out to her. He loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
She laughed in his face. Not at all what he had expected. “Me? Marry ye?” she asked between fits of laughter. “Are ye daft, William?” he could still hear her haughty laughter and to this very day, it still felt like a knife in his heart. “Nay, William, I will no’ marry ye. Ye’ve no money, no trade, no home of yer own!”
Ellen had made no attempt to soften the blows, offered no kind words to make him feel better. Nay, she had pulled his heart out and ground it into the hard earth. “I’ll no’ end up like me mum, married, bored, havin’ one bairn after another and never enough of anything to go around.”
He was dumbfounded and felt as though he’d just taken the worst beating of his life, but still, Ellen was not done breaking what little hope he had of recovering. “I doubt ye’ll ever find a woman dumb enough to marry ye, William! Look at ye! Yer as big as a barn and as dumb as an ox and no woman would want to have yer bairns fer fear they’d be born the size of a calf!”
She left him there, alone, on the side of the hill. Broken hearted and for the first time in his life, feeling unworthy. He was by no means dumb. Not only could he speak three languages, he could read and write in them as well. Aye, he was big, a bit on the skinny side back then. He had put on muscle and weight in the intervening years.
He had not shaved his beard since that day. He had promised himself he’d not shave it ever again.
It had taken time to get over the hurt. Though he no longer felt unworthy, he still carried a few deep seeded doubts. He knew that most people took one look at his large stature and girth and immediately assumed he was dumb. They’d hear his thick Scottish brogue and think him uneducated. Women didn’t swoon at the sight of him, like they often did with Rowan, Black Richard, and Duncan before he was married. Nay, most women took one look at him and turned in the opposite direction.
Mayhap what Ellen said was true; no woman would have him because they feared their own deaths just by bringing his bairn into the world. It was plausible.
Not long after Ellen broke his heart, he shared his worries with his mother. She had told him such worries were utterly ridiculous. He had been a tiny baby, smaller even than his six sisters. In fact, he’d been such a small baby that they worried over him constantly his first year. He was named after his father, and that was one more reason for the Wee before his name.
It wasn’t until he was two that he began to grow and to grow rapidly. At age three, he was the size of most six-year-old boys. At age ten, he was taller than his mother. By the time he was two and ten, he was taller than his father and most men that he knew. And he hadn’t stopped growing until a few years ago. While he didn’t appear chiseled out of stone like most of his friends, he was all muscle and far stronger than anyone he knew.
But there was no guarantee that his children wouldn’t be large. He could see a woman worrying over such a thing and he couldn’t say it was a worry he could hold against anyone.
And what life, if any, could he offer a woman? He was a warrior. That was all he’d ever done. He had no trade and no land. He was often gone for months at a time, fighting in clan wars, or wars against the English or other invaders. How could he ask a woman to wait for his eventual return when there was no guarantee that he would come back alive and in one piece? This was the only life he knew. And it wasn’t enough to offer to anyone.
Aye, he had money saved up, enough that he could afford to build a home and furnish it adequately. Enough even that they could live comfortably for a few years without worry, but afterward? The only thing he was good at was figuring sums in his head and fighting. He wouldn’t be able to fight into his auld age.
Nay, it was no life to offer anyone.
No matter how badly he wanted Nora.
Nora. His thoughts always turned back to her. She was beautiful, that he could not deny. But there was so much more to her
than outer beauty. She had a giving heart, she was loyal to her family, and wanted nothing more than to give them a better life. What other woman would have tried so many times to escape a bastard like Horace Crawford to rescue younger siblings, knowing full well the consequences if she were caught?
What other woman would put her faith in complete strangers and risk her life to get her family out of England? What other woman was willing to ride for days, braving harsh weather, lack of food and warm clothing, on the word of strangers that life in Scotland was better than life in England?
In the beginning, he had wondered that he cared for her only because she had needed someone to care about her. Then, the more time they spent together, especially over these past days, he realized she was someone he could love. And love quite easily.
Nora had a keen sense of humor and she was not afraid to speak her mind. She wanted nothing more in life than to settle into a home and take care of John and Elise. Aye, she did hope to marry again someday and have children of her own.
She had even shared with him what she believed would be the perfect husband when he had asked. “There be no such animal, William. But I’d settle for close. He must be a kind man who will not beat me or the children, a man who will allow me to keep John and Elise.” Wee William supposed there was more to her list of requirements in a husband, but they had been interrupted by one of John’s horrible coughing spasms. They’d never returned to the subject.
Aye, he could see himself waking up to her sweet face each morn and wrapping her in his arms each night. He could see himself growing auld with her, raising a whole passel of bairns together, somewhere in a wee cottage -- with tall ceilings of course -- mayhap in a glen by a stream.
But it was just a fantasy. One that he knew could never come true. Without a way to support a family, other than by fighting and being gone for months on end, the happy life he envisioned would not last long.
He supposed it was possible to stay with the clan, live amongst them, working side by side with friends. But he had wanted more than that. At least, long ago he had. He’d had dreams of a large home, raising cattle and sheep and horses. Mayhap he could still do that, with Nora by his side. There was a chance he could take the money he saved and buy a parcel of land nearby, build a home, and live out the remainder of his days building up the land, growing crops, making a life of their own.
And so it went, his thoughts going back and forth between what he wanted and what seemed impossible. By the time he found himself heading back to the keep, he had convinced himself that his dreams of a family, of a quiet life, were not in his future. Nora deserved better than he could offer her.
Before he realized it, he had made his way up to Nora’s room. She was still sleeping, looking every bit the angel he thought her to be. She lay on her side with the covers pulled up over her shoulder and one hand resting under her cheek.
She looked so much at peace. The dark circles were not quite so pronounced, yet her skin was still pale, due mostly to the fact that she hadn’t ventured out of the castle in days. Her dark brown hair spilled over the pillow in soft waves, her thick, dark eyelashes brushed against the tops of her cheeks. Wee William swallowed hard, fought the urge to climb into the bed with her. He let out a slow, quiet breath.
Why could he not stay away from her? Why was he so drawn to this woman? Was she a witch who had cast a spell upon him? An enchantress? Nay. She was simply the most perfect woman he’d ever known.
He wondered what her response would be if he were to ask her to marry him. Would she laugh in his face as Ellen had done? He doubted it. Chances were, he was not her idea of the close to perfect husband she had spoken of. Nay, she’d turn him down, but she’d do it gracefully and with a bit more tact.
There it was, he finally realized: his true fear. He’d ask and she’d say no and he’d spend the rest of his life in utter loneliness and agony. He couldn’t bear it. He’d not be able to look her in the eye afterward. He’d rather have her as a friend than not be in her life at all.
It was better not knowing.
It was better to love her from afar than to see pity in her eyes.
Thirteen
Nora woke the following morning to the soft sound of someone else’s breathing. Her eyes fluttered open and it took a moment for them to adjust to the morning light that filtered in through the tall windows. What she saw next brought a smile to her face.
Wee William.
He was sitting slumped over in a chair next to her bed, with his head on the pillow next to her. He was holding her hand. Admittedly, her first thought was to reach out and touch his cheek to bid him good morning. Mayhap trace her fingers along the scar that ran along the right side of his forehead. Resistance was not easy, but she somehow managed.
After the fog lifted, her thoughts turned to John and Elise. She remembered Wee William promising not to let her go, not to quit the room unless she asked him to. For the life of her, she could not remember making such a request.
She bolted upright. The movement caused her head swim and jolted Wee William from his sleep. He stared at her for a moment, as if she were not really there.
“John and Elise!” Nora whispered, willing her head to quit spinning.
“Lass, they be fine!” Wee William said as he touched her shoulder.
“You promised!” She said, realizing her throat was dry and she was quite thirsty. It mattered not. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand.
“Nora!” Wee William said, raising his voice only to gain her attention. “I tell ye, they be fine!”
She spun around to look at him and immediately wished she hadn’t. Her head felt fuzzy, as though she would teeter over if she moved again. “They need me,” she said, wishing for all the world that her throat wasn’t so dry.
Wee William stood and grabbed her shoulders. “Lass, I promised I’d no’ quit the room unless ye asked me or if they got better.”
Nora looked him in the eye, the relieved smile on his face quite evident. It dawned on her that he wouldn’t be smiling and wouldn’t have broken his promise unless… “Tell me the truth, William! Are they better?”
His beaming smile told her more than words could have. Her heart began to pound, relief washing over her. She flung her arms up and tried to wrap them around his neck, but he was so blasted tall that it was impossible. Wee William chuckled and bent low so that she could embrace him.
“Ye were exhausted, lass. Isobel threatened to skin me alive if I didn’t put you to bed once we saw that Elise was well. John woke yesterday at around noontime. They are both verra well. Elise has got Daniel telling her one story after another and we canna fill John’s belly!”
She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry so she did both. How long had it been since she’d felt such utter joy? Other than the night they took the children from Firth, it had been many, many years.
Wee William gave her a few moments to pull herself together and finally broke their embrace. “Ye get dressed now lass. I’ll let Isobel ken ye be awake. Then I’ll take ye to see yer family.”
He left the room before she had a chance to thank him.
It was another four days before Isobel declared the children completely recovered. She’d not allow them out of their rooms for more than an hour at a time, and only to sit quietly in the gardens to take in fresh air. Neither Isobel nor Nora would allow the children do anything that might cause a relapse.
After Isobel’s declaration, Aishlinn began pleading a little more loudly for a meeting with Nora. Seeing no harm in finally allowing the two to meet, Aishlinn waited patiently in Isobel’s rooms for Nora. When Nora finally arrived, escorted by Isobel, it was not as awkward a meeting as Nora thought it would be. Aishlinn was even more beautiful than Nora remembered. Being heavy with child did not take away from her beauty; it added to it.
Aishlinn stood, breathtakingly beautiful in a gown of dark blue silk, her blonde hair in a fine plait that crowned her head. The morning light
streamed in through the tall windows, casting an ethereal glow all around her. She would not stand on pretense and threw all social graces aside and rushed to Nora, embracing her in a very tight hug.
“Thank you!” she exclaimed. “Thank you for keeping my treasures safe!”
Bound together they were, by a past of torment and hell doled out at the hands of Horace Crawford. Nora and Aishlinn became friends in the span of a few heartbeats.
They sat for hours, laughing themselves silly in between sharing horror stories of their time in England. Aishlinn felt that Nora had a much harder time with Horace, for she had been married to him. Nora was convinced it was Aishlinn who had suffered most, for she had spent the first nine and ten years of her life with the fool, whereas Nora’s hell had lasted but a year.
“But you had to share a bed with him!” Aishlinn blurted out, and immediately felt guilty for it. Nora’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and it was all Aishlinn could do to keep from bursting into tears.
“I’m so sorry, Nora! I didn’t mean to be so cruel!” Aishlinn begged forgiveness as her eyes filled with tears. “These past weeks, I cannot seem to control my tongue or my tears! I know I don’t deserve it, but please, forgive me for being so heartless!”
Nora shook her head and smiled. “You are right, Aishlinn. I did have to suffer through that with him. So it appears I have won. Count your blessings that you weren’t forced to endure that part of him.” She then burst out laughing, and nearly fell out of her chair.
It surprised Aishlinn that she felt no grief when learning Horace was dead. She did, however, feel a twinge of guilt in learning that Nigel, the youngest of the brothers, had suffered the same fate. Of the three, Nigel was the only one to show he had limits to what he’d go along with or what cruelty he’d allow inflicted upon Aishlinn.
Wee William's Woman, Book Three of the Clan MacDougall Series Page 17