Wee William's Woman, Book Three of the Clan MacDougall Series

by Suzan Tisdale

  Bree returned his embrace. She tried to shake the sense of trepidation by trying to convince herself that her father would never do anything to put her in harm’s way.

  “Ye ken I’ve no desire to marry any time soon, so I do no’ understand the need to court this lass.” Gillon Randolph did not like the idea of being forced to court someone he’d never laid eyes on. But his father was insistent. And if there was anything that Gillon had learned in his life, it was that when James Randolph set his mind to something, he held on to it with a death like grip. Even if the man was far too soft and weak in Gillon’s eyes, he could respect his father’s stubbornness.

  Gillon stood in the middle of the chamber room his father had been given for the duration of their stay at Gregor. It was late in the day and all Gillon wished for at the moment was to leave his father. The festival had begun and there were many young lasses below stairs and out of doors. Lasses he intended to woo and a few that he thought might be willing to come warm his bed after the evening meal.

  “Do no’ be a fool, Gillon!” James barked at him. “I’ve seen the lass, and she is a bonny thing!”

  Gillon didn’t care how bonny Bree McKenna was. He had plans, plans that did not include a wife or children, at least not for a very long time. There were things he wanted to do, to see, to experience, before settling down into a state of so-called wedded bliss.

  The MacDougalls were a large, strong clan and it was better to have them on his side than against it. The alliance the Randolph’s had formed with the Bowies and the treachery that ensued had left a bitter taste in the young man’s mouth. He would much prefer to re-build his clan on his own. Aye, it would take years to get back all they had lost due to his father’s mistake. Gillon’s pride told him ’twould be better to rebuild on their own than to risk another alliance. But his father could not and would not be swayed.

  “Ye will do this, Gillon. Ye will court this lass and ye’ll win her heart,” James Randolph demanded. He was unable mask the frustration he felt toward his son. “Ye will be the chief and laird of our clan someday, Gillon. Ye’ll take yer rightful place upon me death. I do this fer ye, son, and fer the future of our clan.”

  “Then ye court her!” The words were out before he could pull them back in.

  James shot to his feet and unable to check his anger, he lashed out. He slapped Gillon across his face with the back of his hand. There was too much at stake to allow his son to behave with such disrespect and insolence.

  Gillon was more surprised than physically hurt by his father’s hand. His father rarely lashed out at anyone, at least not with his hands. He thought his father’s even temper and gentleness a sign of weakness. That in turn made it very difficult for Gillon to hold any true respect for the man.

  “That will be the last time ye ever hit me da,” Gillon said as he took a deep breath and stood taller. “I warn ye now that next time, I’ll no’ show ye the respect of yer position.”

  James regretted very little in his life. Since the day he became the chief of his clan some two and twenty years past, after the death of his own father, every decision James had made revolved around what was best for his people. He had seldom made a decision in his life that did not take into account how it would affect his people and their futures.

  It was no different when he learned twenty years ago that his wife carried another man’s babe. He could not hold her accountable or guilty, for the babe had not been conceived from a lust-filled affair. It had been far worse than that. James had spent every day since, trying to make up for what had happened to her.

  There were however, times, little moments, like this one, where he regretted claiming Gillon as his own son. Gillon had been a beautiful boy, but as he grew older, he began to display his blood father’s disposition and ill temper. Much to James’ dismay, Gillon often chose to take the darker paths of life, instead of doing what was honorable or right.

  “Be careful what threats ye make, Gillon,” James seethed. He tried to pull back the anger but it was not easy when his son refused to see reason.

  James knew his son had a mean streak. Mayhap if the lad had a wife with the brightness of spirit and level of intelligence that Bree McKenna possessed, Gillon might turn his life around. Mayhap all he needed was a good woman, like Bree, to help soften his heart. That had been the main reason James had asked Angus to allow his son to court Bree.

  “Yer goin’ to court Bree McKenna,” James said. “Yer goin’ to court her, woo her, and win her heart. There be too much at stake fer all of us, Gillon. We need this alliance with the MacDougalls. Bree is a fine lass and she’ll make ye a fine wife.”

  Gillon made a decision then to do everything in his power to have the bonny Bree McKenna hate the very ground he walked on, if for no other reason than it would surely drive his father mad. Bree could be the most beautiful, kind, smart, and generous woman on the planet. It would matter not. Come hell or high water, he’d get the lass to hate him, thereby stopping any chance at a union between the two clans.

  “As ye bid, da. I’ll court Bree McKenna,” Gillon told his father as he held his head high. But I’ll make ye rue the day ye ever asked this of me.

  Bree was returning from visiting her beautiful new nephew, Connell McEwan, named after Duncan’s father. Though Connell the first had died not long after Bree was born, she was certain that had he lived, he would have been very proud of his namesake. He was a strong, healthy boy and his parents could not be more happy or proud.

  As Bree walked through the kitchen she returned the hellos given by the kitchen staff. Her mind was elsewhere and she paid little attention to anything as she walked into the grand gathering room and up the stairs toward her room. They’d be serving the evening meal within an hour and she had yet to change her dress and style her hair.

  She had been unable to shake the feeling that her father had been less than truthful with her earlier. After her meeting with her da, Bree had gone to discuss the situation with her mum. Isobel had insisted it was just nerves at finally being allowed to have a young man court her. Isobel felt fairly certain there was no more to it than that. Angus would never do anything to put any of his children in harms way.

  So that was that. Gillon Randolph would be allowed to sit next to her at the high table for the evening meal. Bree did not relish the thought of being put on display in such a manner and she knew her friends would tease her relentlessly over it.

  But it was just a courting.

  It was merely a way for two people to get to know one another.

  Certainly nothing more would come of it.

  There was a very strong possibility that Gillon Randolph might not like her at all. He might not care for her outspokenness. He might not care for her blunt honesty or her quickness to laugh. Gillon might be one of those very serious men who didn’t enjoy life as much as she did. She couldn’t see herself with a man like that.

  Nay, she’d need a man who would appreciate her honesty, her sincerity. He would need to appreciate her for who she was and not just her outer appearance.

  Bree was no fool. She’d been told more times than she could ever hope to count, that she was as beautiful as her mother. When she was younger, she couldn’t quite see what others saw. But as she grew older, even she could see the similarities between herself and her mum.

  Both owned the same dark hair and bright green eyes. Like her mother, she had a straight nose that was neither too long nor too short. Bree’s jaw was a bit squarer than her mothers, but considered fine and feminine nonetheless. And like her mother, she’d been blessed with an ample bosom. She recognized that fact only from the way she’d catch her male friends staring at it, all slack jawed and drooling. Fools. There was more to a woman than pretty teeth and an ample chest!

  Bree wanted a man who would appreciate who she was inside. He’d need to appreciate her intelligence, her cheerfulness, and all the things that made Bree, Bree.

  She would need a man who would not expect her to change to
suit him. Nay, any man that would ever win her heart would have to allow her to be true to herself.

  The man who would steal her heart would need to be just as honest and blunt as she. He would also need to be kind and gentle with all things. He must also possess as much honor as her father and the other men of her clan.

  It would help as well if he were easy to look at. He needn’t be dangerously handsome for Bree knew that true beauty came from within. As long as his face was not covered in warts and his eyes were not crossed, she imagined she could be completely happy with an average looking young man. As long as he possessed a good heart, a kind yet amiable disposition, and good teeth, looks did not matter. Bree never put much belief in vanity but she did feel it quite well and good to have some standards when it came to choosing a husband.

  Lost as she was in her own thoughts, Bree was paying no attention at all to where she might be walking or what she might be walking into. As she rounded the corner that led to her sleeping chamber, she walked into what she could only assume at that moment was a wall. Apparently, this particular wall had arms for they reached out and grabbed her before she could fall to the floor.

  The wall possessed very strong arms. Warm, delightful, bare arms with so many muscles, they looked as though they would burst through the skin! As she fought to catch her breath, with her head resting against a most firm, warm chest, she could hear the pounding of his heart. Lord all mighty! She imagined the beating of her heart matched the wall’s beat for beat.

  “Lass!” a deep, rumbling voice finally spoke. “Are ye well?”

  Bree swallowed hard before nodding her head. She imagined she could stay here, wrapped up in the muscly arms for forever and a day and never tire of it.

  What on earth had come over her? Panic began to set in, for she’d never felt so discombobulated in her life!

  “Are ye sure?” the deep voice asked.

  It took a moment or two longer than she would have wished in order to find her voice. “Aye, I am.” ’Twas a full out lie, but the wall needn’t know that at the moment.

  The arms pushed her gently away from his chest, holding her at arms length. After a time, she managed to open her eyes to see the face that belonged to all those muscles.

  She noticed his eyes first. They twinkled. Whether from the torchlight or devilishness, she was not certain. She’d seen those eyes before, many times. But never had she seen a twinkle, a sparkle like what she now witnessed. Sweet danger and a promise of something unknown, yet quite delightfully wicked, stared back at her.

  He possessed a most handsome face. A dangerously handsome face. But it was his smile, bright and full of the devil that made her legs feel weak and her heart to pound ferociously in her chest. There was a fullness to his lips that she’d never seen before. Lips she was certain, had been designed by God for the sole purpose of kissing. Long, languid kisses. Kisses that would take her breath away if she’d allow it.

  Embarrassment crashed over her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Like a bird flushed from a bush, she said not a word, but took flight down the hallway and straight to her room. Slamming the door behind her, she clung to the latch and rested her hot cheeks against the cool wood.

  As she stood, trying to steady the thrumming of her heart and her breathing, her mind raced in too many different directions at once. It left her feeling very light headed and not at all herself. What the devil had come over her?

  Oh, this canna be good! She thought to herself as she began to pace around her room.

  She was to meet a young man in less than an hour’s time, a young man who had expressed a desire to court her. And now here she was, pacing in her room like a wild animal locked in a cage, unable to steady her trembling fingers, unable to get the wicked thoughts from her mind, unable yet to erase the image of the soft, gray-blue eyes and bright smile.

  This is no’ at all like me! I do no’ fall victim to a handsome face! I do no’ act foolish nor do I swoon at the mere presence of a bright smile!

  Quickly, she set about trying to find the reason behind why she was behaving so oddly. The courting. That had to be it. She’d never been courted before. Her nerves felt raw because she was entering into new territory. It was the excitement of the unknown that made her act so foolishly. There was simply no other explanation!

  She was afraid of meeting the stranger named Gillon Randolph. The young man who had apparently seen her about, had asked after her, and now had the desire to court her. His desire rested solely on some physical attraction. At first, she had resented the fact that it was her face that caused Gillon Randolph to want to court her.

  And now, here she was, pacing nervously about her room, acting as though she’d never seen a handsome face before. Behaving like her friend Ellen, who was so easily swayed by a handsome face or a bright smile!

  Gillon Randolph. This was all his fault. Had he never asked to court her, then her mind would not be all twisted and confused.

  And she would not be thinking of those full, beautiful lips pressing against her own. Nor would she want to feel those broad hands caressing her face or her back. And she wouldn’t be wondering about the sweet surprise the gray-blue eyes had seemed to hold.

  To the devil with ye, Gillon Randolph!

  Isobel had come to help Bree ready herself for the evening meal. They chose a dark green damask gown trimmed in gold thread. Isobel plated Bree’s hair into a crown around her head with a long braid dangling down her back. She attached a simple white veil to the top of Bree’s crown and smiled in satisfaction.

  “Ye’ll take his breath away fer certain, Bree!” Isobel giggled when she saw Bree burn crimson. “Don’t fash yerself Bree! He is sure to admire yer heart as well as yer bonny face.”

  Bree wondered silently how her mother always seemed to know what she was thinking.

  “I’ve done some askin’ around, Bree.” Isobel said as she straightened Bree’s veil. “I’m told Gillon Randolph is a handsome lad. He’s a bit quiet, they tell me. He’s the eldest son of James Randolph and he’ll be chief of their clan someday.”

  Bree’s mind was otherwise engaged, thinking back to the wall of muscles and twinkling eyes that had caught her off guard earlier. She sighed heavily as she only half listened to her mother talk of Gillon’s qualities.

  Isobel grew silent and studied her daughter for several moments. “Lass, what bothers ye?”

  Bree shook her head. Her mother would not understand how confused she was feeling at the moment and all because of a pair of gray-blue eyes and sinfully full lips that had seemed to have taken her mind as prisoner.

  “Do ye worry he’ll no’ like ye?” Isobel asked.

  “Nay, mum, I do no’.”

  A warm smile came to Isobel’s face. “Ye worry ye’ll no’ like him.” Isobel said as she smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her yellow gown of silk.

  Bree closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Aye, that was one of the many things that worried her heart and mind. Mayhap she should tell her mother the truth.

  “Och! Bree! Ye needn’t worry it much. ’Tis just a courtin’. No one is askin’ ye to marry the lad!” Isobel said as she gave a gentle squeeze to Bree’s arms.

  Bree realized that her mother was correct. She would meet this Gillon Randolph, be polite and gracious, but when the night was done she would pull her parents aside and tell them the truth. She couldn’t possibly care for Gillon Randolph. Not now. Not ever.

  For her heart had mysteriously and unequivocally fallen for someone else. He was someone she’d known most of her life. Someone she had always looked upon as a brother, a friend, and a guardian.

  Until this afternoon, she had never taken notice of his broad shoulders, his strong, muscled arms, or his full lips. She had never noticed how his eyes twinkled or the wicked secret that his lips quietly promised. He’d always been there, like her family, ready to tease or offer a shoulder. Why hadn’t she noticed him in such a manner before this day?

  But somethin
g had happened today, something that was both strange and wonderful and frightening at the same time. Bree could not begin to make sense of it, let alone begin to explain it to anyone else.

  Bree lifted her chin, pushed her shoulders back, and nodded to her mum. “Yer right. I worry over nothing. ’Tis just a dinner and nothin’ more than that,” she said with a smile.

  Isobel took Bree’s hands into her own and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Now ye have the right of it, lass!”

  Admittedly, Bree did feel better. She would get through the evening meal then confess her true heart to her mum and da later. Tonight however, she had to keep the promise that she had made to her da, to allow this Gillon Randolph a chance. Believing no harm could come from it, Bree smiled and gave her mother a hug.

  “What harm can one meal do?” Bree asked aloud as Isobel led her from the bedchamber. “’Tisn’t like I have to marry the lad!”

  Bree felt as though her very soul had been sucked from her body. Never had she felt so alone, so disheartened or disillusioned. It was to have been a simple meal and nothing more. Now she stood before her father and mother, grief stricken and heart broken. And it was all Gillon Randolph’s fault.

  Why had she agreed to his invitation to walk with him after the meal? Had she simply said no thank you, then none of this would be happening. She wouldn’t feel as though her heart had been ripped from her chest and trampled on by a hundred horses.

  Had she declined Gillon’s invitation, she would at this very moment, be telling her parents the truth instead of the lie that somehow managed to find its way through her lips.

  “Bree, are ye certain?” Angus asked her with a scrutinizing glare. He looked as hurt as Bree felt.

  “Aye, I am,” she answered in a low whisper.

  “But ye’ve just met the lad! How can ye wish to marry him?” Angus tried to add some softness to his voice but it was very difficult. This was his youngest child, his beautiful, sweet Bree.