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

by Suzan Tisdale

  “Well its about damned time!” she fumed at him, still straddled across Gillon’s back. Gillon jerked his own head around to see to whom she was talking. His eyes were wide with fear and Nial wasn’t sure if it was his presence that caused it, or the fact that Bree still held her sgian dubh next to his throat. “What the bloody hell took you so long?” she demanded.

  Nial didn’t know which he wanted to do more at the moment. Chastise her for getting herself into this mess to begin with, argue with her over her lack of gratitude, or scoop her into his arms and plant a passionate kiss on those lovely lips. He laughed in spite of himself.

  “I do apologize, lass, if we took too long. It will no’ happen again, I can assure ye that,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  Bree climbed off Gillon’s back and stood, kicking him once in his side for good measure. Gillon grumbled something indiscernible, but Nial was certain it was nothing that should be said in front of a lady.

  Bree rolled her eyes and kicked him again. “Haud yer wheesht ye eejit! I’m still thinkin’ on whether or not I should let ye keep yer man parts.”

  Bree then turned her attention back to Nial. “And what do ye mean it won’t happen again?” she asked as she returned her sgian dubh to the waist of her dress.

  Nial uncrossed his arms and took a step forward. He was about to say something that he never thought he’d say to any woman, let alone Bree McKenna. “Because when ye become me wife, I shall assign guards to watch over ye, all the hours of the day. Save fer when yer with me. Then I shall be the one guardin’ ye and keepin’ ye out of trouble.”

  Bree’s eyes widened. She was just as surprised to hear Nial speak in such a manner as he was to say the words aloud. She swallowed hard, brushed the wayward strands of hair away again. “Me marry ye? Ye canna be serious!”

  Nial nodded his head and took another step forward. Bree could not retreat unless she walked over Gillon.

  “Aye, lass, I am serious. I’m goin’ to make ye my wife if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Bree laughed nervously. “Well then there be no sense in marryin’ ye if ye do no plan on stickin’ around afterward. I mean, if marryin’ me is the last thing ye do, then why do it?”

  Nial took another step toward her, his smile growing larger. “Good, then it will no’ be the last thing I do. I’ll marry ye.”

  Bree laughed again with the belief that he could not possibly be serious. Aye, she had grown quite fond of him, what with his broad shoulders, rippling muscles, and those odd colored gray green eyes of his. Never before had she considered him attractive or anything more than a very good friend. But that had changed somehow, on that day not long ago when she had run into him in the hallway. Something dramatic had happened in that tiny moment of time. It was as though she were looking at him for the very first time.

  It had been his braw smile and the twinkling in his eyes when he had looked at her that made her legs feel weak. Aye, she had seen Nial smile many times and had even witnessed the sparkle in his eyes on numerous occasions. Bree could not begin to fathom or understand what exactly had changed in that moment. But something had. Mayhap it was the first time she had really looked at him, with her heart as well as her eyes.

  “Ye jest, Nial McKee. Ye canna jest about such a serious thing as marryin’.”

  Nial was close enough now that he could kiss her if he chose to. “I would never jest about such a serious subject as marriage.”

  Nial knew her heart was beating rapidly, for he could see it in that little spot on the base of her throat. However, he thought his own beat faster. He searched her eyes, looking for some sign that she too might be feeling the way he was feeling. Though there was little light inside the tent, Nial could see that her eyes were moist. His heart skipped a beat or two for he couldn’t be certain if it was fear he saw looking back at him or something else.

  Bree licked her lips and held her breath for a moment before speaking again. “Yer certain ye want me as a wife?”

  Nial nodded his head.

  “Has me father warned ye that I can be a handful at times?” she asked as she leaned her head back a bit further in order to see his face more completely. His smile returned and she discovered that it made her toes tingle.

  “And has he warned ye that I tend to talk a bit more than most?”

  Nial nodded his head again. “I’ve kent ye fer years, lass. I ken yer faults well.”

  Bree tilted her head as her brow creased. “Faults? Ye think me talkin’ a fault? What other faults do ye find in me Nial McKee?”

  Nial reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Many,” he said as he continued to smile. “Ye talk too much. Ye have a tendency to interfere with other people’s lives, like ye did with Aishlinn and Duncan. And ye have a remarkable way of gettin’ yerself into trouble.” He motioned toward Gillon Randolph who lay still on the floor.

  Bree snorted. “Then why on earth do ye want to marry me?”

  Nial answered her question with a kiss. Sweetly, tenderly, he pressed his lips to hers as he folded her into his arms. He was relieved as well as elated when Bree returned his kiss and wrapped her hands around his neck.

  He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. “I want to marry ye because ye are a most beautiful young woman. And, ye be the only woman I ken that could find a way to bind and gag a man much taller and stronger than yerself.”

  Bree giggled and took a deep breath. “It wasna easy to do. Mayhap ye should keep that in mind in the future. If I ever find the need to do the same to ye, I will.”

  The mental image of Bree trying to overpower him and wrestle him in to submission was a delightful one. He had to restrain the urge and desire to carry her away and find Father Michael.

  “Have ye asked me da and mum yet? Fer me hand?”

  “No’ yet, but I will, if yer agreein’ to it.”

  Bree bit her bottom lip and pretended to think on it. “Aye, I think I’d be agreein’ to it.”

  It was then that Gillon Randolph began to wriggle around and mumble and they noticed that Angus had entered the tent. Bree caught sight of her father as he stood rolling his eyes. “Bloody hell,” he mumbled before exiting the tent.

  Bree laughed as she gave Nial a hug. “I think da kens our intentions now.”

  Nial sighed heavily and broke the embrace. “Aye, he’s kent fer some time how I feel about ye. He has always denied me. Mayhap now that we’re both in agreement, he might finally agree to it.”

  A very wry smile formed on Bree’s lips. “He’ll agree to it.”

  Nial ran a hand through his hair. “How can ye be so certain?”

  Bree winked at him. “Do no’ fash yerself over it. I can be very convincin’ when I need to be.”

  Nial studied her closely for several long moments before erupting into a fit of laughter. Bree McKenna was a force of nature in her own right. Nial had no doubt whatsoever that she’d be able to convince any man of anything. Either through intense negotiations or physical altercations, whichever she found necessary. The bound Gillon Randolph was all the proof that he needed that Bree was fully capable of taking care of herself. Aye, he’d be very proud to call her his wife.

  Thirty

  Years later when the story would be told of how angry Wee William had become upon hearing the news that his beloved wife had been taken by her former husband, people would say it was like watching Mount Vesuvius erupt.

  His rage lasted only moments, most of it concentrated on the foolish man held in Castle Gregor’s dungeon.

  Angry. Furious.

  His reaction bordered on insanity.

  Wee William had returned to Gregor with the hope that after being gone for almost five days, his beautiful wife would have calmed down enough to speak with him. Instead, he discovered she was gone -- taken by Horace Crawford and his brother Donald.

  The only thing that kept William from killing anyone was the fact that Tall Thomas and Garret had discovered Nigel lurking
inside the keep. They had immediately tossed Nigel into the dungeon and began their interrogation. It took no threats of torture, disembowelment or hanging to get Nigel Crawford to talk. Tall Thomas and Garret didn’t even have to ask where Horace had taken Nora. Nigel volunteered everything.

  Nigel had, with more than a hint of relief, explained how Horace had found the empty hole in the cellar and had convinced himself that the Highlanders had stolen something of significant value. Nigel told of how Horace had been so angry that he sold everything they owned and set out to find Aishlinn and Nora. He also explained that when Horace learned exactly what the treasures had truly been, he decided to get even by taking Nora back to England.

  Nigel’s honesty and forthrightness was the only thing that had saved his life. He did not beg to be set free from the dungeon, nor did he beg for mercy. He did however, beg Tall Thomas and Garret to not send him back to England. For when Horace learned that Nigel had spilled his guts and told the Highlanders everything he knew, Horace would kill him. Nigel preferred to spend the rest of his days in a dungeon than have to face his older brother.

  “Ye’ll no’ be havin’ to worry about Horace,” Garret told him. “Fer when Wee William gets his hands on the whoreson, there will be nothing left for the wolves or scavengers to feast upon.”

  Nigel hadn’t known true fear or pain until Wee William entered the dank, dark dungeon. Wee William could not have cared less that Nigel had been a model prisoner, had asked for nothing, or that he freely offered as much information as he could. Nay, Nigel was just as guilty as Horace for what had happened to Nora. Each of the three Crawford brothers would pay the price for taking Nora.

  Wee William stood for the shortest of moments before Nigel’s cell. Silently, Wee William fumed, embracing the rage that had consumed him. Without a word or introduction, Wee William next proceeded to beat the living hell out of Nigel Crawford. It took five men to pull Wee William off the battered, bloody Englishman.

  Wee William had learned that David, Daniel, Phillip and a handful of others had set off to follow Horace. He had also been told that John had followed after them. The events had unfolded in less than an hour after Wee William had set off to help find Bree and as yet, none had returned.

  What gave the men around Wee William pause was the fact that he displayed no outbursts, did not attack any tables, and did not thunder around the keep threatening the loss of anyone’s life or limbs. Wee William was quiet and that was something his friends were unaccustomed to witnessing.

  But none made the mistake in believing his silence meant he was not angry. Nay, they could tell by the pulse throbbing in his forehead, the way he clenched his fists and jaw, and by the look of utter outrage in his eyes that the man had surpassed anger and fury. Rowan remarked to Black Richard that a new word would have to be created in order to describe just how furious Wee William of Dunshire truly was.

  Wee William took no time in having a fresh horse readied for his use. He asked for no one’s help or aid in retrieving his wife from the hands of Horace Crawford. He didn’t bother to pack provisions, extra weapons, or even a change of clothes. After learning the truth and circumstances surrounding his wife’s disappearance, he mounted his horse and left. With or without help, he was going to get his wife back.

  Word spread rapidly throughout the keep that Wee William had left alone to find his wife. In no time at all provisions were packed and men were gathered in order to help their friend and fellow warrior.

  They had to ride like the devil in order to catch up with him. When Wee William heard the thundering of horses approaching from behind, he paused only long enough to allow them to catch up. He gave no magnanimous words of gratitude regarding their presence. He merely nodded his head and continued his ride across the Highlands in search of his wife.

  Anger was not the only thing that fueled Wee William’s determination to find his wife. Anguish and guilt consumed him heart and soul, like a demonic flame that could not be extinguished. The ordeal he was certain his wife was suffering was entirely his fault. If by some act of God she were to survive whatever it was that Horace was putting her through, Wee William prayed fervently that she would not be interminably scarred by it.

  He could not think of the possibility that she was dead. When that image was conjured, it was all he could do not to slice his own wrists. Had it not been for the knowledge that Nora would want him to raise Elise and John, he would have taken his own life.

  Wee William was grateful that Angus, Rowan, Black Richard, as well as Caelen McDunnah and the other men were with him on this hard ride toward England. He knew he would need their silent strength to get through whatever his future held. The longer they rode without any sign of his wife, the bleaker his future seemed. He did not want to imagine his life without Nora. It was too heart wrenching a thing to imagine. He needed her, as much as he needed water or food. Nora was his life, his everything. Without her, he was nothing.

  They took the route they assumed Horace would have taken. The steady rain they were riding through had washed away any traces that might have shown they were on the right course.

  Not one man questioned Wee William’s direction or the relentlessness with which he pushed forward. They stopped only long enough to rest their horses. While the others would doze at those brief stops, Wee William could not. There would be no rest or peace until he found his wife. Dead or alive, he would not rest until he found her. He would bring her home.

  Thirty-One

  They had found no traces of Nora. As the journey dumped them back onto English soil Wee William could only hope that not finding any sign of his wife meant that she still lived.

  They were not far from Castle Firth when they stumbled upon David, Daniel, John and the other men who had joined them. Wee William jumped from his horse and thundered through the forest toward the little band of men who had been hiding there for days.

  He was relieved to find John was with them. When Wee William had first learned that the boy had left to follow David and the others, he had worried that the boy would have become lost, or might have stumbled into a situation that would have gotten him killed. He had no doubt that Nora would never forgive him if anything happened to John.

  Daniel and David stood side by side, with John nearby. The brothers looked absolutely terrified when they saw Wee William approaching. John’s expression was unreadable.

  David held his palms up, as if that alone could stop the desperate and furious giant.

  “She lives!” David shouted, knowing those two simple words were the only thing keeping him from certain death.

  Wee William came to an abrupt halt, tilted his head and for the first time in days, he spoke. “Where?”

  He was relieved to learn his wife was alive. Now, if he could learn she was unharmed, he might be able to breathe a sigh of relief.

  David knew it was no time to pause or breathe easily. “Penrith,” he managed to blurt out. How much information Wee William was ready to learn, the young David could not be certain.

  “Where in Penrith?” Wee William asked as Angus, Rowan and Findley approached. The other riders remained mounted and drew their horses closer in order to hear the conversation.

  David and Daniel cast furtive glances at each other before turning to Wee William.

  “She is well, Wee William, I promise ye.” Daniel said.

  “Where in Firth is she?” Wee William demanded as his mind raced toward the endless possibilities.

  “The new Earl, he refused to honor the Scottish annulment, Wee William. Horace still claims her as his wife.” David was attempting to avoid telling Wee William the exact location of his wife.

  Wee William advanced. “You tell me where my wife is now, or I swear David that I will kill you with me bare hands.” He didn’t give a damn whether or not the new earl of Penrith cared to acknowledge a Scottish annulment or not. Nora was Wee William’s woman, his wife, the only reason he took one breath after another.

  Daniel stepped i
n between David and the furious Wee William. “Wee William,” he said as calmly as he could under the circumstances. “Nora is well, but it is important that ye understand the situation we be dealin’ with.”

  Wee William stopped, folded his arms across his chest and with a not of his head, bid Daniel to continue.

  “We followed them all the way here. We would have stole Nora away ourselves, but there is a regiment of about one hundred and fifty English soldiers spread throughout Castle Firth and the village. We dared not try to get her out with just the ten of us. We’ve been makin’ our way into the village at night, giving her food and water. She be a strong lass, Wee William. You’d be verra proud of how well she’s been holdin’ up.”

  Wee William’s brow drew into a thick line of confusion. “Holdin’ up from what?”

  This was the moment David had been dreading the most. He swallowed hard and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Horace accused her of being an adulteress and a bigamist. The sheriff let him decide her punishment. They put her in the hole near the center of the village. Its like an oubliette.”

  Wee William’s heart plummeted to his feet. He knew his wife must be terrified. He knew all to well how she feared the dark and small spaces. His patience, tenuous at best, was quickly deteriorating.

  Angus had been listening quietly. “So she is well, in an oubliette in the center of town,” Angus said by way of both clarifying and assessing the situation at hand. “And there be a regiment of English soldiers around as well.”

  Daniel and David gave quick nods of their heads.

  John finally stepped forward and stood in front of Daniel and David. “Wee William,” John called out.

  Wee William stopped and looked down at the young boy. “This isn’t your fault.” John began. “Nora left the keep to find Horace so she could kill him. Unfortunately, he found her first.”

  Although Wee William thought John’s attempt to assuage any guilt he might harbor, deep within himself he knew this was entirely all his fault. Had he killed Horace months ago they would not be in this current predicament. Wee William chose not to respond to John. Now was not the time to have the argument over who was at fault.