The Clan MacDougall Series (112 page)

Nora seriously doubted that. Had she not cried out in agony every time he made his attempts to join with her, well, things would have been quite different. She was defective, in so many ways.

“Lass, listen to me.” Isobel gave Nora’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Some men have a verra difficult time with matters of an intimate nature. But most? Most have no problems at all. If yer with the
right
man, the joinin’ can be a most delightful experience!”

Nora blinked twice as she stared at Isobel in utter disbelief. How could any women
enjoy
such an act? She felt repulsed and terrified all at once. She had a very difficult time believing that any joy or pleasure could be found in what Horace had wanted so desperately to do with her. Nay, it simply wasn’t possible.

“Now, dunna worry yerself over it any more. Ye have the chance to start yer life anew. Mayhap ye can find a man who has no troubles with joinin’. A man who will let ye keep yer brother and sister with ye. There would be plenty of men here, Nora, who would allow you to do just that, I promise ye.” She gave Nora another hug before asking her to continue with how she came to be here, at Castle Gregor.

Explaining how she ended up here was much easier. Nora expressed more than once how kind the men had been, how they had done everything in their power to make the journey here as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

“I owe each of them a lifetime of gratitude. ’Tis a debt to them that I doubt I shall ever be able to repay.”

Isobel nodded in full agreement. “Aye, the MacDougall men be a kind, honorable lot. But dunna let them fool ye! They can be stubborn, strong willed men, set in their ways and full of themselves, and with tempers to match. But once ye learn the way to their hearts, they’re easy enough to live with. There’s no better man to love than a MacDougall. Once he’s admitted his love fer his wife and she to him, well, ye can be assured no greater love can be found.”

Nora wanted to know what love had to do with marriage but was afraid to ask. Where she came from, marriages were often arranged and love had very little, if anything, to do with it. Aye, she knew her parents loved one another, but that was a rare thing, as her father had told her many times. She supposed if she were to ever marry again, the best she could hope for was mutual respect and admiration. To hope for anything else was preposterous.

Though he was quite angry with Wee William and the rest of his men for bringing the Sassenach woman and sick child back to Gregor, Angus McKenna was quite glad that they had been able to find Aishlinn’s treasures.

With the coarse burlap sack filled with priceless trinkets in one hand, he knocked on the door to Aishlinn and Duncan’s cottage with the other. Angus was looking forward to giving his daughter the only tangible memories left by her mother.

“Da!” Aishlinn greeted him with a bright smile and a warm hug. He never grew weary of her smile and the way her vivid green eyes sparkled when she was happy. There were times, like now, when he still found it difficult to believe that they had found each other after all these years.

“Good day to ye, daughter,” he said as he patted her back. “Do ye have a spare moment to spend with a hard, old Highlander?”

Aishlinn’s eyes twinkled brighter as she giggled. “That depends on which Highlander you’re speaking of,” she teased.

Angus smiled and dangled the sack out to his side. “Well, if ye dunna care to have the gifts I bring fer ye…”

Aishlinn sighed heavily. “Da, you really must stop with all the gifts!”

She had chastised him on numerous occasions for what she considered to be frivolity. No matter how many times he tried to explain to her that he had many years of catching up to do, his words often came out awkwardly. He was better at leading his clan, fighting and defending his family and his home, than he was at words of the heart.

“May I come in, lass?”

Aishlinn’s smile faded as she took note of the serious tone of his voice and the look on his face. She stepped aside and followed him into the cottage. It was a bit larger than most cottages, perhaps due to the fact that she was the chief’s daughter. She also happened to be married to Duncan McEwan, Angus’ future successor.

The stone cottage was the only one Aishlinn knew of that boasted real glass in the windows where others used furs to keep out the weather. Angus insisted on the glass and paid for the luxurious expense himself. The little home had stone floors where other cottage floors were made of well-packed dirt.

Last fall, when Angus learned his daughter was with child, he had insisted that Aishlinn and Duncan should move into the main keep. He argued that it was for their own safety, as well as the health and safety of his future grandchild. Kidnapping children and holding them for ransom was as common as heather in the Highlands.

It was in that heated argument that Angus discovered that his daughter had inherited his temper. She adamantly refused to leave the little home that Duncan had built for her. Neither would budge. So Angus did the only sensible thing he could think of at the time; he ordered the original walls that surrounded the keep be enlarged to include Duncan and Aishlinn’s home. Construction of the additional walls would be completed in a few short months.

Aishlinn offered Angus a cup of tea, which he politely declined. He sat in the chair at the head of the table as Aishlinn took the seat next to him.

“Da, you look so serious. Is something wrong?”

Angus smiled and laid the bag on the table. “Nay, nothing be the matter, daughter.” He played with the edges of the sack for a moment. “Do ye remember the day Duncan brought ye to this cottage?”

A warm smile came to her lips. “Aye, I do. It was such a surprise! I thought he’d gone back to training and I was so upset that he wasn’t taking care of himself.”

She thought back to that day when her husband had brought her to their little cottage, blindfolded, teasing her about using the blindfold again during a more intimate time. And he had! Her face burned with embarrassment at remembering
that
particular night.

“And do ye remember when Wee William and I talked with you by the fireplace?”

Aishlinn searched her memory and came up short. She shook her head and told him no.

“Ye were happy with yer new home, but ye were missin’ something. Some of yer mum’s things, such as her candlesticks and trinket box.” He smiled thoughtfully at her for a moment and waited.

“Aye! Now I remember,” she said. She wondered why he was asking her about that particular moment when she had mentioned how nice it would be to have some of her mother’s things in her new home. “Da, ’twas just a passing feeling that day and of no import.”

Absentmindedly her hand went to her growing stomach. Her mother had died more than fifteen years ago, but she still thought of her every day. Now that she was married and getting ready to have her first babe, she wished more fervently than ever that her mother was alive to share in all the joy she was feeling.

“Lass, ye wear yer heart on yer sleeve and it is easy to read what yer thinkin’. I suspect ye be thinkin’ of yer mum right now, and missin’ her.”

A faint smile came to her lips. “Aye, that is true, I cannot deny it.”

Angus took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I ken that I canna bring yer mum back to ye lass, but I
can
give ye something ye hold dear to yer heart.”

Carefully he untied the leather string on the burlap and reached inside. He began pulling out each treasure. With each item he placed upon the table, Aishlinn’s eyes widened with a mixture of astonishment and joy.

“Da!” she exclaimed. She picked up one of the candlesticks and held it to her chest. Her eyes filled with tears and she jumped from her seat. She wasn’t sure if she should scream with glee or cry from surprise and relief. When he was finished, Aishlinn threw her arms around his neck. “I cannot believe ye did this! How did you get them?”

He patted her arm lightly, his anger with Wee William and the others rapidly fading. It was all worth it to see this moment of sheer joy dancing in his daughter’s eyes. Angus’ heart swelled with pride. “Ye can thank Wee William, Rowan, Black Richard and a few others fer this lass. They went through a bit of excitement to get them.”

Her brow furrowed in concern as she took her seat again. “What excitement? Were any of them injured?”

Angus laughed at his daughter’s worry. She tended to put the needs and wellbeing of others ahead of her own. “Well now, none of our own was injured.”

Aishlinn studied him closely for a moment, her curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, none of our own?”

Angus pushed the trinket box toward Aishlinn. “‘Tis nothin’ to worry over. Let’s just say that Horace and his brothers finally got what they were deservin’ of.”

“What does that mean?” She may very well have hated her stepbrothers for all they had done to her over the years, and she may at one time have wished them all to go to the devil. But that didn’t mean she would want any real harm to come to them.

“I dunna want ye to worry over it, Aishlinn.” His voice was firm, his jaw set. Not knowing if Horace and his brothers lived still, Angus did not see the need to share what may or may not have happened.

Aishlinn ran her fingers over the top of the pewter trinket box for a few moments. She was afraid to open it for fear the things she knew
should
be in it may have been lost. She eyed her father closely. They may have only known each other for less than a year, but she had learned early on that once Angus McKenna’s mind was made up, there was no changing it.

“Are ye goin’ to look inside the box, Aishlinn?” he asked her, his voice low and filled with compassion.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to or not. Aye, the box itself was a beautiful piece of pewter craftsmanship. The lid was intricately carved, depicting a woman holding a babe in swaddling clothes. Laiden’s stepfather, a man Aishlinn had never met, had died before she was born. He had given the box to her mother when she was five and ten.

The box, along with its contents, was a secret, her mother had explained. ’Twas a secret for just the two of them and Aishlinn had managed, after all these years, to keep her word.

The not knowing was unbearable. Taking a deep breath, Aishlinn closed her eyes and carefully lifted the lid.

Angus watched her closely, his lips pursed together as he waited. The joy alight in her eyes and on her face was indescribable.
Aye,
he thought to himself.
It was worth this.

She bit at her bottom lip as tears began to blur her vision. She sat motionless for a time, as a combination of relief and bittersweet memories washed over her. Delicately, she touched each item as she fought to maintain some semblance of control.

They were silly things, nothing of any true value to anyone but Aishlinn.

There was a lock of Laiden’s hair braided with a lock of Aishlinn’s. She took it out and held it to her lips as her stomach tightened ever so slightly. No amount of gold or silver in the world would ever be as valuable as these strands of hair tied together with a tiny piece of string.

Aishlinn knew the tiny locks no longer held the scent of her mother. Instead, they smelled of time passed and faded memories. But for a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe that she could detect just the slightest hint of lilac, her mother’s favorite flower.

After a few moments, she carefully placed the locks of hair on the table before pulling out a small bundle of dried flowers. Tiny violets, bluebells, and a sprig of lilac, once vibrant with color and life, had turned brown with the passing of time. Aishlinn had picked those flowers the spring after her mother died and had placed them inside the box. Just a little girl at the time, it made her feel more grown up and less afraid knowing she was now in charge of keeping the secret box safe.

Broc didn’t know about the box, Laiden had explained. When Aishlinn had asked her mother
why,
Laiden told her that men sometimes didn’t understand matters of the heart and often times considered such things to be frivolous. Aishlinn had since learned that not all men were cold-hearted like her stepfather and stepbrothers.

Duncan had proven to her that men could be kind and gentle. While they might not understand why a woman thinks or feels the way she does over some things, men like Duncan appreciated the finer complexities of the opposite sex. Aishlinn’s feelings and happiness were all that mattered to him.

A tiny silver band was the next memento to be brought out. Aishlinn held the ring between her index finger and thumb for a few moments, wondering again why her mother held it in such high regard as to place it inside the box. She did not know the story behind the ring; she only knew that her mother treasured it.

Aishlinn placed the ring next to the locks of hair and flowers. There was one last item, one that she had forgotten about, that lay in the bottom of the box. She had never known the importance of that bit of fabric, until she saw it now.
Now,
she knew why it was here, inside the pewter box of secrets.

It was a tiny swatch of MacDougall plaid.

Aishlinn held it up and looked at her father. Angus McKenna—a tall, braw, courageous, warrior, the leader of more than four hundred clan members—sat with tears streaming down his face.

Laiden had kept her promise. She never forgot.