The Clan MacDougall Series (139 page)

Elise and John soon joined them, happily munching on sweet cakes that Mary had given them. Elise was her usual cheerful and chatty self. Nora didn’t worry much about Elise fitting in for the child had such an outgoing personality and seemed to make friends wherever she went. Nay, she worried less about Elise but more over John.

The first few weeks had been the most difficult for him. However, he seemed to be doing much better since Wee William had taken over the role of both father figure and older brother. The two had begun to form a friendship that Nora thanked God for each day.

She was glad to see that John was smiling and seemed to be enjoying the festivities. He was growing into a fine young man. The changes she was seeing in him of late, brought forth a great sense of pride. Wee William had remarked on more than one occasion that John was doing quite well with his sword work.

“Nora,” John said as he chewed the last bite of his sweet cake. “Will you be watching me later?”

Nora had no idea what John was talking about and voiced her confusion. She took immediate notice of his attempt at appearing as nonchalant as he could.

“Has Wee William not told you then?”

“Told me what?” Nora asked as she wiped crumbs from Elise’s face.

“I’ll be in a challenge later today. I’ll be going up against one of the McKee boys.”

Nora blinked before her brow drew into a hard line of confusion blended with anger. “You’re what?” she asked, with more than a hint of disbelief to her voice.

Somewhere in the past weeks, John had acquired that wry,
do-no’-worry-yer-pretty-little-head-over-it-lass
smile that Wee William often threw her way. That blasted smile had disarmed her on countless occasions. It was a smile she had grown to love seeing on her husband.

But now her younger brother was attempting to use that smile to disarm her into not worrying over this battle that had been planned without her knowledge.

“Nora, we’ll be usin’ wooden swords. And we’ll both be in pads and mail, so ye needn’t fash yerself.”

Not only had he acquired the smile, he was also acquiring a Scottish brogue. She’d have none of it. “Do not try to flash that smile at me, young man,” she told him through gritted teeth. “And since when do you not only act like a Highlander, but you speak like one? What happened to hating Scots? What happened to
I’ll go home with or without you
?”

John laughed as he rested his palm on the hilt of his wooden sword. Wee William had warned him that Nora would respond thusly, so John had been completely prepared for it. John couldn’t help but laugh, for Wee William had even foretold what Nora would say. His brother-in-law was a very smart man.

“Am I not allowed to change my mind?” John asked as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I thought you wanted me to try to fit in here. I thought you wanted me to think of this place as my home?” He tried to look broken-hearted and forlorn. Wee William had told him that when a smile didn’t work to try looking sad and hurt.

Nora pursed her lips together and thrust her hands on her hips. Apparently her husband was doing more than just training John in swordplay. Her husband was teaching him how to beguile her with either a smile or a frown. She rolled her eyes and looked to the women standing next to her. One look and Nora could tell they thought the same as she: John was attempting to play with her feelings.

“Och, Nora!” Maggy interjected. “Do no’ fash yerself, lass! John looks as though he can take care of himself. He’s a fine lookin’ lad.”

Aishlinn cast a knowing look at Nora before agreeing. “I’m sure he’s learned much these past weeks, especially with Wee William training him.”

“Aye, Wee William is verra good with a sword,” Maggy said. She knew from personal experience that Wee William was a fine warrior. She also knew well that he was full of the devil, but she marked that as one of his finer qualities.

“Which McKee lad are ye goin’ up against?” Maggy asked.

John sighed heavily before looking up at her. “Thomas McKee,” John answered.

Maggy gave a whistle of surprise. “Thomas McKee, ye say?”

“Aye,” John answered. He wasn’t sure why she looked so surprised. It instantly made him feel uneasy.

Maggy thought on it for a moment before nodding her head. “He’s a good warrior in the makin’. He’s got a wee bit more experience than ye, but do no’ let that be a worry, lad. He won’t kill ye.”

John swallowed nervously. Wee William had assured him that the lad he was going up against was the same size and age as himself, and with the same experience level. Mayhap Wee William was wrong.

“I ken the McKee lad well!” Isobel said with a smile. “He’s been wielding a sword since the day he could walk. All the McKee lads are trained that way. ’Tis why Angus enjoys havin’ them as allies.” She turned her attention toward Maggy then. “Ye weren’t here for the festival last year. Thomas McKee won, going up against lads older and bigger than he.”

Maggy nodded her head in agreement. “Aye, Findley told me of it. Andrew McDunnah’s parents are quite grateful that the lad didna die from the broken arm Thomas McKee gave him.”

Suddenly, the women had forgotten John was even there. They huddled around talking excitedly about Thomas McKee’s skills on the field.

“I’m sure Wee William has his reasons for putting John up against Thomas McKee,” Aishlinn offered.

Nora finally stepped into the conversation. “Aye, I’m sure you are right, Aishlinn. William would never do anything to put John in harm’s way. I’m sure the padding and mail will keep him safe.”

“Aye, it will keep him safe enough. Mayhap ye should ask William to put extra padding on John’s arms?” Isobel said as she turned her back to John.

“That might not be a bad idea. I’m sure William trusts in John’s abilities, or he wouldn’t put him up against such an experienced lad,” Nora said as she pulled her lips inward.

“I’m sure yer right,” Maggy said. “Why else would Wee William put John up against the likes of Thomas McKee? John’s been a good lad, hasn’t he?”

“To a certain extent he has. But we did get off to a rather rocky start. John was not at all pleased with my decision to move to Scotland. But I’m sure William harbors no resentment toward John now. I mean that was months ago.”

John was growing more and more uneasy. Self-doubt began to creep in as he began to second-guess Wee William’s motives.

“Wee William isn’t one to harbor a grudge for long,” Aishlinn said. “I seriously doubt he wants to get even with John for all the horrible things he said about Scots and Highlanders on your journey here.”

“I agree,” Nora said as she cast a sideways glance toward John. He was growing a bit pale and looked rather worried. She thought it served him right. “Nay, Wee William has his reasons for doing this, but I doubt any of them are meant to hurt John.”

Isobel peeked over Maggy’s shoulders and had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at John. “I believe yer right, Nora. Nay, John must be a very fine swordsman for Wee William to make such a decision. The lad must have a natural talent that none of us are aware of.”

Nora could see John growing more worried as he listened in on their conversation. She began to feel guilty. It wasn’t that she was against him sparring with some other young lad in a contest. It was simply the fact that the decision had been made without her. That and the fact that John tried to use tactics he could only have learned at the hands of her husband to gain her approval.

She wanted John to succeed here. She wanted him to feel like he belonged and if learning to be a fine warrior was something he enjoyed, she would not keep him from it. Even if it did make her heart heavy with worry.

Nora broke away from the group of women and placed a hand on John’s shoulder. “John,” she said softly. “We’ve been having a bit of fun at your expense. I’m sure Wee William has made the right decision on who you should spar against this day.”

John looked up and Nora could see the self-doubt etched in his face.

“I was upset that you tried to sway me with that smile you learned from William,” she gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. “If you had simply come to me and talked to me honestly about what you wanted to do, I would not have tried to stop you. You’ve learned how to smile and frown from my husband. Apparently, he doesn’t understand the importance of being honest and he’s taught you to be disingenuous. I’ll not have that. If there is something you want to do, just come to me and we’ll discuss it. Do not try to ply me with a smile, a twinkle in your eyes, or a frown. Just talk to me.”

John sighed with relief as well as regret. He’d been caught and he felt guilty for it. Although in his defense, he was simply doing what Wee William had told him to do. Still, deep down, he knew Nora was right.

“I’m sorry, Nora,” he told her, wishing all the while he could just slip away. Sparring didn’t seem quite so important or fun anymore. Neither did trying to play with his sister’s feelings.

“I do not hold you as accountable as I hold my husband, John. Trust me, he is in far more trouble than you,” she told him with a smile. “Now, tell me, just how good with a sword are you?”

Truthfully, John was no longer certain. “Well, according to Wee William, I’m quite good. He says I have a natural talent for it.”

Nora smiled at him as she ran a hand across his head. “Now
that
I do believe.”

John raised a doubtful eyebrow at her. “Why?”

“You might not know this, but our father was
very
good with a sword when he was younger. He spent time as a soldier, but he gave it up when he married your mother. You get that natural talent from him. Besides, while my husband might be full of the devil most of the time, he isn’t so stupid as to put you in harm’s way. He knows that I’d kill him if anything happened to you.”

The smile returned to John’s face. He did not doubt his sister’s sincerity.

“Now, you’ll not worry about it any further. I will watch you spar this day and I’ll be cheering you on. But keep in mind that if you get hurt, I’ll throttle your neck!”

His spirits were lifted so much so that he allowed Nora to give him a hug without protesting.

I
f Horace Crawford had believed in any kind of god, benevolent or otherwise, he would have given the credit for his good fortune to him. But as it was, Horace Crawford believed in God as much as he believed in faeries and ghosts—not one bit.

There was no heaven, there was no hell, and there certainly was no all-knowing, all-powerful, almighty God who had a hand in anything. Horace Crawford looked to no one but himself for those things that he craved, desired, or needed. And he sure as hell would not give credit to God for blessing him with the good fortune that lay before him at the moment.

He had found her.

Or rather, both
hers.

There they were: Nora and Aishlinn. The women who had betrayed him, the women who had stolen from him. Standing together, laughing and giggling like the whores that they were. Aishlinn held someone’s babe in her arms while she and Nora twittered and oohed and ahhed over it as if it held great importance to them.

He doubted it belonged to the older woman who stood next to Aishlinn or the redhead that stood next Nora. The dark haired woman looked too old to birth a bairn and the redhead was most definitely pregnant. The babe must belong to someone else.

Horace didn’t give a care who the babe belonged to. If he had to kill it in order to get to these women, he would. One less filthy Scot to have to worry over.

Horace had left England just two days after the Highlanders had stormed into his home. He had sold everything he owned, including the little farm, in order to purchase horses and supplies for himself and for each of his brothers. He had visited the current Earl of Penrith and forged a bargain of sorts with him.

Horace had been able to convince the man that he knew exactly where Aishlinn was and that he would be returning her in short order to finally face the justice she deserved for stabbing his brother. Horace asked for very little in return. He wanted only to keep whatever it was that Aishlinn had stolen. And he wanted to be certain his wife would be punished severely for her transgressions.

The Earl of Penrith readily agreed. While he hadn’t been particularly close with his brother, the thought of avenging his death was appealing. Perversion ran in their family and none of the males were immune to it.

Horace had been traveling all over this God-forsaken Scottish soil for weeks, searching for the giant. It had been quite easy to learn the giant’s name, for it had been told to him time and time again. The answer was always the same; there wasn’t a man as big as Wee William of Dunshire in all of Scotland.

Aye, the land was crawling with big, hairy men. But none as big as
him,
this man whose name was spoken with more than a hint of awe and wonder. The way people talked, Wee William was legendary, a man above men. They spoke of him as though he were some kind of pagan god. The man was known for his prowess in battle just as much as he was known for his size. The more Horace learned of the man, the more he hated him.