The Clan MacDougall Series (56 page)

She looked at him closely for a moment. He was a very braw man. His dark brown hair hung well past his shoulders with braids that framed a more than handsome face. His deep, dark brown eyes and thick eyelashes could melt the heart of many a young woman. Hers included, if she were to allow such a thing to happen.

His broad shoulders and muscles seemed to be chiseled from stone. She had felt them when she had grabbed on to him earlier. For a brief moment she imagined resting her head in a very intimate fashion on his wide and masculine chest.

Under different circumstances, she might well have liked the thought of sharing a room with him. She shook the thoughts aside and castigated herself for allowing her mind to roam to thoughts no self-respecting mother of five should have.

“Aye, lass, that we will,” he tried to hide the pleasure such a thought brought to his heart.

“Findley, I,” she tried to find the right words to explain what she was thinking. Then she realized she could not share such thoughts with him.

He sensed her apprehension and took it to mean she would rather not share a room with him. “Would ye rather pretend Wee William was yer husband?” he asked, gritting his teeth together.

She did not need to think on it. She knew sharing a room with Wee William would just fuel her sons’ plans for the two of them to marry. That in itself was a battle she did not wish to wage.

“Nay,” she told him.

“Richard or Patrick then?”

She shook her head. “Nay.”

“Would you prefer to sleep in the wagons?” He sensed an undercurrent of something and dared not hope it meant anything other than her having a proper sense of right and wrong.

“Nay. I wish for a hot bath and a warm meal. And if it means pretending to be yer wife fer a night, then so be it,” she told him. She was tired, worn and hungry.

“But dunna be gettin’ no ideas, Findley. It’ll be a marriage in name only.”

He could not stifle a chuckle. “But lass, it be our weddin’ night!” He feigned hurt feelings and smiled at her. She returned his smile as she shook her head.

He was very glad he had finally managed to bring a smile to her face.

There were only three inns from which to choose. Two of them Findley would not have set foot in without at least ten more men to watch his back.

The Bent Arrow Inn sat at the edge of town. While still filled with nefarious sorts, it was the least dangerous of their options. They pulled the wagons in and parked near the stables. Two young lads came out to greet them and take charge of the horses. Findley recognized them as the innkeeper’s youngest sons.

Patrick gave a coin to each lad with instructions to keep a close eye on the wagons.

“If the wagons still be here in the morn,” he began, “and nothin’ be stolen or lost, I’ll give ye each another piece of silver.”

Wide smiles erupted on the boys’ freckled faces.

“Aye!” the tallest of the lads said. “We’ll sleep in the wagons if we have to!”

Findley had known the innkeeper and his wife for several years. Beyton and Fiona Lindsey were well into their forties. They, or more specifically Fiona, ran their inn with an iron fist.

It was commonly known that Beyton, who was short compared to most men, was the brains and Fiona, who was several inches taller than her husband, was the brawn. She had no qualms about hitting an unruly visitor over the head with a broom, chamber pot, or whatever else might be within reach. She had hauled enough men out of her inn over the years that most knew not to try her patience.

Fiona was quite happy to learn that Findley had finally found his good sense and married. She showed her approval with a hard slap to Findley’s back and a warm embrace for Maggy. Beyton however, cast a pitiful look at Findley as if to say, enjoy the honeymoon. It be all downhill from here.

Beyton and Fiona were quite shocked to learn the young lass before them was the mother of the four young boys. Findley took only a moment to explain they weren’t all hers. Uncertain if Malcolm Buchannan had any men in Renfrew, he kept as many details as he could to himself.

They procured three rooms. Two for his men and the boys and the third he would share with Maggy.

Fiona refused to tote multiple tubs and water up the two flights of stairs, so it was decided that Findley, his men and the boys would bathe in a room just off the kitchen. First, however, she enlisted their help in toting a tub upstairs for Maggy.

Fiona led the group through the crowded barroom, ordering men to part and hold their tongues for a lady was present. The sea of men parted and remained sullenly quiet while the tired and worn group pushed through.

Maggy kept her shawl drawn tightly around her face while holding tightly to Liam’s hand. She avoided all eye contact with the patrons. It had been years since she had stepped foot in any village or town. She had no desire for her true identity to be revealed by the off-chance meeting of someone from her past.

Fiona led them to their respective rooms. The men and lads would have two rooms in the middle while Maggy and Findley’s room was at the end of the dark hallway.

To say the room was small would be an understatement. A small bed, barely big enough to sleep one person, sat against one wall with a fireplace directly opposite. A small fur covered the only window in the room.

There was barely enough room for the bed let alone a tub but somehow they managed to squeeze one in. Maggy was more than happy to make do with their meager accommodations in exchange for a hot bath and warm, soft place to sleep.

When she made an attempt to leave to assist with readying her sons’ baths, Fiona clucked her tongue. “Och! Lass, I’ve had nine bairns, seven of which were lads. I’ll make sure they wash themselves properly.”

Fiona gave her a reassuring smile. “Besides, ’tis yer weddin’ night! Even though ye be a mum, ye are first a bride this night. Ye enjoy yer bath and ready yerself fer yer husband!” She giggled and gave Maggy a wink before leaving the room.

Maggy was glad that Findley and the rest of his little band of warriors were below stairs busy filling buckets and not within earshot. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks when her mind began to wander to points she knew well it shouldn’t. Thoughts of Findley and what he might look like soaking in a tub with water cascading down a bare chest that she was certain was firm and well-muscled made her toes tingle.

’Twas true that Findley was a very braw and well-built man. If her current predicament were different, she might well welcome the thoughts. She might even have entertained the idea of an illicit encounter with him.

She shook the mental images from her mind as she sat patiently on the bed waiting for the men and boys to fetch water. I’m a mother for goodness sake! Findley couldna possibly be interested in a widowed mum with five lads. ’Twould be too large a responsibility for any man to undertake. And to have such thoughts outside of marriage? Sinful, just sinful. She took a few moments to pray for forgiveness. Then she prayed for strength to fight against her wicked mind.

She began to wonder again why Findley was offering to help her get Ian back. As much as she wanted to believe he and his men were helping out of the goodness of their hearts, she could not let go of the possibility that he might have ulterior motives.

He certainly had not let on that he knew the truth. Could he be that good at deception?

Soon the men returned with buckets of hot water. Maggy scooted further back onto the soft mattress and watched.

The small room could only hold two of the men comfortably—to fit more would have been next to impossible. So the men lined up, with Findley at the lead as they passed the buckets along.

From her place on the bed, she could not see into the hallway. She listened intently but could not hear her sons. Her boys were never quiet unless they were eating, sleeping or hiding. She grew uncomfortable at not being able to hear or see them.

“Where are me boys, Findley?”

“They be below stairs, lass. Fiona’s makin’ them bathe,” he said as he emptied another bucket into the tub.

“Alone?” she asked unable to mask her worry.

“Nay, Fiona’s with them. Beyton as well.”

“But what if there be Buchannans about?” She felt anger creeping in. How could they leave her boys alone? She knew the Buchannans would neither be swayed nor frightened by Fiona or Beyton. If they wanted the boys, they could easily take them.

Findley emptied another bucket into the tub. “Lass, they be fine.” He was not worried for Beyton and Fiona’s two older sons worked the inn with them. Findley had one of them stationed at the entrance to the inn, the other at the rear.

“But Findley, ye canna leave me boys alone! What if the Buchannans followed us and now they be simply waitin’ for a chance to take them?” The panic was rising in her voice.

Findley sighed heavily as he poured in the last of the water. Wee William and Patrick had already left to go guard the lads after they had handed their buckets up to Richard.

Findley turned in time to see Maggy scurrying off the bed.

“Lass!” he said loudly. “Yer boys be fine!” He shook his head as he watched Richard smile and head for the stairs.

“But Findley!” she began protesting as her feet hit the floor and she headed toward the door.

“Maggy,” he said, lowering his voice. He reached out and stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. “Wee William and Patrick are below stairs by now and guarding your boys with their lives. Ye needn’t worry so!”

Maggy spun around, her brow creased and her eyes filled with anger. “I be their mum, Findley! Ye dunna understand it, ye fool! I ken the Buchannan and what he can do. Me boys are all I have left in this world!”

She shoved his hand off her shoulder. She had to see for herself that her boys were well.

Findley drew his shoulders back. Through clench teeth he said, “I do understand it, Maggy and I be no fool.” He took a deep breath in. “And mayhap if ye were to tell me the truth of why the man wants ye badly enough to kill fer ye, I could do better to protect all of ye!”

He was doing his best to be patient with her. The last few days had been a living hell for her. He reminded himself of how he had felt all those years ago when his family had been murdered. Richard had been all he had left in the world. For years after, Findley had protected him fervently. To this very day, he’d lay down his own life in order to save his brother’s.

“Then how can ye leave them unattended?” she asked rather coolly and ignoring his last statement altogether.

“I didna leave them unattended! I left them in good care. ’Tisn’t as if I told them to go run up and down the street shouting ‘We’re here! Go tell the Buchannans!’”

Mayhap it was the exhaustion, the bone-weariness and worry that made her so angry. Mayhap it was the hunger or the days of dust and grime that seemed to weigh her down and make her feel so sad.

Or mayhap it was the rightfully felt fear that she had whenever the boys were not within eyesight that caused her to want to scream and cry at the same time.

Her eyes welled with tears as she folded her arms across her stomach. This wasn’t how she normally behaved. In all the years she had been married to her cheating, lying, poor excuse of a husband, she had never carried on like a shrew or a fishwife. She had never nagged or cried or asked him for anything. Maggy had always been the dutiful, quiet wife who allowed her husband his dalliances as well as his temper tantrums.

But since his death, she had gained an independence that she had grown to enjoy. She had provided for her clan and her children and kept them safe and healthy. But the last months had been more difficult and trying. And the past days had been a living hell. Her emotions were getting the better of her and that angered her more than anything else. She was losing control of her good senses.

Findley’s shoulders sagged when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes again. He imagined men could get on better in this world if their women didn’t cry with such frequency.

“Maggy,” he began. “I promise, we’ll protect yer sons.” As much as he wanted to reach out and pull her to his chest, he felt certain she’d scratch his eyes out if he did.

“Ye be tired and hungry,” he said. “Would ye like me to go check on yer boys whilst ye take yer bath?”

“Aye,” she said with a quick nod of her head. She brushed the tears away with her fingertips.

Findley looked down at her with a thoughtful smile. “Fine then. I’ll go see to them and I’ll report back shortly. Lock the door after me and dunna let anyone in but me.”

“How will I ken it’s ye?” she asked, taking in a deep breath.

“I’ll knock twice, then thrice,” he offered.

Maggy nodded and shut the door behind him. She turned back and her eyes fell on the tub and then the bed. She wasn’t sure which she wanted more at the moment: to bathe or to sleep.

Then it hit her like a wall of cold water. Where will Findley sleep this night? Did he intend on sharing the bed with her?

Mayhap after the tub was removed, he could sprawl out on the floor. A sudden wave of guilt washed over her. How could she make him sleep on the floor while she took the bed? He’d already done much more than anyone else would have under the same circumstances. And he was intent on getting Ian back for her.

Nay, she could not in good conscience ask him to sleep on the floor. She would take the floor and he could have the bed. It was the least she could do by way of a thank you. Mayhap someday she would be able to repay him for all that he had done and was planning to do.

She sighed. “If he does get Ian back, I could live a thousand lifetimes and not be able to repay him.”