The Clan MacDougall Series (57 page)

T
hey had argued for nearly a quarter of an hour over who would take the bed. Findley won only because he was bigger and stronger.

After he had returned to tell Maggy that her boys were fine and well, he left again for a much-needed bath of his own. When he had returned an hour later, he had found Maggy wrapped in nothing but a blanket. It took a monumental effort on his part not to lift her into his arms and kiss every square inch of her body.

She had been sitting by the fire, drying her hair, the blanket drawn tightly around her body. Findley could see her slender ankles and a bit of her bare shoulders and his breath caught in his throat. God’s teeth she was beautiful.

Maggy had washed her clothes out in the tub after taking her bath. The worn dress and shift hung on hooks over the hearth to dry. He found himself envious of the lucky blanket that was keeping her warm and wished it were his arms that were wrapped around her.

Fiona had sent up a tray of bread, cheese and venison along with two tankards of ale. Maggy sat on the stool while she ate and Findley sat on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned against the wall.

’Twas difficult for Maggy to not stare at his well-muscled legs for his leather trews fit over them rather magnificently. As they ate in silence, Maggy realized she was staring at his chest. And when he smiled at her, as if he knew what she was thinking, she felt her face burn with embarrassment.

Frequently she would poke out a hand from under her blanket and test the dryness of her shift. Findley had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at her apparent nervousness. He thought of asking her why she was so nervous, but he was afraid it would lead to another argument. He was enjoying the silence. And the fact that she was completely naked under the blanket helped improve his mood. Why spoil such a lovely evening?

The silence, however, did not last as long as he would have liked. She had insisted on taking the floor because she had no other way of thanking him. He could have thought of countless other ways to express her gratitude, but his honor kept him from putting a voice to such notions.

No self-respecting man would allow a woman to sleep on the hard floor whilst he took the bed. He had grown weary of arguing his point. He reached her in two strides, scooped her up in his arms and plunked her down on the bed.

“I’ll hear no more of it, lass,” he had told her with a devious grin.

He then covered her with a fur, his knuckles inadvertently brushing against the soft skin of her shoulders. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard her gasp when he touched her. She looked confused as well as a bit terrified, and appeared to be bracing herself for something.

“Good sleep to ye, lass,” he said before turning away. He gave her no time to argue as he put out the flame of the tallow with his fingers. The low burning embers in the fireplace cast a soft, warm glow into the room.

In the near dark, he unfastened his plaid and spread it out on the floor in front of the hearth. He told himself he could rest comfortably knowing that Wee William was keeping the first watch in the hallway and that Maggy was safe now.

But sleep did not come. To know she was just a step away and naked was maddening.

Fiona had given Maggy lilac-scented soap with which to bathe. The scent of it hung in the air, blending with the smoke from the fire, and it left him feeling intoxicated. He did his best to tamp down the lustful thoughts coursing through his mind. He wasn’t sure he could survive too many more nights with her but a step away, especially if she slept each night like she was now.

One large question still hung in the air. Why had the Buchannan attacked her home? What could Malcolm Buchannan gain from marrying Maggy? Anyone with a bit of common sense could see that she and her clan were impoverished. They were peasants barely scraping by. There could be no monetary gain from such a union.

Mayhap it all boiled down to the fact that Malcolm Buchannan was simply mad. His inner voice told him there had to be more to it than the machinations of a mad man. Maggy was keeping something from him, he was sure of it. But what?

She did not trust him and he wondered if she ever would.

Findley slipped his fingers into his tunic and pulled out the bloodied plaid. He had kept it as a reminder of what the Buchannan had done to Maggy and her family. Now that he had her in the care of himself and his men he no longer needed it as a reminder of what had happened. He was half tempted to toss the fabric into the embers and let it burn. He couldn’t do that just yet and would not have been able to explain the why of it to anyone. Instead, he slipped it back into his tunic and rolled over and tried to sleep.

He lay in the dark listening to the sounds of her steady breathing over the occasional crackle of embers. He wondered how many heartbeats he would survive if he climbed into the bed with her. Not many, he thought. Sweet talk and poetic words would not win him her heart nor would they gain her trust. Nay, Maggy was the kind of woman to whom a man needed to prove his worth with actions, not pretty words.

Mayhap once he retrieved Ian, Maggy would find it in her heart to trust him. He would do his best to prove to her that she could.

Sleep did not come any easier for Maggy. She worried over Ian. Had his fever worsened? How were the Buchannan men treating him? Was he warm? Were they feeding him?

Soft tears escaped and left trails down the sides of her face as she feigned sleep. She cursed Malcolm Buchannan and his men. If they let any harm come to her son she would chase the animals to the ends of the earth if she had to. She’d have no problem killing any of them.

She cursed her husband and his family for putting her in this position to begin with. Had Gawter’s family been honorable or the least bit kind, she would have had no problem remaining with them. But they were neither of those things, and his uncle was the worst of the entire lot. As it was, she had been forced to take Liam away from his home and birthright in order to protect him.

Maggy knew that had Gawter survived the pox, her life would be completely different. He would not have let her raise the four boys she now considered her sons. She would not have regained the independence of her youth that she had given up the day she married the cold man. But more likely than not, he would have eventually succeeded at taking her life. He had, after all, tried more than once.

She had felt a great deal of relief when Gawter died. She had not pined away for him, had not thrown herself on his dead body begging God to take her life so that she could be with her husband. She had not grieved at losing him.

While she did feel sorrow over the fact that her son was without a father, she knew that they were both much better off without him. Without Gawter there to influence Liam, Maggy could see to it that he grew to be a fine, honest and honorable man. Liam would be everything his father wasn’t.

Maggy knew, however, that all of her boys needed a father. They needed a strong, honest role model. But what man in his right mind would be willing to take on a widowed mother of five? There would be plenty of men to line up and make the offer if Maggy and Liam’s true identities were discovered.

She also knew that if she were to accept any offers of marriage there would be no guarantee that her new husband would allow her to keep all of her boys. In the end she would be forced to say goodbye to all but Liam. Her fervent prayer was that she would have some say in where they went and who would care for them.

Mayhap that was the best thing. Was she being selfish for keeping them all with her? How much had she asked them to sacrifice so that she could remain independent and free? Mayhap she should allow them to go, to be fostered and educated. But the thought of being away from her boys for any length of time tore at her heart. They were her sons. They needed her as much as she needed them.

It was a very long time before she finally succumbed to exhaustion. Her last thoughts before falling asleep were of her boys and the happy moments they had shared over the past few years.

Findley woke before dawn. He had slept, but not as soundly or as comfortably as he would have liked. He was careful not to wake Maggy for he had heard her tossing and turning most of the night. He decided that what she needed most was uninterrupted sleep.

He stared at her while he quietly donned his plaid. She was curled into a little ball in the middle of the bed and had the blankets pulled tightly around her chin. Her auburn hair was loose and tumbled out over the pillows. The smell of lilacs still hung in the air. He took in a deep breath and held it as a smile came to his face. What he wouldn’t give to wake up beside her each morning.

He quietly stepped from the room and closed the door carefully. Patrick had traded places with Wee William in the middle of the night and now sat in a chair between the doors of the lads’ rooms.

“How did the lads sleep?” Findley whispered.

Patrick stretched and stood. “Liam woke a few times from bad dreams but all in all, I’d say it went well.”

Findley gave him an approving nod. He imagined it would be quite some time before any of them would sleep soundly.

“We’ve much to do this day,” Findley told him.

“Aye. Richard is below stairs breaking his fast. Should we let the lads sleep a bit longer?”

“Aye,” Findley agreed. “And Maggy as well. Richard and I will see to trading the supplies. We’ll wake the lads when we return.” He turned to leave when Patrick stopped him.

“Findley,” he began. “I’ve not much coin but I’d like to buy the lads a pair of boots. They canna get too far with bare feet or boots with holes in ’em.”

Findley agreed. They made plans to take the boys for new boots. Findley knew that clothes for the boys had been packed in the wagons. He’d remove those as well as anything else they might need for the days ahead before trading the rest for coin. He made a mental list of all the things that would need to be done as he headed down the back staircase and into the kitchen.

Richard was sitting at a small table eating eggs, ham and fresh bread. Fiona’s daughter-in-law, a very comely lass around the age of ten and eight Findley guessed, offered him the same breakfast.

“How was yer weddin’ night?” Richard asked with a wry grin.

Findley nearly choked on his eggs. He shot his brother a look of warning. The lass brought him a mug of ale and smiled down at him before returning to the basins.

“Was it everythin’ ye hoped it would be?” Richard needled.

“My weddin’ night be none of yer business, brother,” Findley answered before taking a pull of the ale.

“Aye. A gentlemen does no’ kiss an’ tell,” Richard grinned.

Findley made a silent promise to pummel his brother senseless once they were away from the inn.

Before they were finished eating, Beyton entered the kitchen from the back door. Close behind him were one of his older sons and a son-in-law. Findley saw the advantage of having many sons; there were plenty of hands and strong backs to help when needed.

“I’ve yer messengers fer ye, Findley,” Beyton said with a proud smile. “They can be in Dunshire within four days.”

Findley studied the two young men. Beyton’s son took after his mother for he was tall and fair. The son-in-law was a bit shorter, but just as well built and both looked as though they could hold their own if needed.

The young lass brought Findley a parchment and quill and within a quarter hour he had his request written and the messengers on their way. He prayed the weather would hold and that Angus would send the help he so desperately needed.

It wasn’t long before Patrick and Wee William came down the stairs with four hungry young boys in tow. So much for letting the boys sleep in. The lads devoured their breakfast with a fervor that resembled scavengers on the carcass of a dead mule deer. Though Findley realized having many sons had its advantages, he wondered, as he watched them eat, how on earth anyone could afford to feed them on a regular basis.

Liam was the first to finish eating. He excitedly jumped up and came to Findley. He pulled on Findley’s sleeve and motioned with his finger for him to bend so that he could whisper in his ear.

“Are we goin’ after Ian now?” he asked.

The lad looked positively forlorn when Findley shook his head nay. “But dunna worrit, lad. We’ll be spendin’ our day preparin’ for our battle against the Buchannans.”

That seemed to lift the lad’s spirits. He was ready to do whatever he must in order to get his brother back.

“What do we do first?” he asked anxiously.

Findley smiled. “First, we must get ye into proper battle gear,” he said as he glanced down at the lad’s bare feet.

“We’ll need to get ye boots and some new clothes.”

Liam nodded his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Aye,” he said very seriously. “I dunna suppose it would do to go into battle with bare feet.” He thought on it for a moment before adding, “Do I get a hauberk and broadsword as well?”

Findley had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. He had to admire the young boy’s tenacity and eagerness.

“I dunna think there is time to have a hauberk made to fit ye lad, but we’ll see about a sgian dubh.”

A sgian dubh might not be as grand as a sword in the eyes of a small boy. But knowing he was trusted enough to have a weapon at all, was enough to bring a smile of pride to his face.

“But ye’ll have to keep it secret from yer mum,” Findley told him. While he didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from the lad’s mother, he knew Maggy would have a fit if she found out Findley was actually arming her sons.

Under different circumstances he would not have considered anything other than a wooden sword for such a small boy. But desperate times often call for desperate measures. Without knowing what lay in store for them over the next days he would feel better knowing each of the lads had some way of defending himself if the need arose.

When the rest of his men and the lads were finished breaking their fast, Findley led them out of doors and to the stables. Once it was determined the stables were free of any unwanted eyes or ears, they huddled together and made plans for the morning.