The Clan MacDougall Series (65 page)

Ian was astonished to see the man behaving in such a manner. He almost appeared human.

One of the dogs took notice of Ian and came bouncing up the stairs. It was a large, gray, wiry-haired beast whose face was level with Ian’s chin. The dog playfully put his front paws on Ian’s chest and when he stood on his hind legs he was a good two heads taller than Ian. The dog began an all out assault with his tongue. Ian couldn’t help but giggle as the dog pushed forward with more force and knocked Ian down.

The remaining three dogs heard Ian’s laughter and came to join in the tongue attack. Before Ian realized it, all four dogs were playfully sniffing and licking at him as they stepped all over him. Ian couldn’t remember the last time he laughed so much.

For a few short moments, he forgot where he was and why he was there. But when he looked up and saw the smile on Malcolm’s face, he remembered. He supposed it would be all right for him to play with the dogs, but he’d do his best not to forget that Malcolm Buchannan could not be trusted.

M
aggy had dozed on and off refusing to leave Andrew’s side until she knew the worst of his ailment was over. When the dark of evening fell and Andrew said he might like to try eating a bit of bread, she felt very relieved. She continued to keep a watchful eye on her other sons for any sign that they might become ill.

Findley had made several attempts throughout the day to get Maggy to rest and eat. The only time she accepted his offer to sit with Andrew was when she took a few moments to tend to her own necessary needs.

Findley did his best to hold his tongue and not argue with her need to remain at Andrew’s side. He admired her devotion to her son but worried that she would exhaust herself to the point of becoming ill as well.

It wasn’t until she saw that Andrew could keep the bread and light broth down that she finally agreed to leave his side to rest, much to Findley’s relief. He left her alone to tend to her ablutions while he met with his men at the end of the dark corridor.

“I doubt Andrew will be able to sit a saddle for a day or two,” Wee William said.

Findley and the others agreed. “Aye, and we dunna ken if any of us might contract the same illness,” Richard whispered.

“’Twould be wrong to leave them at the abbey just yet. I’m sure the monks wouldna appreciate us leaving them with a group of sick people,” Patrick offered.

Findley chewed on the situation at hand for a few moments before finally speaking up. “’Tis agreed then,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ll wait two days more, and if none of us become ill, we’ll take them to the abbey.”

The men agreed, with nods of their heads and Wee William offered to take the first watch. Findley was beginning to grow fuzzy-headed from lack of sleep. He had been up all night and day, in case Maggy or Andrew needed him.

He tapped gently on the door of the chamber he shared with Maggy. When no reply came, he knocked again, a bit louder. He paused for a moment before slowly opening the door in case she was indisposed.

He found her asleep in the bed, still fully dressed. Her long, silky, auburn hair spread over her shoulders and onto the pillows. Her beautiful face rested on her hands and her legs and feet were curled up under her skirts.

’Twas a sweet and beautiful sight and it warmed his heart. Careful not to wake her, he quietly closed the door. Taking the blanket from the end of the bed, he covered her with it. Standing quietly in the warm glow of the fireplace, he watched her sleep.

For a moment, he was quite tempted to crawl into the bed and lie down next to her. What he would not give for just a moment to hold her in his arms. A moment would not have been long enough. Nay, he wanted an entire lifetime.

He shook the thought away. Now was not the appropriate time to be thinking such things, no matter how pleasant simply holding her might be. He pulled off his boots and spread his plaid on the floor to face another restless night. If he didn’t get to Ian soon, he was going to lose his mind.

When the cock crowed at dawn the next morn, Maggy damned the hapless bird to the bowels of Hades. Grumbling under her breath, she wearily pulled herself from the warm feather bed. Findley was still asleep on the floor in front of the fire.

Maggy rubbed the sleep from her eyes, stretched and took a deep breath all the while doing her best not to let her eyes linger on Findley’s resting form. He was lying on his back with an arm draped across his forehead, his bare chest rising and falling slowly with each breath he took.

Even in sleep his muscles seemed to be chiseled from stone. His chest, with its mass of soft-looking hair swirling over it, made her breath hitch. She wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through it or to rest her head against it.

Chastising herself for such thoughts, she pulled on her boots, grabbed her shawl and quietly stepped out of the room. Richard was on watch, dutifully perched on a chair between the two rooms the lads shared. From his vantage point, he could see anyone who might be ascending the stairs.

When he saw Maggy softly closing the door behind her, he jumped to his feet with a questioning look.

“Be there a problem lass?” he asked.

“Nay, Richard. I simply need to use the privy,” she told him.

“I canna let ye go unattended, lass,” he said, stopping her in her tracks. “We’ve chamber pots.”

’Twas far too early in the morning to be arguing such nonsense. “I’m well aware of that Richard. But Findley sleeps still and I will not be using a chamber pot whilst he sleeps but a few steps away.” She pursed her lips and stood taller.

Richard stared down at her with a firm look of his own. “Lass, I canna allow ye to go alone. Me brother would kill me.”

She really didn’t care one way or another if Findley would be angry. Her bladder was full and begged for relief. “Richard, I am a full grown woman and I am perfectly capable of tending to my own needs. I do not need an escort, what I need is the privy. Now kindly step aside and let me pass.”

Richard let out a heavy sigh. “Wait here. I’ll have Patrick go with ye.”

He held up a hand to stop her protests. “Lass, we dunna ken if any Buchannans are about. We need to be vigilant.”

Although she knew he was right it did nothing to make her feel better. She would be glad when this ordeal was over and her life could get back to normal. She shook her head at the notion of normal. Her life had been far from normal for many years.

Patrick appeared after a few moments looking quite tired but untroubled at having been awakened to escort Maggy. “Mornin’, Maggy,” he said, his voice rough and sleepy.

Padding softly down the stairs with Patrick leading the way, they made their way out of the inn and to the rear of the establishment. ’Twas not yet light out and not a star could be seen through the early morning fog. Maggy could smell the threat of rain in the distance, as well as the foul-smelling privy that stood a good fifty yards east of the stables

As they drew nearer she wondered if a tree might not be preferable to the foul smelling privy. Giving the horizon a quick look for a tree, she realized there were none close enough. She would simply hold her breath and move as quickly as possible.

Her lungs were close to bursting by the time she finished. She pushed through the privy door and ran as fast as she could away from the disgusting smell. Patrick grinned as he quickly fell in behind her.

“Not the best way to start yer mornin’, is it lass?” he said with a chuckle.

Maggy stopped halfway between the inn and the privy and rested her hands on her knees. She took deep gulps of air and tried to settle her stomach. Shaking her head, she said, “Nay, ’tisn’t, Patrick.” But it was still far more appealing than trying to use a chamber pot within ear and eyeshot of Findley.

After a few more breaths of air, she righted herself and looked about her surroundings. The fog muffled the early morning sounds of the awakening world. Birds chirped and tweeted happily as they fluttered from rooftop to rooftop. A pig squealed in the distance and she heard the whicker of a horse coming from the stables.

“Patrick, do ye think we could walk about for a short while? I’d be grateful to work the kinks out of me back and legs and take in some fresh air.”

Patrick looked nervously toward the inn and debated the suggestion. ’Twas early yet and Maggy had been cooped up all of yesterday taking care of Andrew. Surely there could be no harm in a short walk. He was well armed and as long as they stayed within earshot of the inn all should be well.

“Aye, but a very short walk and we’ll not venture far, lass,” he told her.

Maggy’s smile lit the morning darkness and she appeared relieved as well as grateful. Without thinking, she gave Patrick a hug. “Thank ye Patrick!” she exclaimed before breaking the embrace.

Patrick swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Mayhap Wee William was correct and women were indeed strange, mysterious creatures best left alone.

Maggy looped her hand through Patrick’s arm and together they walked away from the stables and inn. They kept to the rear of buildings while Patrick strained to listen for any signs of trouble. He knew Findley would run him through with his broadsword if he let anything happen to his Maggy.

They had not ventured far before the sky let loose with a heavy rain. Large raindrops pelted their heads and shoulders, and splattered across the black soil. Maggy gasped as she pulled her shawl over her head and looked up at Patrick.

Patrick gave a quick survey of their surroundings. The blacksmith shop was closer than the inn. Grabbing Maggy’s arm again, he ran toward the shop and gave a hard pull on the door. Thankfully, it was not locked and gave way easily. Once they were safely inside, he yanked the door closed enough to keep out most of the rain and still allow him to maintain a watchful eye for any signs of trouble.

Maggy removed her shawl and shook the rain from it. The air in the blacksmith shop was heavy and warm from the embers that remained in the forge. Apparently unaffected by the fact that he was nearly soaked to the bone, Patrick stayed near the door.

Maggy walked to the forge and began waving her shawl over it in hopes of it drying. As she fanned the coals, she apologized to Patrick. “I be terribly sorry, Patrick. I didna realize ’twould be rainin’.”

Patrick did not turn from his post. Over his shoulder he replied, “Dunna worrit lass.” He wondered how angry Findley would be if he learned that he and Maggy had been trapped in the shop. While Patrick and the others enjoyed tormenting Findley over his affections for Maggy, he doubted Findley would see any humor in the matter. Still, the image of Findley grinding his teeth and threatening to disembowel them all if they so much as laid a finger on his Maggy, was enough to bring a wry grin to his face.

Maggy was beginning to feel guilty for asking to take a walk. If they weren’t back soon, Richard would begin to worry. She was certain he’d wake Findley and a search would immediately ensue and she had no doubt that he’d be extremely upset with her.

Her stomach tightened with anger. Why did she care if Findley would be upset? Aye, he was making a sacrifice in order to help her get Ian back. But what did he expect as his reward? Her hand in marriage?

He was a braw, handsome man who was showing great kindness to all of them. Her heart longed to be able to trust him, to believe that he was doing all of this for reasons other than what he could gain from it. Mayhap he did have some sort of affection for her, affections or feelings that he’d been unable to share. After all, he had kissed her and that had to mean something.

Her mind still warned her heart however, that men were never moved to do anything if there weren’t a gain of some sort in it for them. The only exceptions to that rule had been her father and brothers. Aye, those were the only honorable men she had ever known. Until now. Could she really trust these men? Or more specifically, Findley.

When she thought back to the conversation she had overheard between Findley and Wee William, the anger began to creep back up. They had talked about her as if she were a filly that needed her temper tamed. Broken was more like it. Findley wanted to crush her spirit and her independence, just like Gawter had done.

It had taken a long time to rebuild the spirit that Gawter had taken from her. Maggy was not ready to give that up, not for Findley nor any other man. She had made a promise to herself that she’d never let another man treat her as Gawter had, with a cold and spiteful heart.

Nay, she’d been alone too long. She had grown to like her independence and not having to answer to anyone but herself. She’d not give that up no matter how much she had enjoyed Findley’s kiss or the way she felt when she had been wrapped in his arms.

’Twas merely a physical reaction, or so she tried to convince herself. She was a grown woman for heaven’s sake! She wasn’t naive enough to believe that only men had physical needs.

As soon as Andrew was better, they’d be leaving for the abbey. Findley would leave her and her sons while he went off to rescue Ian. How many weeks would it be before they returned? How long would she have to remain cosseted behind the abbey walls waiting?