The Clan MacDougall Series (93 page)

Surely he was going to be the death of her! “Yer insufferable!” she was frustrated beyond measure. This was not the time for his intolerable ego. “Yer the most egotistical man I’ve ever met!”

“Aye, but ye always deny me handsomeness,” he smiled down at her whilst giving her another squeeze. “Why is that?”

“Findley, this be no’ the time to be yer normal pig-headed self, ye daft lummox! Ye need to see Wee William and me boys safely away!” She did not want to let him go, but she worried that Brockton’s guards would soon appear. And when they saw what had happened to their laird, there would be hell to pay.

“I’m afraid we can no’ go just yet, lass,” Findley’s tone had changed to a more serious note.

“But ye must, Findley! ’Tis fer yer own good!” Why would he not listen to reason? And why wasn’t he kissing her again?

“We’ve a wedding to see to.”

Maggy’s eyes flew open along with her jaw. “Nay! There’ll be no’ weddin’ here today, Findley!”

He tilted his head slightly as he pursed his lips together. “No weddin’?”

Maggy bit her bottom lip to keep from crying. “Nay, there’ll be no weddin’,” she told him. How could he even think it? She’d die before she married Montague, or anyone else of his ilk.

Findley set her down and turned away from her. He cast a wry smile and a wink toward Wee William. There was a flutter of a conspiratorial gleam in Wee William’s eyes before he cast it aside to hold a most serious and solemn expression.

“But Maggy,” Findley said as he pulled a sheaf of parchment from the folds of his tunic. “I’ve worked so hard to get a special license,” he pretended to be deflated.

Maggy’s brow knitted into a knot of confusion. “Special license?” He wasn’t making any sense. How could she have fallen in love with a tetched man?

“Aye,” he said quietly, glad that she could not see the gleam of mischief in his eyes. “And Laird Kinleigh, he helped me to obtain it. He’ll be hard pressed to understand how we could have spent all this time traveling to Stirling, then waiting days to see the king, plead our case to him, only to have ye turn me down.”

Maggy shook her head in disbelief and confusion. “Findley, what on earth are ye talkin’ about?”

Findley wiped the smile from his face, took a deep breath to keep from laughing, and turned to face her. He held the parchment out for her. “’Tis a special license from the king, Maggy. Fer ye and me to marry.” He handed the parchment to her. “But if ye’ve changed yer mind.”

Maggy sucked in a deep breath of air. It could not be! Certainly he jested; certainly he had scribbled the license with his own hand, for he was tetched after all. The king? How could Findley have received an audience with King David?

With trembling fingers, she took the folded bit of parchment and studied the seal closely. It did appear to be the royal seal, but since she’d never actually laid eyes upon one before, she couldn’t be sure. Her heart was pounding as if it were an angry bear trying to escape a trap.

In her entire life she had never once felt like swooning. But with her spinning head and pounding heart, ’twas a very distinct possibility that could happen this very moment. As if blinded by what she held in her hand, she mindlessly searched for a chair with her free hand. Apparently thinking she’d found one, she began to sit. Or rather fall. Or would have had Findley not stepped forward and caught her in time.

“Lass, ye dunna look well,” Findley said. Guilt for having teased her began to creep into his heart.

“Findley,” she said breathlessly, “how…when?” she was unable to find the appropriate words.

He smiled then, realizing she was in shock and mayhap unable to understand fully what was happening.

“Ye see, lass, Laird Kinleigh was so pleased to hear that we had helped his wife to escape Malcolm’s keep, without so much as a scratch on her head, that he was verra grateful!” Findley guided her across the room and helped her to sit down in a chair. He knelt before her and took her hand in his.

Her eyes were glued to the parchment, as if she could read whatever was written on it without opening it.

“I arrived at Laird Kinleigh’s home just three days after ye left to return here. He was still away, in Inverness but Lady Judith it seems, was very insistent on helpin’ ye and me. I think she was mightily impressed with me battle skills as well as me handsome face,” he said playfully. Maggy ignored him and continued to stare at the parchment.

“Laird and Lady Kinleigh be good people and friends of Angus’. When Laird Kinleigh returned and learned what had transpired, he insisted on helpin’. ’Twas he who obtained the audience with King David. Kinleigh it seems is a long-time friend of his. Something about helping King David leave France some years ago, but I digress,” he said as he lifted Maggy’s chin so that he could see her eyes. They glistened with tears and he wasn’t sure for a moment if she understood the magnitude of the situation.

“Maggy, King David granted us a special license to marry.”

Mayhap ’twas all a dream and any moment she’d wake from it to discover she had already married Montague and had lost her own mind because of it. To be certain it was real, she reached out and pinched Findley on his arm as hard as she could.

“Ow!” he said, looking quite perplexed. “Why did ye pinch me?”

“To see if I was dreamin’,” she explained.

Findley threw his head back and laughed. “Lass, yer supposed to pinch yerself,” he told her.

“Nay, I bruise easily,” she told him as her lips formed into a hard line.

Findley saw the flicker of fire begin to creep into those green eyes. He’d missed that, her quick temper, as much as he missed the way he felt when she was in his arms. He had missed the way she smiled too, and her scent and the sound of her voice, and the sparkle of those bright green eyes. He’d missed everything about her.

Maggy pushed him away and stood up. “And ye couldna think to send word to me?” she said as she began pacing back and forth. “Ye couldna send word to let me ken that ye were well and that ye were workin’ to find a way fer us to be together?” her voice was growing stronger and louder.

“All these weeks!” she said as her pace quickened. “All these weeks I cried myself to sleep thinkin’ I’d never see ye again! Weeks of worryin’ over what would become of me boys! Weeks of worryin’ if ye’d ever forgive me if I was forced to marry someone he chose!” she motioned toward Brockton who was still slumped on the floor.

“Maggy,” Findley tried to speak but she wasn’t through with him yet.

“Nay!” she said as she turned away from him. Aye, she’d marry him, without hesitation or reservation. But first, he must know that he couldn’t make her suffer as he had done these past weeks.

“Ye, Findley McKenna, are the most pig-headed, tetched, arrogant-” she paused for only a moment while she chose the most apropos expression she could think. “Yer a pain in me arse is what ye are!” She stomped her foot for good measure.

Why he found her anger so arousing and humorous at the same time, he couldn’t begin to fathom. He couldn’t have held back the laughter that escaped him if someone had held a sword to his man-parts.

“And handsome!” he laughed. “Dunna forget how handsome ye find me!”

He’d seen that look in her eyes before and it warned that she was searching for something to throw at him. He’d not be caught off guard again. Quickly, he reached her before she could pick up the chair or anything else within reach, scooped her up into his arms and kissed her thoroughly.

She didn’t resist, couldn’t have even if she wanted to. While he was a pain in her arse, she loved him more than she ever thought would be possible. The moment his lips touched hers, her anger melted away, along with her good senses. If she married him, she’d have to remind herself not to be swayed by his good looks or knee-bending kisses he seemed to enjoy bestowing on her.

‘Twas the sound of Wee William clearing his throat that broke their kiss.

“If the two of ye are quite finished with yer arguin’,” he said as he rocked back and forth on his feet, “mayhap ye’d like to share yer good news with the lads, get yerselves married, and,” he paused for a moment as a blush rose to his cheeks. “Well, ye get my meanin’.”

Maggy smiled at Wee William then threw a hard look at Findley. “I haven’t agreed to marry ye yet!”

“Aye, ye’ll marry me,” Findley said.

“How can ye be so certain?” Maggy challenged him.

Findley put her down and with a smile, he pulled a set of shackles from under his jacket. He dangled them in front of her face and smiled when the look of surprise came to Maggy’s face.

“I’ll keep ye shackled to me until ye say yes,” he said with a wink and a smile.

Maggy went red from head to toe. The last time she wore those had been a most pleasurable experience. She swallowed as she looked into his dark brown eyes. “Ye wouldn’t dare,” she said weakly.

“Aye, I would,” he said as he lifted her wrist. “And lass, I dunna have the key.”

“Ye jest!”

His smile broadened. “I might have it hidden somewhere upon me person,” he told her as he seductively ran the shackle up and down her arm. “Mayhap ye’d enjoy tryin’ to find it?”

Chill bumps covered her skin and her bosom began to rise and fall rapidly as she thought back to the night they had shared at the inn. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and her legs grew weak. Why on earth did he have such an effect upon her person and her senses?

“Wee William,” Maggy said with a shaky voice. “Will ye take Laird Brockton to his room?” She could not remove the smile from her face as she looked into Findley’s eyes. “And could ye see to it we’re no’ disturbed for a time?”

Wee William rolled his eyes and shook his head. Women, he thought to himself, they’re no’ worth the trouble! With little effort he pulled Brockton to his feet and slung his limp body over his shoulder and left the room.

As soon as Wee William quit the room, Findley pulled Maggy to his chest. His kiss was soft, gentle, and very sensual as he claimed her mouth.

When he finally pulled away to look at her, he made a promise. “Lass, I promise to love ye all the days of me life. I’ll make ye a good husband.”

Maggy’s heart swelled with love, joy, and more happiness than she felt a human ought to feel. “I love ye, Findley with all that I am,” she said as she kissed him tenderly. “And I make a promise to ye this day as well,”

“Aye?” he asked, looking every bit a man who had just had a dream come true. “What be that promise?”

A wry smile came to Maggy’s lips. “I’ll never throw another rock at yer hard head, ever again.”

Findley threw his head back again and laughed heartily. “Aye! But what of chairs and candlesticks?”

“Those I reserve fer when ye’ll be actin’ like a pig-headed lummox,” she told him. “Fer ye are a man and ’tis to be expected that ye’ll be actin’ a fool on occasion and will need me to remind ye of it!”

“Will ye ever admit ye find me handsome?” he asked as he kissed the tip of her nose.

“Mayhap, someday. If yer sick and near death,” she answered.

“Ye do find me handsome then?”

“Mayhap,” she said. “Mayhap, just a wee bit. But I’ll never admit it aloud.”

I
t was a brilliant, crisp autumn day with a vivid blue sky. The sun shone through Castle Maldreigh’s tall windows, casting dappled shadows across those gathered to witness the wedding between Findley and Maggy. The bride and groom had decided to wait until all seven of Maggy’s brothers, along with their spouses and children, were able to arrive in order that they could all share in the blessed day.

Wee William, Rowan and Richard stood as witnesses for Findley, while Oribilia, along with Lady Judith and Kate stood for Maggy.

There was not an empty chair or bench in the grand gathering room. The walls were lined with fierce looking MacDougall, McKee and McDunnah warriors, some of them still wearing bandages over wounds received in the fight against the Buchannans.

Findley and his men wore their finest tunics and best MacDougall plaids. With taught, muscular legs encased in high boots, broad shoulders and firm chests, they resembled statues chiseled from stone. The sunlight that poured in bounced off highly polished swords sending shimmering prisms of light flittering around the room.

The boys proudly wore the MacDougall plaids of blue, green and goldenrod, draped over their shoulders and affixed with a MacDougall cairngorm brooch. Their sgian dubhs were openly displayed, tucked into their belts. Maggy had decided that each boy had proved himself to be a fine warrior in the making. After all they’d been through, the courage and bravery each had displayed during the past months were all the evidence she needed that her boys were responsible enough to own such a weapon. She drew the line there, however, and refused Liam the sword he so badly wanted.

Quiet murmurs of awe swelled across the room as Maggy finally appeared in the doorway. Wee William let out a soft, low whistle. Richard elbowed him in the ribs as a reminder that this was a sacred occasion. Others in attendance let out audible gasps as she stood in the doorway looking quite beautiful.

Much to her sons’ delight, Maggy wore the ice-blue damask gown. Her auburn tresses cascaded down her back in soft curls, her smile brighter than Findley had ever seen it. Across her shoulder, she proudly wore the MacDougall plaid and the cairngorm brooch Findley had given to her the night before.