Wee William's Woman, Book Three of the Clan MacDougall Series (19 page)

By the time Eilean was done, Nora was more than ready to see her sister. Eilean happily escorted Nora out of the women’s solar and back down the long and winding corridors to the room where her sister was being cared for.

They had given Nora and the children a room to themselves, for fear that whatever ailed the little girl might be spread to the rest of the clan. It was a beautiful room, with a large bed that sat opposite a massive stone fireplace. Tall windows with heavy green drapes lined the wall that faced east. Between the windows was a table that held little bottles, combs, and a looking glass.

The walls were adorned with large, beautiful, elegant tapestries. Some depicted men hunting, while others had a precisely feminine and romantic flair. Some showed women in beautiful dresses surrounded by tall, broad shouldered men with swords.

Elise was fast asleep, and as promised, Isobel was with her. Isobel sat on a short stool next to the bed and at the moment, she was pressing cool damp cloths to Elise’s forehead.

Nora entered the room quietly, her skirts rustling as she walked to stand beside Isobel. “How is she?” Nora asked as she brushed back a few of Elise’s strawberry blonde curls.

“She’s been asleep since ye left, but she sleeps peacefully. She has started a nasty cough and I fear her illness has settled in her chest.”

Nora was glad for Isobel’s bluntness. There was no sense in pretending that Elise was fairing any better than she actually was. But still, she wished the news had been better.

“M’lady, I cannot thank you enough for the kindness you and your people are showing us.” Nora knew her words didn’t quite capture the gratitude that she felt toward these kind people.

“Think nothing of it, Nora. We help those that need it.”

“So I have learned, m’lady. But still, I feel compelled to express just how much this means to me. If it weren’t for Wee William, and the other men, I would be dead right now. And were it not for you and your gracious help, I do not know what would become of us.” Of that, she had no doubt.

Isobel stood and took Nora’s hands in her own. “Lass, let’s leave Elise to rest and you can tell me what happened that led you to us.”

Isobel knew that Nora did not want to leave her sister alone and she could not rightly blame her. “Mary will be here in a few moments, with water and tea. Elise will be fine for a little while.”

Nora bent and kissed Elise on her forehead, but the child did not stir. Nora’s chest constricted when her lips touched Elise’s hot skin. “Is there naught we can do for her?” Nora whispered.

“Mary is bringing a tea that will help the fever. And we’ve herbs that will help with the cough. We’ll apply a poultice to her chest that I hope will help the cough. If we’ve gotten to her in time, she should be well in a week or two.”

Two weeks?
Nora cringed inwardly at the thought of Elise being this sick for such a long time. The guilt began to creep back in to her heart.
 

Isobel put an arm around her shoulder and lead her out of the room. “I can no’ promise she will be well, Nora. But I can promise we’ll do all that we can for her.”

“Thank you, m’lady.” Nora choked back her tears and followed Isobel out of the room. They stood just a few steps from the bedchamber and kept the door slightly ajar so they might hear Elise if she needed them.

“Now, tell me, lass,” Isobel said as she patted Nora’s hand. “How exactly did ye come to be in Wee William’s possession?”

Possession? Nora certainly didn’t consider herself Wee William’s possession. Friend, perhaps. Grateful ward, maybe. But his possession? Nay. Nora supposed Isobel’s choice of words had more to do with translating her thoughts from Gaelic to English and decided not to correct her. To do so would be rude.

“I’m not sure where I should begin,” Nora said as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Isobel smiled warmly, her deep green eyes twinkling in the light from the torches. “Mayhap you should begin with how ye came to be married to such a whoreson as Horace Crawford?”

Though she was not used to such harsh language, especially coming from a woman, Nora was growing accustomed to the Scots way of being blunt, to the point, and quite candid. Horace
was
a mean, spiteful man. Nora supposed Isobel’s choice of words were as good as any to describe her late husband. Besides, she could not deny that she too had often thought the same of him.

Nora began with how her own mother had died during childbirth and when she was two, her father married Nina, the woman whom Nora would always think of fondly as her mum.

“Nina died in childbed as well, giving birth to Elise. I suppose I’ve been more of a mother to her than a sister all these years. To John as well.”

She went on to further explain that the death of her father had been sudden and she had been ill prepared for it. “I believe my father did not push me into any marriage because he needed me to help care for Elise and John. He died two years ago. By that time, any man worth having was already had, so my choices were very limited. It was either marry the old baker or Horace. I chose Horace.” It was a decision she had regretted every day since.

“He had promised me that Elise and John would stay with us. He promised to build a bigger home so that we could all be together. He made many promises, m’lady, and kept none, save for the ones he made
after
we had wed.”

Isobel raised a curious eyebrow at Nora’s last statement.
 
“What promises were those?”

Nora took a deep breath to steady her nerves. There had never been anyone in her life with whom she confide in or seek advice from. To finally have someone to share her fears with was a bit frightening and she was not sure how much she should reveal.

“I became inconsolable after he sent John and Elise away. I cried until I threw up. I had never been away from them and I knew how harsh life could be at Firth. I knew it would be a horrible life for both of them. Horace promised to beat me until I became the dutiful wife he demanded.”

Isobel did not doubt the threats Horace had made toward Nora. Over the past year, she had learned much about Horace Crawford from Aishlinn’s own accounts of her life as his stepsister. There was no reason to think he would treat a wife differently.

“Why did Horace send them away?” Isobel asked.

Embarrassed and humiliated at the memory of why Horace had sent them away, Nora burned red from head to toe. According to Horace, she had no one to blame but herself. Had she been able to do the things he demanded of her, he wouldn’t have sent the children away.

He had been furious with her on their wedding night when she cried out in pain and had begged him to stop. The following morning, still quite angry with her, Horace had tossed the children into the ox cart and took them to Firth.

She stumbled for the appropriate words, a way to explain it to Isobel, but fell short. “Because I failed in my wifely duties.”

Isobel looked confused. “What wifely duties would those be?”

Nora looked at the floor. “The private kind, m’lady. The kind that takes place after dark.”

Clarity dawned in Isobel’s eyes. “I see,” she said. “Now, pray tell how did you fail in that regard?”

Nora cleared her throat and thrust her hands into the pockets of her dress. She pinched her thighs in hopes of controlling the urge to burst into tears.

The whys and wherefores didn’t particularly matter as far as Nora was concerned. “I failed him as a wife.” She cleared her throat. The topic was not an easy one for her to discuss.

“It was all my fault you see, that he became so angry with me that he sent John and Elise away.” The words came rushing out, like water set free from a broken dam. Along with her words came tears. Tears of humiliation, anger, frustration, and sadness.
 

“Had I been a better wife, had I been able to do what I was supposed to, then he wouldn’t have been so angry and he wouldn’t have sent them away! Because I failed, John and Elise have lived the past year in fear. Hungry, cold, alone, abused and there is no one to blame but me!”

Isobel wrapped her arms around Nora and pulled her in to a warm embrace. “Wheesht lass!” She tried to sooth away Nora’s tears. “I ken that Horace blamed
ye
for a problem that any other woman would ken was not
hers
but
his.
Horace was a cruel man, I ken. His problems were his own, no’ yers!”

Nora seriously doubted that. Had she not cried out in agony every time he made his attempts to join with her, well, things would have been quite different. She was defective, in so many ways.

“Lass, listen to me.” Isobel gave Nora’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Some men have a verra difficult time with matters of an intimate nature. But most? Most have no problems at all. If yer with the
right
man, the joinin’ can be a most delightful experience!”

Nora blinked twice as she stared at Isobel in utter disbelief. How could any women
enjoy
such an act? She felt repulsed and terrified all at once. She had a very difficult time believing that any joy or pleasure could be found in what Horace had wanted so desperately to do with her. Nay, it simply wasn’t possible.

“Now, dunna worry yerself over it any more. Ye have the chance to start yer life anew. Mayhap ye can find a man who has no troubles with joinin’. A man who will let ye keep yer brother and sister with ye. There would be plenty of men here, Nora, who would allow you to do just that, I promise ye.” She gave Nora another hug before asking her to continue with how she came to be here, at Castle Gregor.

Explaining how she ended up here was much easier. Nora expressed more than once how kind the men had been, how they had done everything in their power to make the journey here as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

“I owe each of them a lifetime of gratitude. ’Tis a debt to them that I doubt I shall ever be able to repay.”

Isobel nodded in full agreement. “Aye, the MacDougall men be a kind, honorable lot. But dunna let them fool ye! They can be stubborn, strong willed men, set in their ways and full themselves, and with tempers to match. But once ye learn the way to their hearts, they’re easy enough to live with. There’s no better man to love than a MacDougall. Once he’s admitted his love fer his wife and she to him, well, ye can be assured no greater love can be found.”

Nora wanted to know what love had to do with marriage but was afraid to ask. Where she came from, marriages were often arranged and love had very little, if anything, to do with it. Aye, she knew her parents loved one another, but that was a rare thing, as her father had told her many times. She supposed if she were to ever marry again, the best she could hope for was mutual respect and admiration. To hope for anything else was preposterous.

Though he was quite angry with Wee William and the rest of his men for bringing the Sassenach woman and sick child back to Gregor, Angus McKenna was quite glad that they had been able to find Aishlinn’s treasures.

With the coarse burlap sack filled with priceless trinkets in one hand, he knocked on the door to Aishlinn and Duncan’s cottage with the other. Angus was looking forward to giving his daughter the only tangible memories left by her mother.
 

“Da!” Aishlinn greeted him with a bright smile and a warm hug. He never grew weary of her smile and the way her vivid green eyes sparkled when she was happy. There were times, like now, when he still found it difficult to believe that they had found each other after all these years.

“Good day to ye, daughter,” he said as he patted her back. “Do ye have a spare moment to spend with a hard, old Highlander?”

Aishlinn’s eyes twinkled brighter as she giggled. “That depends on which Highlander you’re speaking of,” she teased.

Angus smiled and dangled the sack out to his side. “Well, if ye dunna care to have the gifts I bring fer ye…”

Aishlinn sighed heavily. “Da, you really must stop with all the gifts!”

She had chastised him on numerous occasions for what she considered to be frivolity. No matter how many times he tried to explain to her that he had many years of catching up to do, his words often came out awkwardly. He was better at leading his clan, fighting and defending his family and his home, than he was at words of the heart.