Chapter 12
During the brief time that Will was away, Ailsa regained her composure.
She was not sure what had come over her, but she was grateful for the short time she had to think about what had made her act in such a crazy, impulsive manner.
She had stripped naked in front of a man she hardly knew and then compounded her wild act by allowing her body to rub all over him while he made free with her mouth.
If someone had told Ailsa that morning she would be doing such a thing before the sun had reached its zenith, she would have probably tried to have them locked up in an asylum for the insane, but the way it had made her feel when he touched her made her lose her mind.
Maybe she was the mad person they should be locking up.
When he came back, she was dressed, flinging her wet hair over her shoulder and then tying it up in a cap. Ashamed to meet his gaze, Ailsa tried to explain.
“It was so hot, ye see, and it seemed to match yer temper. Ye cannae doubt the logic in me bringing ye down here to cool off, Will.”
He came closer, and there was no getting around having to look him in the eye again.
She could not even blame her behavior on wine or ale because she never drank anything stronger than barley water while working in the kitchens.
When he reached out and stroked her arm, he did not do it in a way that made her feel awkward.
Will’s touch was a soothing balm and had a calming effect on her panic.
“I ken this part is always the hardest, Ailsa, but it is yer prerogative to say aye or nay as ye desire. Me faither taught me that ’tis never the man who has to bear the consequences when a couple take their pleasure from one another, an’ I must always strive to understand that.
I stand by me words. I thank ye for yer kindness in savin’ me and changin’ my mood in such a goodly way.
Everythin’ else we choose to do…that’s our secret. ”
She ran over to him and hugged him. Ailsa felt Will kiss the top of her head and heard the strong, fast beat of his heart.
“When all this is over,” he murmured into her hair, “I want to—”
“Coo-ee! Is that ye I see hidin’ under yon willow branches, Will…Ailsa?”
The couple pulled away from one another. It was Gudrun. Ailsa pushed out from under the leaves.
“Mither! We came down here because it was so hot! Too hot to even eat an’—”
Gudrun held up one hand. “Spare me the faradiddles, Ailsa. Freida told me everything that happened at the feast. Laird an’ Lady MacNair bid ye to come and break bread with them.”
She glared at Will when he stepped out from behind the tree canopy shirtless and with a damp chest.
“I ken ye’ve been usin’ me daughter’s kind heart for solace, young man, but ye have a very long road to walk—no’ to mention a high mountain to climb—afore I allow ye to cavort with her behind me back.
Nay! Dinnae try to say otherwise. I understand she is of the age to make her own decisions, and all I can do is trust in her good sense to say nay to all men ’til one o’ them has put a ring on her finger! ”
Will hesitated before answering. “It has been a distinctly strange day for me, Mistress Gudrun, but I hope to never abuse yer hospitality in such a way.”
Gudrun accepted this statement with a nod, then replied, “Come now, if ye want to stay at the castle long enough to see this story through to the end. I must ask ye to come back with me an’ finish this blasted feast like a civilized man!
If only so that ye can laugh yer head off at all the high lairds an’ ladies who are drunk on Callum’s whiskey! ”
That made them all laugh, and Will followed mother and daughter back to the castle. Whatever was in store for him once he passed through the MacNair Castle portals, Will knew in his heart that he still had much unfinished business with some of the people who lived there.
A small, pale face was looking down at them from one of the tower windows when he looked up in the courtyard.
The little face smiled; he could not help but smile back.
A small hand waved, and the face disappeared from the window.
Only a few moments later, a small boy toddled into the courtyard, following in Will’s footsteps.
The blacksmith knelt down. “An’ who might ye be, young man?”
The little boy chuckled. “I’m Wee Willie MacNair! Who’re ye?”
It felt as if the earth was heaving under William Fearguson’s feet.
The small child—not quite a bairn and not quite a child yet—had been named after him!
Even though Will Fearguson was not the sort of man who stared at his reflection in the mirror long enough to know every plane and curve of his face—a quick removal of his beard stubble once a week was good enough for him—he felt an instant kinship with the little boy.
There was something about the child’s eyes and the way his hair grew, the set of his mouth and little chin.
It tugged at Will Fearguson’s heart in a way that he had never experienced before.
Ailsa turned around to see where he was and came back when she saw Wee Willie in the courtyard.
“Ye thrawn wee tike!” She smiled at Willie, hunkering down beside him so she might talk to him face-to-face. “Let me guess. Nurse has gone to partake of the festivities an’ left ye asleep in yer bed, only ye were nae asleep, ye cheeky wee imp. Ye were pretendin’!”
Wee Willie sucked his thumb and shook his head, then he decided to confess. “Aye, Ailsa. I did. But I can climb down the stairs on me own now, I promise ye.”
Ailsa shook her head. “That’s nae the point, wee yin. Ye’re nae allowed down the stairs on yer own because yer mither an’ faither say ye must always hold someone’s hand.”
Wee Willie hung his head and sucked his thumb with furious intensity, trying hard not to cry. This had an immediate effect on Will.
“Och, leave the bairn be. I’m to blame. I beckoned him to come down to me.”
Wee Willie gave Will such a beaming look of gratitude that the blacksmith would have moved mountains on the young child’s behalf.
“Ailsa, I’ll take Wee Willie back up to the nursery an’ stay with him ’til the nurse comes back. What say ye?”
Ailsa laughed. “If I were a glaikit lass, Will, I would be jealous of the wee yin, but ye’re nae the first to fall victim to Wee Willie’s charms.” She looked at him with a measuring expression in her eyes.
“Will, ye were fixin’ to murder C-A-L”—she spelled out the word since Wee Willie was there—“only a while ago. I’m sure ye will understand why I am reluctant to say aye an’ amen to yer suggestion to watch over our laird’s son an’ heir. ”
Only then did Will Fearguson realize the full implications of what his uncontrollable temper had led him to do.
One slip or mistake of his half-brother’s sword and this small child standing not much higher than his knees would have been deprived of a father.
And the beautiful Lady Meria would have been deprived of a husband after a few short years of happiness together; the land would have been lairdless and leaderless, perhaps descending back into mayhem and murder if a power struggle ensued.
His heedless anger and resentment had only thought of revenge, never how the culmination of that revenge might have affected others.
And yet, he did not want the little boy to disappear back up to the tower without him.
“Ailsa, ye are right. Would ye come with us? I would like to get to ken me wee nephew better an’ would be more than happy to sit by him while his nurse makes merry in the banquet hall.”
The housekeeper held up her hand, a sign for him to wait, and returned to where her mother was tapping her foot impatiently. They conferred together for a beat, and then Ailsa came back.
“Mither says she will help Freida in the kitchens an’ send some vittles up to the tower for us to dine on.”
And just like that, Will was able to put the worst episode of the day behind him and get to spend time with his nephew.
He picked the boy up and carried him to the tower stairwell, saying, “How now, Master Tom Thumb, which toy are ye goin’ to show me first?
” Wee Willie nestled his head on Will’s shoulder, and the blacksmith recognized the signs.
“Or would ye prefer for me to tell ye a bedtime story? I ken one ye would enjoy, I reckon.”
He stepped aside, allowing Ailsa to go ahead and open the nursery door for them, then he went to lay the small boy down on his cot. Not trusting the thin cot slats to hold his weight, Will drew a stool close to the head of the bed, tucked Wee Willie under the covers, and began his story.
“This is from a song, a long ballad folks sang hundreds o’ years ago during Beltane revelries.
It’s called ‘The Twa Magicians.’ One magician is a blacksmith.
He’s a lusty lad who can strike his hammer with great force.
He falls in love with a fair witch lady, who has a willow wand and is dressed in long, red robes.
The blacksmith swears he will wed the fair witch lady, but she’ll have none o’ him.
‘Go away, ye coal blacksmith! I dinnae want to yield to ye at the beddan! I’ve been a maiden for so long, an’ I want to keep it that way! ’
“But the blacksmith was a powerful magician, with strength and might besides his magic hammer, so a great contest between the twa magicians ensued with the fair witch lady saying she would rather be dead than give herself over to the coal blacksmith, and that he would nae be able to change her mind, nae even for all the gold in the Highlands! But the blacksmith was relentless in his pursuit o’ the lady.
‘I’ll have ye for me wife, Lady, I swear to it!
’ So, the fair lady flew into the air as a dove, but the blacksmith became a cock dove and flew by her side; then the lady became a duck, but the blacksmith became a drake and swam next to her; the fair lady became a rabbit and ran away, but the blacksmith became a greyhound an’ fetched her back to his field.
Still, the fair witch lady would not give up!
“The beautiful witch tried every trick she knew. If she became a sheep, the blacksmith became a ram; when she changed herself into a mare, he became a stallion. There was no escapin’ her fate.
If she became a bannock bakin’ on the griddle, he became the flames licking around her.
When she changed into a ship, he became the captain an’ boarded her.
The fair witch tried to float away as a cloud, but the coal blacksmith became the lightning and pierced her.
Eventually, weary beyond belief at how determined the blacksmith’s pursuit of her was, the fair witch lady turned into a bed in her chamber.
Only to have the blacksmith turn into a plaid an’ cover her.
He told her she must bide with him forever, put aside her pride, an’ be his wife. ”
“What happened?” Wee Willie asked in a sleepy voice. “I cannae sleep ’til I ken.”
“The fair witch lady said, ‘I will marry ye, ye lusty, dusty, nasty, coal blacksmith,’ an’ they lived happily ever after.”
Wee Willie smiled. “I ken the blacksmith would win.”
Will tucked the covers tightly around his nephew. “The blacksmith always wins, wee yin,” he said.