Findley's Lass Read online

  She let out a frustrated sigh. Men.

  “Ye look verra nice in yer new dress, Maggy,” he told her.

  I could get lost in his sparkling brown eyes. She swallowed and pushed the thoughts aside.

  “Thank ye, kindly,” she said. Her hands went immediately to her skirts as she made an attempt to smooth out some of the wrinkles. She was wearing the practical green dress. She was saving the blue for a special occasion, although she couldn’t imagine any in the near future.

  His eyes seem to twinkle more than usual this morn. They brought a flutter of excitement to her stomach so she forced herself to look away and pretended to look at the beautiful scenery that surrounded them.

  Part of her wanted to think there was more to his compliment than polite small talk. Hadn’t she lost that youthful, innocent part of herself years ago? Widowed mums of five should not be having such feelings, should they?

  Time was not a luxury. They did not linger long as they ate the bread, cheese and apples that Fiona had graciously packed for them. Soon enough they were mounted again and headed towards Stirling.

  “When do ye think we’ll arrive in Stirling, Findley?” Maggy asked as they rode.

  “If all goes well, we shall be there late tomorrow,” he answered over his shoulder.

  “Do ye think yer chief will send the men ye requested?”

  Findley thought on the best way to answer her. While Angus was a fine man with a great sense of honour and duty, Findley could not be certain his chief would answer his plea for help. He could only pray that Angus would send the men he needed.

  “Angus is a good man,” Findley responded.

  “But good enough that he’d be willin’ to sacrifice men for people he does no’ ken?” That had been one of the many questions gnawing at her since yesterday.

  “Lass, ye dunna ken Angus McKenna,” Findley answered and prayed she would drop the subject.

  There were many questions running through Maggy’s mind as well as her heart. “How well do ye ken him?”

  She thought it a very reasonable question. She knew that Findley had lost his family and entire village and carried much guilt over it. She wondered how long he had been a member of Angus’ clan. Mayhap Findley was putting too much faith in a man he had not known long.

  “I ken him verra well. He’s me uncle.”

  She was surprised to learn that. Maggy could only hope that Findley’s family ties were stronger than what she had witnessed in Gawter’s family. Gawter’s family had been filled with people interested only in furthering their individual wants and desires. There had been no strong bonds of family honour. Maggy was convinced it was ice water and greed that ran through their veins and not blood.

  “Are ye close to yer uncle then?”

  “Aye,” Findley answered. She was asking for reassurance.

  “Is he as honourable as ye?”

  “Aye, he is.” That was the truth.

  “Did ye ever find the men responsible for killin’ yer family?” She regretted the question as soon as she asked it. She could feel him grow tense and uneasy and wished that she could withdraw the question.

  Findley took in a deep breath. “Aye, we did.”

  She wanted to know more, but didn’t have the heart to ask. She could feel his uneasiness and apprehension.

  “I’m sorry, Findley,” she told him as she laid her head against his back. It felt good to be holding him. She could feel the strength of his muscles as she held on tightly. But there was more than a physical strength to this man. There was a deep, inner strength that seemed to radiate from within him.

  “I didna mean to bring ye any pain. I simply wanted to ken more of the man I’m puttin’ so much of me faith in.”

  He could not fault her for that. “Dunna worrit,” he said. “I suppose there is much we each want to ken of the other.”

  Maggy was losing herself in the moment. It had been years since she felt protected and cared for. Findley reminded her a bit of her da and her brothers. They were honourable men, much like Findley and his men. Her da and brothers would often put the needs of others ahead of their own.

  Her heart ached with missing her father. Had he not died so young then mayhap she wouldn’t have been forced into the marriage with Gawter.

  Her mother had done her best with raising Maggy and her seven brothers alone. When her mum had agreed to the marriage between Gawter and Maggy it had, at that time, seemed like the answer to many prayers. While sons were perfectly capable of making their own path in life, such was not the case for daughters.

  Lila Boyle had done her best to provide a safe life for Maggy. Had Lila been blessed with seeing the future, she might not have been so agreeable to the marriage of her only daughter to a man with no heart.

  “I lost me da when I was eight,” she murmured, unsure why she chose to share that bit of her past with him. “I miss him verra much.”

  Findley felt his heart tighten in his chest when he heard the sadness in Maggy’s voice. “I was ten and one,” he confessed.

  Maggy sat upright, certain she had misunderstood him. “Ten and one?”

  “Aye,” Findley said with a nod of his head.

  Maggy was beyond perplexed. “Ten and one?” she repeated, wanting to make sure she had heard him correctly. She had assumed he had been much older when he lost his family, for his guilt was so intense.

  “Aye,” he answered again, not understanding her confusion.

  “Findley, ye were just a boy when ye lost yer family,” she said. “How can ye be consumed with such guilt when ye were but a child?”

  And there it was. The same question he’d been asked a hundred times over the years. He had yet to meet anyone who could understand how he felt.

  “It matters not that I was but ten and one. I wasna there to protect them.”

  A sudden realization hit her like a wall of water. “Ye dunna feel guilty that ye weren’t there to protect them,” she said quietly. “Ye feel guilty that ye did no’ die with them.”

  Findley pulled rein and brought his horse to a rapid stop and Maggy had to tighten her hold to keep from falling off. He twisted himself as best he could but could not see her face completely. He was instantly angered by her statement. “Yer daft!”

  “Nay, I’m no’ daft! I speak the truth and ye refuse to hear it,” she threw back at him, loosening her grip once the horse settled.

  “Get down,” he told her. When she shook her head nay and refused to dismount, he tossed his leg over the neck of his horse and slid down to the ground.

  “Ye canna understand it!” he said through clenched teeth.

  “I can understand it well enough, Findley.” She was doing her best to remain calm and not lose her temper.

  “Yer a daft woman, Maggy! Ye canna understand how I feel. It matters not that I was a boy. I was no’ there for me family. I was no’ there to help fight against the English bastards who invaded our village! I was no’ there to save me sister, or me da and mum!”

  “And what could ye have done at ten and one?” Maggy asked him pointedly. “Look at Andrew, Findley! He’s not much older than ye were at the time. Look at him!” Her voice was rising, frustrated with wanting him to see reason.

  His men and the boys had drawn their horses together and stood a good distance from Findley and Maggy. Findley refused to look at Andrew.

  “Yer afraid to look at him,” Maggy said. “Yer afraid to see the right of it. Yer afraid to face the truth, Findley. Ye’ve been carryin’ around yer guilt fer so long ye dunna ken how to live without it.” Maggy lowered her voice.

  “Findley,” she whispered. “Ye were just a boy. There was nothin’ ye could have done to protect any of them. Ye would have died along with the rest of them and that is what ye feel guilty over. No’ that ye couldn’t protect them, but that ye did no’ suffer as they did.”

  No one had ever spoken so bluntly to him before. His whole life, people had tiptoed around the subject. Even his own uncle had failed to se
e the real reasons behind Findley’s guilt.

  Where others had failed to see the truth of it, Maggy was able to see it in a matter of moments. His anger continued to burn. What right did she have to speak so bluntly, to be so forward?

  “I’ll thank ye kindly to keep yer thoughts on the matter to yerself,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Nay,” Maggy said.

  Findley shot her a look of warning. “Lass, I’ll give ye one warnin’, and only one. Ye be treadin’ where ye’ve no right to go.”

  It mattered not that she spoke the truth. She had no problems speaking candidly about his secrets yet she refused to share hers with him.

  She knew he was right. She had no right to speak to him in such a forward manner. But to see a man suffer so and to do nothing to help purge the guilt from his heart was something she could not do.

  Uncertain if it were motherly instincts or those of a woman who wanted to, at the least, be this man’s friend that urged her on, she refused to give up. Whatever the force was that bade her to want to help him as much as he wanted to help her to get her son back, it was far too strong to deny.

  “Findley, I mean no’ to make ye angry or to pain ye. I mean only to help ye see it so ye can shed these many years of guilt. Ye needn’t rid yerself of all of it, fer that would be near impossible. But at the very least, ye need to quit blamin’ yerself fer not dyin’ that day.”

  Findley ran a hand through his hair. He was ready to pull her off the horse and let her ride with someone else. He did not want to discuss it further. But women were peculiar things. They put more stock into feelings and thoughts than men did.

  “Findley,” she said softly. “Had ye died that day, ye’d no’ be here to help me and me sons.” If he could not see that God had a greater plan for him than dyin’ at a young age, she’d make him see it.

  He looked up at her with a befuddled expression. “Can ye no’ see that?” she asked him.

  How many times had he prayed for answers? How many hours had he spent in chapel asking God why? Why had God spared him? Why had God taken his family?

  “God has a plan fer ye, Findley. There is somethin’ he wants of ye and fer ye. And it was no’ to die that day.” Maggy swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

  She had no doubt that God had a special plan for Findley. What she did doubt was Findley’s ability to see it for himself.

  ~~~

  Findley and Maggy rode in silence the rest of the day. He could not put his anger and frustration aside and Maggy refused to beg for his forgiveness.

  They made camp just before sunset, nestling themselves into a copse of tall pine trees. Maggy was used to hard work but riding a horse for an entire day was exhausting. Her muscles ached, her back hurt and her bottom was beyond numb.

  Were they not considerably low on coin and racing against time, Findley would have taken a path less tiring and acquired rooms at an inn. Although he was still quite upset with Maggy, he didn’t like the thought of her sleeping on the cold hard ground. She deserved better.

  While the men in their group felt the tension between Maggy and Findley, the lads were blissfully unaware. The lads understood the gravity of the situation but they still possessed a youthful excitement about the journey they were on. They chattered endlessly through their simple dinner of bread, fruit and dried meat. They spoke of how, if they were armed with swords, they would run each of the Buchannan men through.

  Maggy was too tired and sore to fight sleep. She slept near the fire with her boys around her. Each of the men took turns keeping watch over them.

  The next morning, she found herself in a bit of a grumpy mood. She had slept fitfully, her dreams filled with worry and dread over Ian.

  Sleep had apparently done nothing to improve Findley’s foul mood either. He spoke in short, curt sentences while they packed camp and mounted their steeds.

  As far as Maggy was concerned, Findley could remain as surly and rude as he wanted. She knew she had been right the day before and she was not about to beg forgiveness in order to have him speak to her again. Deep down though, she wished that he would return to behaving like the sweet, gentle Findley she was growing quite fond of.

  The ride to Stirling remained blessedly uneventful. It was nightfall when they saw the city in the distance. Thankfully the moon shone brightly and allowed them to continue riding.

  “Will I be yer wife again this night, Findley?” Maggy asked as she tried to remain awake. She was far too tired to remain angry with him.

  “Aye,” was his curt response.

  A sudden sense of dread came over her. Was he so angry that he might leave her in Stirling and refuse to help her get Ian back? As much as she hated to admit it, she did not like having that worry. She not only needed his help, she found herself wanting it.

  Doing her best imitation of a Highland warrior, Maggy said, “Dunna worrit, Findley. It’ll be in name only. Yer virtue will be safe with me, lad.”

  He was silent for a long time and she wasn’t sure if he found her remark in the good humour she had intended. Och! Such a stubborn man!

  “I thank ye fer that, m’lady. Me virtue and reputation are of the utmost importance to me. I’ve no desire to be a ruint man,” he said.

  “Nay, we would no’ want to ruin yer chances of gainin’ a wife, would we? No woman wants to marry a wanton of a man!” she giggled.

  “’Tis true. Every woman wants an inexperienced man fer a husband. One who is virtuous, pure and innocent,” he chuckled.

  “Ye be quite right, Findley. Women expect their men to no’ know anythin’ about the pleasures she can bring him in their marital bed.”

  “Aye, true, true. And, pray tell m’lady, what pleasures could ye bring me? Or is it a wanton and sinful thing of me to ask?”

  “Och! Lad, if I told ye the pleasures I could bring ye, ye’d blush fer certain!”

  Maggy was merely repeating things other married women had told her over the years, about the bragging ways of their men. She definitely had no personal experience in such matters. Gawter was merely an efficient seed layer and nothing more. There’d been no warmth, no giggling in the dark and no tenderness to their joining. It was simply a means to an end.

  “Would ye be gentle with me though?” Findley asked.

  “Aye,” she answered playfully. “At first. But ye must ken that a husband never denies a wife in their marital bed. Ye’ve a duty, ye see, as a husband.”

  “A duty ye say?” he said, feigning shock. “If it be a duty such as cookin’ yer meals and cleanin’ yer home, then mayhap I wouldna find no pleasure in it.”

  Maggy’s giggle turned to a full-blown laugh. How long had it been since she had laughed so easily and so whole-heartedly?

  Findley felt defenceless against the sound of her full and carefree laughter. He found himself falling in love with her all over again and his anger rapidly dissipating.

  “Och! I’d be certain ye had pleasure in it, husband! Ye canna get ta breedin’ without it!”

  The women of her clan had told her that a woman could not get with child if her husband was unable to please her. Maggy knew from her own experience that that was an old wives’ tale. Gawter’s seed had firmly implanted itself within her womb after only four attempts and she had not experienced any of the pleasure her clanswomen had spoken of.

  “Am I to assume then, wife, that we’d have to keep tryin’ until ye got the matter right?”

  “Aye,” she said. “But ye need no’ worrit much. I be a Highlander and if there is but one thing a Highlander is good at, it be that, lad!”

  “Such braggin’ ye do! I dunna believe ye. I fear ye’d have to prove it, lass.”

  Maggy rested her head against his back again. Her cheeks were beginning to ache from smiling so much. She let out a happy sigh and closed her eyes. This is how it should be, she thought to herself. If it had been like this with Gawter, she would not have minded being his wife.

  Her laughter was having a physical effect on h
is person and he was glad she sat behind him. The effect only increased when his mind began to wander to licentious yet delightful thoughts of how he’d like to bring her more contented sighs.

  They were pulled from their quiet thoughts by the sound of Wee William’s voice. “Glad to see yer lover’s quarrel is at an end!”

  Findley adjusted himself in his saddle and felt Maggy grow tense.

  “Be gone with ye, William,” Findley said firmly. He didn’t want the happy moment with Maggy to be spoiled by his interloping friend.

  Wee William chuckled. “Me apologies fer interruptin’,” he said as Richard, Patrick and the lads pulled alongside them.

  “But we couldna help but hear the laughter comin’ from the two of ye,” Wee William said.

  “Aye,” Richard spoke up. “’Tis nice to see the newly wedded gettin’ along so well.”

  Findley’s jaw tightened and he could feel Maggy’s grip around his waist loosen. “Be gone with ye,” Findley said through clenched teeth.

  “Me thinks the couple are desirin’ time alone,” Richard said with a devilish smile.

  “We’ve lost him fer certain, lads!” Patrick chimed in. “’Tis what happens when a man marries. He fergets his friends, his companions.”

  “Can ye blame him, lads?” Richard asked. “Would ye rather be surrounded by the likes of us, or seek the pleasures of a such a bonny wife as Maggy?”

  “Ew!” Collin said with a sour look upon his face. “I’d rather be with me men than with a wife!”

  “Me too,” Liam agreed. “A wife tells ye what to do. And she makes ye bathe!”

  “That’s because women dunna like smelly things, ye eejit!” Robert offered with an air of experience.

  “Men are supposed to smell like men,” Liam told him.

  “Ye’ll never get ye a wife if ye smell like horse dung,” Robert told him.

  “Good! ’Cause I dunna want one. I’ll keep meself smellin’ like horse dung if that keeps women away.”

  The men laughed at Liam’s statement. “Och!” Richard said. “Ye dunna ken what yer missin’ there Liam!”