Chapter 5

"An" soon, the Douglas-Duncan unity will be underway," Laird Douglas raised a cup and slurred merrily as William smiled slowly.

"Aye, aye, as soon as the wedding is solidified—I mean, och, solemnitied."

William was having trouble pushing the words out. In fact, he was just having trouble. Around him, the room grew warm and vague. He had been drinking for what felt like hours, and the half-light penetrated his thoughts and dreams.

He was still here in the main hall of Duncan Castle. And there they all were—the Douglas clan, plus, of course, his own men—doubling down on the whiskey drams before them. So many men, so much noise, far too much whiskey.

William"s head swam, and the sounds in the room became amplified, banging like a drum in the wind. Next to him, a voice was booming loudly and boastfully.

"Of course, we razed them to the ground, too."

William looked around to find Laird Douglas, his head and beard ensconced in a cask of whiskey, red-faced and shouting.

"An" o" course, we took "em, an" their lands, an" their womenfolk too. What hoo!"

The laird crowed uproariously, setting off a chain of shouts from around him. All around, men growled, banging their feet and baring their fists.

"But dinnae ye fash, Laird William. Noo ye are wi" us, ye are quite safe—for noo!"

The laird"s voice came teasingly, but when William looked, there was a spark in his eye. Slowly, his meaning became clear. Through his fug, William began to realize. Opening up his blue eyes further, he took in his future father-in-law.

Laird Douglas was like a boulder in a chair. A huge, hulking brute of a man, encroaching middle age had done little to soften him—only turned his bronzed hair a shade of monochrome gray. And his beard, running in black-and-white stripes, made him curiously resemble some furry rodent.

Douglas"s eye wandered ominously across the Duncan hall.

"I mean, aye, ye have a bonnie castle an" hall," said the laird magnanimously. "An" a fair an" beauteous clan."

Here the Douglas chief"s frazzled eye met some young serving lass, briefly clearing the tables.

"But ye are still vera vulnerable to an attack, if ye ken mah meaning," the Douglas laird slurred.

William looked up. He thought he knew only too well.

"We are ready wi" oor defenses," assured William, looking him in the eye. He was earnest. But Douglas was not.

"Och, of course, I ken ye are. An" yer fighters are brave an" fast," mollified the laird, extending a drunken arm over him.

William permitted the Douglas laird to bear hug him with an inebriated gesture, but he did not exactly reciprocate the act.

"But?" said William, getting in early.

Before him, the Douglas laird looked unsure. "Eh?" gaped Douglas, his thick gray hair stewing in his drink. Irritably, he pushed it back, immediately knocking the chalice of whiskey over. "Och! Crivvens!"

"Dinnae fash," said William, almost equally drunkenly, as a comely young lass hastened with a cloth. The laird of Douglas duly admired her as she leaned over, her long blonde-colored hair swaying all over them.

"But what?" said the laird of Douglas, as the girl cleaned up the spilled whiskey and departed.

William, completely forgetting what it was he had said, stared at him. Now it was his turn to gawp and be unsure. For a moment, the pair of them looked in surprise. Then, the Douglas laird roared.

"Och," he said, with a sudden burp. Then he looked at the serving lass, passing by again with jugs of ale. Affecting a modest pose, Douglas gasped. "Pardon me, miss!"

Laird Douglas placed a hand in front of his mouth and pretended to be chaste. Then he guffawed loudly. "Dinnae fash, dinnae fash. An" ye also, William, ye"ve nothing to fash about if ye stay wi" us. I shall look after yer wee clan—och! Did I e"er tell ye about the time that we defeated the Lowlander clans single-handed."

William smiled politely, but inside he screamed. Douglas was insufferable. And the more he drank, the worse he bragged. The only thing to do was to get equally drunk. Which he did do.

But it did not solve the fundamental problem that the Douglas clan was by far and away the more powerful.

And didn"t the laird of Douglas know it.

"I believe ye might have done," said William diplomatically.

Two or three hundred times.

Laughing, Douglas slapped William hard on the shoulder. Stung, William turned around. He was almost going to retaliate when he remembered that this was meant to be friendly.

Baring a grin, William nodded.

For his part, Douglas simply paid no heed to anything except what was in his head.

"Well, I didnae tell ye that was how we found oor Sorcha." The laird winked as the lady-in-waiting, a delicate woman, head-to-toe in gray, turned a deep shade of pink.

William looked away, embarrassed for her.

"I...um, nay, really," said William, a combination of drunk boredom and uncertainty grabbing him. With a quick glance, his eyes took in the great chamber.

All the clans seemed to have turned out to witness the coming of their union. Three days of feasting had been declared, and the revelries had left everyone worse for wear. Not least of all him.

But there was still something missing.

Two days into the feasting, he had only met his future intended once. During the day, there had been hunting with the Douglas laird. And of course, endless drinking.

William had thought himself well-versed in drinking until meeting the Douglas laird. He hated to admit it, but he had drunk him under the table and still had room for more. All the same, William tried his hardest to compete and also to drag the topic back to where he wanted it to be.

"So, um, Laird Douglas," began William, trying hopelessly to discuss clan matters. "When we unite, we should look at how things should be."

But that was as far as he got. At the first mention of unite, Douglas merely guffawed and put his arm around William"s shoulder.

"Och, aye, unite, well, dinnae fash wee laddie, ye"ll be taken care o"."

Sighing, William tried again but was simply shut down by Douglas, cheerfully brandishing a drink. Which seemed to be his answer to every strategic question.

"Och, I ken, but—" spluttered William. He was good-natured but more than a little frustrated.

But Laird Douglas was in no mood to discuss politics. Slapping William on the back, he laughed.

"Drink! Drink! Drink!"

As the table clamored with warriors raising their cups and banging, William found himself entreated to drink yet again.

Och no,his poor head moaned, as the room span and the Douglas laird tripled. Somehow, things had not gone to plan. By now, William had been hoping for two things; to spend some time with his future betrothed and to sit down and really sort out the details for the unifying of the clans.

Through the haze of whiskey, it had become painfully clear that if the Douglas clan did not extend their protection, then the Duncans risked being swallowed up by the bigger clan. So this union really had to work. Which was another reason that he really needed to get to know this girl.

But there was another one too.

He really liked her. And finally, it seemed like his chance was near.

Nora had just walked in.

* * *

Eyes pressed down,Nora swept into the Duncan Great Hall in a swirl of green. The noise that was all around her was shut down as she pushed through the room.

It was crowded, and through servants carrying flagons of ale and other persons, it was hard for her to make her way across. Then she disappeared behind a troupe of musicians just arriving to entertain the diners.

Anxiously, William watched. She had vanished completely. Scrambling to his feet, he went to look for her, startling the laird as he did.

"Nora?" called William as he looked for her.

She had gone. Darting around, William began to wonder if he had imagined her there. He was on his umpteenth whiskey by then. Beside him, Douglas shouted him down.

"Och, William, where are ye going? Sit ye doon."

Drunkenly, the Douglas laird tried to pull him back down to the table, but only succeeded in falling out of his chair.

Now, the giant laird was spreadeagled on the floor, snarling madly.

"Och, dinnae fash," roared the drunken laird, as William, honor bound, was the first to help him up. But even as he brought his hand down to help him, his eyes wandered, searching for her.

"Come on, sir," said William respectfully, as he hauled his future father-in-law up from the horizontal position on the floor.

My God, he is heavy!

William pulled and pushed for all he was worth, but in the end, he had to accept help.

"Dinnae fash," complained the errant laird, still making absolutely no effort to get upright by himself. In fact, he seemed surprisingly relaxed about the whole thing. "I will get up by mysel" when an" if I want to!"

"Um, well, that"s braw, sir, but it is a wee bit dusty doon there, an" I dinnae think..." began William. He was looking around, but she was not there. In fact, there was not a trace of her anywhere.

Despondent, William turned back to the laird. He had to say, he was not expecting him to get so drunk, especially so early in the proceedings.

"I can get up. It"s nae as if I am blootered," protested the laird, as his sisters sent looks from the end of the table.

"Nay, nay," said William, wondering what exactly his definition of blootered was, if not horizontal under a table. In despair, William looked around.

All about were servants charging madly. But no one seemed minded lending a hand. Perhaps they had reason. Laird Douglas had a fearsome reputation, and the Duncan Castle servants scooted shy of him.

And his own guards were way back, guarding the entrances to the room from whatever distant menace lurked beneath the castle walls. It seemed no one had thought that the laird"s biggest risk would be himself.

So as William battled to get Laird Douglas upright, he also had to battle against something else—the man himself.

"Och, dinnae fash, lad," growled Laird Douglas, yet again, refusing to be compliant.

Poor old Sorcha came close, attempting to help him as she, too, was given short shrift.

"Awa" wi" ye, woman," spat the drunk laird, as the dainty lady backed off. William felt bad for her as the laird muttered beneath his breath, "Och, where is my wee puterelle of a lassie?"

William blinked as Sorcha looked away. From beneath the table, the laird"s red face became excited.

"She cannae be fashed for her own wedding," he cursed grumpily. He looked at William, his eyes rolling pathetically. "I can only apologize for the silly wee moo!"

William tried to smile and help the laird back up. But he was stuck hard.

Embarrassed, William tried again. Nothing.

"Allow me..."

Out of nowhere, a hand had appeared. Clasping the laird"s arm, it pulled hard. And with William"s help, they got the drunken laird vertical, although he was still grumbling.

"Och, I was braw!" he complained, as he was settled clumsily onto the stool. "I told ye to leave me, but that"s women for ye. They dinnae listen!"

The laird began berating Sorcha; at least, William assumed it was her. Right then, he was too busy mopping the sweat from his brow. His father-in-law was heavy and had been like moving a mound of lead.

Red-faced, William felt their eyes on him, staring. His sisters giggled, and their bairns laughed. And it was not even he who was drunk—at least not so bad.

With some help, William positioned the laird on the stool with care. Finally, his eyes connected with the person who had helped. They repositioned the pickled laird, making him groan and swear. Looking down, William noted how fair and slim they were.

A woman"s hands.

Following them further, he traced her graceful arms and shapely neck. Looking up, he was astonished to see her décolletage. It was sweet and pliant. Already, he could feel her soft flesh beneath his fingertips, juicy as a clootie dumpling.

"William?"

William turned to stone. Her gaze welcomed him in. There, of course, in front of him was Nora.

She welcomed him with a smile, then winked.

"Well, I"ve never seen anyone drink my father under the table afore, I"ll give ye that."