Chapter 9

There was a rap on the door, frantic and unguarded, made by knuckles that chafed.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Not so much a knock as an assault! Frayed, Nora battled jangled nerves to leap from the bed, heart pounding.

The rapping came again, this time louder.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Was it a siege?

Clasping the bedclothes tightly to her bust, Nora waited. Cautiously, she pressed her nose to the door to listen.

"Nora?" William"s voice came through the door.

This was déjà vu.

"Nora?" He was more insistent now. But Nora was scoffing. Had she not been humiliated enough the first time this happened?

"Nora, can ye let me in?" William asked, aggrieved. But not as aggrieved as Nora was.

Indignant, she called out, "Och, why do ye always get up so early!" she barked, as William laughed.

"Early? It"s evening. I"m telling ye to come an" eat."

In a panic, Nora looked around. The light was fading. It was indeed evening. Immediately, she blushed. Then, she looked down. There was clothing beneath her makeshift cloaking, but she did not remember getting dressed. Screwing her eyes, she thought hard. After arriving back from their ride, she had taken a few wee drams, then had been very woozy and lain on the bed. Presumably, she had dropped off.

"Och!" said Nora, feeling stupid. Quickly, she unbolted the door, and swiftly, William came in.

Wearing a look of detached amusement, William looked her over. In the soft light, his bold features were cast in a warm glow.

"Well, I can only apologize for disturbing yer beauty sleep," he said, with a shy gaze. "But I can tell ye, ye dinnae need any mair o" it."

It was meant to be a compliment, but Nora was still reeling. Looking around, she checked the skies. He was right. It was definitely evening. The last of the sun could be seen disappearing over the tops of the hills. Kicking herself for being so untogether, Nora pulled the bedsheet up tight around her once more, then looked down.

She was dressed, but she did not remember what she was wearing. And with William watching her, she did not dare to peek.

"I..." she began, confounded. Then, she looked around. Coming up close, William gazed with curiosity. His eyes strayed beneath her sheeting.

"I think ye can manage wi"out this," he said, suddenly coming up behind her and removing the blanket from her.

"Och!" she gasped, as William swished the sheet away. Looking down, Nora was surprised to see a full evening dress swishing to the ground. Turning around, she found her reflection in the opposite glass and watched uncertainly.

"Purple," she murmured. For a minute or so, she wondered where the robe had come from. Then, she remembered.

"The color suits ye well," William complimented her, coming over and admiring the hue of her dress. "I am glad I sent it to ye!"

Blinking, Nora remembered it all. When she had arrived in her chamber, there had been a robe on the bed. Without waiting to find out where it came from, she had tried it on. Then, promptly, she fell asleep.

Now looking at herself with renewed interest, she sashayed around, pulling the dress up to see the style. It was an expansive houppelande, made of thick velvet. Truth be told, it was rather heavy, not to mention sweaty. But looking at herself, Nora did not care. It fit like a charm, and the velvet rustled beneath her like a smooth stream.

"Ye sent it?" She looked up into William"s face. Of course, he had sent it. Where else do I suppose it came from? she chided herself. But she could not help her surprise.

"Aye," said William, sitting down on the bed. Nora surprised herself by sitting beside him.

The last vestiges of sleep still clouded her mind. She was still coming around.

"Aye, I sent it. I thought o" ye the moment I saw it," he said.

Nora blushed. "Ye shouldnae have," she said, before immediately asking him, "Where did ye see it?"

Her eyes cornered his, capturing his bright blue gaze. But to her surprise, he began to pull away. Slowly, he blinked.

Wondering if she had said the wrong thing, Nora waited watchfully.

"Ach, I saw it in my mother"s auld chest," he said, looking away.

Nora immediately felt a twang. "Yer mother," she said gently. But inside, the sound of her heart colliding with her ribs banged loudly.

"Aye," said William, pressing his head back and leaning on his hand. He appeared to be thinking. Tensely, Nora waited.

They were near. Far too near. His hand was within easy touching distance. Not to mention the rest of him there, on the bed. Just laying...

William tilted his head back as he addressed her. "Aye, there was a chest o" her auld things. I hadnae ever kent afore." He stopped. Nora noticed his eyes softening somewhat, as if she had witnessed some private moment accidentally.

"She..." struggled Nora. Her brain reeled, desperate to keep up. She could not remember exactly where William"s mother was, and it had been one of those awkward questions she was unsure of asking.

"She died when I was wee," said William.

Nora immediately felt bad. Then, a rush buzzed through her. "Mine too," said Nora, her heart in her mouth. For a moment, she was overpowered. This revelation was very much unexpected. Perhaps it should not have been. She ought to have remembered that William, too, had no mother. But something troubled her.

"I thought ye had a mother or stepmother."

She frowned, realizing her mistake a moment later. How she wished she could remember everything her father had told her!

William looked down. "Anabelle was my aunt. Oor mother"s sister. She betrayed us. She may as well be dead."

Nora felt herself tensing. This was not what she had been expecting. Uncertainly, she moved a little closer to William.

"I-I am sorry," she said, touching his hand. The moment her skin brushed against his, she tensed. Then, a warm tingle ran from the bottom of her arm to its tip. And he faced her.

"Dinnae be." He smiled. "It"s nae yer fault. Ye didnae kill anyone, nor betray us all."

Nora flinched. She could not stop it. Instinctively, she wanted to blurt it all out. And deep inside, she felt sick. Seeing her pale face, William looked at her kindly.

"An" I ken ye dinnae have a mother," he said somberly.

Nora felt someone kick her in the guts for a second time. Narrowing her eyes, she squared up to William. Did he know?

Bewildered, Nora really was not sure. Was he taking her for a fool, or did he really not know what had occurred that night with their mother?

But William"s deep blue eyes told another story. They danced with sincerity. Confused, Nora looked again. Certainly, he knew about the feud. But perhaps William genuinely did not know that their guards had killed her mother.

In fact, now she came to think of it, why would he? They had never admitted it. However, that just made things worse.

Nora jolted. A strange, sick feeling entered her. She was split, cold with anger for the loss of a mother but also alive with desire for William. And his revelation about his own mother had caught her unawares. Now her emotions towered high.

Just as she was finding her feet, William suddenly stood up and smiled. Looking down, he made his way to the door.

"I apologize for interrupting ye again. I should leave ye to dress properly, but dinner will be taken shortly downstairs, an" I would like for ye to join me. Alone!"

His eyes glanced upward, giving Nora a strange thrill. Before she could say another word, William had gone, leaving her on her own, with her beating heart.

This was all too fast. Trying her hardest to keep on task, Nora scraped her hair back into a headdress. Anything not to have to think.

But think, she did.

All she could do was think. And the words William had said kept repeating in her mind.

Ye didnae kill anyone, nor betray us all.

It was no good. How on earth was she going to do this?

* * *

"Come,let us light the candles afore she comes."

William called hopefully to the maids scurrying out of sight in the great hall. Suddenly, every last one of them seemed to have disappeared. Frowning, William looked around.

"Annie? Morag? Och, anyone?" In disbelief, William looked around. A prickly feeling in his spine interrupted him. He was surprised to find it was panic, at least of the mild variety.

The hall was unlit and unready. For the household, the main meal had been taken, and diners came streaming out, leaving the chamber dark and empty.

Casting a skew eye about, William saw drinking vessels strewn all over, spilled drinks, bones, bits of food, and half-eaten tranchers all about. The place was chaos, and worse still, there did not seem to be anyone to clear it.

With not much choice, William began clearing plates. Awkwardly, he piled some plates together and attempted lifting. Immediately, he dropped one, shattering to bits beneath him.

"God"s bones!" swore William, frantic. Not only were there shards, but huge globules of potage went flying all over the floor.

"Ye must like her," a wry voice mocked him. William turned to see Alasdair there, tilting his blond head and smirking.

Perspiring a little, William huffed. "Nay, I mean, a wee bit. I dinnae ken, it isnae any matter."

William cursed himself for being so flustered. Now Alasdair definitely knew for sure. The pale eyes of his languid advisor teased him profusely.

"Och, "tis of nay importance. I merely wish the hall to be clean. Is that too much to ask?" he demanded, imperious. But one glance into Alasdair"s eyes showed they both knew it to be untrue.

Under duress, William sighed.

"Och, aye. I like her. So there ye are!" he admitted at long last. Triumphant, Alasdair came to stand beside him.

"I ken." He winked, then looked serious. "An" so does half the castle," he added. "But "tis nae necessary. "Tis nae like ye have to woo the lassie. "Tis a done deal."

Alasdair cast a droll eye over William, who started.

"A done deal? Och, ye have all the romance o" a dead turbot," William huffed, and then instantly regretted it. Trim, lanky Alasdair had got the better of him, and now that he had the upper hand, there was no letting go of it.

"Och, romance, is it noo?" teased his friend. Alasdair"s watery eyes poised upward; he knew just the right levels of jest. He would only tease his laird lightly. After a moment, Alasdair paused and looked serious.

"Well, dinnae fash, I am sure the wee hen wilnae spurn ye just because o" some dirty dishes," Alasdair quipped, but his eyes were watching. Sighing, William put down the plate and grinned.

"Alasdair, promise me one thing," he said, with a sidelong look at his friend. "Dinnae try to woo a woman because ye dinnae stand the first chance!"

Alasdair flashed him a smile. "When I need yer help, I will ask ye. In the meantime, allow me to assist ye."

The advisor began gathering up plates, grabbing leftover tranchers, and clearing away the quaichs and drinks. Instantly, William felt uncertain. With no warning at all, he felt low.

Watching his face, his friend grew thoughtful. "If ye"re noo careful, she"ll trip o"er yer low chin!" he said, but still William remained grave. Looking at him again, he asked. "What"s up wi" ye?"

Catching himself, William unclouded his face. "Och, nothing. I just dinnae ken. She is the brightest light I have ever seen an" sets the room aglow, but, och, what if she doesnae really want to marry me at all?"

Alasdair paused, tilting his head to one side. Putting down the plate, he looked serious.

"Whatever makes ye say that?" he said.

William just frowned. "I dinnae ken," he said uncertainly. He was about to tell Alasdair about his fears and the strange mixed signals that Nora was sending when suddenly, he was unsure. Before he had a chance to say anything, Alasdair jumped in.

"Noo, if anything, I"d say she was vera keen," he observed. William instantly looked. "Or, at least, her father is. I heard him asking if the wedding could be moved forward at all. I told him he was talking to the wrong man."

William drew his brow into a frown again, this time deepening into a crease.

"Ah," he said ponderously. "Well, ye see, he is part o" the problem, an"—"

"My father is always part o" any problem."

William felt his heart exploding. Unable to breathe, he turned and saw Nora smiling. Behind him was Alasdair, grinning ruefully.

"Nora!" William jumped up, cheerfully ready to strangle Alasdair.

Why didnae ye warn me? his eyes flashed, while he tried to remove the surprise from his features and look calm.

But Nora had already seen it and now was watching him with renewed amusement.

"Nora, I—" William began. He scrambled to his feet. Inside, he wondered how much of their little exchange she had heard. Her face was not telling, but he reckoned she probably heard pretty much all of it.

"Aye, lad," said Nora, her eyes dancing, amused. "I ken, my father can be quite a trial."

"Ah, um, I just meant that—" started William, realizing that he had no idea how to end this sentence.

Nora waved him down. "Och, dinnae fash. An" anyway, let"s nae speak o" him. After all, this looks like a gusty wee supper for just us two."

Nora"s eyes sparkled as she looked around. Unbidden, she sat down on the benches before them as William watched her, unsure.

"Come on," she said, patting the bench next to him. Bewildered, William sat down as Alasdair discreetly disappeared, leaving them to it. "Ye can tell me exactly how my father has irked ye!"

The look she sent him was pure mischief and gave him unexpected ructions. Her eyes, so knowing, teasing him in. William forgot whatever it was he had been worrying about and sat right down.

"Thank ye." Nora nodded to the serving wench, who had appeared, unbidden, to serve the first course. William looked around.

Somehow, the table had been reset, and new dishes were placed in waiting for them. He blinked. He had not noticed this happening, so preoccupied he was with Nora.

"Mmm, braw," murmured Nora, picking at the fish dish in front of her. Helping her to some more, William watched her eat. In fact, he could barely take his eyes away.

"Here, a wee bit more," said William patiently. Courteously, he poured her some wine as she delicately tasted the fare. "It"s all from oor own stocks."

Nora dabbed the sides of her mouth and picked her way through the plate. William was so distracted that he almost forgot to eat his own. All he could do was stare.

Smiling, Nora tried everything he brought her, nodding her head and agreeing it was the best thing she had ever tasted. When they had finished eating—William really did not know how much later, only that he felt incapable of another morsel—he sat back in his seat, grinning.

"Ye seem best pleased wi" yerself," said Nora inquisitively. Her eyes darted impishly all around him. In fact, she had been most pert throughout the meal. As the feast had progressed, William had become gradually merrier, and his fears had ebbed away.

Gazing at her gentle face, any thoughts that she may not be interested simply disappeared.

Refilling their goblets, he leaned in closer. "Nay, lass, I am best pleased wi" ye," he confessed. His voice was barely a whisper; he could not help it. He was overwhelmed by her presence.

Nora took the compliment. "Well, I am glad to hear it," she said, the tiniest rose coming into her cheek. Since finishing their meal, she had pinkened. Her cheek looked so tender that William was immediately consumed by the need to kiss it.

Hot thoughts submerged him, sudden thoughts of grabbing her chin and kissing her, right there, right then. William"s thoughts cut right through their conversation. She was witty and warm and had made him laugh, but just then, he could not hear a word of it.

Kiss me,she might as well have said. An" make it quick.

William turned away. He had to. The desire welling up inside him was so strong. Sipping his aqua vitae, his eyes glanced to Alasdair, then she sat up sharp.

When did he come back in?

But Alasdair did not speak. His watchful gaze said it all. He had noted the passion between them. He knew, and William knew he knew.

Right then, he didn"t care who else knew too.

Leaning, he pulled her close. For just one moment, he had every intention of kissing her for real. Already, he could taste her lips, deep cherries and sweetness. Unexpected passion roused between his legs. Everything was on fire. Dropping his eyes, he signaled to Alasdair to get out of the room.

Finally, they were together, just him and her. Nora was laughing with her head held back, revealing her hair. It tumbled loosely, escaping from its caul or whatever the damned hell that pillowing was. William did not care; her hair was too special to be closeted, and suddenly, he had to fight every fiber of the urge to caress it.

"Yer hair is bonnie," said William, in the biggest understatement of his life. His fingers itched to stroke it. Thick, luscious strands of curls unfurled themselves all around her. Now her redundant headdress had loosened, and, scandalously, Nora let it fall to the ground.

"Och, "tis a midden!" she exclaimed, loosing her freed hair.

William felt himself shiver all over, but could not save himself from her gaze.

"Ye"re bonnie. In fact, ye"re more than bonnie. Ye"re the fairest flower o" any field," William said, straightening himself. He was aware his words had begun to slur, but it did not change anything he said.

Nora said nothing, her deep green gaze agog with surprise. Watching her face, William froze. He had blown it. He had frightened her off. Despondent, he cast his eyes down. He should never have done it; now she would run a mile.

But instead, Nora grinned, inviting him in. William felt his heart pump and grind. Everything around him began spinning.

Slowly, he leaned in, this time not stopping until her face brushed his. Any closer and they would be kissing. And once that happened, there really would be no way back.