Page 18 of Betrayed by His Highland Wife

"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.