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Iteuil, Aquitaine, December 1356

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“Do you ever look at the clouds and think that they carry messages from God about our destiny?” asked Louise.

She lay next to Doogle on the grass under a thick blanket and watched the sky and the clouds therein that scudded across the vast expanse above them.

For the most part, it had been a sunny day. The air was icy crisp. It made Doogle feel alive – more so than ever before in his life.

“I dinnae think much about such things,” said Doogle.

“Don’t you believe in destiny?”

He shifted his weight to his side so that he could look at her. The breath hitched in his throat. She was exquisite. Doogle scrutinized every detail of her face that to him was absolutely flawless. He loved her skin that was darker than that of the women from his country. Her obsidian-colored black hair shimmered in the weak sunlight like silk.

But what he appreciated the most about her was her mind. Louise reminded Doogle of his mother. Like Mary, Louise was quick-witted and very well educated. She grasped all things very quickly, and when she was unsure, she had no qualms in voicing her questions.

“Do I believe in destiny?” Doogle mused about it for a few heartbeats. “Well, I suppose I do,” he said at last.

Louise turned her head to face him. Immediately, his gaze seemed to capture her, robbing her of speech.

“What makes you believe in fate then?”

“Meeting ye, lassie.”

“Me?”

“Aye, ye.”

A smile flickered across her lips. “Do you think that our destinies are entwined?”

“Aye, I do. How else would I have found ye,” said Doogle. He moved closer. With his right hand, he brushed away an errant lock that had settled on Louise’s cheek.

“It was I who found you,” she said, lifting her chin in the way Doogle had noticed she always did when she wanted to make her point.

The gesture made him laugh. “Aye, that ye did, lassie.”

“I was so happy to find you despite the state you were in. You cannot imagine how worried I was. For weeks, you floated between life and death.” A lone tear slipped down her cheek, which Doogle wiped away with his thumb.

“I am better now – thanks to ye and Alianor,” he said softly.

“And soon you will leave and return home.”

Doogle pressed his lips together. It was true. He had regained his full strength. Physically, he was able to travel the long distance home. However, he had put off the decision for days. He was not ready to leave quite just yet.

The feisty Frenchwoman held him in a vice. She was like a magnet or the blossom to a bee. Her entire way captivated him. Doogle was not sure whether he could ever leave her – they had grown very close as the days had turned to weeks. The feelings he felt toward Louise were alien to him and like nothing he had either experienced or heard about.

His brothers or father had never spoken to him about how they felt with regard to their women. All Doogle knew was that they loved them. That information had always been enough. Not today. What he would give to be with his brother, Brice. He desperately needed his counsel.

At night, he dreamt of Louise. During the day, he could not tear his eyes away from her. When she spoke, he listened with rapture as if she was a bird tooting the sweetest melody. Louise was everywhere all the time. Her saccharine scent invaded his nostrils. The twinkle of her emerald green eyes that shared the color of the fields around Iteuil constantly lured him in – it was like being caught in the most satisfying embrace.

However, he had trouble understanding how there could be such beauty in the world. He wondered how it could coexist with the horrors he had seen on the battlefield. And for the first time in his life, he truly understood why men fought for their countries.

They did not do it for a flag, a sigil or a king. Men did it for their women and the families they left behind. Without them, kings would wield no power; they would have no influence for the only thing worth fighting for was love.

But did he love Louise? Did he even know what the love for a woman was? Since she saved him on the banks of the river, strange sensations had occupied his body. It was as if constant warmth stroked the underside of his skin. The feeling was most prevalent in the abdominal region. It robbed him of his appetite, inviting reproachful looks from Louise’s mother who often asked whether the food was not to his liking.

Doogle felt as if he had his feet lodged in two separate dimensions. He had never been so confused in his life – the feelings were alien to him. At the same time, he had to admit to himself that he felt good. Being with Louise brought out the very best in him. As the days passed by, the more he could imagine spending the rest of his life with her.

In the midst of all of this, Alexandre, Louise’s father, was the only true constant in his daily life. As men do, they worked side by side for the larger part in total silence. And when they did exchange words, it was about the animals, the war with the English and the state of the French kingdom that was described to them by the many refugees that roamed the land.

Often, Louise would come out to where Doogle and her father worked on the fields or with the animals in the pens. She would bring them cold meat, bread, fruit, and wine. Then, the three of them would sit down on the grass and eat the food no matter how cold it was.

The conversation was always light and full of laughter. It reminded Doogle of back home. He shared the very same easy-going relationship with his mother and father when they were not in the view of the entire clan in the Great Hall. He missed them and his brothers a great deal. And yet, he knew that if he left Iteuil, he would miss Louise just as much.

His gaze focused. He could see her lips moving. The vision was blurred but unmistakable. Soon, he heard her voice. It was soft and incomprehensible at first until it gradually became clearer.

“Doogle, you did not answer me. When are you returning home?”

Doogle remained fixated on her green eyes. They drew him in. Without him knowing it, his lips pressed against hers. He was gentle. He could feel her shuddering. He moved his hands up until his arms enveloped her body. And when her lips parted, he felt her tongue tentatively brush against his – it was the most wonderful experience he had ever had.

---

Against everything her mind was telling her, Louise found herself becoming more and more engrossed by the power of the kiss. Before she knew it, she kissed him back with the same increasing vigor and need. She relished the feel of his strong arms around her. She knew that, if he wanted to, he could crush every bone in her body. Knowing that was an aphrodisiac in itself – his brute strength was hers, and she was riding it like an eagle in the sky.

When Louise felt her back touch the ground, she knew that she had never felt safer in her life. Doogle’s body was like some mighty castle – his arms and torso were the walls and towers, his face the keep, the heart of the structure and where she most wanted to be, and his tongue the army that conquered her and made her his subject and…

Mon Dieu!

Louise almost choked when she felt his ardor press between her legs. Naturally, she had heard of the ways of men and how their bodies’ functioned, but she never considered what it might feel like to experience a man’s full excitement.

The feelings burbling inside of her were mixed. They alternated between great pride at being able to make his body react so to abject fear when she realized just how powerful the beast under his kilt was.

She wanted to reach down and touch it – discover what it was that drove men insane with lust. But feeling it press against her body was enough. His eager tongue and firm grasp of her with his hands were impossible to resist. For a moment longer, she forgot where all of this could lead.

Father Mortimer had instructed her in the sins of men. How a man would lust after a woman’s body and leave her to suffer the consequences after he had gotten what he wanted. But in her heart of hearts, Louise knew that Doogle was a good man and that he would act honorably. He was not like Jean Philippe and his ilk – they only took, plundered and pillaged in a quest to assuage their avarice and lust.

Louise felt the heat of their embrace crest her skin. Her heart pumped at double its usual pace. Her hands rubbed Doogle’s body, relishing in the feeling of hard muscle. The very best was having him kiss her.

They had become far more demanding with their probing, touching and licking. It was as if they had been doing this their entire life. Doogle and Louise moved as one being. The cold of the winter, although present, was a mere bystander in the heat of passion.

All reason had left Louise’s mind. If she did not stop herself, she would give all of herself to the Highlander. Her body had usurped any cognitive thought – raw lust, desire and emotion held her in a vice. The feeling of Doogle’s tongue in her mouth had been strange at first, but now she embraced it with her own. It was the most normal and beautiful thing in the world.

With a deep breath, Doogle moved away from her. It took him a few moments to regain his composure. All he could do was stare at the Frenchwoman. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her chest moved up and down with her heavy breathing.

“What is it, Doogle?” Did I do something wrong?” asked Louise.

He shook his head. “No, lassie. Ye did everything right. If I had continued kissing ye, I would not have been able to stop myself.”

“Would that have been such a bad thing?” she asked, looking a little confused.

“We are not married. Where I come from the union of the flesh between man and woman is permitted prior to wedlock as long as the couple so engaged promise to marry.”

Louise frowned. “You do things quite differently to us. In France, you need to be married before the consummation of the flesh.”

“That is what I thought. Ye mean too much to me for me to have dishonored ye like that.”

His words made her heart skip a beat. The notion that she meant something to Doogle almost made her want to scream out her joy.

“What happens now?”

“I dinnae ken.”

“Then why don’t you ask my father for my hand in marriage? Father Mortimer could say the words.”

Louise had never felt more certain about something in her life. She wanted nothing more than to be Doogle’s wife – she had known from the day she met him.

Doogle chuckled. “Can’t ye wait until ye are asked, lass?”

Louise dipped her head to one side and regarded the Highlander closely. “Non, Doogle. I know what I want. Papa taught me that if you want something in life you have to fight for it and not wait around.”

“Wise words from a wise man.”

“So, are you ready to go to my father and ask him?” The expression on Louise’s face was serious; it did not broach any room for argument.

“I would like nothing more,” replied Doogle.

He got to his feet and held out his hand to Louise who beamed back at him.

“I can’t wait to tell Papa. He will be so excited.”

---

For the remainder of the walk back to the farm Louise did not stop talking. She spoke of the home they would live in and how many children she wanted.

Doogle could listen to her enthusiasm for all eternity. All he could do was cast glances in her direction. Each time he discovered new and more enchanting attributes about her. He realized that when she spoke quickly that her nose would wiggle. And when she laughed, her cheeks would indent slightly. The woman that was to be his wife was the most enchanting creature he had ever seen.

“Papa!” Louise dashed forward when she saw her father exit the barn. He waved back at her.

Doogle watched her race the final paces to the farm. She resembled a dainty sprite that floated over the land. It was a breathtaking sight to behold. He quickened his stride. Despite it being the happiest day of his life, Doogle was nervous – what if Alexandre said no to his proposal?

“Louise tells me that you have something to ask of me. Allez, spit it out,” said Alexandre when Doogle came to a halt in front of him.

“I, I – Well, ye see, sir. It’s like this,” stammered Doogle.

Alexandre cast him a wry grin. “Take a deep breath, Doogle.”

He did as he was told.

“I would like to marry yer daughter?” he blurted.

Alexandre chuckled. “Now, was that so difficult?”

Louise huffed and placed her hands on her hips. “Men! Papa, you have not answered him.”

Her father raised an eyebrow at his daughter. “Are you sure you know what you are letting yourself in for, young man. My daughter is bossy and fierce.” He promptly received a slap to the shoulder. “See what I mean.”

Doogle laughed. “I love yer daughter more than anything in the world, Alexandre. I would like nothing more than to have Louise as my bossy and fierce wife.”

“Well, Papa,” said Louise.

“Well then, I would be delighted for you to marry my Louise, Doogle. These past weeks I have seen how happy the two of you are when you are together. It would be an honor to have you as my son-in-law. Come! We must tell Lisette.”

Alexandre turned on his heel and marched in the direction of the hovel where his wife had already prepared the evening meal.

“I love you, Doogle. Papa said yes – we are going to get married.” Louise danced about on the spot before she hurled her arms around the burly Highlander and planted her mouth on his.

They were so engrossed in their second kiss of the day that they initially did not hear the approach of many horses. Doogle was the first to pull away. Automatically, he pushed Louise behind his frame to protect her from the oncoming riders. He counted about twenty of them.

“Mon Dieu! It is Jean Philippe,” said Louise.

Doogle turned to look at his betrothed. “Jean Philippe? Who is that?”

When he saw the color leave her face, he knew that something was very wrong.

Louise never got to answer his question; before they knew it, the horsemen surrounded them. Doogle scanned the men’s faces. It did not take him long to ascertain which of them was the leader – Jean Philippe.

“I promised you that I would return after the battle to stake claim to my bride to be,” announced Jean Philippe. “Now I am back, my love.”

Doogle scowled at him. “She is not to be yer bride but mine.”

The Frenchman squinted. “It appears my woman is a harlot and has been cavorting with other men in my absence. How many have there been, wench?”

Doogle felt Louise shudder behind him. The anger surged inside of him – nobody called the woman he loved promiscuous and lived. He scanned the heavily armed cavalrymen. It was hopeless, and he knew it. He was a formidable warrior, but even he could not take on so many heavily armed men unarmed. His mind raced. He needed to do something lest they kill him, and worse still, Louise and her family.

If only Brice, Mungo and Murtagh were here, he thought.

“Speak, woman! I asked you a question,” snapped Jean Philippe.

“She will not be talking to the likes of ye. I suggest you leave this land and return to whichever hole you sprung from,” said Doogle with a snarl.

“So, we have a brave man in our midst.” Jean Philippe chuckled. He switched his attention to the man next to him. “Gaston!”

“Oui, Monsieur,” Gaston replied.

“Take care of this fool. I have not the patience for this,” said Jean Philippe with a hiss.

“Right away.” Gaston dismounted along with three other men and slowly advanced on Doogle and Louise.

“Go to the house and barricade the door,” said Doogle.

“Non! I will not leave you,” protested Louise.

“We do not have time to argue, my love. You being here will only distract me. Go now – please.”

Reluctantly, Louise turned and hurried in the direction of her home. Doogle saw her casting glances over her shoulder as she went, then turned his attention quickly back to his aggressors.

“This’ll teach ye a lesson, ye French tallywasher.”

Doogle punched the first mercenary in the face. He felt the man’s nose break on the impact of his knuckles. With lightning dexterity, he reached for the man’s sword and drew it from the scabbard before he collapsed to the ground.

Doogle spun on his feet to face the next attack. He parried the first sword thrust expertly. Moments later, he rammed the hilt of the weapon into the face of another antagonist who had come upon him from the rear. With the skill honed into him by countless hours of sword practice with Mungo and Murtagh, he promptly dispatched the soldier in front of him with a thrust of his blade to the ribcage – the man slumped to the ground gurgling.

Only Gaston remained standing. It was apparent to Doogle that he would not be as foolhardy as his fellows. He cautiously circled the Highlander on the balls of his feet. He was ready to attack should he discover any opening on Doogle’s part. The stalemate endured for what seemed like forever.

A piercing scream coming from behind him forced Doogle to turn around. In his distraction, Jean Philippe had gotten his hands on Louise. He held a knife to her throat and glowered at Doogle menacingly.

“Drop your sword, or I will harm her, stranger. We wouldn’t want to put a nasty gash on her face now, would we?” Jean Philippe hissed.

Doogle swallowed deeply. He took a few steps in the Frenchman’s direction. Gaston moved with him like a shadow. Already the other men in the force had dismounted and moved in on where the Highlander walked.

“I will not ask you again. Lower your arms, and no harm will come to the woman,” said Jean Philippe.

“Louise!” yelled her father. Alexandre stepped out of the house with his wife who screamed when she saw her daughter’s predicament.

Doogle raised his hand to forestall Alexandre from doing anything rash, then peered back at Jean Philippe.

“Let Louise go, and I will do as ye ask.”

Jean Philippe hacked out a laugh. “No! You will drop your weapon now.”

He added pressure to the knife in his hand.

Doogle could see the blade digging into Louise’s cheek – any harder, and it would cut the skin. He had to do something before it was too late. But what could he do? He was outnumbered, and the woman he loved was directly in harm's way.

What he needed now was a miracle.