Niall
As the noise of the three pairs of slippers climbing the stairs faded, Niall tightened his grip on Sellie’s hand. Daft, for there was nae way he could ever lose her. However, his life had changed remarkably in such a short time. Whau could tell what still lay ahead?
They were still damp, both of them likely to start steaming with the heat they engendered as he drew her close. Hell, a look was enough to light a flame in his belly. He pulled Sellie into his arms, held her high against his chest, and kissed her. Kissed the away frustration he felt because of the wait until they could wed.
Lifting his mouth from Sellie’s, he was happy with what he saw. Her skin was flushed, her eyes dazed and her lips swollen. Without being aware of the kiss they had just shared, a stranger might think he had done some damage to her, but it was the other way round. The pounding of his heart resounded in every pulse in his body, while his prick ached from wanting to be inside her. Damn responsibilities; they were the road to frustration. ‘Never leave me, Sellie. I couldn’t bear it,’ he growled spreading his heart out like a carpet for her to walk over.
Reluctantly, he slowly let her body down, breasts and belly rubbing against him until her feet reached the floor. His prick, riding high against his belly, felt robbed of satisfaction. ‘Ken this, my love: my future would be naught without ye to share it with me. When all that lot downstairs have gone, we will concentrate on getting ye with child. That should make us both happy, give ye something to love and keep ye by my side.’
Niall dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Sellie picked it up off the floor. He undid his belt, tossed it onto the bed, and pulled the end of the plaid he had kilted around his waist until it unwound in a long stream. Sellie was there to catch and fold its length for the maids to dry it in the kitchen.
As he opened the kist to haul out another plaid, for the first time it struck him how tidy Sellie was. What would urge a Selkie to put their things away neatly when they had a whole ocean? The puzzle twisted around in his brain as he dressed in a manner befitting dinner with his father and guests. Then he took a moment to look over his shoulder and paused, watched Sellie washing her face, already stripped down to the thin linen shift outlining her shape, and every other thought floated away—forgotten.
‘Tell Aileen to make sure there’s nae delay with supper, for I’ve nae intention of leaving ye alone in bed o’er long.’ Slow and easy, he ran his palm over her flank from waist to thigh. ‘Be waiting for me lass.’ He showed her a tooth-filled grin and left.
Celestina
With little experience of men, she had absolutely no notion how Niall managed to get her all of a flutter, make the feeling last until when next they met. Her skin tingled in anticipation of that grin he had given her before he left to have supper downstairs with his father and that death-head Snelling. The way Snelling’s eyes sank into his face reminded her of a pirate ship flying the skull and crossbones.
Thankfully, Niall’s daughters were tired after running all the way back from the Loch. When she went upstairs Ygraen and Beth were at the basin washing in preparation for bed.
‘Do not forget to clean yer teeth, Celi chivvied, pretty ladies have nice teeth.’
As usual Fiona had an answer, ‘Lads like lassies with bonnie smiles.’
‘Poor Fiona, she’ll never find a laddie then.’ Beth smirked.
‘Aye, her nose is too big with poking it into other folks’ business.’ Ygraen added.
Celestina rolled her eyes. She had never had a sister, and her brother had been much older, so there had been little in the way of sniping or back-chat. Even if they had dared to be impudent, their parents would have brought the weight of their wrath down on them. At least that’s what Miguel and she had always believed. ‘There is an abundance of poking going on in here, and not only by Fiona. Hurry now, and get ready for bed.’
While her sisters completed their nightly ritual of getting their arms and sleeves in a tangle, Fiona pulled Celestina over to her bed. ‘I’m sorry, Sellie. I broke my promise about ye going to become our mam. I was happy then angry.’
‘It’s difficult being young when everyone else is older and believe they are wiser.’ She put her arm about Fiona’s narrow shoulders and gave her a quick hug. ‘One day, Fiona, ye will feel much wiser than all the wee lasses ye meet. It comes with age.’
Fiona chuckled. ‘Ye made a jest, Sellie.’
‘So I did.’
She fumbled in her pocket. ‘I have something for ye. It’s what I found today. I have another. Here, take it, Sellie.’ Fiona stretched out her hand and the object she held caught the candlelight as dropped it into Celestina’s hand.
In the centre of her palm sat a bright gold Spanish doubloon.
Celestina’s heart began to race. ‘Ye have two? Where did ye find them, Fiona?’
Niall’s youngest bit her lip and looked at the floor, guilt hovering above her head like a black cloud as Celestina asked her, ‘Did someone lose the coins?’
Fiona’s shoulders lifted as she gave a long sigh, ready for punishment. ‘I think the lad Jean is walking out with has holes in his pockets.’
She looked up at last, wide-eyed as Celestina lifted an eyebrow, questioning, ‘But ye did not tell Jean?’ She shot out the question, trying to suppress the excitement in her voice.
‘Mam used to say finders keepers.’
As a mother, Flora could never have been a very good example. Holding out her arms, she let the sympathy she felt colour her voice, ‘Come here, Fiona.’
As she took the lass in her arms, hugging her tight, she realised that Fiona seldom spoke like a bairn, but with the wee lass in her arms, Celestina could feel the fragility of the child’s bones. Fiona was a bairn who could be easily hurt, and Celestina intended to protect her. ‘What I will do is take the coin, then ask Jean to introduce me to her friend. That way we can soon discover the truth of the matter. Does that satisfy ye?’
She had asked the question softly, carefully, realising that while she was with the lasses, Celestina had given up pretending she couldn’t speak the language. With the others, she did what she could to hide the education her mother had insisted she be given. Poor thing, Celestina believed her mother had imagined her in the court setting that she had grown up in while her father was an ambassador at Philip’s court—an appointment made by Queen Mary. What would she think if she could see Celestina now, living in the wilds of the Scottish Highlands, desperate to remain there with Niall and his daughters, to be part of their family?
Fiona returned her hug and whispered against her breast, ‘Aye, Sellie, that will do. Talk to Jean. I love ye and trust ye to do what’s right.’
Kissing the top of her head, Celestina said, ‘Right, now wash quickly and get ready for bed, lass. This time one of ye three can tell the story.’
Fiona pulled away, and began pulling off her bodice then her skirt. Standing in her shift with a linen towel in her hand, she turned to Celestina, a hopeful look in her deep blue eyes, the image of Niall’s. There was nae question in Celestina’s mind that Fiona was his daughter. ‘Sellie,’ the lass murmured, her smile on the edge of tremulous as she asked, ‘Can I call ye Mam now?’
Celestina’s heart filled with tender emotions that had been strangers to her until that moment, and almost immediately were washed away by a stream of superstition. She did not want to tempt trouble, on the chance that if the lasses began calling her Mam too soon, it might jinx her good fortune and then it might never happen. ’Wait until after the wedding. It is but two days away, and we will have so much to do that the wedding will be on us before we are ready.’
Fiona appeared disappointed but, never one to let aught hold her back, she said, ‘Never mind, until then I’ll just call ye Mam in my mind and nae one will ken.’
For some reason Fiona had to uncross the fingers on both hands to wash, as if frightened the wedding would never happen.
In Celi’s pocket was a Spanish doubloon. After the McDona
ll and the other visitors had eaten, she would speak to Jean. A few questions leapt to mind. The dead strangers who had been found a little farther up the coast was but one of them.
She needed to quell her impatience. Pressing down on her bottom lip, like Fiona, she acknowledged how difficult she found all the waiting to discover what tomorrow would bring.
Niall
In the end, only three men ate supper in the Great Hall, and Niall’s friend Jack wasnae one of them. Coward. Niall decided his friend had heard that neither Isabeau nor her duenna would be dining downstairs. He had probably come up with some excuse or another and was camped out in the stables with his horse, so he would stay there and tend to it. Jack loved that horse.
Niall would make sure there would be nae distraction tactics or talk of war at the high table tonight. Besides that, he had to admit he felt a smattering of curiosity concerning the way the McDonall would handle Snelling.
The table was set at one end only, Snelling and the McDonall facing each other and Niall betwixt them. Bowls of soup and fresh bread were served first, and he was grateful to discover the bread was straight from the oven. He doubted there was a man alive who could resist the smell of a new-baked loaf.
The McDonall spoke up first, casting a frown Niall’s way, ‘Nae use ignoring it lad, Snelling is not best pleased.’ The man’s response was nae more than a grunt that both he and his father ignored. ‘The lass, Isabeau is upset and is in her chamber packing. It’s a sorry state of affairs, but I’m afraid that I’m partly to blame.’ He hunched forward, fists clenched on the table and stared at Snelling as if he was reiterating an earlier argument. ‘But how was I to ken my son had found himself a bonnie bride amongst these desolate hills. I mean, I was the one found him his first wife.’ The McDonall punctuated his speech by banging his fists on the table.
Slanting a glance at his father, Niall muttered under his breath but in truth didnae care if they heard. ‘Ye made a fine piece of work of that one as well, and I was the one who paid.’
The McDonall let out a growl, ‘Ye got yerself three bonnie lasses out of the bargain. That’s naught to complain about.’
Supper devolved into a slanging match betwixt him and his father—not what he’d anticipated after the amicable ending to their talk in the muniment room. He nodded at his father, ‘I have nae argument with that, they’re the best thing to come out of my marriage to Flora, and cheeky they might be, but I’d lay down my life for them.’
A sigh signalled a brief pause in the conversation until the McDonall huffed, ‘However, not before ye have gotten a few sons on yer next wife,’ his statement drawing a grin from both father and son. Niall should have realised his father wasnae a man to drop a subject once he got the bit betwixt his teeth. ‘Ye have yet to mention where ye met the lass ye intend to wed in a few days.’
Niall might have realised the talk would veer into dangerous territory. He might eventually tell his father the truth, but not before he had Sellie tied to him with all the power of the church at his back. ‘Ach I’m sure Snelling isnae interested in that. As for myself, I’m curious how he came to think of me as a mate for his ward.’ He fixed his gaze on Snelling and saw hesitation flicker across the Lowlander’s features, adding, ‘I would have thought there were lots of lads in the Lowlands in need of a wife with a guid dowry.’
‘None suitable.’ Snelling frowned. ‘The reformation has not been kind to her family. I thought if she married into a good Catholic family, she would be safe. Her brother’s young still; it willnae be so important to him. The lad’s wealthy and, with me to guide him, he will do better, become an influence. My daughter will make him a guid wife.’
All of a sudden Niall felt sorry for Isabeau, and even sorrier for her brother. All the lad had in front of him was a life with a woman he might never love, and Niall had experience of that.
He already thought of Sellie as a gift, a gift from the sea, but now she felt like more. How many did he ken who found a lass they could love? None, as fortunate as he.
He had Sellie.
Chapter 19
Niall
Opening his eyes to the world and finding that world was Sellie, Niall believed he couldn’t ask for more. After last night at supper, he could nae longer wait to make Sellie his in the eyes of God, the church and his father. Lord help him should he ever treat his children as currency. That was the way of Niall’s father. The McDonall’s and his friend Snelling’s goals were never about caring for their sons and daughters—only about power.
If he had his way, he would awaken every morning with Sellie in his arms. What he had in mind was that his future and Sellie’s lay together, and he couldn’t wait for it to begin.
First, though, he had to farewell his unwelcome guests, even if it meant getting out of bed and leaving Sellie there alone. Rising over her, his shoulders forming a cave, he balanced on one arm and pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘Apologies, my love but I have to watch our visitors leave.’ She looked up sleepily, all big, sea-blue eyes and sweet pursed lips simply begging to be kissed. He gave her a grin, trying to deceive her into believing he didnae mind.
It took all that was in him to resist.
‘Sorry, bonnie lass. If I dinnae watch them leave, my Pa might decide to linger for the wedding, and he is one witness I can do without. Then there’s Jack. He’s a guid friend and will stand for me, but I can do without his company on my honeymoon.’
Sellie’s arm came up and wrapped around his neck and he gave in, but the kiss he gave her was perfunctory—all he dared. Rolling over, he got out of bed and strode, naked, to the basin. The water was cold, a wake-up. He could feel Sellie’s eyes on him, and his prick went from hard to rock hard in an instant. His skin burned, and his chest was damp from more than the water in the basin as he broke into a sweat.
Turning his back, he finished dressing, pulling a shirt over his damp hair and down over his belly then spent a minute or two kilting a fresh plaid around his waist. Once his boots covered his long feet, Niall strode toward the door. Halfway into the opening, he turned and looked back. Throat tense, his words were more growl than warning, ‘Eat in the kitchen then wait for me in the muniment room. Last night I felt I had settled everything, but who kens what may happen when the Uisge beatha wears off. I dinnae trust that man and dinnae want ye getting in his path.’
The McDonall sat at the high board, still eating, while Snelling held out a tankard for Jean to fill with ale. Of Isabeau and her duenna there was nae sign.
‘Have the ladies eaten?’ Niall enquired.
The McDonall wiped his mouth before speaking. ‘Not as far as I ken. They are most probably still abed.’
‘Isabeau isnae usually a sluggard; mayhap they’re still packing,’ Snelling suggested, ‘That lassie has more frocks than she kens what to do with.’ He shook his head; his mouth read of disgust. ‘Waste of money if ye ask me.’
Niall’s father looked at Jean, ‘Would ye mind going upstairs, lass, and reminding Miss Corcoran that we need to be on our way soon.’
Jean curtsied awkwardly since she held the ale-filled jug in one hand. ‘I’ll do that, sir, nae problem at all.’ The kitchen was obviously her first stop for that’s the door that she left by.
Feeling satisfied he had set their departure in motion, Niall took a seat at the board and helped himself to bread, cauld beef and cheese then folded it together. ‘If ye like, father, I can ask Jack to accompany ye part of the way, until he needs to take the road to Freuchie.’ Someone else could stand up for him at the wedding if it meant sending his father on his way.
Of course the ale had disappeared with Jean; carrying his bread with him, Niall went in the same direction. ‘I’ll go out to the stables and make sure yer mounts are ready. Nae need to hold up yer departure any more than necessary.’
Usually when the laird entered the stables, he was treated to a lot of bowing and scraping or forelock tugging. Not today. The groom had fallen off his stool, and his snores were of the loud va
riety and didnae cease even when Niall nudged him with the toe of his boot. Niall turned at the sound of feet on the cobbles. A young stable hand ran up to him. ‘I am sorry, Laird. I’ll waken him for ye.’
As guid as his word, the young lad filled a water bucket from the trough and immediately threw it in the groom’s face. The man came up coughing and spluttering. ‘There ye are Laird; he’s awake now.’
In the few minutes it took the groom to recover his senses, Niall stalked the aisle betwixt the stalls searching for Jack’s horse—a futile task. ‘When did Jack Grant leave.’
After rubbing a dirty hand over his face, the groom said, ‘I dinnae ken. I never saw him after he gave me a wee flask of whisky to keep the cauld out.’
What the hell was Jack Grant up to? Niall soon found out as the McDonall burst into the stables. ‘Isabeau has disappeared, and that auld biddy travelling with her was still abed, snoring as loudly as an auld dog by the fire.’
Niall hesitated to lay claim to the truth as he realised it. ‘It would appear the lass has run away.’
The McDonall blanched and drew in a sharp breath, aghast ye might say, as he panted, ‘God kens how she’ll manage on her own in this wild country.’
Grim faced, Niall ventured, ‘I’ve a feeling I can relieve yer mind about that. From what I can see, Isabeau isnae alone. Jack Grant has run off with her.’
Celestina
The door to the muniment room opened easily. Celestina had never been in there before, and the dim atmosphere of wood, leather and dust surprised her, as if she had walked into a place of secrets. Wooden shelves stuffed with bundles of rolled parchment sat beneath a border of deeply carved figures of wild animals, some so fierce she thought they might leap down onto an equally ancient table, now covered with an open velum roll, spread and held flat with an old leather flask and a silver drinking vessel.
Bride From the Sea Page 15
