by Norma Gail
Kieran answered, “A good year on the farm.”
Bonny followed his cue, and avoided personal matters. “New friends and Dan’s improvement.”
In the absence of American football games, they gathered around the piano in the living room, and Janet played her guitar. At one point in “Loch Lomond,” as if on cue, everyone stopped, leaving Kieran and Bonny singing, his deep baritone blending with her high, delicate soprano, startling them both.
When the last guests were gone, Kieran pulled her close, whispering in her ear. “I didn’t trust my emotions in front of everyone.” The warmth of his arms and the love in his eyes created a giddy sensation as she turned her face upward.
“I love you, Bonny Bryant. I can’t pass an hour without thinking of you. I don’t understand why you chose to love an older man, lacking your depth of faith, and living so far from your home, but I am so glad you’re here.”
She stood on tiptoe, caressing his broad forehead and straight nose, the roughness of his cheeks, and finally his lips. She entwined her fingers in the curls at the back of his neck. “There’s no choosing about it. Loving you is as natural as breathing. If you lived on Mars, I’d find a way to reach you.”
He led her to the couch, where they sat close together, his eyes searching her face. “When you walked into the faculty meeting, I realized you were special, but I never dared to dream you would love me.”
She leaned her forehead against his. “God brought us together. He doesn’t make mistakes.”
He stiffened. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here. I just can’t believe God has anything to do with it.”
She cupped his face in her hands. “It will get easier when you’re used to being loved. God hears when we cry out, but sometimes we must believe when everything in us screams He isn’t there. Our difficulties should draw us closer to Him. I forgot that for a while. Tragedy put me here with you now. You’ll believe in time.”
“And if I don’t?” His gaze held steady.
A warning bell sounded in her brain. “I love you enough to risk it.”
“We need to talk.” Dan’s soft voice held an undertone of tension when Kari walked in on Thanksgiving morning.
“What’s bothering you?” She reached for his hand and brought it to her lips.
He gently withdrew his hand. “Kari, I love you, but I won’t hold you to our engagement. There is no guarantee what condition I’ll be in if I survive. I release you.”
“No, Dan.” She took his hand back, bringing it to her lips. “This ring stays on my finger, and I stay at your side. I knew the consequences when I promised to marry a Marine. For better, for worse, remember?”
“We haven’t said our vows yet.” He held her hand, rubbing her palm with his thumb. “We have to face reality. You could have an invalid for a husband. Amputating my legs is a possibility if they don’t get this infection under control soon. It’s conceivable I won’t live. I love having you here, but if you can’t handle it, you have the freedom to move on with your life.”
She touched his cheeks where the new skin grew pink over the less serious burns. With the bandages off, she was able to look into his beautiful, blue-gray eyes again. “It won’t ever happen, Dan MacDermott. I’ve loved you since the ninth grade and I’ll love you until I die. God saved your life and I’m committed to you and Him. You’re stuck with me, Marine. Semper Fi.”
He broke into a wide grin. “Semper Fi.”
When her lips touched his, he had no doubt she meant it.
“His eyesight is undamaged, and his hearing is back to normal. He’s very down though.” Kari’s call made Bonny wish she were closer, but the distance was too great unless Dan’s condition deteriorated.
“What cheers him up?” Imagining her childhood friend as an invalid was impossible. They had reveled in their mountain playground, riding horses, hiking, and enjoying the outdoors.
“We pray and read scripture. When he’s alone he listens to Christian music to keep his mind calm and occupied.”
“Can I send him CDs or something?” Being so far away gave her a helpless feeling.
“He’d love anything you choose. He misses you.”
“What do you hear from the doctors?”
The answer was so long in coming, it was obvious Kari hesitated.“The infection in his legs has the potential to become life-threatening or cause him to lose his right leg. The hospital chapel has become a refuge. I go there when I can’t sleep.”
“Do you have a chaplain or someone to encourage you?” It tore at Bonny’s heart to hear the pain in Kari’s voice.
“One chaplain has become a real friend. He understands what we’re going through.” Kari sounded so tired.
“Good, you need to rest or you’ll be sick. Assure Dan people here are praying for him.”
Kari sniffled. “He offered to break our engagement. Bonny, I love him. The thought of losing him frightens me. I can accept amputation. I can’t accept him living without me. Our love goes back so much further than his injuries.” She made a choking sound.
Bonny longed to put her arms around Kari and give her a big bear hug. Their bond of love and friendship remained strong in spite of the miles, providing a foretaste of her life if Scotland became her home.
Chapter Eighteen: Stonehaven Farm
Visiting Kieran’s sheep farm was an important, and perhaps, a dangerous move. Marriage was on both of their minds, and Bonny believed their love was strong enough to surmount the difficulties of faith. Kari and Dan, even Janet and Agnes, advised against it, but she wanted to know everything about him. She had to penetrate the periods of aloof behavior, which began when she revealed her breakthrough with God.
She had been to Stonehaven Farm to ride horses and watch the men work with the sheep on weekends, but she hadn’t taken pictures yet. After asking him to pull over the sixth time, Kieran suggested she wait. “We’ll be late for tea. You’ll have more opportunities for pictures, maybe even a clear day.”
Banned from photo stops, she peppered him with questions to make the smile lines crinkle around his eyes. “You smile more than when I first met you.”
“Before you, there wasn’t a reason to smile.” He broke into another grin and squeezed her hand where it lay on the console.
“If you smiled like that the first time we met, I would have thrown myself into your arms and declared my love.” No longer shy, she reached over and coiled her fingers in the curls at the back of his neck.
“I wasn’t aware I had such charm.” His eyes sparkled.
“Then you’re the only one who doesn’t see it. Dierdre hasn’t said anything, but she glares at me from the back of class.”
He tilted his head back and laughed. Passing Invergarry, he continued toward Loch Oich, and soon they faced the hulk of a ruined castle. The stark granite walls loomed above them, a shade darker than the leaden hue of the clouds, their long-empty windows keeping sentinel over the narrow loch.
“My ancestral home, m’lady,” Kieran stopped at the ruins of old Invergarry Castle. “My forebears weren’t all good men. Alexander Ranaldson MacDonell was a cruel clan chief who drove the people from the land in favor of sheep and cut the trees in order to graze the land.”
Bonny loved the way he made the stories of the Highlands come alive, sharing family history as if talking about people he knew. He leaned against a crumbling wall, damp from the heavy mist, one hand resting on her shoulder. “Alasdair, in the Gaelic, lived an affluent lifestyle and his son inherited such serious debt that he sold the estate to the Marquess of Huntly. The mass immigration of the Glengarrys to Canada took place in 1828, and the clan no longer held its familial lands.”
“When was the castle last inhabited?” Bonny massaged the back of his hand with her thumb. She could easily picture him wielding a claymore, the claidheamh mòr, battling to defend his home, as his melodic voice continued.
“Oliver Cromwell destroyed the castle in 1654 during the Civil War. They eventually rep
aired it, and during the Jacobite rising of 1745 and 1746 Bonnie Prince Charlie himself stayed here. ‘Butcher Cumberland’ destroyed it following the Battle of Culloden, Blàr Chùil Lodair, in an attempt to force Highlanders to submit to the English.”
“It’s still impressive.” She tilted her head back, contemplating the towering ruins. “So if the Bonnie Prince stayed here, and Cumberland destroyed it, your family was Jacobite on both sides.”
He drew her into a rough, playful, bear hug, planting a kiss on her nose. “You do know your history, Professor. Both the MacDonells and MacKenzies were Jacobites.”
“I will confess to reading up on the subject. I have a personal interest now.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him after her. Stopping, she eyed the black volcanic rock forming the foundation. “What a formidable defense it must have made.”
“Yes, Rock of Raven, Creagan an Fhithich, in Gaelic, was their battle cry. I’m certain the fortress provided an advantage and slowed down their attackers. When I was a lad, I wanted to play here and climb on the walls. I wish it still belonged to the family.”
Bonny studied him as he regarded the rocky remnant rising high above them. The blood of ancient warrior kings coursed through his veins. Yes, she could follow this man anywhere.
“It looks invincible, even as broken ruins. What a fascinating heritage. Tell me more, Laird MacDonell.”
He settled back against a large stone. “The MacDonells were a rabble-rousing clan. They forfeited their lands more than once because of their rebellious ways. Alasdair was wild and rugged, as violent as the storms on Loch Garry itself. Garu means ‘stormy and turbulent.’”
Bonny seated herself next to him, loving his way with a story. “Long before the estate was sold to the Marquess of Huntly, the MacDonells who left the islands settled here and changed the spelling of their name to the Gaelic, MacDhomhnuill.”
She laid her cheek against the scratchy wool of his shirt, and looked across the valley where the ever-thickening mist filled the air with the scent of rain and evergreen. “They were always fighting to keep their homes, weren’t they?”
He raised her hand to his lips, caressing the back of it. “You’ll be interested in this, Professor Bryant. Scotland was a representative republic five hundred years before the United States existed.”
Without hesitation, she said, “The Declaration of Arbroath.”
His eyes widened and he tousled her damp, tangled curls. “I thought I could teach you something. The Sassanachs must be right. We MacDonells are ‘primitive and barbaric.’ I looked it up. I didn’t remember the part about the republic.”
There was mischief in his grin, and she followed his lead. “So I’ve been swept off my feet by a barbarian?”
He gave her a rakish grin, his eyes dancing with laughter. “Oh, aye, we Scots are wild and unruly. You knew about the Declaration of Arbroath?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Of course. What kind of a history professor isn’t aware of such an important historical document? Americans prefer to believe the whole idea was theirs, though.”
His eyes darkened and his voice grew husky. “‘… for as long as but a hundred of us remain alive, never will we on any conditions be brought under English rule. It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that we are fighting, but for freedom – for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself.’ Very radical ideas for the times, and Scotland has not been independent for hundreds of years.”
“Thomas Jefferson came from a Scottish-Welsh background and was very educated. He must have thought about it when he penned our Declaration of Independence. So you’re in favor of Scotland obtaining freedom from Great Britain?”
“Absolutely.” The rain was coming down harder, but he ignored it. He drew her closer and she inhaled the irresistible scent of damp wool and Kieran. “Set your students straight, lass. It’s something both Scots and Americans need to understand. When they executed Alasdair, son of Ranald, the first Lord of the Isles, in 1427, MacDonell lands became the property of the King of England. The majority of the clans admitted defeat. We refused to submit for another forty years and eventually received the charter to Glengarry and other lands in this part of Scotland. Of course, after Culloden, we lost it all.”
“When you say ‘we,’ you make it sound as if it were a personal affront to you.”
“Aye, as it is to every Scot. My family is somewhat of an anomaly. Very few Scots own even a small portion of their ancestral lands.”
“And now you carry on in their place with your farm, and these ruins are everyday reminders of your history.”
He sat down, encircling her waist with his hands, pulling her to his lap. “I’ve now learned how to gain your complete attention—history lessons.”
“There are other ways.” With the overpowering sensation of his arms around her, no one else existed in the world.
“What about this?” He bent, kissing her slow and sweet.
She returned it, delighting in the closeness between them, the undercurrent of passion and love that made his touch irresistible.
“Ach, lass, don’t tempt me. Did I tell you Alasdair joined a rebellion to help Donald Gorm of Sleat attain the position of Lord of the Isles? Donald died, and Alasdair ended up in jail.”
“Outlaws—how romantic.” Bonny giggled. “I love the way your accent grows stronger when something is important to you.”
“Wheesht, woman, you’re distractin’ me again.” She knew he enjoyed her teasing and the interest she showed.
The rain had slackened, and he wiped a drip off the end of her nose with his handkerchief. “The Glengarrys were especially difficult to control. It must be our Norse blood, the fair skinned, redheaded Viking blood. The MacDonells and MacKenzies fought each other for years, and hundreds died.”
“So your mother’s clan feuded with your father’s? I can’t imagine there’s a barbaric bone in your body.” She poked him in the ribs.
“Why are you smilin’?”
“I love you, Kieran MacDonell, even if you aren’t the laird of a great castle. Thank you for sharing your family history with me.”
She quivered as he bent toward her upturned face, his lips brushing hers in a gentle kiss. She knew he felt it, too, from the way his arm tightened around her waist.
“You’re a darlin’ lass, Bonny Bryant, lovely enough to steal the heart of the toughest knight of old.”
“It takes more than that little kiss to steal my heart.” She took off through the thick grass surrounding the castle walls.
Catching her, he lifted her to the top of a large stone. His hug threatened to squeeze the breath out of her. “What’s this? First my kisses aren’t what you’d expect of a barbaric Scot, and then they won’t steal your heart? You’re lucky I’m restrainin’ myself, or you’d call me a barbarian for certain.”
“I surrender, Laird MacDonell. You’ve proved your point.” She hopped down, grasping his hand, and pulled him toward the Land Rover. “I don’t want to push a member of such a blood-thirsty clan too far. Let’s get out of this rain. I’ll meet Eleanor looking like a selkie.”
“Perhaps you are—an enchantress who will steal my heart and then disappear back where you came from.”
“I thought I’d already stolen your heart, but I’ll never disappear.”
A stab of nostalgia squeezed Kieran’s heart. He and Bronwyn had chased each other around these ruins. This new love at his side was reason to feel thankful. It felt good not to travel this road alone.
Curious when Bonny remained silent, he sneaked a peek at her face. “What are you thinkin’ now? I can see the wheels turnin’.”
Bonny turned a lovely, bashful pink. “Imagining you as the laird ruling over the people on your land.” Those eyes, the color of a Scottish hillside in spring, caused him to forget everything else.
“And what type of laird would I be?”
She leaned across the console, smoothing back his wet hair. He shivered more from
her touch than his damp clothes. “Not one who threw people off the land and chopped down trees for sheep. I can imagine you making certain everyone received fair treatment, suitable houses, education, medicine, and enough food. I can’t conceive of you being cruel.”
With her fingers in his hair and her gentle touch on his cheek, facing life without her beside him became unimaginable.
“Kieran, can you live your whole life here and still feel in awe of it?”
He attempted to swallow the lump in his throat without success. “During the worst of my depression, nothing was beautiful, and I still struggle. Other than my time in Glasgow, I’ve spent my entire life on this piece of land. I love it, but I’m not building it for anyone. There’s no purpose or future beyond myself.”
“Feeling alone makes you think dangerous thoughts.” She gave him a playful tap on the shoulder. “Look where it got me.”
“Aye, and I’ve been alone too long. You remind me of sunshine, warm and sweet, bringing everything you touch to life. The entire world is new, thanks to you. Bronwyn was like the flowers she loved. They push their way through the ground in spring with amazing strength, but the bloom doesn’t last. She left too soon, and now you’re turning my world upside-down.”
Their conversations held magic.
As the Land Rover came to a stop in the yard, the canine greeting committee surrounded them. When Kieran opened her car door, Bonny reached for his hand, squeezing it. Her eyes were glowing with excitement. “Can I see everything this time?”
Surrounded by yipping dogs, he couldn’t help smiling. “Every inch if you want.”
The kitchen door opened, and his housekeeper came out. “Bonny, meet my second mother, Eleanor. She’ll show you to your room while I carry up your bags. I’m certain she’s prepared a lovely tea to warm us.”
While Bonny freshened up, Eleanor caught Kieran on a trip through the kitchen. “Lad, are you gettin’ carried away because she’s another red-haired beauty? She’s quite fragile for the demandin’ life of a Highland sheep farm.”
