by Jackie Ivie
There were a few more intonations and then silence.
“’Tis done? We’re wed? Finally?”
“Aye,” the priest replied. “You may kiss your bride.”
“Kiss her? Jesu’! Begging pardon, Father . . . but I doona’ dare! Tavish! Gregor! Heck! See us to my chamber! Through the guard walk! Now!”
“This is highly irregular, my laird—”
The priest sputtered the words, as if he’d just noticed it. He didn’t finish.
“Wait! Wait! Oh . . . sweet Lord! Wait!”
It was Lachlan. He was screaming the words and waving something and so out of breath that he was slapping a stretched drum thing against his thigh that made an even louder noise than Aidan’s yelling.
Juliana heard the growl emanating from Aidan’s chest before he made it. She put her hands to him, open-palmed, and pushed. He pulled away slightly and looked down at her, and stole her senses again.
“You have to . . . answer . . . this! Dame . . . Lileth—”
Aidan’s eyebrow moved up at the name, and then he tightened an arm about Juliana and turned them as a unit to face the crowded mass of clansmen and women filling the chapel floor.
“By the saints, Lachlan!” It was Kerr blocking the man’s access, and then it was a sea of folk.
“Nae . . . wait! She’ll have . . . my head if he’s done it . . . without reading this!”
“Done what?”
“Let . . . me pass, cousin!”
Juliana reached for Aidan’s chin and brought his attention back to her. And then she nodded and gestured with hers to the intruder. Aidan lifted his chin, looked above her head, and then sighed. Heavily.
“Let him through, Kerr. You, too, Ewan. All of you.”
She waited with Aidan until the man made it through an aisle way they’d shifted to create that had barely enough room, and Lachlan was thin. His long coat was pulled open, showing spindly legs and samite short pants. Juliana had to stop the smile. No wonder the man preferred long coats to a kilt. He had the legs of a girl. He was also balding, as the bonnet hanging from one ear mutely testified. He spent a few moments gathering his clothing back together once he reached the area right in front of her and Aidan.
“Well!” He huffed the exclamation when he’d finished and finally bowed his head in deference.
“What do you want, Lachlan?”
“The missive. You’re to read it afore wedding her to Alpin. I’m under threat!”
“From whom?” Aidan asked.
“Dame Lileth. I’m to make certain you answer this . . . or she’ll have me castrated!”
There was a huge gasp over that threat. Juliana had her hand over her mouth to prevent what was going to be full amusement.
“Sweet Mother of God! Please tell me I’m in time!”
“Aye . . . and nae,” Aidan replied.
Lachlan went to his knees. “She’s wed . . . already?”
“That is the ‘aye,’” Aidan replied.
Lachlan’s shoulders started shaking. Juliana actually felt sorry for him. She nudged Aidan. Who rolled his eyes. “Lachlan MacGorrick. Stand. And hand me the note.”
“I’m too late. Oh, God! Have mercy! You doona’ ken!”
“Lachlan! Stand up! I dinna’ wed her to Alpin!”
The man’s head moved and he looked up. Juliana watched as he looked from her to Aidan and back again. And then, he was struggling to get back on his feet. And looking even sillier.
“You dinna’ wed her . . . to Alpin?” he asked with scrunched eyes, as if he didn’t believe it.
“That is the ‘nae’ part,” Aidan replied.
“Oh thank God! Thank—she dinna’ tell me what to do in this event.”
“Hand me the missive,” Aidan said.
Juliana felt him tightening everywhere she touched. He probably didn’t even note that he did it. She knew why. He was preparing himself. And then he released her with his right arm and held out his hand. Lachlan put the bent and pierced and dirtied scrap of folded parchment in Aidan’s hand as if it were a treasure. Aidan brought it close, so he could unfold it without releasing her. And then he held it up and started reading, moving his lips . . .
And then he threw back his head and started laughing.
The acoustics in the room echoed and reechoed it. While all about everyone had the same perplexed expression. And then Aidan stopped. Looked down at Juliana with the tenderest expression while she counted three of his heartbeats, and then he put back his head and hollered even louder than before. Juliana had to put her hands to her ears. Several of his clan had the same issue.
“What?”
“Jesu’, Aidan! Tell us!”
“Have you lost your wits?”
“It is ever true, lads! Ever!”
“What is? Well?”
That was Heck. He was the closest and reaching for the missive. Aidan handed it to him, and then enfolded his wife with both arms again. Fully. And then his lips were on her caplet and he was shuddering. And then he whispered words that completely stopped her heart.
“I love you, Juliana.”
“Well . . . would you look there.” That was Heck. It was easy to hear him since everyone was silent and waiting.
“What?”
“For the love of God! What does it say?”
“The Campbell clan is refusing the MacKetryck laird. Their daughter’s hand was promised to the Finlay clan na’ two fortnights ago. That would be . . . just afore our laird sent his request! They are offering their younger daughter instead.”
“Blast it all!” That was Tavish. “I was looking forward to a good fight.”
“There’s always a good fight, Tavish, my lad. But there’s never been a wedding like this! Come all! Back to the hall! There’s good Killoran ale still to be drunk and lies to be told!”
Chapter 25
“But there’s the bedding ceremony!”
“Aye! The bedding ceremony!”
“And proof of consummation!”
More cheers and loud clapping and stomping added to the melee about them. Juliana watched Lachlan as he held on to his bonnet with one hand while crawling his way to one side. Heck had possession of the drum thing, though, and was using it with brute force.
“Hold on to me!”
Aidan wasn’t whispering, but he might as well have been, since she barely heard him. He didn’t wait for her to follow the instruction. He didn’t wait to see if anyone followed Heck’s enticements. He gestured with his head to more of his men, took a step forward, lifting her into his arms at the same time, and then another step, and another until he was at a run for the leap to the altar platform.
He hadn’t needed to tell her to hold on—she was clinging as he raced behind his clansmen up so many spiraled stairs she got dizzy. And then they were through a door jamb and beneath a stone archway, and out atop the conjoined buildings, in the chill and mist-wrapped star-strewn heavens of the night. Juliana bounced with Aidan as he jogged along the walkway, returning greetings and cheers with little more than grunts. The closest man was Tavish. She’d have known his spare frame anywhere, even without the addition of the torch he held aloft.
Then they were stopped. Aidan huffed out a sigh of breath larger than the ones he’d used while running, but his heart didn’t miss a beat from the harsh rhythm it made. There was a contingency of guards atop the walkway, looking seven to eight heads deep. Juliana pressed closer into Aidan. They looked familiar. She couldn’t decide why. Then all of them went to a knee with their right hands atop the hilts of their claymores.
“As Dugald MacKetryck’s former honor guard, we pledge service, my laird.”
A large bearded fellow was their spokesman. Aidan grunted before shifting Juliana to his left side and then he shoved her up, holding her with one arm beneath her buttocks and her torso and hair draped atop his shoulder. It probably looked exactly like the abduction pose it was meant to.
“You’re freed . . . of service. Return to . . . yo
ur homes,” Aidan replied in a clipped tone that was panted through his breaths.
“We’ve nae homes, my laird. By command.”
Aidan grunted again. Stood taller and pulled in a breath that raised her with it. “Stefan?” Aidan burst the name out.
“Aye?”
“See these men . . . to our quarters. Once they’ve seen me to my rooms. I’ve always need . . . of loyal guardsmen. As do my brothers. We’ll make a contest of it. On the list. On the morrow. Nae! The next day. For now . . . move them out of my way!”
“You heard him, lads! Move! And I’ll see your sorry arse on the list, Iain. You also, Grant. And you, Gawain. Think to best us, do you?”
“We’ve been hankering for a good fight!” That sounded like Gregor.
“Aye! A big one . . . since the Campbell war was denied us!” That was Tavish again.
The shuffling of boots and weaponry accompanied their movements. There was a bit of hooting and grumbling, and what sounded like fighting, but was instead the thumping of their fists against their own chests. Juliana saw that since Aidan had moved her back into his arms while he waited, getting more locks of hair and pearls draped about both of them. And then Aidan was moving rapidly again, only this time, he had more men behind him as well as a wall of them in front.
Men! She’d never understand them.
She knew when they moved from the chapel building onto the top of the keep by the downward slant of Aidan’s steps, and then they slowed again. Stopped. She heard a chain rattling, wood groaning. Juliana twisted to watch as a trapdoor was lifted, showing a yawning aperture of black below.
“You need to put the wife down now, Aidan.” Tavish grinned, showing pearly white teeth in a shadow-dark face.
Aidan looked at her. Juliana returned it. And was lost in his gaze. Just like always. Then he shook his head.
“Nae.”
“We’ll hold her,” someone offered.
“It would only be for a moment, Aidan.” That sounded like Stefan, but she didn’t move from looking at Aidan to check.
Aidan’s arms tightened beneath her knees and around her back. And then he looked away, releasing her from the locked gaze. Took another deep breath. “Lead on. I’ll follow. And nae man holds the wife. Save me.”
Tavish was shaking his head as he scrambled onto his buttocks at the top of the hole and then disappeared right through it. Aidan went to his haunches and swiveled her about so she settled atop his lap. He had one arm about her torso and the other beneath her knees, and then he gripped his hands together, locking her in place. He narrowed his eyes for a moment and shuddered, and then reopened them.
“Hold tight, Juliana!”
He didn’t need to say it. Her arms were squeezed about his neck. She shut her eyes as he launched them forward into black space. She couldn’t prevent the squeal that echoed eerily from the room they landed in as well as through the opening.
Aidan was laughing when he landed, going to a crouch that jolted her, before standing straight again. And then he was looking up toward the opening, which had several heads blocking it.
“Lads?”
The heads disappeared, and then the night sky did, too. Groaning accompanied the wood block’s movement back into place. Tavish was already leaving the tower room before the chain sound came again, and Aidan was at his heels.
“You’re mad,” Juliana told him.
Aidan grinned. Nodded. Grinned wider. “I have been so named that before. Too. Tavish?”
The man tipped his head backward, but didn’t stop moving.
“You’ve earned additional portion this eve. And my thanks.” The man started them down a spiral stair, this one dark and musty. The torch sent shadow chunks of light in a skipping pattern with Tavish’s pace. At the bottom, he spun to face them, walking backward for a few steps, the torch held high.
“As soon as I get through your chamber, I’ll bar any from coming in. I’ll call on more if needed. You doona’ need witness to your consummation.”
Juliana’s eyes went wide. Aidan grunted again. And then nodded.
Tavish stopped speaking and stopped walking, a hand span from smacking into a door barely the size of Juliana.
Hewn from a single block of wood, it was mounted with old leather, and studded in place with iron pegs. Tavish had it opened and pushed backward, lifting the back of a tapestry with the motion. Then he was gesturing them into Aidan’s chambers. He did it with a grandiose wave of his arm and a huge bow that nearly scraped his forehead against an outstretched knee . . . as if responsible for the entire chain of events.
“Your rooms, my laird and lady,” he announced.
Juliana heard the bolt falling, locking the hidden door. She watched the tapestry fall back into place, completely covering it as well, before looking back at the same room, the same fire, the same view of starlit loch through the panorama of windows that she’d been removed from a mere day before.
And that was when it felt totally real.
Aidan didn’t set her down. He stood in place, breathing heavily as the door to his outer chamber shut, after accepting Tavish’s wink, nod, and wave. Juliana rolled her head against his chest, settling it into the indentation between his chest muscles, and looked out at what he was looking at.
The shutters were open, pulled to the inside walls of each aperture, and a moon was just peeping from atop the land on the other side of Buchyn Loch, shedding a jagged line of light onto the waves. As if she’d asked it, Aidan started walking slowly toward his windows, each step rocking her head slightly back and forth against the hard mounds of his upper chest. From such a vantage she could hear his heart beating, feel his every breath, and experience the low throb of a moan he must have voiced.
“Oh . . . Aidan.”
“Juliana.”
“I . . . can’t believe . . . this is real.”
“You’re na’ crying, are you? Again?”
She shook her head, and wiped at the evidence at the same time.
“What did I do . . . now?”
“Wed me.”
“You dinna’ wish me to?”
Juliana giggled. “I . . . it’s just so . . . beautiful.”
“Women cry tears over beauty?”
“And happiness,” she whispered.
“Oh, Juliana, I’m near mad. Your smell. Your beauty. Your wit. Your . . . innocence. I’m afire with want and filled with need. And I was a fool to even think I could watch all that given to Alpin.”
“You were a fool for not reading your missive.”
He pulled in one cheek and lifted the opposing eyebrow. Juliana lurched within his arms. Then he nodded.
“Aye. That . . . I was.”
He was trembling slightly, and his heart had elevated. He’d tipped his head to whisper the words against her ear, earning a froth of shiver all over her frame so distinct he had to experience it, too. His arms adjusted, rotating her body so her feet could slide to the floor and leave her standing on the consistency of clouds, while her head hadn’t moved from a berth against his heart. His hands began a mesmerizing slide down each arm and then back up, down . . . up . . . trailing his index finger along the flesh. Then he spoke again, sending the words echoing through his chest wall into her ears. “I’ve wanted to show you this . . . since I first . . . knew you, Juliana, my love.”
“Oh, Aidan.” That time, she couldn’t contain the sob.
“Now what have I done?”
“You . . . called me . . . by name.”
She probably deserved his look of confusion.
“What would you wish to be called?” he asked.
“Ju . . . liana.” She paused midname.
“I doona’ understand women,” Aidan replied.
“And then you called me . . . your . . . love.”
“That? ’Tis nae secret. Even Dame Lileth knew. And ’tis true. I do love you, Juliana. My Juliana. Beauteous Juliana . . .”
He breathed air all over her with each word . . . sending qu
iver after quiver in its stead, the action threatening to turn what was real into magic and delight and view-enhanced enchantment.
“You do-do-doona’ feel . . . it, too?”
His voice stammered and altered through the question, sounding unsure and young and just like Arran, and Juliana wiped at more tears.
“Jesu’! Tears again?” He stiffened.
Juliana gulped. “I . . . love you, Aidan Niall . . . MacKetryck. More . . . than I ever imagined. More than life . . . itself! I’d die for you. And . . . you made me want to!”
“She also told me that,” he replied.
His hands moved to her upper arms before pivoting her in place, spinning and then catching her. Juliana registered the slide of her slippers against his wood floor, the grasp of hands about her upper arms, the force of man right in front of her. And then he was lifting her up against him and shuddering in place the entire time. He had his eyes closed, his nostrils flared for the quick gasps of breath he was taking, and his lips pursed. She’d never seen anything as erotic and enticing.
“Oh . . . Aidan . . .”
His lips twitched and he lowered them, halting her mid-voice while the last word was moaned into the confines of his kiss. Magic erupted, encasing her with fingers of feeling, and fantasy wove about her vision with sparkle-touched mist . . . erasing all the heartbreak and doubt as if beckoned there. Juliana stayed rooted to the spot, her arms kept from responding by the pressure of his hands on them, and sucked at his lips as he was hers. Slid her tongue along the inner edge of his lower lip, lurched against him, and then arched in shock as his tongue flicked against the inner cavern of her mouth.
Her knees sagged, melting her against him. Aidan responded with an instant move of his arms about her back, lifting her fully against him, and then he started spinning slowly, rotating them in a slow circle. Moonlight lightened where they were standing, flashing in narrow bands of light as he danced her through it. Juliana felt him stop, his free hand pulling at the caplet atop her head before he slowly and sinuously pulled the piece away and slid it all the way to the ends of her hair, lifting her farther as he went.
