by J. L. Jarvis
“Lass, I ruined you—taking you away as I did.” Before she could protest, he said, “Perhaps not in fact, but in people’s eyes.”
“Callum, if you’ll recall, I was ruined already.”
He went on without giving credence to what she had said. “I have taken you from your home and the people who love you. And the people you love.”
“Aye, and from the kirk and the people who hurt me.” Without thinking, her hand went to her abdomen. She lowered her eyes.
Callum took note but said nothing. His jaw clenched through his hardened expression. Rage roiled inside every time he thought of the minister’s son. What a sorry excuse for a man he was. He tamped down his anger and grasped Mari’s hand. She brought warmth to his soul and heat to his body. The dark thoughts washed away as her gentle spirit filled him so full of love that it ached. Smiling, he told her, “You ought to be married.”
She lifted her eyes to meet his intense gaze. “And who would I marry, when no one has asked me?”
A frown creased his brow as he tilted his head and looked off to the distance. “Och, I’d not thought about that.” His eyes glimmered under his furrowed brow.
“Aye, well, you’ll have time to think later, and no one to bother your thinking.” Mari started to rise to leave him, but he would not let her hand go.
A smile spread from his brightening eyes to the crooked curve of his mouth as he said, “You bother my thinking, Miss Mari McEwan.”
She could not resist the smile that his words drew from her.
He went on, “And there’s no help for it.”
She shook her head and feigned a sympathetic look. “Poor lad.”
“Aye, no help,” he went on, “unless you marry me.”
His words warmed her heart as tears shone in her eyes. “And why would I do that?” she said softly.
He tenderly turned her wrist over and traced his thumb up the back of her wrist to the crook of her arm. Lifting his eyes to find hers fixed on him, he dropped all guard. “I dinnae ken why you would.”
She could not look away. Her lips parted to take in an unsteady breath. “Because I love you.”
He smiled to hear the words, then a sudden frown creased his brow as he studied her. “Mari.” Combing his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, he drew her closer. As their lips brushed together he whispered, “Do you ken how I love you?”
“Aye,” she whispered, and he kissed her.
*
They were in the midst of a kiss when Nellie and Hughie returned. Nellie cleared her throat.
Playfully giving Mari a tight squeeze, Callum said, “I’ve asked Hughie to find someone to marry us.” Turning to the others, Callum smiled broadly and said, “That priest had best get here soon. The lass looks a bit shaky.”
Mari went still. “A priest?” She looked off distractedly.
Seeing her reaction, Callum exhaled, only now realizing how Mari would feel. “I’m sorry, lass. But we’re short of Presbyterian clergy on this side of the bridge.”
She looked at him as though realizing for the first time. “An Episcopal priest?”
“Aye.”
“But you’re not even… ”
“No, lass. I’m Catholic.”
“Aye. Well, there’s no difference, is there?” she said, making little effort to conceal her sarcasm.
“Mari, we have no choice. In this camp, all we will find is an Episcopal priest.
“So I’m to be married by a papist?”
“And to one.” Callum watched her with concern. “My love, I want you as my wife. It’s that simple. I dinnae care who does it, as long as we’re married.”
Mari spoke as though thinking aloud. “I knew you were not Presbyterian. Of course you were not. But I hadnae thought of our marriage—a Presbyterian and a Catholic.”
“Lass, we’re just us, Mari and Callum.”
She heard him, but could not ignore her heart and her conscience. “Jamie and Ellen died for their right to worship as we were raised to do. To ignore that is to scoff at their memory.”
“Mari, love, what happened to them was wrong, and I grieve for your loss. But this is our time. We cannot let this stand in our way.”
When at last she met his eyes, it was not what he was hoping to see. She was troubled, with no way to resolve it.
“Mari.” He took hold of her shoulders, eyes burning into hers. “I would do anything to be with you.”
She met his gaze with withering certainty.
He gripped her shoulders a little too tightly. “Tell me you would do the same.”
“I… cannae. I dinnae ken.”
He looked like a man wounded in battle who does not quite know it yet.
She looked about anxiously. “I need to think. I cannae think here.” Turning, she walked with quickening pace down the path through the tents.
Callum took a step to follow, but cursed as he put weight on his wounded leg. He reached for his makeshift crutch, but Nellie stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Give her time to think, lad.”
Without taking his eyes off of Mari, he said, “Hughie, follow her. Dinnae let her see you, but make sure that she’s safe.”
Hughie sprang into action as Callum stood watching. “I’ve lost her, Nellie.”
Chapter 10
Once out of sight, Mari slowed to a walk. Going past some young dragoons, she watched them passing a bottle around and laughing. Past sermons on the wickedness of strong drink echoed in her mind. A tent glowed with the light from an oil lamp as an officer sat on a cot quietly writing. Outside, a handful of soldiers spoke in quiet grim words. Distant strains of a fiddle drifted through the camp. From the hospital tent, a young soldier wept softly in pain, while further on children ran about playing, unfazed by their surroundings. Soldiers waited their turn outside tents where the camp followers entertained in their beds. The whole human condition seemed housed in this camp, and Mari felt smaller with each step she took.
She arrived at a hill overlooking the camp and the bridge, and the wild moor beyond. The moon cast its dim light over the men and their battle, while a grand sky specked with stars stretched above. From which side of the bridge did God watch over them? For the heavens stretched over both sides of the battle.
“Where do I fit here?” Mari wondered. Poised amid living and dying, she felt lost and alone. Things that were once true now tangled themselves with new truths. Whose religion was the right one? It now seemed as though neither was right, for neither had the right to impose itself on the other. If neither was right, how could two lovers form a union of wrongs? And if only one was right, wasn’t it wrong to mix the two? So she had always been taught. Could she throw away her belief for one man? And if she did that, of what value was everything else she believed in? There was no middle ground in the world she had grown up in, and the sorrow of this cut her deeply. Their hearts would forever be drawn together, while their minds would inevitably pull them apart.
Soft weeping interrupted Mari’s thoughts. A young man lay dead on the ground, while his love wept over him. It was as though she were watching her earlier fears played out, and she wondered. Had she found Callum lifeless and lost to her, would she still be so sure that to leave him and worship alone had been the best thing to do? Deprived of the warmth of his sturdy arms around her, would her principles comfort her? No. As she leaned over the man who completed her heart, she would weep for the loss of his body against hers, for the sight of his eyes sweeping down to her lips just before he kissed her. She would miss his strong hands and how gently they touched her. She would desperately treasure the feel of his heart joined to hers. This was the loss from which she would never recover.
Mari turned about and walked with increasing speed back to camp. Still weak, she did not try to run until she saw Callum. He glanced up to see Mari approaching, but braced for the news that his logic had told him was coming. He waited, in no hurry to hear it. But as she drew closer and started to run toward him, he wished that his
leg did not keep him from running to her.
She flew into his arms. “Take me wherever you go.”
Callum put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length as he tightened the loose fabric of her sleeve into his fists. She searched his intense gaze with eyes open with trust.
“Mari, I will not take you in tow like a camp follower.”
“How will you take me then?” Her mouth spread to a smile.
“I’m serious, Mari.” He was, and fiercely so.
“Serious enough to marry me?”
Dark eyes met hers. “Aye, lass. You ken that I am.”
“Well then let’s find a priest, or a minister or a blacksmith.” She laughed. “I dinnae care! I just want to be married to you.”
She threw her arms about his neck and they clung to one another.
*
Hughie cleared his throat. “Callum?” He stood awkwardly, searching for words.
“What is it, Hughie?” Reluctantly, the two lovers pulled apart to stand arm-in-arm.
“About the priest.”
Callum smiled and nodded. “Aye, run and fetch him.”
“I did,” Hughie said, looking troubled. “Could we talk alone?”
“Aye.”
“No,” said Mari. “If it concerns me, I will hear it.”
Callum glanced at Mari, and then nodded to Hughie.
Nellie joined them just as Hughie said, “The priest willnae do it.”
“Why not?” asked Callum, but already knew the answer.
“He got angry when I offered him money to forget about crying the banns. And then he asked for a letter of testimony from both of your kirks.”
Mari said, “My kirk will not write such a letter for me.”
“They would not recognize a letter from a Presbyterian kirk if you had one.” Callum cursed. “Has the Church of England not got one greedy priest?”
“Not in this camp, nor in this town,” answered Hughie.
Nellie said, “Laddie, I’m sorry.”
Mari felt more than disappointment. How could she have thought she could have a future with Callum? In every way, they were from opposite sides.
Nellie produced a bottle of scotch. “Have a wee dram. I brought it from home. I was hoping we could celebrate with it, but it’s best not to waste it.”
It was Mari who broke the long silence that followed. “He’s only one priest. If he will not marry us, then we’ll find someone in Edinburgh.”
“And in the meanwhile?” asked Callum.
“In the meanwhile, I’m not going anywhere.”
Callum said, “I will not have others looking at you like you’re…not my wife. I will not have that for you.”
Mari lifted her chin. “Would you send me away, then?”
“Och, lass! Come here.” He put his solid arm about her. “I’ll not cast you out, you daft woman. But neither can I ask you to lower yourself to be with me.”
“You can ask or not. I will do what I want.”
Nellie spoke hesitantly. “You both ken…you dinnae always need a priest to get married.”
Callum said, “Mari deserves a proper marriage—recognized by the kirk.”
Nellie nodded. “I’ll no speak for the kirk, but I do ken of a marriage the government will recognize. The solicitors call it an irregular marriage.”
Nellie looked at Callum. “If you declared it before two witnesses, you’d be married.”
“In the eyes of God?” Mari asked.
Callum held her chin gently. “Would the eyes of the law do for now? It may be all we can manage for a while.”
“I want to be married to you.”
“Are you sure, Mari?”
Mari smiled. “I am.”
Turning to Nellie, he said, “How is it you ken so much about this?”
“Cover yer lugs, Hughie.”
“I’m seventeen, Ma.”
She leaned forward toward Callum and Mari, and smiled. “I ken someone who was married like that.” Her eyes moistened. “Till the day he died, no twa were more married than my man and I.”
*
Minutes later, Nellie stood beside Hughie with tears in her eyes, watching the couple, who stood facing one another. There was no kirk or fine clothing as Callum leaned on his crutch facing Mari. The lads from Glengarry stood by, with broad smiles. Duncan was last to arrive. Trying not to draw attention, he pressed something into Mari’s hand, and in a gruff voice muttered, “It’s white heather for luck.”
Pleased and surprised by the gesture, Mari thanked him.
He made a guttural, dismissive sound as he joined the rest of the men.
Callum took her hand and drew her attention to him. “I, Callum, take you, Mari, as my wife. I will love you as long as my heart beats.”
The words caught in her throat. “I, Mari… ”
“Och, lass,” he said, wiping tears from Mari’s flushed cheeks. He shook his head, and lifted her chin. “This weeping is not a good omen.”
She laughed in spite of her tears. “They’re tears of joy.”
“Aye, joy.” He nodded and grinned, as if he did not believe her. “Go on, then.”
Their smiles faded. “I, Mari, take you, Callum, as my husband, because I cannot imagine not being with you. And because I love you, and will till I die.”
Callum pulled Mari close and kissed her so thoroughly that she blushed as he released her. Callum followed Mari’s gaze to Nellie and Hughie, who were both unaware that their mouths were agape. The other men made encouraging noises. With raised brow, Callum said, “Dinnae fash yourselves. We’re married now.”
“As married as twa people can be!” Nellie glowed from the obvious joy, and perhaps just a bit from the whisky. She filled all the glasses and they toasted again, while a few of his men played the fiddle, pipes and bodhran, and everyone danced—except Callum and Mari.
Tired of watching the others, Callum stood with the help of his crutch. “Come, lass. We’re going to dance.”
Mari looked at him, stunned. “No, I could not. It’s wicked.”
“So is marrying a Catholic. So you’re making great strides today.”
With a grin, he pulled her to her feet. The lads played a slow song. What they did was as close to a dance as Callum’s injured leg would allow. As he held her fully against him, Mari protested no further.
As the late summer darkness came, Callum sent his men off to continue the celebration on their own. Nellie made herself scarce, having made arrangements to sleep elsewhere for the night. This left Callum and Mari to spend their wedding night on a cot in the tent.
Mari became very busy tidying up.
“Mari.” His eyes shone as his unsettling gaze bore through. “Turn down the light—else we’ll make a grand silhouette outside the tent.”
With a small gasp, her eyes rounded. She quickly extinguished the lamp. A full moon lit them in soft shadows. He held out his hand, which she took and came closer. She hesitated, looking uncertain. “Your leg… how can we…?”
Callum assumed a brave, noble tone. “Aye, well, lass. We must.” He shook his head, frowning. “There’s one wee problem with common law marriage. It’s not legal until it is consummated.” He looked into her eyes with a satisfied smile. “Aye. So, you see, wound or not—it’s my duty.”
“Och!” Mari released his hand with a playful shove. “I can see this is not going to be easy,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Aye, well, the cot will make things awkward, but we’ll manage.”
“I meant being married to you!”
Outside soldiers were drinking and singing, releasing the burdens of battle. But inside the tent it grew still. Callum touched Mari’s skirt and gathered the cloth in his fist, pulling her to the edge of the cot, where he sat. In a low voice, he said, “Come closer, lass.” He slid his palms up the front of her bodice and slipped his fingertips over the edge. Mari inhaled sharply. Slowly he unlaced her bodice and set loose her breasts, holding them in his palms.
Mari’s breathing grew shallow and uneven. Callum slid his hands down to her hips and guided her, until she straddled him. When he winced she began to get up, but he shifted her weight from his wounded thigh.
She resisted. “What if I hurt you?”
“I ache already from wanting you, Mari.”
He caressed her until her back arched and she clung to the folds of his discarded plaid. He grasped her and fitted her to him. She responded to him, eliciting a guttural sound from his throat. Mari panted and whispered his name as he held her hips for a final thrust, and exhaled. She leaned over to kiss him, and then carefully lay down against him.
“What’s this?” he asked, touching her cheek, moist with tears.
“Nothing.”
With sudden concern, he said, “Mari, have I hurt you?”
“No!” She kissed his neck and whispered, “No. It’s just that I love you so.”
“My love.” He gathered her close, pressing his lips to her forehead, as she rested her head in the curve of his neck.
After moments had passed, he said, “Lass, about these tears of yours—there have been so many today, I cannot keep track. These are the happy ones, aye?”
Even in the darkness, he heard the smile in her voice. “Yes, my beloved daft Callum. Very happy ones.”
*
They awoke to the sounds of the troops breaking camp. Callum emerged from the tent to find Nellie beginning to pack up her cooking utensils. She rested her hands on her hips. “I must bid you farewell, lad.”
“Farewell?” Mari ducked out of the tent and stood beside Callum.
Nellie said, “A few of the lads who were injured are going back to Glengarry.” This much was not news to Callum. With a resigned air, she said, “I’m going back with them. They need a good cook, and they’ll see me home safely.”
“But do Hughie and Charlie have leave to go with you?” asked Mari.
“No, but these bones are too old for this sort of life. Hughie’s a man now, and Charlie can take care of himself. They’ve no need of me, and I need to go home.”
Callum had noticed Nellie moving more stiffly. This could not have been easy for her, so he had to agree that she ought to go home.
