by Adams, Alisa
Iona asked him to translate, and when he did, she also laughed, and the three of them looked as though they had been sharing a few moments of light-hearted banter.
"Father, this man has lost his wits—if he ever had any!" She giggled. "He tells me that if times are ever hard French chickens eat pebbles instead of corn."
Craig pretended to laugh heartily at this, but inside he was furious and afraid. His daughter was making a laughing stock of him. "Come and see the chapel," he invited, just as Gregor and Craig came out of the office.
"I will come too," Iona said, smiling, "it has been a very long while since I was there."
She normally heard Mass on Sunday with her mother in Donalda's own private chapel and had not been in the main one for a year or more. Craig and Columba went first up the stairs, with Gregor and Iona next and Auguste bringing up the rear.
As usual, Columba was talking nineteen to the dozen and Craig, despite himself, was listening, fascinated. Columba was telling him the story of the sure McClures, which never failed to entertain. Gregor gazed at Iona despairingly, wondering if they could ever get her out in time; his life depended on it.
"Can we find somewhere to talk?” he asked, scarcely moving his lips.
"Yes,” she said smiled. She kept her gaze on the floor. “I will arrange it.” They clasped hands for a fleeting moment and Auguste, watching them, felt very sorry for them. It would take a miracle for them to be together.
25
Lunch with Craig
When they reached the chapel, Auguste, Gregor and Columba gasped in amazement. The whole interior was a gorgeous confection of gold-leafed and brightly painted statues of The Virgin Mary, the Christ Child and the Crucifixion. The pews were beautifully carved of oak, and the altar cloths were so white that they almost gave off a light of their own. The stained glass of the windows shone their stunning, jewel-like colors on everything so that the whole space was glowing and rainbow-hued. To a visitor seeing it for the first time it was almost overwhelming, and the three visitors gasped in delight.
Columba crossed himself. "How beautiful," he exclaimed, "and how much this must delight God!"
"Indeed," Craig smiled proudly, "my grandfather was a very devout man. I was married here, and my father, and now Iona will have the honor."
"You never speak of your wife," Gregor remarked. "are you a widower?"
Before Craig could invent an answer, Iona said, "my mother prefers a life of quiet contemplation. She keeps to herself most of the time and does not socialize."
"An admirable life," Columba smiled, "but one more suited to a nun, I think."
"To each their own," Craig smiled. "She likes her life and I never argue with her about it."
They went around the church and Columba led them in the stations of the cross. After they had finished saying the fourteen devotions Columba, Auguste and Gregor knelt for a while, apparently in quiet contemplation. Craig unwillingly had to join in, while Iona went to the back of the church to light a candle so that she could send up a special prayer.
Please, Lord, she prayed, let me be spared from this marriage. Let me marry the one I love. I know that I have offended you in the past, but I beg you now to save me from this doom. I beseech this in your holy name, Amen.
She crossed herself, then went to stand by the window looking out at the vast patchwork of braes, glens and burns below. Would she ever see them again? If she was forced to marry the Baron of Portree she would escape, dead or alive, of that she was certain. She was so lost in thought that when Gregor tapped her shoulder she jumped and turned around to look into his dark green eyes. He took a step back to put a decent distance between them, then smiled.
"I am sorry to startle you, milady, but your father has invited us to luncheon. Will you come?"
"Of course," she inclined her head graciously and preceded him out of the chapel.
As they came downstairs Iona was heartened to see Cameron at the bottom of them, looking up at them expectantly. Craig had let him out of his cell with strict instructions to say nothing to anyone. A brief introduction was made and Iona could see the two men taking each other’s measures, both liking what they saw. Over lunch, this feeling was reinforced. They chatted together, laughed at the same jokes, and made Columba tell Cameron the story of the Sure McClures again. Cameron looked puzzled.
"Were they not all baptized as babies?" he asked.
"Indeed, they were," Columba replied, "the first time in a church like everyone else, but they did it again in the North Sea to be absolutely sure. I did tell you that they were the Sure McClures, did I not?"
Cameron and his father fell about laughing.
"And you can see them coming a mile away," Columba went on, "every one of them has a shock of red hair as bright as a bonfire."
"Father." Cameron wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "Tell me that you made that up."
"Indeed, he did not," Gregor said as he skewered a piece of chicken on his knife, "I met them. Father Columba christened their baby."
"Have you heard about Auguste's wife Alexa?" Columba asked innocently. "May I tell this story, Auguste, or would you rather do it yourself?"
Auguste thought for a moment. "Hmm… you are the better storyteller, mon père, but it happened to me, so I will do it."
Columba inclined his head and sat back in his chair, anticipating the treat to come. Iona already knew it and had to stop herself from giggling.
"Alexa had decided to go and visit her friends Shona and Lachlan McGregor, at Castle Ness just before New Year, and she camped by the roadside because it was night and she could no longer see the road."
"Wait a minute," Craig interrupted, "is that the one who saved her husband from the Loch Ness Monster?"
"Not exactly," Columba answered, "but one tale at a time, my friend."
Auguste went on. "My sister and I were travelling to Castle Ness too, and when we saw the campfire we thought we would share our food and drink with a fellow traveler, so we went to introduce ourselves." Here he paused to laugh. "But she was not pleased to see us at all. Thinking we were robbers, she held us up at sword point and tied us up—then she fed us porridge.”
He went on to tell the tale of how Alexa had gone to sleep and they had tied her up and slung her over the back of her own horse. By the time they got to at Castle, Ness Alexa was screaming with indignation and almost had to be sedated to calm down. By this time the whole company was howling with laughter.
“My daughter is going to be exactly the same,” he concluded, shaking his head regretfully. I have no idea what to do with them.”
"Do nothing," Gregor suggested, "leave them exactly as they are. They are both wonderful, and I should know. Alexa and I almost had a courtship until she decided she wanted to be Auguste's wife instead!"
They all laughed.
"Another baby," Iona said wistfully, "I can't wait to be a mother." No-one else knew that this general comment was directed at Gregor.
"Your time will come," Craig said, patting her hand. Iona almost pulled it away, but let it go. Her hatred for her father was now so deep, so visceral, that she was scared to make any move that might cause her to strike out at him, so she was keeping herself under a very tight rein.
Under the table, she felt Gregor's hand on her knee. It both comforted and aroused her, and she wished with everything inside her that she could be alone with him. Columba said Grace at the end of the meal, and Iona yawned. "I always get a bit sleepy after lunch," she explained, laughing. It was usually true, but not today, because with Gregor nearby all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and lose herself in him.
Gregor felt the same way. He felt as if he would burst if he could not at least kiss her. He would have liked to go much further, of course, but he would not let his mind wander down that path. Thinking about kissing was torture enough. If only, if only he could help her escape, but Craig seemed to be at her side the whole time, hovering as if waiting to pounce.
Craig
thought it unlikely that she would say anything to any of them since she had only just met the clergyman and knew the spice merchant only slightly, but he could not take the chance.
Just then the wine merchant came into see him, and this time he could not get away since he needed wine for the wedding. They waited for a few minutes to make sure he was gone, then Iona walked Gregor into the stables, ostensibly to see her mother's horse, Charlie. There were stable lads there so they were not able to even hold hands, let alone kiss. However, while exclaiming over the beauty and speed of the little beast, Gregor was able to look at Iona and let his hand touch hers as they stroked Charlie.
"Let us go for a walk,” she suggested, “no-one will think anything of it. People go out for walks here all the time. At least the fresh air will not smell of cats!”
He laughed, then nodded in acquiescence and they began a slow stroll around the courtyard, then stood at the main gates for a while before crossing the moat and venturing a few hundred yards beyond it.
"I wish we had more time,” he said with a sigh, "it would be wonderful to walk, talk, maybe even dance together!”
“So, do I,” she replied sadly. She looked up steadily into his green eyes and smiled, “even though my dancing leaves much to be desired. But I have a good feeling, Gregor. I know that things will work out for us.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon together. Iona told him about her childhood, her mother, her father’s treatment of her and finally their imprisonment, all the things she had kept back from him on their first meetings. Then they spoke of lighter things, and he found out about her love of animals, riding, sewing and playing chess. He loved listening to her.
“Now there is something we have in common.” He smiled at her. “As soon as this is all over I will challenge you to a game!”
“You will win easily,” she laughed, “I love the game, but my ability is somewhat lacking!” She thought for a moment, then grew serious. “Why did you not want to be a laird?” She asked curiously.
“I never wanted to be a laird,” he explained, “because all I could ever think of was all those farming people depending on me. How I would cope if there was a drought, a flood, a crop failure? When Columba came along, becoming a pilgrim, then a monk seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Looking back, it seems as if I was running away.” His voice was sad. “And now here you are, giving me hope again.”
“I’m glad,” she replied warmly. “Now we must go back.”
As she looked at Gregor strange feelings coursed through her body at the thought of lying beside him, and the thrill of those kisses at the convent came back. Would it stop at kissing? She hoped not. Iona dressed and came down for dinner, then they ate a pleasant meal, but her mind was on the night ahead. Immediately after their meal she got up and announced her decision to go for an early night.
Meanwhile, Gregor could hardly concentrate on a word anyone was saying. Every time he thought of Iona his stomach clenched and his body responded the way any man would under the same circumstances.
"Please excuse me," she said with a smile. "I missed my nap this afternoon, so I bid you all goodnight."
They all chorused their goodnights and Craig walked out with Iona. They said nothing to each other, but when they got to her room he tried to say goodnight and got a venomous look and an icy silence as an answer. But she would soon change her tune, he thought confidently. The Baron would put her in her place. He went back into the parlor to resume his conversation. He comforted himself with the thought that he had arranged her marriage, and soon she would have a husband to discipline her.
Gregor waited for a short time after Craig returned, then he stood up and yawned. "If you will excuse me, gentlemen." He rubbed his eyes. "I too have an appointment with my pillow. Goodnight." He smiled at them all and went upstairs. Craig felt quite secure. There was a guard outside Iona's door, supposedly put there because the Laird wanted to protect his daughter before her wedding. Everyone would put it down to him being an overprotective father, and that was not unusual.
As he went upstairs he passed Iona, looking extremely irritated, coming downstairs with a guard at her back. "I don't know why you need to accompany me everywhere I go!" She complained, "all I want is a jug of wine to help me sleep. My father should never have brought me back to this awful place."
Gregor went past them upstairs, and found Iona's room easily since she had left the door open a fraction. He slipped inside and stood behind the door, his heart hammering. He heard her wish the guard a terse goodnight a few moments later, and by the light of the single candle, he watched her walk into the room and set the jug on her dressing table. Then she turned to him.
26
A Marriage of Sorts
Gregor crossed the room in two strides and took her in his arms, then kissed her the way she had kissed him that afternoon. She opened her lips and felt his tongue invading her mouth, felt his hard body pressed against hers as he pushed her against the wall, desperate to get closer to her. Whatever she had expected, it was not this, this hungry, almost violent passion. Her body was stirring in ways she had never felt before, and she moaned with desire, unable to help herself. He broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering into hers.
"We have to be very quiet," he whispered, "there is a guard outside."
"I don't want to be quiet," she replied, smiling, "I want to scream with joy."
Then she stopped speaking as he kissed her again, softly and tenderly, his tongue moving over the sensitive insides of her lips. She was shivering all over and when the kiss ended they stood with their foreheads touching for a while.
"We should be married," Gregor said, and there was a hesitancy in his voice. It was the first time she had ever heard him unsure of himself.
"Yes, we should, my Gregor," she replied, stroking his cheek, "but there is no-one here to marry us."
"Then we will marry ourselves," he suggested, laughing softly.
"It will not be legal," she pointed out.
"I won't tell anyone," he replied, "except maybe Cameron and Donalda."
Iona put her hand over her mouth to stop herself laughing. "Neither will I," she promised, smiling, "except them."
She went to get a silk scarf from one of her drawers, then Gregor bound it around both their hands. He looked into her eyes.
"I, Gregor Carmichael promise to love you and care for you, Iona McCallum, for the rest of my life, however long or short it may be. If there are children, God willing, I will be the best, most loving father I can, and I will protect you all with my life. I love you, Iona."
She was touched to see that there were tears in his eyes. "I, Iona McCallum, vow to love you and look after you till my dying breath, Gregor Carmichael. I will bear your children and love them every day and in every way I can, because they will be yours, and you are the man that I love with all my heart.
"May God unite us and never let us part," he said, "forever and ever, amen."
"Amen," she replied.
They smiled at each other.
"Maybe there was no priest, husband, but I feel married." She kissed him softly.
"Oh, but we are not married yet madam," he said, with a comic, leering smile and a wicked note in his voice.
Iona laughed out loud then he clamped a hand over her mouth and smiled. He loved to make her laugh. He lifted her up and laid her gently down on the bed while he undressed. Iona watched, fascinated, as he peeled off his clothes. He was not at all what she had expected. She had only ever seen her own body totally unclothed and he was like a completely different creature.
Everything about him was the opposite of herself. He had no soft smooth breasts, and his hard chest muscles were covered in a light dusting of hair. His muscular thighs and arms looked as though he could lift anything and run anywhere. Points of golden candlelight glinted on the stubble of his jaw and chin. He was completely masculine, and Iona knew that he could be as dominant as he wished, and there was nothing she could do about it, but
it did not frighten her. She instinctively knew that she had nothing to fear from him because he had an innate gentleness and would never harm her.
When Gregor took off her garments his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but could not. Instead, he shook his head, smiled, stroked her cheek, and with the other hand caressed her breast, teasing her nipple gently with his thumb. She had never felt anything like it. He was half lying on the bed, half on top of her, and her beauty, the feel of her soft warmth against him, had rendered him speechless for a moment. So, he spoke with his hands, caressing, rubbing, insinuating his fingertips into all her most sensitive places, until she was writhing with delight.
Her breath began to come in gasps, and she could hear that he was responding in the same way. His hands were rough to the touch, but she loved their feel and the way it made her respond. Her own hands roamed over his skin, feeling powerful muscle and bone underneath. Gregor looked for what seemed like forever at the beautiful creature beneath him. He gazed for ages at her long white limbs, the soft globes of her breasts, her tiny waist and flaring hips, and wondered if someday his child would lie just there in her womb.
"Iona?" he said her name with a question in his voice.
"I'm ready," she whispered.
"I am too," he replied, kissing her softly and tenderly. Then he parted her thighs with his leg and a moment later she tensed as she felt a pressure and a sharp pain inside her.
Then, miraculously, it was gone, and there was only she and Gregor moving together in the most primitive of all rhythms, and his touch and tender kisses began to build into something more delightful. Iona's eyes stared into his as the most delicious, unbelievably wonderful sensation washed over her, quite unlike anything she had ever felt before. Her fingers dug into the unyielding muscle of Gregor's biceps as it became an ecstasy, then slowly subsided, leaving her trembling but with a delicious sense of lazy well-being. He smiled as he placed a hand over her mouth to silence her.
