Kristin Vayden

by Surviving Scotland

  “No.” Ioan sighed and sat back down.

  “I found the necklace, Ioan.”

  “Ye did?” Ioan’s green gaze sparkled with surprise but quickly darkened to smoldering anger.

  “Ye went back, in the middle o’ the night, fer yer necklace?” Ioan’s tone was low and dark.

  “Aye.”

  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why?” he whispered, his voice hoarse from frustration.

  “I, um… overheard a meetin’ with me uncle and the council. They needed the money, Ioan, badly. ‘Twould seem me uncle was in debt…” My words trailed off at the glare I received from Ioan.

  “Elle! What a foolish thing ta do! Could ye have at least searched for me? Or even Cullon? Could ye have waited a few hours ‘til daylight, considerin’ ye might no’ have found me?”

  “I looked for ye but neither ye or Cullon…”

  “A few hours… would it have made a difference, Elle?”

  “I donna ken, Ioan. It sounded as if time wasna somethin’ they had…”

  Ioan shook his head then leaned back once more, staring at the ceiling.

  “Who… to whom is the debt owed?”

  “I donna ken… but me uncle has the necklace an’, I hope, will have enough ta pay it.”

  Ioan nodded and closed his eyes.

  “In a twisted way, I understand Elle. But in the future, as yer husband…” My heart skipped a beat at his words. “As yer husband, Elle, ye will no’ put me through that again… understood?” His moss-colored eyes watched me intently.

  “Aye.”

  “Good.”

  “Ioan?”

  “Aye?”

  “Thank ye fer saving me.”

  “Always, Elle.” His gaze was tender as he regarded me.

  “Ye are quite the braw warrior.” I gave him a small grin and raised an eyebrow.

  “Aye, that I am… an’ donna ye ferget it, lass.” Ioan grinned and I stood to run, seeing the predatory glint in his eye. He lunged and swept me into an embrace that I willingly melted into.

  “Ioan?” Morag’s voice interrupted our intimate moment, and immediately I was released from his embrace.

  “Aye?”

  A moment later, Morag’s face peered into the room with a slight grin.

  “I would speak with ye a moment, lad.”

  He nodded, and when Morag gave me a meaningful glance, I excused myself. Casting a wink in Ioan’s direction, I strode down the hall, no longer seeing the walls as my prison, but as my defense.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The handfasting was set for tomorrow, which would give Ioan and me only one day as man and wife before the other warriors of the Black Watch arrived. Once again I opened the wooden box holding my family heirlooms. With care, I took out the bone-handled knife of Oden and set it on top of my mother’s plaid that still graced my bed. I removed a small leather pouch that I hadn’t noticed before. The button unhooked easily and I gently tipped it. Out came two tarnished pieces of jewelry. First, I picked up a beautiful pin that was woven around and secured at the back. I turned it over in my hand, examining the intricate and delicate twists and curves. I placed it on the bed next to the knife. Next I picked up the ring that had fallen next to it. The gold band interlocked with a loop that tied over itself. I placed it on my first finger, but it didn’t fit. I tried all my fingers till it slid perfectly on my third finger on my right hand. It was beautiful.

  A knock sounded at my door and I opened it to find Morag waiting.

  “A` stor!” Her words brought tears to my eyes as she reached out with soft hands and pulled me into a tight embrace.

  “Ye have but a night to ready for the handfastin’.”

  “Aye.” I sighed contentedly.

  She nodded and patted my cheek tenderly. Her eyes grew concerned as she gazed at me. “‘Twas quite a scare ye gave us all. ‘Tis quite the braw warrior ye are ta marry.”

  “Aye, he is.”

  She moved farther into the room at a gentle pace.

  “I see ye’ve found the Luckenbooth brooch.”

  “The what?”

  “Luckenbooth brooch.” She reached over and picked up the interwoven brooch from my bed and fingered it gently. “‘Twas yer mither’s, an’ upon yer christenin’, ye wore it too. ‘Tis to be worn by ye tomorrow when ye marry and will be placed upon yer first bairn at his or her christenin’ as well.”

  My belly trembled as I considered the thought. Children, born of Ioan.

  “‘Twas me mither’s?” I asked with wonder.

  “Aye, given ta her by yer grandfather, God rest him.”

  Tenderly, she handed me the treasure, and I placed it carefully in the box.

  “On the morrow I’ll help ye dress. ‘Tis best if ‘tis kept safe fer now.” She glanced back to the bed, and with slightly shaking hands, picked up the gold ring. Carefully she studied its design: the large loop that circled the smaller and interlocked, leaving a continuous circle. “Has yer uncle told ye the story o’ Odin, lass?”

  “Odin? Aye. ‘Twas the fierce Viking warrior.”

  “Aye.” She nodded. “This ring was the verra one he gave ta Guinevere, his wife.”

  “Was that the woman’s name, the one that—”

  “Aye, the verra same. ‘Tis a wondrous story, their love. This ring has been carried down through yer father’s family. T’was the ring he gave ta yer mither.” Morag’s eyes grew misty and she blinked them rapidly, causing tears to spill down her weathered cheeks.

  “Ye miss me father.”

  “Aye.” She nodded then lifted part of her Arisaid to dab her eyes from the salty tears.

  “‘Tis the ring ye should wear, A` stor. Ioan will be pleased.”

  “I’ll ask him.” I nodded, not knowing what commonly happened at a handfasting.

  “Elle, ‘twould please me greatly if ye would perhaps call me Seanamhair.” Her request surprised me. Although I had thought of her as my grandmother, I couldn’t remember ever calling her by that name. I nodded, earning me a bright smile.

  “I thank ye. ‘Twill be a blessin’ ta hear yer voice call me name once again.” She nodded and turned her attention to a chair by the fire.

  “Do ye ken what will happen at the handfastin’?” she asked as she lowered herself into the chair.

  “No, ‘twas my next question.”

  “Sit?” She gestured to the other chair, and I followed her to the warm and crackling fire.

  “‘Tis a simple affair…” She went on to describe the simple ceremony. Each detail left me with a hungering anticipation for tomorrow. Soon after she finished, she left, giving me a quick kiss just before she wandered into the hall. My bed beckoned, and I placed the remaining items in the box and moved it to the corner for tomorrow. With a contented sigh, I burrowed into the woolen blankets and slept.

  ****

  The next morning flew by in a rush of activity. Ioan cast me hungry glances when we broke our fast, but didn’t speak to me.

  “‘Tis fer the best that yer love dinna speak with ye,” Morag replied when I asked about his silence. She chased me from the hall and into my room where she proceeded to ready me for the ceremony.

  “Why?”

  “‘Tis yer weddin’ day. He’ll no’ see ye again ‘til ye are signin’ the contract.”

  I sighed heavily.

  “Let’s get ye dressed. I took the liberty o’ pullin’ a few stitches from yer mither’s dress so as to keep with tradition.”

  “What do ye mean?” I asked as her form retreated toward a box she brought with her.

  “‘Tis a tradition. Since ye dinna make yer own dress, but are wearin’ yer mither’s, I had ta change it a wee bit. When makin’ her weddin’ dress, a lass shouldn’t complete it ‘til the morn of her weddin’. So I pulled out a few stiches o’ yer mither’s so that I could put them in after ye are dressed. Thus, keepin’ the tradition.” She grinned at her own brilliance and nodded me forward as she held out the garment
. It was a bright blue dress that gathered slightly at the lower waist. Cream-colored lace accented the neckline and wrists, leaving a trail of color from the sleeves. It was beautiful.

  “‘Twas me mither’s?” I asked with awe. How I wished I remembered who she was, who my father was… who I was supposed to be.

  “Aye.” Morag nodded. She helped me dress and then bent to re-sew a part of the hem.

  “Ye are a vision, just like yer mither was on her weddin’ day.” Morag’s eyes filled with tears. Her hands trembled as she placed them against her chest.

  The sound of loud hoof beats and shouts echoed from the courtyard below. Rushing to the window, I heard Morag follow me. Outside we saw a few dozen horses dance around as men dismounted and turned to one another. Each wore a tartan woven with a dark blue, emerald green and black plaid.

  “The Black Watch,” Morag spoke in a reverent whisper.

  “Ioan’s commander?”

  “Aye, and his fellow warriors.”

  “What will happen?” I asked breathlessly as I noticed Ioan’s powerful strides.

  “I donna ken…” Morag spoke quietly as tears stung my eyes. Today… I wanted Ioan today.

  “‘Twas a worry o’ mine… ‘twas why I spoke with yer love last night.”

  I glanced at her curiously.

  “Aye, I thought perhaps they would come early, an’ I wanted ta know what Ioan planned ta do should it happen.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That ‘twasn’t his decision.”

  I sighed impatiently.

  “Will ye find out fer me?” I whispered and turned toward her.

  “Aye. Give me but a moment.” Morag quit the room and left me with my miserable anticipation.

  ****

  Ioan’s commander insisted on their immediate attack. Carnasserie Castle was far too much of a useful post for them to tarry in defending it against the Jacobites’ threat. Ioan delivered the news, and I leaned against him, treasuring the soft beating of his heart.

  “When do ye leave?” I glanced down to my lap, thankful I had taken off my mother’s dress and wore one of my own.

  “We plan ta attack at midnight. Hopefully, we’ll catch them unawares.” Ioan’s muted tone worried me. He kissed the top of my head, and my scalp warmed then cooled as he exhaled, then deeply inhaled, my scent.

  “How many are ye?”

  “Thirty.”

  “How many are they?”

  “I donna ken… thirty or more.”

  “Ioan…” I raised my head and gazed lovingly into his eyes. “Come back ta me… please, promise me that ye’ll come ba—”

  My words were swallowed by Ioan’s fierce kiss as he overwhelmed my fears with his passionate attention. I needed him, his kiss, and his arms to hold me. I reached around his body and placed my hands at his back, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper. The sitting room where we spoke didn’t afford us much privacy, but I hadn’t the presence of mind to care. Ioan’s arms banded around me, and drew me closer ‘til I almost couldn’t breathe.

  “I will come back, Elle.” He plunged his hands into my hair and invaded my mouth with his warm, caressing tongue.

  “Do ye promise?” I asked breathlessly when he drew back slightly.

  “Aye. A ghrá geal.” Beloved.

  “Ioan?” Cullon’s words, then loud cough, interrupted our intimate moment.

  “Go away, Cullon,” Ioan grumbled as he took my lips once more.

  Cullon cleared his throat.

  “Cullon…” Ioan warned, but he drew back slightly.

  “Ioan…” Cullon called back, mimicking Ioan’s tone.

  “What do ye need, Cullon?” Ioan grumped as he released me slightly.

  “Ye are bein’ summoned. We’ve a change o’ plans. We ride now.” Cullon’s teasing grin sobered immediately once he had Ioan’s full attention.

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  “Aye.” Ioan nodded and rose, reaching out to help me rise as well.

  “I’d say I’d give ye privacy ta say goodbye ta the lass… but I’m thinkin ye have already said good bye, an’ any further privacy might lead ta an... indiscretion on me cousin’s part.” Cullon winked at me and then sidestepped as Ioan tried to pull him into a headlock.

  “Just ye wait, cousin. ‘Twill be a pleasure, providin’ ye with the same torture ye’ve gifted me.”

  Cullon chuckled and walked away, giving us the privacy he’d just renounced.

  “I love ye, Elle… me wee haggis.” Ioan teased, trying to lighten the mood. My somber emotions must have bled through to my expression.

  “Donna call me—”

  “I will call ye wife… tomorrow.”

  “Aye, Ioan. Ye will call me wife,” I whispered.

  He drew me into a tight embrace, and kissed me quickly, before releasing me and striding off purposefully, without a backward glance.

  ****

  That night was misereable. Each noise had me racing from my bed to the window, as I searched for Ioan and the other men of the Black Watch to return. I awoke to a pounding on my door that found me lying at the base of the window in a heap. I tossed my braid over my shoulder and rushed open it. There, bloodied and yet very much alive, was Ioan.

  “Elle,” he whispered into my hair as I launched myself into his arms. He held me tightly and kissed my head over and over.

  “Ioan, ye’re alive, ye’re home!” I inhaled the smoke and sweat scent, as tears fell down my face.

  “Dinna I promise ye?”

  “Aye, ye did. Ye did.” I leaned back and ran my fingers over his face. Then I touched his hair and grasped the solid structure of his arms. “Are ye well? Are ye hurt?”

  “Nay, a few scratches here an’ there… ‘tis nothin’ ta be concerned about.”

  “Was it horrible? What am I sayin’? O’ course `twas!”

  Ioan chuckled as he drew me once again into a tight embrace.

  “All that matters is that `tis over… ye need no’ fear any longer. An’ ye are now free ta take a walk or two.”

  “I’m no’ sure I want ta…”

  “Lass, donna lose yer stubborn streak now! An’…” He leaned back to gaze playfully into my eyes. “Did I ever say ye were ta walk alone? Nay, ye will be with me... perhaps as me wife?” Ioan teased then rubbed his nose against mine.

  “I’ve changed me mind… a walk sounds perfect.”

  “That’s me lass.”

  “Aye, yours.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Morag came to my room later on and helped me dress once again. When I had taken off the dress the day before, I had carefully torn out the stiches Morag had re-sewn. She re-sewed them again today and declared me ready. My golden hair trailed down my mid-back, completely unbound. With trembling hands, Morag had secured the Luckenbooth brooch over my dress and arranged it perfectly.

  We had no kirk nearby, but there was a small stone arch just beyond the gates of the castle. As I walked through the door and into the courtyard, Morag nodded in the direction of the gate. When I turned toward it, I saw that the warriors of the Black Watch were lining the path leading to the stone arch. Children filled in the sparse areas, as well as other men and women. As I made my way to the gate, I nodded my thanks. Morag released my hand and gave me a tender kiss on my cheek. As she stepped aside into the line of people, I began to walk toward the arch.

  Ioan waited with a gaze of wonder as I made my way toward him. He wore the same blue and green tartan of the Black Watch, yet on him it was more magnificent, more masculine, and my belly tremored in gazing at him.

  My uncle stood in front of the small stone structure and watched my approach with glistening eyes. But my gaze was fastened to Ioan. Each step forward gave me a clearer view of him, and each step sent my heart to racing harder, faster. His hair was pulled back, still untamed, but the wet, glistening sheen told me he’d tried to force it into obedience. Ioan shifted restlessly as my approach continued for another long minute. T
he clans folk grinned unabashedly at me, as their eyes bounced between Ioan and me.

  When I arrived at the stone arch, my uncle nodded, and Ioan reached out with both hands. As I held him firmly, my uncle pulled out a length of linen. At each end was an embroidered cross. With deliberated movements, he draped the linen over our clasped hands and proceeded to wrap it around, securing it with a tug and small knot. I watched as my uncle bound our hands together, symbolic of how we were now joined together as one. Tears of wonder pricked my eyes and I glanced up to find Ioan gazing passionately at me. I was unable to glance away, so lost was I in the depths of emotion clearly reflected in his eyes.

  “Do ye pledge yer troth in the covenant o’ marriage through this handfast ta Elle?” my uncle’s deep voice asked.

  “Aye.” Ioan’s voice was loud and clear, victorious and proud.

  “Do ye pledge yer troth in the covenant o’ marriage through this handfast ta Ioan?”

  “Aye.” I nodded, amazed that Ioan was mine.

  “Will ye be a husband true? Will ye honor yer wife in sickness, health, in riches or for poor?”

  “Aye, I will.”

  “An’ ye, Elle. Will ye be a wife true? Will ye honor yer husband Ioan in sickness, health, in riches, or if ye are ta be poor?”

  “Aye. I will, Uncle.”

  My uncle let out a long sigh, and I glanced at him. Did he remain upset because of my marriage to Ioan? His lips trembled, and he was making a concentrated effort to compose himself. In that, I knew it wasn’t a sigh of disappointment, it was a sigh of acknowledgement. I was no longer his to protect, to guard. I was now Ioan’s.

  “Before God, ye are now bound tagether in marriage. ‘Til death parts ye, be bound, be blessed, an’ honor the holy covenant ye have made. Amen.”

  A tug on the linen binding told me he was releasing the knot and unwinding it, but I didn’t glance down. My eyes were for my husband only. Ioan’s tender and victorious gaze captivated me. The depth of his love was shining from his eyes, and I knew mine did the same.

  “Ye may now kiss yer wife, Ioan,” my uncle shouted, and I jumped slightly.

  Ioan’s grin was triumphant as he reached around and pulled me close. My eyes closed as he began to lean in, and when his warm lips caressed mine, I found home. He kissed me once softly, then another time, more searchingly. When I thought he was finished, he surprised me by kissing me a third time, stealing my breath with the kiss’s fierce intensity. I gave back all he demanded and, when he released me, it was to the sound of cheering, whistling, and clapping. Cullon was the loudest, and Ioan shot him a self-satisfied grin.