We walked past the people lining the path, but my eyes were for my husband only. We entered the castle, and Ioan led me to my uncle’s study. My uncle soon appeared and held out the register. I read the other names, searching for my parents. I found them and grinned, thankful to be signing my name with theirs.
“Lass?” my uncle asked.
“Aye?” I glanced up.
“We haven’t discussed this yet… but ‘twould be wise ta do so now. ‘Tis the tradition fer a man ta take yer last name when he is marryin’ inta his wife’s clan. Because ye are my heir, when I pass inta the hereafter, Ioan will be the laird.”
Though I knew that was how it worked, the weight of the knowledge shook me anew. I glanced at Ioan, and he wore a humble expression in response to my uncle’s words.
“Since ye both are o’ the Campbell clan, there’s no need ta worry about the last name. Ye will both remain Campbells, but I wanted ye ta remember the tradition, Elle.”
“Aye.” Ioan murmured.
“If ye will, sign here, Ioan.” He waited for a moment as Ioan wrote his name.
“An ye, Elle, sign next to yer husband.” A smile tilted my lips as I signed my name, almost signing Ansley rather than Campbell. The slip-up reminded me of a conversation I’d need to have with Ioan, but not yet. Not today, probably not next week or month. I’d made my choice, with Grandma’s blessing no less. So with Ioan leading the way to the dining hall, I left behind the uncertainties of tomorrow and grasped onto my husband’s hand.
****
The meal was wonderful, and at its conclusion, Morag whispered into my ear. “I’ve a surprise fer ye.”
I glanced back at her twinkling eyes.
“Now?” Oh please, let it be now so Ioan and I can leave! The meal had taken much longer than I’d wanted, and Ioan was teasing me by running his fingers up the outside of my skirt all the way to my hip. Heat was pooling in my belly, and the smoldering glances he kept spearing me with weren’t helping. My only consolation were the distracted answers he’d given anyone who’d tried to take his attention away from me.
“Aye, now.” She touched Ioan’s shoulder and he grinned conspiratorially.
He rose, then bent down and scooped me into his arms. Cheers and whistles resonated in the hall as we followed Morag’s lead outside. I cast a longing glance toward the stairway that led to a bed, and Ioan caught my wistful expression.
“Donna fash yerself, lass. Ye’ll have me all ta yerself in but a moment.” His tone was smug and I smacked the back of his head. He grinned unrepentantly and began to whistle a merry tune.
We stopped at a small cottage not far from the castle. A warm fire crackled from within, and flowers hung over and around the door. Morag nodded to Ioan and then she leaned forward to kiss my cheek.
“Enjoy.” She started back toward the path leading to the castle, and I shot Ioan a curious glance.
“No’ yet… I’ll explain later. Fer now, let me carry me wife ta her bed.” Ioan grinned wolfishly as he strode through the doorway and into a cozy room that smelled of lavender.
Gently he set me down on the bed and then backed away. I tilted my head as he strode to the door and closed it firmly with a thud. Then he bolted it and double-checked its security.
“Expecting company?” I questioned with a wry grin.
“No, and I donna want any unexpected visitors, either,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“Does that happen?” I drew up my knees to my chest.
“Nay, no’ often, but I willna risk it!” Ioan chuckled and then turned, taking long strides to where I sat.
“Elle.” He whispered my name as he knelt in front of me. The sound of his voice made my eyes close in rapture. “Elle, me wife.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to my neck, and my body responded with a delicate shiver of delight.
“Ioan.” My tone was husky. I reached up to caress his shoulders and trailed my fingers down his back. “Ioan, me husband.” Ioan’s tongue flickered against my shoulder as he began to pull down the fabric of my blue wedding dress.
“Ye are beautiful. Ye stole me breath when I saw ye walk down the path toward me. How is it that ye’re mine?” He placed a final kiss to my shoulder, then leaned back to gaze into my eyes.
“How is it that ye are mine, Ioan? It took all me self-control ta no’ run inta yer arms when I first saw ye,” I confessed.
Ioan shook his head in wonder. Carefully he traced the curve of my lips with his finger and leaned in, whispering the softest kiss against them. I pressed against him, wrapping my arms around his neck and drawing him closer.
Immediately, Ioan responded by ravaging my lips with a searing kiss that sent tremors clear to my toes. No longer sitting up, Ioan’s weight pressed me into the soft bed. With trembling fingers, he traced my form from my knee to my hip, where he splayed his hands and kneaded my flesh with his palm. His hands ascended and flowed over my feminine form, and began to tug at the laces on the back of my dress.
Ardently, he rained kisses over my neck and jaw. Each one sent my heart to pounding faster toward an unknown anticipation. My hungry caresses boldly traced the lines of his back, around his rounded backside and back upward, only to continue once again. I pulled, tugging his shirt free from the plaid he wore, and ran my fingers over his flesh, reveling in its smooth and solid texture. Ioan released me from his smoldering kiss with an abrupt break, which left me gasping.
“Elle,” he panted my name. But I leaned forward and began to unwind his plaid from his shoulders, silencing his next words with my brazen movements. His eyes crinkled with amusement as he assisted me in ridding him of his clothing. He pulled me up against him as the last of his garments hit the floor, and his solid arms wrapped around me once more. “Ta think I was afraid I was perhaps movin’ too fast fer ye.” He chuckled against my neck.
“Aye, ye always were a slow one,” I teased before leaning down to kiss his shoulder, tasting his skin.
“This is one time, Elle, when I donna want ta be quick, but very deliberate, methodical, an’ precise.” His tongue swirled at the base of my throat as I realized my dress was loose and beginning to fall away. His kisses descended lower till I cried out in pleasure at his warm attentions. Only my loose stays remained and, soon, Ioan’s quick fingers loosened the laces and nothing prevented his flesh from searing my own with its passion.
****
I awoke later in my husband’s arms, drowning in the sensation of being thoroughly loved. His fingers traced down my naked body in methodical patterns that were meant to relax, but rather enticed me. I turned in the small bed and gazed into the green pool of his gaze.
“I love ye,” I whispered and kissed his lower lip.
“I love ye… me wee haggis.” Ioan chuckled and swallowed my protest with a hungry kiss that left me no further argument as he proceeded to steal away my breath once more.
****
Morag had given up her cottage for a few months so that we could have our privacy. She enjoyed the constant companionship of the servants, and accepted my uncle’s generous offer for her stay in the castle to be permanent. Ioan and I were thrilled to keep the small cottage to ourselves, yet realized that someday Carnasserie Castle would be ours.
A few months later, my uncle summoned me to his study.
“Elle.” He nodded as I walked through the doorway.
“Uncle?”
“Marriage agrees with ye.” My uncle nodded as he eyed me.
“Thank ye, I couldna agree more.” The past few months with Ioan were beyond anything I could have imagined. I was showered with love, and Ioan’s post at the castle was made permanent by his commander to help insure it didn’t fall prey to the Jacobites once again.
“We’ve received some grand news, Elle. I wanted ta tell ye first, an’ o’ course ye can tell that husband o’ yers when ye get home. I’ll inform the rest o’ the elders o’ the clan at the meetin’ tanight.” His words were spoken with a tender regard, and my heart swelled knowin
g he accepted and respected Ioan as his tanist.
“‘Twould seem that yer father’s investment in England did indeed meet success.” He handed me a parchment that disclosed the financial profits of a company owned by the Ansleys. My heart skipped a beat in seeing my old last name. Is this how we were connected?
“I’ll be returnin’ yer coin inheritance from yer mither as well, what I can find at least. Which reminds me... I wanted ta return somethin’ ta ye…” He reached into a drawer in his desk and handed me a small pouch.
“‘Twas yer mither’s. ‘Twas on the chain ye gave me, amongst the other coins. Yer father had it made fer her shortly after they were married. I thought ye’d want it back. There was one more he had made at a later date, but it musta fallen off somewhere… ‘tis a pity. ‘Twas beautiful.”
I reached out, taking the coin-shaped emblem from my uncle.
“Love is eternal, without beginning or end, just as is time.” I read the words out loud. “Thank ye,” I whispered.
“Aye.” My uncle nodded then cleared his throat.
“Perhaps one day ye’ll find the other one. I believe it speaks about time submitting ta love’s call or something o’ that matter. I dinna understand that one meself, but ‘twas one o’ yer father’s favorites. ‘Twas an old blessing he’d heard once. I’ll try to remember it fer ye.” He paused and furrowed his brow. “It was said that time submitted to love, because love overcame all obstacles. Yet if time submitted to love, then love, having its true nature in selflessness, must submit to time if need be… then came some superstition about placing one coin ta yer heart an’ askin’ love ta submit ta time… I donna remember, but it was said ta right the wrong done by placing love before time.”
I gasped at my uncle’s words. Time submitting to love’s call? Hadn’t my grandmother said the exact same words in her letter?
“That is quite a tale…” One that is surely real. I shook my head in bewilderment and thanked my uncle again as he dismissed me.
I held the coin in my hand, careful to not place it against my heart. I tucked it into my pocket and decided that when I arrived home, I’d place it in the wooden chest, far away from my heart, yet safe because it was a treasure from my parents.
Ioan’s eyes twinkled as I walked into the cottage.
“There’s me lovely wife.” Ioan pulled me into a tight hug and began to kiss my neck with clear intentions of beginning something more.
“Good-day ta you, husband.” I giggled and pushed away from him. I strode to the box I’d taken from my room and opened the lid, feeling Ioan’s smoldering gaze on my back. I took the coin from my pocket and placed it into the parchment sleeve with the other remainders from my mother’s inheritance. When the lid was secure, I paused for a moment. A swirling sensation overcame me, and I grasped the box to steady myself. Images of Ioan as a young lad flooded my mind, along with memories of my mother, father, uncle and even Morag. The overwhelming sensation stole my breath and Ioan rushed over at the sound of my gasp.
“Elle, are ye well?” His moss-colored eyes were concerned as he effortlessly lifted me onto our bed.
“Aye… I am.” I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his.
“Elle…?”
“Ye were a braw warrior even when ye were but a lad.”
“What?” Ioan’s gaze sharpened at my words.
“Ye… fought fer me… when that boy… the Thatchers’ son threw a ball o’ mud at me new dres—”
“Aye, ye remember?” Ioan grinned.
“Aye.”
“Ioan?” I raised my hand and traced his jaw with my fingers.
“Elle?”
“Ye were always in me heart… even as a young girl, ‘twas ye that I wanted.”
Ioan closed his eyes for a moment then leaned forward to kiss me tenderly across the mouth.
“Elle?”
“Aye,” I whispered against his lips.
“I know.” He grinned and tried to press me into the bed but I twisted out of his embrace, thankful the world had ceased spinning around me.
“Ioan?” I called as I made my way to the door.
“Elle…” Ioan warned with a teasing tone and wicked grin.
“There’s one more thing,” I added, biting my lip as I reached behind to open the door.
“An’ what’s that?” Ioan rose and began to stalk me.
“I’ve always loved ye chasin’ me.
“Elle.” Ioan shook his head as he moved closer at a deliberately slow pace. “Nay, ye love ta be caught.” And he ended my feigned escape and reminded me just how much I, indeed, loved to be caught.
Epilogue
“Just what are you searching for, Gwennie?” The sound of my nickname brought a wry grin to my face. No one called me “Gwennie” anymore, except Grandma. She had never used my given name, unless I was in trouble, which meant she’d use the whole name. Guinevere Elisabeth Ansley.
“Gwennie?”
“Oh, well, anything that would help me organize our family history.”
“But you know our family history.”
“True, but not to the extent needed for my senior thesis on Historical Familial Relations That Transcend Time.”
“That’s certainly a mouthful,” my grandma spoke as she began to ascend the stairs into the old and dusty attic. I watched her white hair poke above the floorboards and grinned back at her obvious disgust at the dust covering every available surface.
“If half of the stories you’ve told me are true, then my thesis will be not only long but captivating. Everything I need.”
“Well, I can assure you that more than half of the stories are indeed true…” She cast a glance at a suspicious cobweb in the corner.
“I need tangible historical evidence, though.”
“Love, I’m your historical and tangible evidence,” she added with a wry grin.
Shaking my head, I laughed at her expression and turned my attention to another old box. This one was an old steamer trunk. I unlatched the lid and pulled out a large book with loose-leaf pages. The heavy book was falling apart at the binding so I set it on my lap. The first pages were written in a beautiful calligraphy that was faded with time. I peered closer to the paper and read the words.
4 February 1824
Soon the season will begin and Morgan and I will be once again busy with the parties and social obligations of the gentry, yet I can’t help but wish we’d retire to the country once again. I treasure the time alone I get with my husband, and with our second child on the way; I’m sure to be in seclusion…
I skipped ahead to another page.
18 September 1824
I still cannot fathom that my dear husband surprised me by taking me out of the city and into the country for the season! I grow to love him more and more each day. To see him playing with Elinore and tenderly holding little Jakob melts my heart. It was worth it. Time has no value unless you are with the one you love. It was the greatest gift to be brought back. Nanna knew…
The strange remarks piqued my curiosity and I set the book aside to read later. Another box gained my attention and I stood to reach for it.
“They loved one another, so deeply,” my grandma spoke as she bent down and caressed the discarded book gently. “Their love had to conquer quite a bit, you know. I wonder…”
I paused and waited for her to finish her sentence. The atmosphere of the attic shifted and my flesh began to goosebump.
“What would you do for love, Gwennie?” Her blue eyes inquired with an intense gaze.
“Real love, like the kind you share with Granddad, or the kind you’ve shared from our history would be worth any sacrifice, Grandma.”
“Do you truly believe that?” Her hands caressed the leather cover of the book once more and she gazed at it intently.
Did I? “Yes,” I replied honestly.
“Good answer.”
I nodded and turned my attention to the next box.
“I’ll see you for supper.”
“Okay,” I mumbled as I heard her descend the stairs to the lower level. Inside the next box, I found a necklace with strange coins hanging from it. The tinkling sound they made echoed loudly in the room. I reached down for the book beneath. Inside I found more letters. Picking one I began to read.
Ioan came back today with a grand surprise! He and Cullon discovered the last coin to my necklace! They had gone hunting earlier with wee Niall, and he discovered it when passing through Kilmartin Glen! To think! It had been there all along…
I turned the page over and read the back, skipping ahead.
‘Twas a wondrous thing, to fall through time. I donna ken how it was done, but each day I awake next to Ioan, I am thankful. Ever so thankful.
Strange. With a furtive glance at the letter I set it next to the first book and stood. As I began to leave, a final box captured my attention. It was next to the cobweb that my grandma studiously avoided. Swallowing my fear I pulled it out further from the wall with my foot. Kneeling down, I blew off the dust from the top.
Þeccr hyggja trúliga
The strange words shocked me. With my minor in Norse mythology, I’d studied the extinct language, Old Norse. The same language that the box held inscribed on its lid. Quickly, I translated the meaning. To be known, you must believe, thoroughly.
The box held an old dagger with a bone handle and a few other artifacts. After a few trips, I had the first book, second letters, and Norse box in my room.
“Supper, Gwennie!”
****
That night as I lay in bed, I heard loud footsteps outside my door.
“Do ye think’ we’re doin’ the right thing?” my grandfather’s soft voice asked with a low rumble.
Kristin Vayden Page 16
