by Alisa Adams
The rain was relentless, and he was dripping.
"Don't tell me." Alexa smiled. "You fell into the loch?"
"Does it ever stop raining here?" Auguste asked plaintively, taking off his cloak. "Sometimes I wish I could shake myself like a dog."
He pronounced it 'dawg' and Alexa laughed.
Auguste raised his eyebrows.
"What is so funny?" he asked, looking offended.
"I am sorry." She laughed. "It's your accent. The staff can hardly understand a word you say! But it's not your fault. They are just not used to French people."
She got up and wound her arms around his neck then kissed him with great tenderness.
"So what can I do?" He shrugged, holding out his sodden cloak at arm's length.
Alexa called for a housemaid to come and take it away.
"You can learn to speak Scots – or at least a few words of it anyway."
"Scots?" Auguste was baffled. "I thought you spoke English."
"We speak, English, Gaelic, and Scots," Alexa explained. "I speak English with a Scottish accent. So do Moira, Iain, Lorraine, Graham, Gregor, and Columba. Davie and Mairi speak Scots. I also speak Gaelic, which is a completely separate language, not related to English at all. It is completely different."
Auguste stared into the gray distance thoughtfully for a while, then he turned to Alexa again, and to her surprise, he was smiling.
"When I first came here, I hated this place," he said. "But now that I know the people, I feel almost at home. I have no one in France. It is not really home to me now, whereas this place – the people are funny and kind and friendly. I know I am different, but I am not a stranger. And tomorrow, I will have a Scottish wife!"
"Then be at home here," she replied as if it were a perfectly simple matter. "You can make it your second home – or your first! We can travel and come back all the time. We will never be anywhere long enough to be tired of it.”
Auguste kissed her forehead.
"Go on and get out of those wet things. I will have Cook send some bannocks and broth up for us. Real stick-to-your-ribs food!"
"Stick to your ribs?" Auguste looked baffled again. "It really sticks to your ribs?”
Alexa threw back her head and laughed uproariously, then looked at him, still giggling.
"I'm sorry." She wiped her eyes, which were tearful with mirth. "I forgot you had never heard that expression before. It means food that fills your tummy and warms you up."
"Tummy?"
"Stomach."
"Aaah!" Auguste smiled. "So many words! I shall be back in a moment."
Then he ran upstairs.
As the food arrived, he came back down again and sat at the small table by the window. Outside, the wind was still howling, and rain was being driven off the loch in sheets.
"They tell me there is a monster here. Is it true?" he asked curiously, dipping his bread into the soup, which was so thick it was almost a stew.
"I don't think so." Alexa laughed. "But it is a good story. A lot of people who come here swear they have seen it. I never have."
"But did not Shona rescue Lachlan from it?" Auguste looked puzzled yet again. He seemed to have a permanently perplexed expression.
Alexa found that the way he pronounced 'Lachlan' as 'Laclan' was very endearing. In fact, there was a lot of things about Auguste that she had not noticed before that she suddenly found very attractive. Now, however, she laughed.
"Now I know that is not true!" she said firmly. "The truth is that Lachlan was in a boating accident in which his first wife, Pilar, was killed. He was washed up on shore, and Shona found him and nursed him back to health. However, people never let facts get in the way of a good story, so now it has gradually evolved to make Shona the woman who saved him from the jaws of death. Utter rubbish, of course, but a good tale."
"And what does it look like, this monster?"
"It has a small head and a very long neck. There is a hump on its back.”
She described the shape with her hands. "And they say its teeth are huge and as sharp as daggers."
She sipped her wine as their plates were taken away, and Auguste looked thoughtfully after the manservant as he walked away.
"What are these skirts the men wear?" he asked, frowning as the kilted man left the room.
"Tut-tut! You do ask a lot of questions!" she commented, laughing again. "Don't let him hear you calling it a skirt, or he will empty the rest of that soup over your head!"
"Why?"
"That is a kilt, not a skirt, and if he hears you calling it a skirt, he will think you are calling him a woman." She gave him an assessing look. "I think you should try one on. You might like it."
They went into the smallest parlor where Shona often sat in the afternoon. She was sitting holding the baby close to her breast, and they were looking at each other. There was a world of love in Shona's eyes, and Alexa felt a stab of jealousy. They looked so beautiful together, like a Madonna and child.
"Shona!" Alexa called.
Shona looked up, a frown of irritation on her face.
"Shhh, lass," she said. "I'm tryin' tae get the bairn tae sleep."
"Sorry," Alexa whispered. "May I borrow one of Lachlan's plaids?"
"For why?"
"Auguste wants to try one on."
"Hmmm…" Shona demurred. "I'd better go wi' ye. He doesnae like anybody touchin' his things withoot him or me bein' there."
She looked down at the baby, whose eyes had closed and was now sleeping peacefully.
She laid him down in the crib and straightened her dress, but could not resist one last look back as she left the room.
"What a beautiful – bairn?" Auguste said hesitantly as they left the room.
Shona clapped her hands.
"Weel done, Auguste!" She laughed. "Spoken like a true Scot! I'm proud o' ye!"
They climbed the stairs to Lachlan and Shona's suite of rooms where Shona opened a drawer and searched among about a dozen different tartans for one she thought suitable. She pulled out one that had been right at the bottom of the pile.
"McGregor hunting tartan," she said proudly. "This one is Lachie's favorite."
The pattern was a combination of solid squares and oblongs of soft red and pale green crossed by thin white lines. Alexa could see why Lachlan loved it. Auguste put his hand out to touch it, marveling at its softness.
Alexa and August both looked at the beautiful fabric in awe as Shona laid it on the floor and unrolled it. It stretched almost all the way to the door.
"I thought it was a garment." Auguste looked at both women in puzzlement. "Why is there so much cloth and no sewing?"
"There are eight yards o' woolen plaid here," Shona explained. "Ye have tae make yer ain kilt." She looked him up and down again. "Tell me, Auguste, are ye a modest man?"
His brow creased in confusion. "Modest?"
"Aye." Shona realized she was going to have to spell it out. "Will ye take yer claes – clothes aff in front o' a woman?”
"You?" Auguste asked hesitantly.
“I don’t know how to fold a kilt,” Alexa pointed out.
“Aye, me,” Shona said firmly. “While Alexa watches the door in case the Lump comes back and sees his wife wi’ a hauf naked man.”
"As long as you do not… laugh."
Shona did just that.
"Why should I laugh?" she asked. "Is your pecker a yard long or somethin'?"
“Pecker?”
“God, gie me strength!” Shona cast her eyes heavenwards.
Alexa turned away and put a hand in front of her mouth to stifle a howl of mirth.
"I'll wait outside." She spluttered.
Shona nodded, and Alexa left. Shona began to pleat the material into folds till it was about six feet wide then asked him to lie down on it
"I need yer belt," she said briskly. "Take yer breeks aff."
"Breeks?"
"Troosers. Trousers. Hose. Off."
He obeyed with obvious reluctance. She gave an exasper
ated sigh then watched as Auguste lay down on the fabric, covering his private parts with his hands. Shona batted them away irritably as she folded the material over him.
"For God's sake!" Her voice was sharp with annoyance. "I have a husband, three brithers, an' four bairns! D'ye no' think I've seen it all before?"
She tucked one side of the fabric behind the other so that it would fit snugly around his waist. Then she pulled a corner from each end of the fabric and passed one over his shoulder, then took the other one from the back, and fastened them at the front.
She did this with a huge Cairngorm stone which she had taken from her jewelry box. Then she belted it firmly and stood back to look at her handiwork.
She called for Alexa, who came in, took one look at Auguste and gasped in amazement.
"You-you Scotsman!" Her eyes were round with disbelief. "You look wonderful!"
Auguste's face lit up with pleasure.
Shona had a large mirror of polished silver, and they all looked at themselves in it.
Alexa was stunned to see how small and waif-like she looked standing beside the tall, strapping figure of Auguste. They were exact opposites.
And opposites attract, she thought suddenly. So that’s why I’m marrying him!
Auguste was thinking exactly the same thing, and he felt a shaft of desire pierce him as their eyes met in the mirror.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered.
To distract himself, he looked at the delicate Celtic design on the brooch.
"What are these jewels?" he asked, pointing to the amber-colored stone in the middle of the silver setting.
"It's a Cairngorm stone," Alexa replied. "From the Cairngorm mountains. It is not as valuable as diamonds or pearls, but I think it is prettier. There are a few in your betrothal swords are there not, Shona? Among the rubies?"
"I like my own Scottish stones better," Shona said firmly.
"Shona," Auguste said hesitantly, "where can I buy one of these?"
Shona's beautiful green eyes shone with a warm light as she looked at him.
"Ye dinnae need tae buy one, my darlin'." She smiled at him fondly. "I cannae gie ye that one because it wis a present from Lachie, but I hae anither, and I will gie it tae ye as a gift."
"Thank you!" He embraced her tightly for a moment then kissed her hand. "I must get some of this – plaid?"
"Aye." Shona laughed. "Alexa – he's soon gaunnae be mair Scottish than French!"
"I think I would like that," Auguste said, smiling at her. "I must get myself a shirt, then learn how to fold this, but is there a Chevalier tartan?"
Alexa thought for a moment, then she had a sudden flash of inspiration.
"Wait! Chevalier means 'knight', doesn't it?"
"Yes," Auguste said doubtfully.
"MacKnight!" Shona and Alexa cried at the same moment.
Auguste gazed at them both, stunned for a moment, then he laughed out loud.
"My very own tartan!" he exclaimed proudly.
He grasped Alexa's hands and whirled her around the room till they were both breathless and laughing.
"So you are now an honorary Scotsman," Alexa said with joy.
"I must send for my own tartan!" His face was flushed with excitement as he looked at himself in the mirror. He ran a hand along his sharp, squarish jawline, and turned to face them again.
"Do you think I should grow a beard?"
The two women looked at each other.
"Well..." Alexa shook her head, pretending to be disappointed as she considered the matter. "... you don't have red hair, but if you want to look more Scottish, then..."
"Aye!" they both said together and dissolved into a fit of giggles.
Auguste put an arm around each of them, then thought of something.
"Will not Lachlan want his kilt back?"
"Pfft!" Shona flapped her hand at him. "He's got anither jist like that an' anither ten besides. He willnae even miss it. Keep it. Anither gift."
"This is not fair," Auguste protested. "I am being showered with gifts, and Alexa has none."
Alexa shook her head.
"I have the gift of seeing you become Scottish, Mr. MacKnight." She laughed. "That is enough for me!" She kissed him. “Anyway, you are giving me a very big gift tomorrow.”
“What?” He smiled at her.
“Yourself,” she replied lovingly.
* * *
As they had both wanted, they were married the next day, Alexa in Shona's pale green wedding dress and Auguste in a silk coat with his new McGregor tartan kilt.
It was a very tiny wedding, with only Annabelle, Shona, Lachlan, Nanny Ishbel, her husband, Joseph, and Kennethina there. But as Father Ferguson intoned the vows and they both repeated them, Shona looked up and saw a bright ray of rose-colored light pass through the stained glass window of the chapel onto the bride and groom.
I'm no' really superstitious, she assured herself as she had done a thousand times before. But I think that this is a good omen.
The priest draped a silken rope around their joined hands before he intoned the final blessing and pronounced Alexa and Auguste husband and wife.
Auguste's eyes were full of tears as he looked down at Alexa, and he dashed them away, embarrassed with himself.
"It has been a very eventful courtship," Nanny Ishbel observed as she gazed happily at the bridal couple. "Ambushes, fallin' aff horses, hatin' each other one minute, lovin' each other the next! We jist went tae the chapel an’ got married!"
Father Ferguson, who had rheumatism, predicted a bad snowfall every time his knees hurt, and it was no different on the morning of the wedding.
Since they had only two nights as newlyweds before they left for Peterhead, Alexa and Auguste wanted to make the most of them, not least because they needed to mentally prepare themselves for a long journey in a blizzard.
They had a small wedding feast at their own request – since neither was really interested in a huge elaborate meal – then Shona sent them away to a suite of apartments where they would be unlikely to be disturbed.
The castle, perched right on its exposed promontory over the loch, was getting the worst of it, but since their marriage two days previously, Alexa and Auguste had seen very little of the outside of their bedroom. They talked most of the time, getting to know each other and making each other laugh.
Alexa discovered that her husband had a ridiculously silly sense of humor, and could find a childlike pleasure in the strangest of things. He tried to teach her to juggle, but she had not the aptitude for it. She tried to teach him how to make animal noises, a talent for which he was manifestly unsuited.
Sometimes they made love, and Auguste showed her a dozen different ways he could please her and she could please him. Alexa could never have imagined what pleasures were possible in her marriage bed. She wondered if she would ever get tired of it, so she asked Auguste as they were lying together afterward in a warm haze of contentment.
"You may become accustomed to it," he replied, "and, of course, it will become more commonplace, but there are always things we can do that are different, and we can learn together. There may be infants too. Will you be happy with that?"
Alexa thought for a moment.
"I never wanted to be a mother," she said thoughtfully. "I thought I might do anything apart from that. But since I met you, I – I feel different about a lot of things, Auguste. If a child comes along, I will love it."
"And I will look after both of you with my life," he whispered lovingly.
Often, they did nothing but doze, and sometimes they slept, but all too soon it was over.
* * *
On the morning of their departure, just as Father Ferguson had gloomily predicted, it began to snow, and snow, and snow.
Shona and Lachlan had presented them with sheepskin cloaks as wedding presents, hastily acquired from one of the wives of their tenant farmers, who made them for a living.
Lachlan put a pile of furs and sheepskins on their packhorse
, as well as provisions for ten days.
Alexa had often made long journeys by horse, so it held no actual terrors for her. The path was wide, clear and well-marked, but she had to admit feeling a little apprehensive as she looked at the white whirling flakes falling thickly outside. But they had food, warmth, and best of all, each other.
She stepped forward and put her fingertips over Auguste’s lips, then wound her arms around him. She could see that although he would do anything for her, this was something he needed to do for himself. She kissed his lips softly.
"What is it they say about walking through fire?" She laughed. "No, my love. I won't walk through fire, but I will ride through ice for you!"
She could see by his face that she had done the right thing.
Lachlan looked at them fondly as they walked away, thinking of the first such journey he had made with Shona. It was all still ahead of them. They still had to experience the adventure of marriage, the excitement of bringing new life into the world, and the ongoing joy of watching their children growing up.
He smiled inwardly, almost wishing he were doing it all over again. But there could still be more children for Shona and him. He still found his wife irresistible, and he wished that Alexa and Auguste's union could be just like his.
Shona hugged Alexa within an inch of her life when they left.
"Shona – you're breaking my ribs!" she complained, hardly able to breathe
Shona laughed and let her go. "I wanted tae give ye somethin' tae remember us by."
She took a small pebble from her pocket, polished smooth by years of constant abrasion in the turbulent waters of Loch Ness. It was a deep green banded with white stripes.
"Pit it in yer pouch an’ think o' me when ye touch it," she instructed. "I dinnae knaw why, but I found this stone on the shore o' the loch near where I first met Lachlan. It knaws where it wants tae go an' it's askin’ tae go wi' you, Alexa."
Alexa took the stone from her and studied it, turning it this way and that and frowning.
"It's just a stone," Alexa said at last. "Nothing special about it at all."
Shona closed Alexa's hand over it.
"No' at first sight, lass," she conceded. "It's somethin’ I feel. Take it, ye can laugh at me later."
