Highland Portrait

by Shelagh Mercedes

  Robbie was perplexed, but his objective was fixed, he would keep her near him at all costs. Even if he had to gift her with the moon and stars. Or Toilet Paper. He moved from his seat and kneeled at her side. It was his greatest desire to touch her, hold her, draw her close to his chest and feel her heartbeat. But he did not, keeping one hand on his knees, the other on the log she sat on. “I nay ken what toilet paper is, lass, but I will find it for ye and I will fill a room with toilet paper if that is what ye wish.”

  Stella smiled, wanting to giggle at his sincerity, but she held her laughter, knowing that this was a serious subject for him, not the comic relief she had intended and she would not embarrass him with misplaced humor.

  Stella was intoxicated with his pledge and the outpouring of his desire. She could not recall ever having heard such singleness of promise or devotion from any person during her lifetime. She was drawn to him, in spite of everything about him that told her that this was wrong. He was not, could not be real, being from a culture that was in exact opposition to everything she knew to be true. He was not for her. And yet she felt a lingering desire to break the bands of reason and rationality and to bond with this barbarian who was the very essence of male power. She felt herself being drawn in, reluctantly, to his strength, his plainness. She could feel no guile or deceit, only undeviating commitment. Here was a man that was not provoked by ulterior motives, not controlled by others or wealth, but had a true and sharp vision of what he wanted. Had she not been as strong as him she would have capitulated.

  Ferghus took that moment to interrupt with his barking and took off through the woods, intent on some great misadventure. Shaken from his thoughts, Robbie was at once alert to any danger that might cause harm to Stella.

  “Stella, love, stay and do not move, I will see what that daft dog is about.” Reluctantly he left and moved away from the campsite, leaving Stella sitting by the small fire wondering what the Celestial Committee had done to them.

  Was this why he had returned to her in the studio? Was this the connection that had caused her to transverse time? Had she a heart-mate that was born centuries before her own time? If the Celestial Committee had created a soul mate for her why had he not been born in her own time? Why was he here in this century, a century so unlike her own and so unreasonable? Was this part of the magic? Stella was confused and her confusion manifested itself in sadness. She wanted to be home in her own bed, but she also wanted to know more of this Robbie.

  Robbie returned quickly and the silence of the night was punctuated by the metallic sliding of his sword into its sheath. He looked at her and she seemed so small and fragile sitting by the fire. He wanted to hold her through the night, absorb her wonder, indulge in her flesh.

  He so desperately wanted to touch her, to fulfill the measure of their existence, but he resisted, knowing that the time was not yet right. Instead, he sat across from her and looked at her. She raised her eyes and looked back at him, silently allowing him time to form words.

  “Stella. Ye knew my name,” his voice was delicate, made of fine longing and infinite awe. “How did ye come t’ know me, lass?” Robbie wanted to know the connection because he was certain that it started somewhere before they met at the stream. Every minute he spent with her the connection grew stronger and he felt his heart burgeoning with a need for this woman, to have her by his side from this time forth.

  Stella smiled shyly and answered, “Robbie, I am not sure. So much is a mystery to me yet. But I will promise you this, by the time we get to Kilmartin I will know who you are and I will tell you everything I know. But for now, I don’t know. I can only tell you that you and I have known each other before this time. And we will know each other after this time. More than that I cannot tell you because I don’t understand it myself. Can you trust me on this for now?” she swallowed her uncertainly and unshed tears brightened her eyes so they shone like gold stars.

  Robbie felt a wonder pulse through this veins and knew that she was true and honest and that whatever or whoever she was, be it Faerie Queen or woman, or angel, she was his and that their bond was formed before he had taken his first breath.

  “Aye, lass, I trust ye.” Robbie’s voice was quiet and tremulous.

  Stella felt weariness seep through her body like the night, and she ached to close her eyes and sleep.

  “Robbie, I am tired, I need sleep. This has been a strange day for me and I need rest.”

  Forgetting all else Robbie jumped up, “Aye, lass, ye shall sleep and I shall guard ye. Ye need not fear that aught will harm ye.”

  “Robbie, I know that you are tired, too. Can we both not sleep?” She looked at him and trust was manifest in her eyes. Robbie lust was corralled by wonder and a new found understanding of himself. He would be guardian and friend, and he would not allow lust to enter into the sacredness of their connection.

  “Ferghus will alert us, Robbie. Come let us sleep.” Stella took the plaid he had given her earlier and spread it in the alcove of the rocks glad to see a thick covering of moss on the ground. It wasn’t a down comforter, but it was better than rock. She removed her boots and set them to the side, placing her hat on top of her boots. She crawled onto the plaid trying to find the softest place, and lay down.

  “Good night, Robbie,” she mumbled and was almost immediately asleep.

  Robbie sat by the fire watching Stella. He had always been a man to review his day, grading himself on his actions and assessments and he sat now thinking about this beautiful woman and how she had completely changed his world in a matter of hours. He had known Stella for less than a day, less than twelve hours, but in that twelve hours he had been transformed from a commander and leader of men to a weak kneed youth yearning for his first toss. He would not have believed himself capable of such behavior, such strong desire, such need, but he felt like this had been set in motion long before he met her this morning.

  Robbie got up and lifted her hat from where she had laid it on her boots. It was an unusual hat, heavily felted with a rather bizarre brim. He smelled the white heather in the hat band. He was not really one to believe in faerie folk, having spent too much time in the study and love of science, but there were times when logic did not answer his questions and a childhood of faerie stories teased at his brain. He knew her to be a woman, not a sith, but there was something undeniably strange and otherworldly about her. Her manner of speech and beliefs was captivating and had stolen his senses, as if her moon had eclipsed his sun, changing his shape, his power, his heat. Everything he ever had been was now subject to change, everything he ever would be was in her control.

  Robbie picked up one of her boots and examined it closely. It was well made, the leather thick and supple. He felt like it might have been a boot that she had owned for some time, the wear showing on it, the wooden heel worn down, the unusual pointed toes rough and scarred from much use. He looked at the exotic stitched pattern on the boots and was amazed that each stitch was perfect and uniform in size as if measured by some small hand. The workmanship was such that the boots must be of great value. He had never seen such stitching. Surely the cobblers in Texas had to be the most accomplished in the entire world.

  Robbie set the boot back in place and gingerly laid the hat back on top of them, exactly as Stella had left them. He gently covered Stella with the portion of the plaid that she had saved for him and he sat close to her with his back against the rocks, his sword at his side. He could hear Ferghus in the distance, chasing quarry.

  When the sky was as black as the loss of hope he closed his eyes, drawing in a ragged breath. He moaned softly to himself, leaned against the rocks within a hands distance from Stella and closed his eyes awaiting the dreams of angels and sovereign Faerie Queens.

  Chapter Seven

  The small clearing took on a whole new appearance in the early morning light. There was a certain natural holiness to the architecture of the trees as they reached across the span of the clearing, forming a cathedral of softly swaying lea
ves. Rays of sunlight bobbed through the limbs giving off a sparkling effervescence and the pathway was hidden several inches deep in the decomposing leaves of the winter past, creating a rich tapestry, as if nature had laid down a carpet for invited dignitaries.

  Robbie, normally an early morning riser, woke later than usual to find himself rested, in spite of too many hours awake thinking of the nearness of Stella. He’d slept the night sitting up, leaning against the moss covered rock while she slept wrapped in his plaid, her head just inches from his knees. He looked at her now and felt himself overwhelmed with her softness. In sleep she was no longer the Amazon, the Valkyrie, but a tender babe, breathing quietly and evenly, without fear or wrath, Ferghus curled up beside her. He wanted to wake up next to her for the rest of his life.

  Quietly, not wanting to disturb her, he got up and began to prepare them for the journey ahead. They had traveled a moderate distance yesterday and he hoped that he could keep it at the same slow pace again. The more time he had with her the better his chances of keeping her. Last night’s conversation had opened up a greater understanding and trust between them and he hoped to make today just as revealing and as bonding.

  Not long after Robbie got up Stella felt Casper’s wet nose on her face sniffing her awake. She wrapped herself tighter in Robbie’s plaid and was aware of strange smells. Instead of perfumed linens her lungs filled with the robust smell of compost, leaves and dirt rich with the promise of new life. Her blanket was not the thick softness of down, but the heaviness of wool, steeped in the odor of man and horse and camp fires. The smells of a different world pulled her from her slumber and she opened her eyes to the red morning light breaking through the crowded canopy overhead. Her mind flew immediately from her bedroom to the forest of this ancient land and she knew that she was not dreaming, but was a long way from home. Ferghus was happy to see her stir and licked her face.

  Because she had the privilege of working at home she was not one to wake early. Morning for her clocked in around nine. From the dim light she could tell that nine was still a long way off. She wanted a shower but resigned herself to another day without the luxuries of the 21st century. She smiled to think how easy it was to feel entitled, to live with the bar set exceptionally high in terms of convenience.

  “Get away, Casper, stop, “ she rubbed her eyes, gently pushed the dog from her, and sat up, looked around and saw Robbie standing not far from her, watching her while packing his gear. Grey was saddled and ready and her horse stood close by the stallion pulling on grass. Stella got up and took stock of her surroundings, noting that she wasn’t nearly as stiff and sore as she thought she might be from sleeping on the ground. She still would have preferred a bed, but she was proud that she had endured and endured well. Perhaps she was a survivor after all.

  “Good morn, lass. Ye slept well I pray,” Robbie’s smile was the sun, giving off rays of warmth and the promise of a day filled with light and hope. Hope that their direction would take her closer to home.

  “Hmm, I am doing well, thank you,” she stretched, working out the minor kinks of her night on the ground and pointed toward the stream, “if you don’t mind I think I’ll go…get some water.” Stella, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her face, looked for her backpack. Time to find some leaves. Squinting at the rising light she adjusted her jeans to lay more comfortably on her backside, then bent over to pull on her boots. Robbie, watched with fascination at her perfect bottom swaying hypnotically from her efforts to pull them on.

  “Aye, lass. We’ll leave when ye be ready.” Robbie nodded then turned his attention to her horse, folding his plaid to make her a comfortable seat in lieu of a saddle.

  She knelt by the side of the brook and drank deeply of the sweet water. Not one to be overly familiar with early morning hours Stella noted how the air seemed crisper, the smell of green more astringent. She knew once the sun melted the mist and sucked the moisture out of the ground the air would be suffused with the bready smell of warm earth. But right now she inhaled the sharp sweetness of the brook’s foliage and fixed its fragrance in her mind to be remembered on a hot, dry Texas afternoon.

  Refreshed from her visit to the creek she packed her sweatshirt, put on her hat and she was ready to roll. Robbie had cleared the campfire, leaving little evidence of their stay. She was grateful he was being careful, she knew her pursuers would probably not give up their search easily. She greeted her horse with a nuzzle in her thick black mane, stroking the beautifully curved neck.

  “What do you think I should name her?” she asked Robbie with some playfulness.

  “Ye don’t own the horse, it seems unwise t’ name her, lass,” Robbie frowned at the thought that this beautiful woman was a thief. But then again, she stole a horse to save herself and he knew that women were often in desperate circumstances and he supposed that stealing a horse could be a natural occurrence to save oneself, although he did not know of any woman brave enough, or skilled enough, to steal a horse, much less ride one like she did.

  “I think I’ll name her Arwen.”

  “You would give an English horse a Welsh name?” Robbie asked, chuckling.

  “In the first place, she is not an English horse, she is an Arabian, and the English don’t have a clue how to ride these animals, nor do the Scots, and secondly, Arwen means noble woman and that’s what she is. Noble. Believe me, she’s a smart animal.”

  She turned to check out the animal she had stolen. She had a fleeting thought that if she’d stolen this horse in Texas she’d be headed to jail right now, but this wasn’t Texas and she needed to move quickly to her portal, and this was actually her horse anyway so technically it wasn’t really stolen. She wondered, again, at animals jumping from one ‘time zone’ into another. First Arwen, then Casper. It was all very strange and she wished she had answers.

  He watched with curiosity as she inspected the horse, running her hand along her withers and down her legs. She leaned her back against the horse’s front leg and reached down to her hoof, pinching her lightly on the fetlocks, bringing Arwen’s hoof between her knees and closely examined her hoof. He was impressed that she handled the animal as well as any hostler, as well as any warrior born to the saddle. She pulled a small strange rectangular piece of metal from her pocket and like magic it instantly shot out a knife blade. Robbie’s eyes widened with wonder.

  “How did ye do that, lass?”

  She looked up to see the surprise and wonder in his eyes. “What?”

  “Make the knife appear.” Stella looked at her knife and suddenly saw it as it was. An intriguing piece of equipment this man would never have seen before. She thumbed through a mental rolodex of facts about metallurgy and weapons in the Mid-Renaissance and thought it might be ok to let him see it.

  “Oh. It’s a folding knife, Robbie, but this one has a tiny spring that causes the blade to release.” She closed the knife and handed it to him. He took it and examined it closely.

  “See that little trigger? Push it.”

  He did so and the knife sprang to life. He had seen folding knives before, of course, but never one like this. He ran his thumb lightly along the edge and was singularly impressed. It was honed to a keen sharpness that left a slight cut in his skin. It was an unusually well made weapon and the metal was unlike any he had seen, not having great weight, but very hard. He wondered how the metal might have been forged. His curiosity was piqued at the mechanism and he tried to determine how it was made, carefully inspecting it to see how it worked, closing and releasing it several times.

  “Where did ye come by this, lass?” Robbie’s excitement about the knife could turn into a problem for her and she wanted to avoid tempting him to take it from her.

  “Hmmm. Let me think.” Stella thought ‘I bought it online’ was more than she wanted to explain so she opted for the easy way out. “It was a gift from my father.”

  “In Tegis?” asked Robbie.

  “In Texas, yes.” She reached for the knife to finish the cleanin
g of her horses hoof and he reluctantly gave it back to her. He leaned against his own horse and watched her deftly and carefully use the knife to clean mud from the horses hooves.

  “’Tis is a fine, weapon, lass. Even as small as ‘tis.” Robbie’s admiration was genuine, which pleased her. “Tegis makes fine metals.”

  Seeing a teaching moment Stella released Arwen’s front hoof and moved to the back, picking up the back hoof in the same manner, clearing the mud with the knife.

  “Yes, Texas is like that, we make a lot of fine things there. We’ve turned from magic and superstition and embraced invention.”

  “Tegis sounds like a wondrous fair place,” he said, and was beginning to understand her need to return to her home. He had a niggling suspicion that keeping her here was going to be harder then he thought.

  “Well, it IS Texas, after all. Actually it’s a lot like Scotland. Rugged in places, green in places, mountains, hills, a coastline. Lot warmer though. In fact it gets downright hot. Yes, it IS a wondrous fair place.” She worked quickly examining Arwen’s hooves, cleaning where necessary, examining her for any bites or nips from Robbie’s horse and silently wished she had a curry brush. Satisfied that her horse was in good condition and ready to ride she turned to Robbie.

  “Ok, we’re ready to go.” Robbie knelt, once again and gave her his knee. She jumped quickly onto the plaid saddle and smiled at him. “Thanks for this. It makes it much more comfortable.”

  “Perhaps we can find ye a saddle, lass.” He mounted his own horse and started to move from their clearing Ferghus leading the way.

  “Perhaps I can steal one,” chuckled Stella and winked when Robbie turned back to give her a warning look. His eyebrows did that ‘thing’ she thought was so funny. They arched up as if independent of his face, the visual barometer of his thoughts. She smiled as she watched them ‘dance’.

  Robbie kept their path close to the forest line, not wanting to leave them exposed to open meadows in case they were still being pursued, which he thought they might be. He was at odds about their journey. He wanted to get her to his uncle’s castle as soon as he could to provide her safety, but he also wanted to spend as much time alone with her, just the two of them journeying together. He felt the enforced togetherness would allow her to view him in a tender light and that was how he intended to capture her. She would understand the need to stay in Oban a few days before resuming her journey and if he was lucky she would chose to stay.