“Can we not persuade you to stay longer?” Ailith asked.
“Yes, please do!” Fenella begged. Findlay looked at her, and his face was full of regret.
“I cannot, Ella,” he replied, sighing. “I have not seen the rest of my family for years, and I must go home.” He stood up, smiled at everyone, then he and Lyall walked out.
He felt wretched. He liked Fenella—more than liked her—but she was young, and he had just emerged from an experience which he would wish on no one else. He had succeeded in bringing Jock McCauley down. In fact, he had obliterated all traces of him from the face of the earth, but at a great cost to himself.
He and Marion had suffered years of indignity, but Ranald was still dead, and something inside Findlay was dead too. Now that his mission had been accomplished, what was left for him? Marion’s life had a purpose, but he felt as though his had none, and he had to find that purpose before he thought of a settled life with a woman, for he wanted to give her the best of himself.
Fenella watched him go with a heart full of longing. He was everything she wanted in a man: tall, muscular, attractive, but also good inside with a generosity of spirit that could only have come from maturity. She knew that she was already being sought after as a good marriage prospect and a beautiful wife, but none of the young, eager, wealthy hopefuls made her feel the way Findlay did, and it saddened her beyond measure that she could not be his.
Ailith would love to have started on sourcing materials for the alterations to her house straight away, but she wanted to give Fenella some idea of how to get the best price for anything she wanted.
“The last strategy I told you about was one of my least favorite,” Ailith began, “but it suited the mood of the day, when we all felt like playing the fool!” They laughed at the memory. “I am going to show you some more, but you need to practice when I am not here, so that you can go out and be prepared for anything.”
Fenella nodded eagerly.
“The first thing to remember is that the first price is never the last price,” Ailith began. Her eyes were gleaming and she was in her element. “If it says five shillings, make up your mind that you are paying less. Decide on your price and stick to it.” She then went on to explain about offer and counter offer, the ability to buy in bulk, and the importance of keeping a stony face. “Never carry more money than you intend to spend. That is very important. And never smile at the seller. If you do that, he will think you are agreeing with him. Do not smile. Use silence too. It feels very uncomfortable, but the longer you let it go on, the worse he feels, which is when he will say anything to break the tension, maybe even offer a lower price. If you cannot get your price, walk away. Sometimes he will even run after you with a better offer!”
Fenella gazed at her in astonishment. She could not believe she was being taught such things! No other woman could know them, besides her late mother maybe. “You make it sound so easy!” she marveled.
Ailith shrugged. “It’s not at first, but when you have some experience and stop being afraid it is.”
“I am so glad I met you and that we will soon be sisters-in-law!” Fenella said fondly.
Ailith kissed her. “I am too,” she replied with great warmth in her voice. “It seems amazing. A few months ago I expected to marry Jock, and settle for second best. Imagine if it had actually happened!” She shuddered, thinking of the ambush, the cottage, and the hanging.
“Well, it did not!” Fenella shook her gently and they smiled at each other. “And I hope you will be the happiest couple in the world!”
“And you will soon be married too,” Ailith said gently. She had noted the way that Fenella looked at Findlay, and it bothered her. “There are so many young lairds-in-waiting looking for wives that it seems that you will be spoiled for choice!”
Fenella’s face fell. “I want none of them,” she said scornfully. “They are boys.”
“You want a man?” Ailith asked.
“One man,” Fenella replied. “Findlay, and if I cannot have him I want no one else.”
“You are still very young, Ella,” Ailith pointed out. “There is still time.”
Fenella said nothing for a moment, then she rounded on Ailith. “Stop telling me that! Everyone tells me that!” she was tearful with rage. “Look! I am a woman now!” She stuck out her chest to show off her breasts. “I am not a child!” Then she ran downstairs into the courtyard with no clear idea of where she was going, straight into Findlay’s arms.
Findlay had been helping to shoe a horse and his hands were covered in soot. He was brushing it off and not looking where he was going when a tearful Fenella rammed into him, then staggered backwards with the force of the collision. Instinctively he thrust out his hands to grab her arms and steady her. It was only then that he realized she was weeping.
“Fenella—are you hurt?” he asked anxiously. “Why are you crying?”
She looked up helplessly into his navy blue eyes, and realized that despite the circumstances, she was right where she wanted to be. Without giving herself time to think, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him.
It was the first time she had kissed a man, and it was not at all what she expected. His lips were soft and not rough as she had imagined, and they moved under the pressure of her mouth. She was startled after a moment to feel his tongue on her lips, and when she parted them, it slid inside her mouth.
Findlay froze in shock for a moment, then his body remembered how long it had been since he had kissed a woman, and responded in the most primitive fashion. Later he would not remember wrapping his arms around her, but he did remember coming to his senses a few seconds later and pushing her away.
“I am sorry Fenella,” he said raggedly, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “That should not have happened.”
“Yes, it should,” she answered firmly. “I wanted it to.”
Findlay looked at the ground, because he could not look her in the eyes, then he turned and walked away. She looked after him, but strangely she was not sad. He had responded to her, perhaps not in the way she had expected, but he had done so.
That night as her maid was taking off her dress to put on her nightgown, she noticed Findlay’s black handprints on the sleeves.
“These will take a muckle bit o’ scrubbin’ mistress,” she said, frowning. “Whit happened?”
“A man, Tammie,” Fenella replied. “A man happened.”
20
The Wedding
You are not a boy, Lyall told himself yet again as he stood outside the church, bracing himself for the moment that he would have to enter and pledge to love and honor the woman he adored. What are you frightened of, you coward? You should be rushing in there and marrying her before she gets away!
He sighed and squared his shoulders, and was just about to stride into the church when he felt someone patting his back, then he turned to see Ailith’s father looking at him with a mixture of sympathy and amusement on his face.
“Scared?" he asked in a serious tone. “Because I was, and so was every other bridegroom I ever knew.”
“Terrified,” Lyall admitted, “but it is good to know that I am not the only coward!" he laughed.
Matthew Galloway put a hand on his shoulder. “My daughter is the one who should be afraid, since she is the one who is going to bear your children. We men will never need the kind of courage that women have. A wise man once told me that, and it is worth remembering. So whatever is making you afraid, remember that it is ten times worse for Ailith.”
“Of course it is,” Lyall replied, feeling ashamed all of a sudden. “Thank you, sir.”
Matthew smiled. “In half an hour you can call me ‘Father,’ or ‘Paw,’ or whatever you like. Just go in there and get married!”
So Laird Lyall Stevenson walked into the church to wait for his bride, and it was the longest five minutes of his life.
However, he was not the only one who was scared to death. A moment later it was her turn to stand with her
father, holding onto his arm for support. Ailith was trembling inside. Her heart was hammering as if she had been running uphill, but outwardly she looked serene and unruffled, like the embodiment of summer.
Her satin velvet dress was a deep buttercream color, laced at the front with a gold cord. It flared out from her slender waist into a bell-shaped skirt with a short train at the back. Its full-length lace undersleeves ended in a point on her dainty wrists, and the oversleeves dropped from the elbow to end just below her waist. The neckline was a deep V that hinted at the swell of her full breasts.
There was a crown of mountain aven, daisies, and white heather in her hair, and she carried a posy of the same summer blooms.
As she walked into the church she saw Lyall standing beside the priest, tall and imposing in his clan plaid, his glossy dark hair reflecting in the myriad of rainbow colors of the stained glass windows.
As Ailith entered, the guests began to turn and smile at her, and Lyall, seeing their reaction, turned around too. His expression was one that Ailith would remember and treasure for the rest of her life. His eyes widened in wonder, then his lips parted and finally he gave her the most joyful, loving smile she had ever seen. As she put her hand trustingly into his, she knew that she would not be afraid of anything ever again.
Lyall kissed her cheek, still smiling. His heart was brimming over with love for this little, beautiful, spirited woman who had changed his life completely. Her eyes were shining as she gazed into his, and for a moment it seemed that they were the only two people in the church, as if no one else existed.
“You look...so beautiful, Ailie," he whispered, but she had no time to reply before Father O’Dowd began the nuptial service with a blessing, and everyone fell silent. These next few moments were to be the most important in the rest of Ailith and Lyall’s lives, when they gave themselves to each other, heart and soul, for all eternity.
“Are you ready to pledge your love for one another in the eyes of God?” Father O’Dowd asked, looking from one to the other. He was a kindly, pleasant-looking Irishman, much in demand for weddings, because he always made the ceremony a warm and friendly occasion, unlike some other priests who merely regarded it as a duty.
“We are,” they said in unison, then Lyall turned to hold Ailith’s hands.
“Ailith, I have waited for you for such a long time. When we met I was grieving and you helped me to mourn. When I am angry you calm me down, and when I am happy you rejoice with me. I want us to be together, because you help me to be the best man I can be, and if we are blessed with children I promise that they will never have a more loving and protective father. I adore you, my Ailith. Please be my wife.”
Ailith nodded solemnly, her eyes full of tears of joy. “Lyall, I cannot put into words how much I love you. You are my rescuer, my guardian angel, and the only man who has ever truly made me feel free to be who I am inside. I hope you know how much that means to me. If we are given the gift of wee ones, I know that you will cherish them with all of your generous heart." She put a hand on his chest. “Yes, sweetheart, I will be your wife. Will you be my husband?”
“Yes, I will," he promised, “for you are the love of my life, and always will be.”
Then he placed the gold ring on her wedding finger, lifted both her hands to his lips, and kissed them. At the same time he let out a huge sigh of relief and she laughed softly. “Thank God," he whispered fervently. “Thank God you are mine at last!”
“And you are mine," she murmured, planting a soft kiss on his lips.
Father O’Dowd coughed delicately to remind them that the service had not finished, and they concluded the Mass with Communion and a final blessing. They rushed joyously out of the church under a fragrant shower of petals, then Lyall grabbed Ailith by the waist and swung her around in the air for a moment. He kissed her passionately, to the cheers of all the guests.
After that he carried her into the Great Hall where three great tables were laid, groaning with every type of food imaginable. There were roast meats, pheasant, partridge, rabbit and venison, and different varieties of vegetables, such as turnips, carrots, cabbages, and beets. Many types of local cheeses and locally-grown fruits such as apples and berries were available, as well as chestnuts and hazelnuts.
There was honey and cream, pastries, tarts, and oatcakes. As well as all that, a great variety of excellent continental wine had been provided, along with the ubiquitous whisky, without which no Highland celebration would be complete.
The bride and groom had to partake first, as was tradition, but Lyall would not eat a mouthful until he had helped Ailith to put some food on her plate, then he fed her morsels of it with his fingertips as if she were a little bird. After a few minutes she stopped him.
“Eat," she commanded. “You are famished, you know you are.”
“How did you know?" He frowned but he was laughing too.
“Because you are ALWAYS famished!" She giggled and he kissed her forehead, then beckoned the other guests to the table to start eating. At once there was a hungry crowd of people milling around the table, and Lyall took the opportunity to seize Ailith’s hand and run out of the hall, not stopping until they were safely under the cover of a hidden alcove, where he kissed her fiercely.
Ailith tilted her head back and moaned in sheer delight at the insistent pressure of his lips. She felt his arousal against her and knew that in the next few minutes her body and her life would change forever, because Lyall did not want to wait for the end of the feast to make her his.
“Do you not want to finish your food?" she asked, although she already knew the answer as she looked at the longing expression in his eyes.
“No," he replied huskily. “Suddenly I find that I am not hungry, Lady Stevenson. Not for food, anyway.”
“What are you hungry for, M'Laird?" She smiled at him mischievously.
“You," he replied, beginning another assault on her lips. “I want to taste you, devour you, make you part of me.” His deep voice was a growl. “I want to be inside you, and I can wait no longer, my love.”
“Neither can I," she whispered. He picked her up and sprinted lightly upstairs with her bouncing around in his arms. She watched his passionate, determined face and a shiver of anticipation and arousal passed through her. At last he was hers, and he would show her how to be his wife and his lover. She wanted to tell him to run faster, to give them both what they so desperately wanted as soon as he could.
At last he reached the bedroom door, and put her down so that he could unlock it. She saw that his hands were not as steady as they normally were.
“We have all the time in the world, my love," she whispered. The door opened and she looked around at one of the most beautiful rooms she had ever seen.
The four-poster bed had snow-white drapes around it to match the pristine white quilt and pillows. She counted six silver candelabras, with nine beeswax candles in each. Turkish rugs in deep jewel colors lay on the deep red mahogany floorboards. The windows, which were set in two feet-thick walls, were made of tiny leaded diamond panes which were mostly plain, but dotted here and there with scarlet, royal blue, and bottle green ones, their bright hues lending the room a festive look. There were flowers everywhere in crystal, earthenware, and silver vases, and Ailith saw roses, carnations, heather, and tulips—all of which were grown in the castle hothouses—as well as a multitude of native wildflowers.
“This is gorgeous," she breathed in awe, but she got no further, because Lyall was kissing her again, this time softly as he undid the laces on her bodice and cupped her breasts as gently as he could with his rough hands.
Ailith tilted her head back as his lips moved to her throat, and a tingle ran from there down to her secret place, making her sigh with pleasure. She took Lyall’s shirt off by passing it over his head, and his hair—long, full, and shining—fell over his shoulders in disarray. She had never seen him looking so desirable, and the wicked, determined look in his eyes told her he felt the same about her.
“Ailie," he whispered hoarsely, “come to bed.”
She needed no second bidding. When she was lying down, he slowly took her dress off, unwrapping her as if she were a precious parcel, then he gazed at her for what seemed like an hour, his eyes roaming greedily over every inch of her, while she ached with frustration.
He loved gazing at and caressing her creamy breasts, now she belong to him. Her hair, spread out on the white pillow, looked like a halo. He knew he would never tire of looking at her. Ailie’s body would excite him forever, and when he filled her with his child, he knew he would desire her even more.
“Mine," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I love you, Ailith Stevenson, and you are about to find out how much.”
It was the first time he had used Ailith’s new name, and it sounded strange, as if it did not quite fit her yet. He lay next to her so that she could run her hands over his muscular arms and chest, and his skin was much softer than she had expected, although not as tender as hers.
“Don't be afraid," he murmured. “For I will not hurt you, Ailie. I will never hurt you.”
“Make me yours," she said raggedly.
She screamed her joy and her body was shaking with pleasure, before settling down into a delicious languor where nothing existed but the two of them, truly husband and wife at last.
“Well, Milady?" he asked. “Did you like it?”
Her face broke into a glorious smile. “It was a little painful, M'Laird, but I think it may get better with practice.”
“I hope so, but I think you may become too greedy," he sighed in mock resignation. “You may wear me out.”
“I think once a week should be sufficient, then," she replied, stifling a laugh.
“I think we can do better than that," he laughed, then his expression grew soft and loving. “We will do whatever makes you happy, my sweetheart. I love you. I love everything about you and I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”
Highlander’s Devious Ally (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance) Page 12