by Barbara Bard
Smiles. Laughs. Gavina, seated in front, stared at Isla and Finlay with a proud smile and offered up a wink to them that they both shot back in return.
“I ask now,” Eamon continued, “for the bride and groom to join together.”
Finlay and Isla took each other’s hands and smiled. “Ready?” Isla whispered.
A nod from Finlay. “Ready,” he replied.
Eamon smiled. “Lady Isla? Dae ye take this man tae be yer lawfully wedded husband, tae hae and tae hold, in sickness and in health, as long as ye both shall live?”
Isla nodded and wiped the happy tears from her cheeks. “Aye. I very much dae.”
Eamon turned to Finlay. “And dae ye, Finlay Baird, take this woman tae be yer lawfully wedded wife. Tae hae and tae hold, as long as ye both shall live.”
Finlay pressed his forehead against Isla’s. “Aye. Always, I shall.”
“Then by the power vested in me, in front of God and our countrymen, I now pronounce ye man and wife.” He smirked. “Gae on, noo. Kiss yer bride!”
The entire clan erupted in celebration as Isla and Finlay kissed, all of the clan then rushing to their side and ready to launch into the celebration as Finlay and Isla were practically dragged back toward the camp.
Gavina, hooking her arms around Finlay’s waist, said: “I am glad ye are me brother, Finlay Baird.”
Finlay hugged her back. “And I as well, me little Gavina.”
She pointed a finger and scowled. “But dae ken,” she said, “that I will cut ye if ye ever break me sister’s heart!”
Finlay showcased a smile and leaned over to look Gavina in the eye. “Consider it a deal, me lady.”
The two of them shook hands before the entire group dispersed back to the camp, the wine, and food, and festivities then commencing in what had to be one of the most joyful celebrations that the clan had ever participated in.
All were drunk on wine and filled to the brim with the finest foods available. Lord Riley’s wife held a hunch that Finlay and Isla would join in union and made it a point to supply them with enough rations for such an occasion before they had departed from their village a few days prior.
Gathered around a roaring fire, one of the older men strummed a stringed instrument and began singing a song that all in the clan knew well.
“Gather! Gather!” he said. “Sing with the most joyous voice that ye can muster!”
Hands clapped and voices joined in as the man strummed his instrument: “In this country! Dreams are grand! The Lord stays with ye! Across this mountainside! Our dreams will follow! All will be well! In this country!”
The chorus repeated many times over, and the singing, fueled well by the wine, progressed into dancing, with feet tapping and swaying in sync with the music.
Finlay, taking Gavina by the hand, dance with her by the fireside. Isla clapped her hands in encouragement as Gavina did her best to outshine Finlay with her dancing. At one point, all stood back as Gavina took the opportunity to dance by herself, her feet circling and kicking up the ground and causing loud laughs and claps of approval as the focus was temporarily shifted to her dancing abilities.
Finlay then took his new bride by the arm, the man singing and strumming his instrument then slowing the pace with a song meant more for an intimate dance: “Take yer love, take her by the hand, tell her all is well, that ye will never leave this land. Love her well, tell her all ye can, ken that all is well, all across this land!”
Everyone in attendance, at least those still sober to stand, began taking their loved one by the hand and slowly moving in close embraces throughout the camp. It was a tender moment shared by all, one that had not been experienced by a single member amongst the clan in quite some time.
Isla, her head resting against Finlay’s shoulder, had never been happier in her life as she danced with her groom. She looked proudly at all the faces in attendance, not a frown among them as the music continued and the festivities felt as if they would continue for the rest of their live.
“Look at me,” she said to Finlay, hooking a finger under his chin and turning his face toward hers. Finlay met his gaze with Isla’s. “I can never imagine nae loving ye as much as I dae,” she said.
Finlay nodded. “Aye, me lady. As dae I.”
They kissed, the music continuing to play as their lips remained planted to each other and the roar of the fire and the camaraderie slowly melted away around them. They shared the moment with only each other, despite the fact that the ruckus celebration around them continued to grow in intensity.
Sometime later, Isla bit her lips and grabbed Finlay by the hand. “There is one mair thing we must dae, me love.”
“What is that, me lady?”
She winked. “Ye ken damn well what I am saying…” She then led him by the hand back to what was now their shared tent, the flap closing behind them as Isla tore at his clothes and began desiring the man who was now her husband more than she ever had before.
They were naked within moments, Finlay standing and using his brute strength to life Isla up and hook her bare legs around his waist. Her breath on his neck made the hairs stand on end, like a hot fire yearning and burning with a fevered temperature that made the air around them fill up with the hot intensity that was sheer pleasure.
Isla’s desire to have Finlay physically had never been more potent. She was ravenous, like an animal with the desire that burned inside of her. Using a free hand to place him inside of her as Finlay used his hands to lift her up and down. They gyrated together, both of them laughing at the position they were in before the pleasure finally got the better of them and forced them to lay on their backs, their bare flesh saturated with perspiration that felt more sweet and pleasant than it did a hindrance.
Finlay, on top of Isla, thrust gently yet firmly. Isla gripped onto his massive forearms as Finaly pushed deeper and deeper, the music outside still going strong and allowing them concealment to exercise and show their love for one another with joyous moaning that intensified as the seconds went by.
Their bodies entangled with one another, moving around each other and switching positions several times over. It was as if they could not lie in one position for more than a moment, with Isla on top of Finlay and Finlay on top of Isla in alternating patterns as both of them thrust, ground, and pressed against each other with the force of a thousand steeds trampling through the Highlands.
They held hands, their fingers intertwined and squeezing as the pleasure reached an almost untenable peak. “Aye,” Isla moaned, nodding her head and knowing that the moment of climax was near. “Aye, me love!”
Finlay, knowing that the moment was drawing near as well, lay on top of Isla and felt himself giving no thought to his movements. It was all-natural, his body taking over without his mind giving any thought to it, his thrusting increasing to the point that they were both moving in sync, the grinding eliciting that proverbial feeling of climax that slowly grew and grew until it exploded inside of them and forced Isla to cry out in ecstasy at a volume that all those outside the camp could hear.
Luckily enough, the children had fallen asleep, so the only person to say anything about it was the man strumming the string instrument who then said: “Oye! Try tae keep it down in there!”
Isla and Finlay laughed as they fell into each other’s arms and did nothing more for the rest of the night than stare into each other’s eyes.
Chapter 39
The caravan set out the next day. Most of those in the clan were still wearing off their drunken states from the night before. Headaches were in full supply, but the collective cheerful nature of the clan had not dwindled since the festivities had broken out.
Isla, mounting her horse next to Finlay, said, “How much longer dae we hae before we reach the new settlement?”
Finlay, the map of the Highlands stretched out on his horse’s saddle, said: “Close, me love. We are but a day’s ride away. If we press forward without a break, we should reach it by nightfall.”
The caravan rode for the day, each person in the group occupying the time by conversing about how pleasant the night’s activities had been. Isla and Finlay couldn’t help themselves from beaming at one another the entire journey, sneaking looks and kisses and gentle holdings of the hand throughout the entire trek.
It helped aid in passing the time, and once they arrived outside the remote area of the Highlands that would be their new home, all those in the clan stared on at the surrounding beauty in wide-eyed amazement.
It was a lush and sprawling place, untainted by war or the wrath of the Sassenach. The rivers were crisp and blue, the sky above peppered with the most voluptuous clouds that anyone in the clan had ever seen.
“My God, Finlay,” Isla said, her hand on his arm. “It…I cannae find any words to describe this.”
“Aye, me lady,” Finlay said, shaking his head, perplexed as to how much beauty could possibly be in existence. “I struggle tae find the words as well…”
The clan set about exploring the area for some time. They took their time to settle and began charting out what would be erected where, with Finlay pointing out a forested area straight ahead of the river that was ripe with timber that could be used to build permanent establishments.
“This whole place,” Isla said, “could sustain us forever.”
A nod from Finlay. “We hae plenty of supplies tae work with. It will take time to build, but this is our home now, me love.” He gestured around. “Look around, me darling—ye hae brought this about. Ye are the one who brought yer people tae this place.”
Isla shook her head and looked him in the eye. “Naw, me love,” she protested. “We did this. I cannae hae done this alone.”
They stood at the edge of the river, watching as the members of their clan began the first steps of establishing what would be their permanent home.
Two weeks had passed since they settled in the remote are of the Highlands. The initial construction had begun on several buildings that were to be erected: sleeping quarters for the children, several cottages, a tavern, naturally, an armory, and an area that Finlay had hoped would serve as barracks for a future army.
“An army,” Isla said with some disdain. “I dinnae relish the encouragement of bringing war.”
Finlay shook his head. “That is nae the intention, me bride. I seek tae only be prepared fer the possible scenarios that may play out. We can rest soundly with the knowledge that the Sassenach will maist likely nae come here. But it is better tae be prepared.”
Isla looked around. “Hae ye done a tally of how many people are in the clan?”
A nod. “Aye, me lady. I hae done a head count with one of the members. It appears we are at sixty-two members of the clan now.”
Isla hung her head. “Significantly less than what we started with.”
“Several of the women are pregnant. It is only a matter of time before our numbers grow.”
“And our supplies?”
“We possess enough tae last us through the winter, though the time will come soon when we must hunt.”
“I’ll hunt!” the eager voice of Gavina called out. “I am mair able-bodied than maist of the men here!”
Isla and Finlay turned to greet Gavina, somehow taller in the past few weeks than she ever had before. “Ye wish tae hunt, me lady?” Finlay said.
A nod from Gavina. “I am mair than capable. I will nae become some prissy lady who does nae dae the dirty work required to sustain the clan!”
Finlay leaned into Isla’s ear. “I wonder who she has taken after…”
Isla nudged Finlay in the ribs before she leaned over to meet her eyes with Gavina’s. “Ye maist learn from Finlay about the finer points of the bow and the sword if ye are tae engage in a hunt. Dae ya understand?”
Gavina’s eyes went wide. “Are ye saying I can hunt?!”
Isla held up a finger. “When the time comes, but only if ye are properly trained. Ye will listen tae Finlay. Ye will heed his instructions. Only when he says ye are ready will I allow ye tae hunt.” She looked at Finlay. “This is only if he agrees tae such stipulations, of course.”
Gavina looked at Finlay with a pleading set of eyes and held on desperately for his approval.
Finlay shrugged. “I dinnae see why nae.”
Gavina clapped her hands. “Aye! I will be a huntress in naw time!”
“We shall start soon, little one. Until that time, gae and help the others unload supplies.”
“Right away!” Gavina bid him as she scurried off and prepared to earn her keep.
Isla and Finlay then stood back, his arm around her shoulders as they watched the dutiful members of their clan set about securing their future. “I feel,” Finlay said, “as if bright days are ahead of us, me love.”
Isla nodded and rested her head against his chest. “Aye, me love. The feeling is mutual.”
Chapter 40
Lord Torstein looked down at his mending wrist that Finlay had broken as he sat inside the quarters of his castle. It had been quiet for him recently since the debacle that took place at Sir Richard’s outpost. Many lies had been crafted and misdirection in the narrative of what transpired that were given to the king in order to preserve the alliance he had recently established with Isla and Finlay.
He sighed, staring out the window in his chambers that looked out to the Highlands, wondering if Isla and Finlay were healing both in mind and in spirit.
A knock came at the door. Lord Torstein turned his head: “Enter. Please.”
The door opened slowly, and Lord Torstein’s timid and bashful-looking squire Peter stood at attention with a piece of parchment clutched in his hand. “My lord,” Peter said. “I bring news from the king.”
Lord Torstein sat up. “The king, you say?”
A nod. “Yes, my lord. He was informed of what occurred at Sir Richard’s outpost, of the death of Lord Henry.”
Lord Torstein sighed. “From your tone, my good man, it does not sound as if you bring me good news.”
The squire shook his head. “I gave word to the king as you requested. I told him precisely what you said to: that Lord Henry murdered Sir Richard and set fire to the outpost.”
“Then what is the king’s quarrel?”
“It appears that one of your knights, a man named Frederick, apparently fled during the skirmish and sent word to the king about the Highlanders that were there.”
Lord Torstein’s eyes grew wide as he stood up in his chair. “Frederick,” he said. “I thought the boy was dead!”
The squire shook his head. “It appears he is not, my lord. It also appears that he told the king about everything that transpired at the outpost.”
Lord Torstein sat back down in his chair and settled in.
“Bloody hell,” he said, shaking his head. “Now the king knows all.”
The squire waited, the parchment still held in his hand.
“Come,” Lord Torstein said, reaching out his hand. “Tell me what news the king has delivered.”
The squire unrolled the parchment and cleared his throat: “From the word of the king—Lord Torstein, I have received word of what transpired at Sir Richard’s outpost in Scotland. While my heart is heavy for the loss of his men and yours, I am quite dismayed by the separate narratives that have been provided to me.
“I was informed by word of your messenger that Lord Henry was responsible for the destruction and chaos that brought about the downfall of Sir Richard and his outpost. However, I also received separate word from one of your men, a survivor of the ordeal by the name of Frederick, who informed me that several Scottish Highlanders were, in fact, responsible for the demise of Sir Richard, Lord Henry, and a significant number of their combined forces.
“He also stated, and he believes, that a member of the Baird clan and a woman by the name of Lady Isla are responsible for these crimes. While I do not doubt your
loyalty to the crown, Lord Torstein, I do wish to seek the absolute truth in this matter. That being stated, I am assigning you the task of tracking down these Highlanders and bringing them to me so that the matter can be sorted and dealt with promptly. I await your word until such time. Sincerely, the king.”
Lord Torstein continued to shake his head, almost as if he would hope the movement would shake off the news his squire had just delivered to him. “He knows,” he said. “The king knows all.”