‘I’d like to try it. We’ll not mention it to Dad though. He’d worry. On Saturday afternoon he’s going down to pay Billy for clearing the cart track with his caterpillar tractor, then he’s going over to see Granny. If it’s dry we could go then and take as much time as we like to get there.’
‘All right. If you bring some of your homemade lemonade and some biscuits we’ll have a picnic and a rest before we set off down again.’
***
‘It’s not the steepness which is so bad,’ Mimi puffed as she struggled to keep up, ‘it’s all the rough humps and hollows.’
‘We’re nearly at the top though. You’ll think it was worth the effort,’ Peter encouraged. ‘There’s a bit of a dip just in front and it’s boggy so I’ll give you a piggyback like we used to do when I ferried you across the burn.’
‘I’m a lot heavier now than I was then,’ Mimi protested.
‘And I’m a lot bigger and stronger,’ he grinned. ‘Trust me.’
As they stood together at the topmost point of High Bowie they turned to look back towards the south and the way they had come. Mimi gazed in wonder at the panorama of fields and farms and cottages, the wee clumps of woodland, the burn winding its way around bends and boulders.
‘I can even see the glint of the Solway Firth in the distance,’ she marvelled, ‘and can that be Skiddaw and the Cumberland fells?’
‘I believe so,’ Peter smiled. ‘Was it worth the effort?’
‘Oh, a hundred times.’
‘I’m glad you’ve seen it before everything changes. I suppose the trees will make a good shelter belt for the higher fields so there will be some advantages, but it will never look the same again. I wish I had a good camera.’
‘We could ask Fraser to come up soon and take a picture. He was asking what we want for a wedding present. We could suggest a framed photograph of this view.’
‘That’s a splendid idea, Mimi. Come on, we’ll find a sheltered cranny to eat our picnic and rest a while.’
‘All right. I love it when the heather is in bloom. It gives a warm glow to the hills. It will make a lovely picture at this time of year.’
‘The first time your father brought me up here I felt as though something had tugged at my soul. I never want to leave this part of the country.’
‘I’m very glad to hear that, because I don’t want to leave it either,’ Mimi smiled. They settled side by side in a grassy hollow, shaded from the heat of the sun. Just below them they could hear the tinkle and gurgle of a spring.
‘I think this is where the burn begins,’ Peter told her, ‘but another one comes over from Langmune and they join together further down. That’s why it gets so wide in the bottom of the glen.’ Mimi had tied her jacket around her waist but she removed it now to make a pillow. She stretched out and closed her eyes, a smile of sheer happiness lifting the corners of her mouth. Peter looked down at her, his own eyes filled with love. He lowered himself beside her and for a while they lay quiet, filled with deep contentment. Mimi moved her head to Peter’s chest and her fingers played imaginary tunes along his neck and jaw, up to his ear and then his lips, tracing their outline with the lightest of touches. He groaned then stroked her neck. Her muslin blouse was soft and thin and Peter pushed it aside, smiling when Mimi drew in her breath as she always did in response to his exploring fingers. He moved onto his side, cradling her head in the crook of his arm as he bent to kiss her mouth.
‘Oh Peter, I do love you so very much,’ she breathed, her eyes closed. He kissed the delicately veined lids but as his hand moved lower her eyes opened and he saw the brilliant blue fire which burned in them. They had often teased and touched in tentative exploration, but they had been in the darkness of the car, or by the dim light of the fire, and conscious that Willie was asleep in the room above. Today, in the bright summer sunshine, on top of the world, they felt they were the only people who existed.
Peter removed her blouse and her bra and bent his dark head to kiss each small firm breast. He felt Mimi’s fingers clutch his hair, drawing his head up until their lips met, hot with desire. She tugged at his shirt and he helped her remove it so that she could rub her cheek against the curly dark hair on his chest and down to his navel. It was Mimi’s fingers which opened his trousers and moments later they were naked, revelling in the feel of the grass beneath them and the touch of each other.
‘How can I wait two more weeks …?’ Peter groaned as his mouth explored every inch of her silken skin.
‘We … can’t. This is right … now … in this place. Our bit of heaven … please, Peter.’ Mimi’s breath was coming in rapid little gusts as her desire grew and Peter knew she was right. This was their special place.
Afterwards they lay together, legs and arms entwined, belonging to each other in complete unity.
In the front pew of Darlonachie Kirk Polly Pringle rose to her feet with the help of Victoria and her walking stick. She watched with love and pride as Mimi walked down the aisle on her father’s arm; this was one of the most special and satisfying moments in all her seventy-eight years, she thought. Mimi had always had a happy nature but today she looked ethereal and her face had a serene radiance. Peter turned to take her hand, his smile warm, his dark eyes alight with love and tenderness.
Unknown to any of them Willie had swallowed two generous measures of whisky before he could set out to give away his precious bairn. In his heart he knew he had not given her away. She would always be a part of him and now he could welcome Peter as a son. He was proud of them both.
‘If ever there was a marriage made in heaven, this is it,’ Polly whispered to Victoria.
The Heather Series
For more information about Gwen Kirkwood
and other Accent Press titles
please visit
www.accentpress.co.uk
Published by Accent Press Ltd – 2014
ISBN 9781783754717
Copyright © Gwen Kirkwood 2014
The right of Gwen Kirkwood to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Aberycnon,, CF45 4SN
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