by Amy Jarecki
She picked up a roll of ribbon and handed it to him. “Are ye looking forward to the feast on Christmas eve? The king has hired the best minstrels in Scotland to play for us.”
“I wish Aileen were here. She loves music and dancing.”
“Aileen is a lovely gel, but ye are at court, son. ’Tis an opportunity to meet all manner of lassies. Might I even suggest ye ask the king’s wee sister for a dance? Ye ken she has my name? The chambermaids told me they call her Lady Chrissy.”
“Chrissy?” Andrew wrapped the ribbon around the bottom boughs. “I like that name, though I doubt anyone could be bonnier than Aileen.”
Lachlan picked up the angel from the table. “Andrew, would ye go up to the gallery and top the tree?”
The lad glanced up with a look of surprise. “Ye want me to do it?”
“Of course. You found the tree, you should be the one to have the honor of putting up the angel.”
Grinning, Andrew took it and ran for the stairs.
“I think Yule is his favorite holiday,” said Christina.
Lachlan pulled a long curl from beneath her pink veil and twisted it around his finger. “It is mine for certain.” He leaned toward her ear as he often did and lowered his voice. “Are you really happy with the tree?”
She giggled at his soft breath tickling her neck. “I love it, but I am more enraptured with ye and my son this season. I could not have possibly hoped for more.”
“Have I told you how bonny you look in pink?”
“Nay.” She drew her hands to her veil. “I didna think ye’d seen me in pink afore this.”
“I say you look ravishing in all colors, m’lady…” He dropped to his knee and grasped her hand. “In my time, we do not ask the king’s permission to marry. In fact, a man asks a woman to be his wife. He falls in love with her and nothing can change his mind that this is the woman with whom he wants to live out the rest of his days.”
Tears welled in her eyes. Lachlan was always so full of surprises.
He licked his lips. “Christina, I love you with every fiber of my body. I promise to care for you and provide for you to the best of my ability. I promise to always love you even when you grow angry with me. I promise to sit by your side until I take my last breath. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
Clapping a hand over her mouth, she nodded and blinked back her tears. Could a woman succumb to too much happiness? “I will.”
He slipped a ruby ring on her finger and she held it to the light. “’Tis stunning. The stone sparkles.” She grinned at his bonny face. “And ’tis red like the colors of Yule.”
He stood and pulled her into his embrace. Christina could spend the rest of her life cocooned in those braw arms. “I love ye.”
“I love you and I always will.”
“Och, ye pair send me up here on a task and ye start dallying,” Andrew hollered from the gallery.
Lachlan held up Christina’s finger and waved it at the lad. “I just asked your mother to marry me properly.”
“I thought ye already asked her.”
“Not the way I was taught.” Turning, Lachlan clutched his arm around her shoulders. “So what do you say, Andrew? Do we have your blessing?”
“Ye want my blessing?” he asked with disbelief.
“Indeed, we do,” said Christina.
“Well...” The lad’s lips twisted into a grin. “I think ’tis a match from heaven and I’ll be the first to raise my tankard in toast.”
“Right, then.” Lachlan beckoned him. “Let us finish trimming this tree, for tomorrow we are having a wedding.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Standing in front of the Christmas tree, Lachlan’s hands jittered a bit as he watched Christina enter the great hall on the arm of her son. Her face, more radiant than any in all of Stirling, glowed as if she carried a candle in her hands. It made her face shimmer beneath her scarlet veil. He loved her in colors, blue, green, yellow, but today, red was his absolute favorite.
She smiled with warmth and love, and his heart squeezed. No, he hadn’t landed on the battlefield to save Andrew. He hadn’t landed on the battlefield to save Christina, at least not entirely. He’d landed there because it was meant to be—because his destiny lay with a bonny woman who would capture his heart and show him honor and respect on a uniquely deep level that had been lost in the twenty-first century.
Warmth spread throughout his chest while she walked toward him. Her tiny feet tapped the floorboards, her smile unwavering as she greeted him with crystal eyes filled with joy and ever-present mischief. He loved this woman more than life and nothing of this world could ever pull him from her side.
He’d purchased a lead box and placed the medallion inside—a coffin, he called it, and vowed he’d never put its leather thong around his neck again. Ever since their meeting with King Robert, Lachlan had feared something drastic would happen and he’d tumble through time. But when he opened his eyes this morn, there was no question as to his destiny.
As they joined hands, everything in the hall vanished except for Christina. The priest’s voice chanting the Latin marriage vows was barely audible. Lachlan could see nothing but his bride’s silvery-blue eyes and ruby lips revealing healthy, white teeth. To his joy, she’d even allowed a few mahogany ringlets to peek from beneath her delightful Christmas veil.
Together, they sealed the promise of their undying love and when the priest fell silent and blessed them with a sign of the cross, Lachlan wrapped his wife in his arms and kissed her for everyone to see. Their lips joined with an acceleration of heartbeats signifying the start of a new life. With Christina, he was home and he never wanted to let go. Never wanted to be too busy for her. Never wanted her to forget she was the pinnacle of his life and he adored her with every fiber in his body.
In a whirlwind of cheers, they were whisked to the dais to join the royal family.
The Christmas feast arrived with servants carrying trenchers piled high with course after course of richly spiced food. An ornate swan served on a platter as if it were swimming. Slices of venison and beef piled high. Bread with butter and twenty different flavors of conserve. To round out the diet as Lachlan so often preached, they were served with preserved apples, peaches, pickled cabbage and beets. Ale and wine and dessert port arrived with mince pies. Presented with more food than he’d ever seen in his life, they ate and ate until they could swallow not another bite.
All through the feast, Lachlan refused to take his eyes off his bride. In a year, he’d gone from the depths of despair, from self-doubt and self-loathing to the top of the world.
When the tables were pushed aside for the dancing, the minstrels surrounding the entire gallery picked up the volume along with the tempo.
Andrew stood and bowed to Lady Chrissy. “May I have the honor of the first dance?”
Blushing, the lass glanced to her brother and her guardian. When the king gave a nod, she hopped to her feet with an excited grin.
Lachlan slipped his arm around Christina’s shoulders as they watched their son dance with the most important lass in the kingdom. “I think he looks pretty good.”
“Thanks to Aileen’s tutelage, else he’d be tripping over his toes like ye did the first time we danced together.”
He gave her a nudge. “Hey, I caught on pretty well.”
“Aside from the time ye nearly trampled me.”
“Och, must you remind me?”
The king raised his goblet. “I do believe our two offspring look rather fine together.”
Christina arched her brow with a surprised glance to Lachlan. “Indeed, Your Grace.”
“And when will we see the bride and groom take a turn?” King Robert sipped his wine, smiling behind his cup.
Lachlan stood and offered his hand to his wife. “M’lady, would you do me the honor?”
She placed her dainty palm in his. “I shall.”
Together, they joined the circle dance, slow as it may be. Lachlan liked the musi
c and the moderate tempo. So many things about this era called to him—things he never would have imagined. But the most magnetic of all was the lass skipping alongside him. With Christina as his wife, he could tackle anything.
After the music ended, Lachlan kissed her hand. “When would it be appropriate for us to retire?”
She glanced to the dais with a worried cringe. “After the king and queen bid us a Happy Yule.”
“Can’t we slip away unawares?” he asked.
She chewed her bottom lip. “It would be terribly disrespectful of us—the king would be most upset.”
“Perhaps if we go back up to the dais and start yawning?”
She smacked his arm with a chuckle. “Ye are incorrigible.”
“Not at all. I am persistent and I’ll not rest until I get what I want.”
He tugged her hand and pulled her toward the doors. “I will make our apologies in the morning.”
She resisted, sucking in a whistling breath. “It simply isna done.”
“When did I ever follow the rules?” When she gave him a wee pout, he kissed her sassy lips. “Besides, not even a king would deny a bridegroom his bride.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The day after Christmas, Lachlan took Christina to Torwood Castle, explaining that he had an errand to do for his mother. After greeting Lord Forester and presenting him with a Yuletide gift of sweetbread, they were granted leave to stroll through the snow-dusted gardens.
At least Lachlan made a pretense of strolling through the gardens. As soon as they were alone, he took her hand and led her to the kitchens. Slipping into the rear door, he found a stairwell. “It must be this way.”
“This is so mysterious. Are ye looking for Eva in the cellars?”
He pulled the lead box from a satchel draped over his shoulder. “I’ve hidden the medallion in here.”
“Are ye planning to bury it?”
“Yes and I hope to high heaven she finds it.” He glanced back at her and grinned. “This castle fell into ruins toward the end of the eighteenth century. Mum provided an endowment and worked to have it restored. She told me the only things remaining from the original fortress were the cellar foundations. The rest of the castle masonry that remained when she found it was dated to the sixteenth century. If I hide something in the cellars, she’s more likely to find it.”
Christina drew her hand to her forehead. “My heavens. So many hundreds of years. How do they ken when things are built?”
“It would take me the rest of my life to explain seven hundred years of progress. I think it’s best if you just believe that they can tell by the style of masonry and by other tests which have been developed by chemists.”
“Chemists?”
“Similar to apothecaries, but far more scientific,” he explained while they continued, his gaze shooting through each chamber branching off from the chilly passageway.
“I should hope so. Apothecaries are Satan worshipers.”
“Unfortunately, that is the errant view of medieval society, but they set the groundwork for future advancements.” He stopped and faced her. “I haven’t told you much about my time, but men have waked on the moon. If you want to travel from Scotland to…to any place in the world, you would fly in an airplane.”
“A what?”
“It is like sitting in a chair in rows, say, six chairs across in a long sea galley that is enclosed on the top as well as the bottom, and rather than oars and a sail, there are wings.”
Her bow-shaped mouth formed an “O”. “Flapping wings?”
“No need for flapping. Jet fuel propels them.”
“Fuel? Like an oil lamp?”
“Similar, but far more flammable. Anyway, people fly in planes and drive horseless cars—like covered wagons, but they travel far faster than a horse can run.”
Shaking her head, she ran her fingers over her face. “Ye are right, ’tis difficult for me to believe, let alone imagine.”
“Well, there’s no need to worry. I don’t miss any of it. Perhaps I wouldn’t mind buying one of those destrier horses. They look a lot sturdier to carry someone my size.” Lachlan continued to peer inside the vaulted chambers until he recognized an arched window. “Here.”
“Have ye written Eva a missive?”
“I have.” His heart twisted. The only thing he would truly miss with his decision to stay was he’d never share another Christmas dinner with his parents again. “I told her how happy I am to be with you and aside from Mum and my stepfather, I have nothing to return home for. I said I love her and will always cherish her in my heart, but I was meant to be with you.”
Christina brushed a wee tear away. “She’ll be heartbroken.”
“Perhaps, but if anyone will understand, it will be my mother.” The dirt floor in this cellar was packed solid, but at least it wasn’t made of stone. He knelt down beneath the window and began to dig with his dirk. “It all makes sense to me now. She stayed with William until the end and when he was convicted, she had nothing left. Nothing keeping her here.”
“Except, mayhap for the bairn in her belly.”
He chuckled. “I’m certain she decided she was doing the right thing by me. I had an outstanding education and Mum had the support of my grandparents. Not to mention, in my time, it is rare for a woman to die in childbirth.”
“Truly?”
He grinned. “Truly.”
After digging a hole three times the size of the box, Lachlan checked inside to ensure the medallion was secured with his note, then sealed it, kissed it and placed it in the dirt. “Will you help me?”
Christina chewed her lip. “What should I do?”
“Hold my hand and concentrate on my words.”
Kneeling together beside the hole, they grasped hands and closed their eyes. “Hiya, Mum. If you can hear me, please be happy. I now realize how much you loved my father and why you loved medieval history. I share with you in that love. I have married the bonny Christina de Moray and am returning the medallion, for I never want to wake up away from my true love, my wife, my dearest friend.”
“That was beautiful.” Christina cupped her hand on Lachlan’s cheek and kissed him. “Thank ye for giving so much for me.”
He kissed her. “Thank you for believing in me.”
Before he pushed the dirt over the box, he looked inside one more time. “My God. It’s gone.”
Gasping, Christina reached inside and pulled out a slip of paper. “This vellum is so fine like nothing I’ve ever seen afore.” She unfolded it. “’Tis from Eva. And look at the writing. How is it so smooth?”
“Ball point pens are another advancement that ceased the need for inkpots and quills.”
Christina did nothing but take in a deep inhale and cover her mouth with her fingers. How could she possibly imagine all he had told her?
She doesn’t need to. My wife is perfect just the way she is.
He took the note and read aloud:
My dearest son,
You cannot believe how overjoyed I am to hear you have found love and a life with Lady Christina. I always thought her to be a woman of fine character. You will be overjoyed to learn that her son, Andrew de Moray, becomes one of the most powerful men in Scotland and a fierce and loyal knight of Robert the Bruce. I am proud of you, Lachlan, and will miss you more than life itself.
Though we are not together in body, know that I will always be with you in spirit. I will be in the whistling wind and in your dreams. Think of me in the joy of watching snow fall and know that I am thinking of you always.
I wish you and your delightful bride all the happiness and joy that life will bring.
Merry Christmas, my son.
Love,
Mum.
The End.
Author’s Note
Thank you for joining me for Lachlan and Christina’s story. Though fictional, the novel is threaded with history. Andrew de Moray was, indeed, one of the English captives for whom Robert the Bruce negotiated a
prisoner exchange. Andrew was captured from his mother’s arms at the age of two and she was held prisoner by the English at Ormond Castle until King Robert’s Scottish army liberated the kingdom.
In truth, Andrew de Moray was probably exchanged along with a number of other prisoners. It is thought he might have been present in November, 1314 when Robert the Bruce negotiated the exchange for his wife, Elizabeth de Burgh. The queen was captured in 1306 at Kildrummy Castle by Edward I and was held as a political prisoner under abysmal conditions in several locations in England until her husband negotiated her release with Edward II.
The Battle of Bannockburn marked a turning point for Scotland when Robert the Bruce finally gained a firm foothold to his right to the crown and reestablished the Kingdom’s monarchy.
Other Books by Amy Jarecki:
Guardian of Scotland Time Travel Series
Rise of a Legend
In the Kingdom’s Name
Highland Defender/Lords of the Highlands Series
The Fearless Highlander
The Highland Duke, March, 2017
The Highland Commander, May, 2017
The Highland Earl (working title), October, 2017
Highland Dynasty Series:
Knight in Highland Armor
A Highland Knight’s Desire
A Highland Knight to Remember
Highland Knight of Rapture
Highland Force Series:
Captured by the Pirate Laird
The Highland Henchman
Beauty and the Barbarian
Return of the Highland Laird (A Highland Force Novella)
Pict/Roman Romances:
Rescued by the Celtic Warrior
Celtic Maid
If you enjoyed In the Kingdom’s Name, we would be honored if you would consider leaving a review. ~Thank you!
About the Author