With Dreams Only of You

by Kathryn Le Veque, Suzan Tisdale, Eliza Knight, Cynthia Wright, Christi Caldwell, Eva Devon

  Josephine,

  I have not been to church since my last visit home. I am heading to the chapel now to thank God for your response. When I return, I shall answer more of your letters.

  Thankfully, your servant,

  Graeme

  Josephine giggled and held the note to her chest, momentarily forgetting Bridgett was in the room.

  “Josephine?” Bridgett asked, interrupting her reverie.

  Josephine cleared her throat and tried in vain to wipe the smile from her face. “Aye?”

  Bridgett studied her closely for a moment before asking, “Would ye like a bath?”

  “Aye, Bridgett, I would very much like a bath.”

  * * *

  After a long and much needed bath, Josephine slipped into a simple green dress and sat down to pen a letter to Graeme. For the next two hours, they passed letters back and forth to one another, using Bridgett as their messenger.

  Laurin returned later in the afternoon, and while she looked happy, she was not quite as happy as Josephine.

  “Pray tell,” Laurin said when she entered the room and Josephine looked up with a bright smile. “What has ye smilin’ so?”

  “Oh, Laurin,” Josephine exclaimed happily. “Something quite remarkable has happened.”

  Laurin hurried to sit opposite Josephine at the little table. “What? What has happened?”

  Josephine handed the stacks of letters to Laurin. “Begin with the one on top,” she said.

  Laurin’s brow knitted into a line of confusion as she tried to decipher the handwriting. “Who wrote this?”

  Josephine was beaming. “Graeme,” she said as she waited for the realization to settle in. “When I woke, there was a small bundle of letters just inside the door. All from Graeme.”

  Laurin was not quite grasping the importance. “And?”

  “Don’t you see? He begged my forgiveness last night and when I woke, I found the letters. He had begun to respond to all the letters I wrote him over the years. So far, I have eleven.”

  Laurin shot her a look that said she was beginning to question her soundness of mind. “Why do ye no’ just go talk to him? If he be anythin’ like Albert, ye’ll soon find ye can talk to him about anythin’.”

  Josephine patted Laurin’s hand. “Albert is a very good man, Laurin. I am so very happy that you are warming to him.”

  Laurin’s face flushed a deep pink. Josephine would not dare ask if they were doing more than just talking.

  “He be a verra good man,” Laurin agreed before changing the subject back. “Why do ye no’ just talk to Graeme?”

  “Well, we discussed that in our letters. Graeme is much better at writing his feelings than saying them. And in that process, we are learning much about one another.”

  Laurin put the letter down and studied Josephine closely for several long moments. “I do no’ think I’ve ever seen ye this happy, Joie. I do no’ understand all this writin’ back and forth when yer only a few steps away from each other. But if it ye brings ye happiness, I’ll say naught more about it.”

  Josephine knew that others might not understand the significance or the importance of this breakthrough. What mattered was how important Graeme’s letters were to Josephine.

  Josephine was about to tell Laurin something else, when someone knocked on the door. Josephine squealed with delight as she shot to her feet. “Another letter!”

  Bridgett had barely stepped inside when Josephine grabbed the letter from her hand. “Josephine?” she asked with a hint of trepidation. “Will this be goin’ on all the night long? I be wearin’ a path out between yer room and his.”

  “Oh! Bridgett, I am so sorry!”

  “Do no’ fash yerself over it,” Bridgett said. “But would ye mind if I found a younger lad to help run the letters between ye and Graeme?”

  * * *

  For the next two days, neither Josephine nor Graeme left their bedchambers. Meals were sent to their respective chambers while the two young people wrote one letter after another.

  Josephine felt she had learned more about Graeme in the past few days than she would have had they been locked in a room and forced to speak. She had to agree that writing to one another offered a safe barrier where one could in fact say what one was truly thinking or feeling without having to worry over a slip of the tongue or misstep that might lead to an embarrassing moment. Nay, writing was much safer.

  While she spent her time in correspondence with Graeme, Laurin spent her free time with Albert. Neither Laurin nor Albert, or anyone else inside the keep for that matter, could quite understand the appeal that Josephine and Graeme found in writing.

  “Do ye plan on marryin’ the man through letters?” Laurin asked when she had returned from the evening meal. “Mayhap ye want to marry him by proxy.”

  Josephine simply shook her head and smiled as she went back to writing yet another letter to Graeme.

  “How will ye consummate yer marriage?” Laurin asked. “Will ye do that by proxy as well?”

  Josephine’s face burned a brilliant shade of red as she looked away. She was at that moment responding to a question Graeme had posed on that very topic. Laurin shook her head and threw up her hands in defeat. “I am goin’ to bed.”

  Josephine returned to her letter.

  I was far too young when my mother passed away. I was unable to have a conversation with her on the matter of consummation. Your mother however, has been very helpful in that regard. She assures me that if you do everything correctly then I shall quite enjoy that aspect of our marriage. She has also told me that if you have any questions on the matter, seek out her counsel on the matter, for it was she who taught your father on the proper way to please a woman.

  Within the hour she had Graeme’s short response on the matter.

  Joie,

  I find myself asking another boon of you. In the future, I ask that you never mention my mother or my father during the topic of consummation. I fear now that my sleep this night will be plagued with nightmares.

  The hour is now late and I must bid you adieu. Sleep well, sweet Josephine.

  Graeme

  She knew he meant it in jest. She had learned that Graeme possessed a wicked sense of humor. Numerous times over these past days his letters had made her laugh to the point of tears. And yet there were other times when she was sincerely glad for the solitude Laurin had given her so that she could blush quietly and without question.

  Most of all, Graeme had answered her questions honestly. She had learned that he was not prone to drinking heavily as her father and brother had often done. And nay, he had not enjoyed the company of dozens of women whilst he was away. Though the manner in which he had answered that particular question left her to wonder if he hadn’t enjoyed the company of at least a few. He wrote that he had been far too busy with his studies to “visit the numerous brothels or taverns”. Josephine was not so naive to think that brothels and taverns were the only places to find an eager woman, but she let the matter drop, at least for the time being. In the end, it didn’t matter if he had or hadn’t. All that mattered was his subsequent vow never to stray from their marital bed.

  In turn, she had answered all of his questions with the same level of honesty and respect. Some of the questions she found rather odd, but most were completely predictable and expected. “What was your first kiss like?” He had asked. She answered, “I do not know as I have yet to experience such. Mayhap I should find a willing young man to help teach me how to kiss before I marry. With you being such a worldly and experienced man, mayhap you would want a wife who is just as experienced and worldly?”

  His response left her laughing almost uncontrollably. “It would bring me much relief to know you have not one grain of experience with kissing. I would hate to think you were comparing my kisses with anyone else’s. Equally important is the fact that I might be drawn and quartered before our wedding day, for gutting any man who dare even think about kissing you. You would, in truth, be savi
ng countless lives by remaining ignorant on the matter.”

  On the following morning, one of the many young lads they had induced and bribed into running their messages back and forth, appeared bright and early at her door with another letter.

  My dearest Josephine,

  Whilst I have thoroughly enjoyed writing to you these past few days, I fear I am unable to continue on this path. You see, I have written so much that my fingers are now permanently damaged from all the hours of holding a pen. They will not, no matter what I do, uncurl.

  I beseech ye to allow me to see you in person.

  Graeme

  Excitement and eager anticipation swelled. She didn’t bother with writing another note. Instead, she gave a verbal message and sent the young boy off to deliver it.

  As soon as he was out of the room, she quickly set about readying herself for her betrothed. She washed her face and teeth, and slipped into a clean chemise before stepping into what she thought was her prettiest dress. A pale green gown with fitted sleeves, a scooped neckline, trimmed in dark blue thread. Laurin was already gone and so there was no one to help her style her hair. She ran a comb through it and decided to leave it down. All the while she flittered about the room, her heart pounded against her chest.

  She was just stepping into her slippers when a knock came at her door. Not wanting to seem too eager, she stood with her hand on the bar of the door, took several deep breaths and counted to five before opening it.

  * * *

  Writing to her had been as easy and simple as breathing.

  But let him gaze upon her face? Any eloquent speeches, poems of love, or words from his heart that he had planned to tell her, vanished in the blink of an eye.

  She stood before him, in a pale green dress, her hair unbound and tumbling down her back, her smile, the smile he should have seen days ago, was enough to light up the darkest night. His mouth had suddenly become dry and paralyzed as if he’d been born without the ability to speak. Or swallow. Or think any coherent thought.

  Graeme felt all at once foolish, immature and unworthy. He was about to turn and run away like an immature boy, when Josephine all but flung herself into his arms, twining her slender arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest.

  “Graeme,” she said, a note of glee in her voice. “I’ve waited a very long time for you.”

  The sensation of feeling foolish, immature and unworthy fell away as he wrapped his own arms around her. Why did I resist this for all these years?

  She pushed away slightly to look up at him. He studied every inch of her pretty face. Josephine was quite beautiful, with her creamy skin and oval shaped face. Her green eyes reminded him at once of the summer grass that lined a French countryside. Dark lashes surrounded those eyes, eyes that were sparkling with joy and excitement as they looked into his. A pert, little nose and deliciously looking full, pink lips … lips he was quite certain would feel as soft as a whisper against his own.

  He wondered then if anyone would object if he married her now. This very day. This very moment.

  “Yer beautiful,” he said.

  Those cream colored cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink when he gave her the compliment.

  “Jose—” he stopped himself. “Joie, I ken I am wholly unworthy of ye, but would ye do me the distinct honor of marryin’ me?”

  Josephine had already agreed to such, more than four years ago. She had learned, however, through his letters, that it had been quite important to Graeme that he be able to marry a woman of his own choosing. Her heart felt close to bursting from her chest. He was choosing her of his own free will.

  A joy-filled smile erupted on her face and she flung her arms around his neck. “Aye, Graeme MacAulay, I will marry you.”

  To his mind, ’twas too glorious a moment and he could not resist the urge to taste those delicate pink lips. Without asking permission or giving much warning, he pressed his lips to hers. At first, she was quite surprised, but that fell away a heartbeat or two later. Josephine melted into him as she returned his kiss with equal passion and zeal.

  Their long overdue kiss was interrupted far too soon for either of their likings.

  “Well, it be about time!”

  Nothing on God’s earth can douse a man’s ardor like the sound of his mother’s voice.

  Chapter Nine

  When Kathryn MacAulay had happened upon her son and future daughter-in-law embraced and lost in a kiss, nothing could have brought her more joy. She took a good measure of satisfaction in knowing that she had been right all along. Graeme and Josephine were perfect for one another.

  When she saw the intense level of passion in her son’s eyes when he looked at Josephine, she knew that waiting another few days for the wedding was ludicrous. Knowing that Graeme was sprouted from Marcum MacAulay’s loins, well, chances were good that Josephine would not be going to the altar as a sweet, innocent and untouched young lady.

  It took only a few moments to convince her husband that Graeme and Josephine should be married that day. Preferably before the nooning meal for she seriously doubted her son would wait much longer. They settled on marrying before the evening meal in order to allow them some time to prepare.

  Thankfully, she could enlist the help of Laurin as well as her other daughters-in-law to help keep Graeme away from Josephine for just a few more hours. They surrounded Josephine as if they were royal guards protecting the queen, keeping her locked away in her room while they prepared her for the ceremony that would take place before the evening meal.

  While the women hovered over Josephine, doing God only knew what to her, Graeme sought out his father’s company and counsel.

  “I will no’ be tellin’ ye ‘I told ye so’, but I will be usin’ words to that effect.” Marcum said as he sat behind the table in his study. “But I was right.”

  Graeme knew that any attempt to deny the fact that everyone else had been right would seem ludicrous. Instead, he paced around his father’s study, his mind sprinting from one thought to another.

  “As was yer mum,” Marcum said as he poured himself a cup of fine whisky. “And yer brothers. They were right as well.”

  Graeme stopped pacing long enough to look at his father. The man sat tall and proud in his chair, a look of deep satisfaction etched onto his face. “Are ye quite done?”

  Marcum laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh that made his belly and shoulders shake. “Well, the cook, stable master, and blacksmith knew it as well.”

  Graeme let out a long heavy breath. “Aye, everyone on God’s earth knew but me.”

  “Aye, ye have the way of it, son.”

  Though Graeme was sorely tempted to ask his father to please remove the smile from his face, he knew he had no right. It had been his own stubborn arrogance that kept him from seeing what his family—and apparently everyone else in the keep—already knew. Josephine MacAdams was the perfect match for him.

  “So how did ye come to realize that we were right and ye were wrong?” Marcum asked as he sat sipping the fine whisky.

  ’Twas painful to admit, but there was no way around it. “I did what ye suggested. I took the time to know her.”

  Marcum smiled again. “The way I hear it is that ye started writin’ to her. Fer two solid days ye had the lads runnin’ back and forth betwixt yer rooms, exchangin’ love letters.”

  Love letters? He supposed that was an apt description, though they certainly hadn’t started out that way. In the beginning, he looked at the letters as more of a fact-finding endeavor. By the seventh letter, he knew he was well on his way to being smitten. By the last, he knew he had fallen hopelessly in love with her.

  Just then, Traigh and Albert entered the study. Each of them sporting the same smile of satisfaction as their father had.

  Traigh began the taunting first. “Pray, tell me brother, be there any truth to these rumors floatin’ about the keep?”

  Graeme shot him a look of warning. It didn’t do a bit of good.

 
“What rumors be those, brother Traigh?” Albert asked, feigning ignorance on the matter.

  Traigh crossed his arms over his chest. “Why, the rumors that our brother Graeme has fallen in love with our Joie. So much so that they will be married this verra day.”

  Graeme had two choices. He could tell his brothers to shut their mouths and leave him be or he could stand like a man and admit the truth, at least as much of it as he could without looking like a fool.

  “Aye,” he said as he stepped toward his brothers. “The rumors be true. I have fallen hopelessly in love with my Joie and aye, we will be married this verra day. Before the evenin’ meal in fact.”

  Traigh and Albert were momentarily stunned at Graeme’s open admission. But ’twas short lived. Broad smiles erupted on their faces and soon, they were congratulating him with hugs and heavy slaps on the back.

  When the celebrating was over, Traigh asked, “Do ye ken what yer to do this night? After the weddin’?”

  Graeme’s smile evaporated almost instantly. “If ye utter one unkind, disrespectful word as it pertains to consummation and me wife, I swear, I will beat ye within an inch of yer life.”

  Traigh quickly wiped away the smile and attempted to appear serious and fully chastised. “Aye, Albert, he be in love, let there be no doubt.”

  * * *

  For Graeme, it seemed it took a year for an hour to pass by. The day was dragging on at a painfully slow pace. He had bathed and shaved, shined his boots, and donned fresh clothing and he still had two hours before the ceremony.

  There was one thing that he wanted to do, something he wanted to give Josephine before they exchanged their vows. He had wanted to give it to her earlier that morning, but the moment had been interrupted by his mother. And he had to give it to her before they went to the kirk.

  Defiantly, he marched one floor below and went to her bedchamber and knocked loudly. A moment later, Irline opened the door a crack. When she saw him standing there, she quickly stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.