Surviving Scotland (11 page)

The evening meal was tense. Silence reigned as the food was eaten with the sound of trenchers shuffling and ale tankards thumping on the wooden table. A few times Cullon tried to break the tense atmosphere, but his efforts fell flat. Ioan ate in silence, his gaze meeting mine from across the table. I excused myself shortly after finishing, and retired to my room. I wondered how long I had to stay at Dumbarton. Was the danger past back at home? The tense atmosphere would undoubtedly break at some point, but I didn’t want to stay and wait it out, if it wasn’t necessary. The rhythmic tug of my brush, clearing out the snarls, was soothing. A knock sounded at my door and I jumped in surprise.

“Yes?”

“‘Tis I, Margaret.”

What could she want? With cautious steps I reached for the handle and pulled open the heavy door. Margaret stood just in the hall, strangely close to the door.

“May I come in?”

I nodded and stepped aside.

“Ye’re happy here, are ye no’?” Margaret questioned me, her fingers grazing the table beside the hearth’s warming fire.

“Aye.” I nodded, watching her movements with care and curiosity. I hesitated in closing the door completely and left it slightly ajar.

“Would it be so bad to live here?” She turned to scrutinize my face as I answered.

“No, ye have a lovely castle.”

“Then why did ye refuse Cullon?” Her eyes bore into mine, demanding an answer.

“Because I canna love him.”

“Is that all?”

“I love another.”

“‘Twill pass,” she responded lightly and clasped her small hands in front of her dress.

“Nay. Do ye want me ta marry yer son and be wishin’ he were someone else? Would that be fair? I couldna live knowin’ me husband loved another. ‘Twould break me heart.” I shook my head, trying to penetrate her defense.

“‘Tis done all the time. Love, life goes on.” Her cold approach to life shocked me.

“I donna want that. I willna willingly do that ta someone.”

She took a deep breath and studied my expression, as if searching for a weakness to exploit.” Ye must leave then. I donna want ta be reminded o’ what ye and yer uncle have done. He promised ye. Said ye had agreed to marry me Cullon. I saw ye as a daughter, treated ye as a daughter, and ye betrayed us all. I donna want ta see ye or my traitorous nephew.” The venom with which she spoke startled me.

“Mither?” a voice called from down the hall. Immediately her countenance changed to one of benign indifference. She patted my arm as she passed me by and walked to the door.

“So nice to have a chat with ye.” She nodded and walked out into the hall. “Here I am, Cullon. I was just havin’ a talk with Elle.”

The sound of her retreating footsteps along with Cullon’s heavy footfalls released me from my shock. Who would see love through such a skewed perspective? My heart hurt for Cullon. His own mother was willing to forfeit his happiness for prestige. A prestige I didn’t even know I owned. I made a mental note to ask Morag or my uncle about it later, or rather sooner, since I determined to leave at first light. I shook my head, trying to dispel the image of her calculating gaze. It was unsettling in its familiarity. Before I could dwell on why, I walked to my door, intent on finding Ioan. While I knew Cullon would not wish us to leave so quickly, I knew it would be for the best. Hopefully enough time had passed for the danger to diminish, and we’d be safe to travel.

After searching the parlor and common rooms downstairs, I headed to the stables in my efforts in finding Ioan. The smell of sweet hay and leather greeted me as I entered. Dag stood in the far stall and nickered a greeting to me.

“I donna have a treat fer ye,” I apologized. The muzzle of his nose was like short velvet and I leaned forward to kiss it.

“‘Tis a lucky horse.”

“Aye, and well he knows it,” I replied before glancing back to Ioan as he leaned against a beam. His arms were folded across his broad chest. The shirtsleeves were rolled up enough for me to see the lines of his veins in his sculpted arms. My eyes traced up his spun shirt to his plaid and finally rested on his twinkling green eyes.

“Ioan, do ye think it’s safe for us ta leave on the morrow?” I asked after a slight hesitation.

A crease in his brow displayed his reaction to the question. He pushed himself from the beam and released his arms, striding over to me at a lazy pace.

“Why do ye ask, Elle?”

“Margaret requested it.” Hurt, remorse and anger flashed across his face before he settled on a weary expression.

“When did she talk with ye, Elle?”

“After the meal, she came up ta my room and… asked me a few questions.”

“About?” His eyes searched mine with patient curiosity.

“About why I donna want ta marry Cullon.”

“Ahh.” Ioan nodded. “And she asked us ta leave…” He held his hand out, waiting for me to provide the missing information.

“When I said that I’d no’ be changin’ me mind.”

Ioan took a deep breath. “‘Tis fer the best, I suppose. Yer uncle will be anxiously awaitin’ news of yer comin’ marriage. He just willna expect it ta be ta me.” Ioan gave me a small smile but it ended shortly after it began.

“Ioan…” I spoke softly, letting his name flow from my lips like a caress. With exaggerated slow movements, I traced the veins in his arm and stumbled my fingers over the roll in his sleeves. My hands flowed farther up his arm and to his neck. My eyes followed his Adam’s apple as it bobbed from his swallow. My fingers traced his ears and jaw, causing his eyes to drift closed.

“Ye aren’t gettin’ rid o’ me, Ioan.” I leaned forward and spoke softly into his ear. He shuddered, then began to chuckle.

“‘Tis ye that aren’t gettin’ rid o’ me, lass,” Ioan’s voice rumbled in my ear.

“I donna want to.” I breathed the words against his neck. The shudder his body gave in response to my words gave me goosebumps.

“I’d just chase after ye like always.”

“Always?” I asked as I ran my nose down the sensitive flesh below his ear.

“Aye. Dinna ye even once wonder why I always turned up around ye?” He chuckled the words. His warm hands circled my waist and pulled me flush against his solid body. Smoke and peppermint assaulted my senses as I inhaled the scent from his skin.

“I just tho’ ‘twas your self-appointed job ta provoke me.”

“Ah, Elle. Donna ye understand? By keepin’ ye angry, vexed an’ on yer guard, I was able ta keep my own guard up as well. ‘Twas much harder ta be around yer smiles and flirtatious ways when I didna think ye’d ever be mine.” A quick kiss was placed to the side of my cheek and he leaned back, grinning at me.

“Flirtatious ways? I donna remember those, Ioan. Pushin’ ye in the loch, that I remember.” Ioan’s rich laughter shook his body and consequently mine, since we were so close to one another.

“Ye surprised me with that one. But…” His brow furrowed. “When did ye learn to fight, Elle? With a sword, no less? I tho’ yer uncle was adamant in ye learnin’ ta be a lady.”

“I donna ken.” I shrugged.

Forgive me, lass. ‘Tis just confusin’ at times when ye remember things, just no’ why.”

“Ye are tellin’ me.” I gave him a wry expression.

“Ye still donna remember anythin’, do ye?” Ioan asked the question tenderly. His hand reached out and brushed the wisps of my hair away from my face. He tweaked my nose, and then dropped his arms to hold me tight as I shook my head.

“Nay, but...” I hesitated, unsure of how to explain what seemed to be memories that could have never happened.

“Aye?” Ioan asked with an encouraging tone. His grass green eyes watched me tenderly.

“‘Tis strange, Ioan. I will have these strange… I donna ken how they could be memories, but ‘tis what they feel like… but they would be impossible. I donna ken how ta make sense of it all.” My shoulders sagged and I lowered my head slightly.

“Well, do ye mind sharin’ what ye seem ta remember?” Ioan asked, while tilting my chin up so I’d make eye contact.

“Ye willna call me crazy?”

“Ach, lass, donna ye know? I already tho’ that!” Ioan teased.

I grinned and relaxed at once, spilling my strange memories from somewhere I could have never been, London. Ioan listened carefully, giving me his full attention. When I finished, I held my breath as I waited for his response.

“‘Tis strange, Elle, I willna deny that. I can see ye are sorely vexed by it, but I wouldna worry. ‘Tis impossible, an’ who can understand how God made our minds, especially yours.” He tapped my forehead gently then leaned forward to kiss it.

“I told ye it was strange.”

“Aye, but ‘tis no’ makin’ me run fer the hills, lassie, unless it means I’m takin ye with me.” Ioan winked and my heart thumped wildly. I bit my lip and glanced away, suddenly shy.

“Donna lose yer courage now, lass. ‘Tis only a bit o’ teasin’.” Ioan took a deep breath and sobered, glancing back at Dag, who was munching hay contentedly. “So we are ta leave.”

“Aye.”

“I’ll make the arrangements, Elle. Can ye be ready at first light?”

“Aye.”

“Then run ta yer room, love, an’ dream o’ the night I’ll be there with ye ta keep ye company.” Ioan pulled me forward, kissing my mouth passionately. There was not a progression of passion to the kiss, but it was immediately consuming and playful all at once. My lips wound around his in a hungry passion that drove me to pull his head closer to mine. The flavor of his kiss branded itself upon my heart and mind, imprinting itself permanently. Far too quickly, Ioan broke the kiss and spun me around to face the door. His arms steadied me for a moment, but when he released me, he patted my bum and walked by, whistling as he reached for a rope on the wall. I watched him with a knowing grin, as he winked at me in passing and headed for Dag’s stall. As I left I shook my head. Life would forever be interesting in Ioan’s arms.