Alasdair
“Ye’ve got a lit’l skip in yer step this evening, m’lord. Ye were able to dull the blade o’ that sharp-tongued lass ye been pining over, aye?” Ewan asks with his usual candor.
“Is it that obvious, Ewan?” I ask rhetorically. “I believe I may have done just that, and I can’na deny how bloody happy I am about it.”
“Oh? So yer efforts wi’ flowers and wee paper creatures worked well fer ye, then?”
“Actually, I do’na have the slightest inkling what she thought of that. I forgot all about the damn thing until ye mentioned it just now.”
“Weel, something good must’a happened fer ye to forget about that. Ye put a bloody lot of effort into it and ’tis the reason ye went to call. An’ let’s not forgetIhad to keep the enormous thing from tipping over in yer carriage whileyourode Magni.”
“I suppose ye think it should have been the other way around?” I question with a bit of humor.
“No, no, I dinna say that. I was simply emphasizing my familiarity wi’ yer creation.”
“I see. And is there anything else ye’d like to say about my creation?”
“Nothing other than the truth, m’lord. ’Twas extraordinary, you ken it as well as I do. Now, are ye going to tell me what has ye chipper as a dandy wi’a new pair o’ boots and a shiny buckle?”
I can’t help but laugh aloud, “I’ll say I’m happier than a dandy wi’ a whole new wardrobe! By God! She told me she was looking forward to seeing me again. Ewan, she is…is…bloody hell—she rides a horse like a jockey in the National Hunt Race. Ye would’na believe it!” I ramble enthusiastically.
“I’m a bit confused on how we went from delivering an oversized bouquet o’ flowers to jockeyin’ the Hunt Race. I fear ye’ve left out some pertinent details.”
“Aye…well, I’ll admit my mind’s a bit untidy at the moment.” I stop my pacing to pour a scotch. After a long draught, I let it rest in my mouth before swallowing. The smokey flavor spreads over my tongue and through my nose as I exhale. My mouth waters, and I swallow again as the flavor shifts to the salty brine of the coast. “Lady Ella was’na there when I arrived with her arrangement. She was out riding and, after a bit of persuasive questioning of the groomsmen that did’na want to be so helpful at first, I was finally pointed in the right direction. When I came upon her, I could’na believe my eyes. She flew over a stone hurdle, landed the bloody thing with perfection, then guided her horse through a maze of obstacles and jumps like a seasoned jockey winning the race. And the best part was when she turned to head in my direction, letting the horse cool down in a steady trot…she had a smile of pure joy, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Ewan.”
“Christ! I don’t see how it’s possible. Ye can’na jump a horse side-saddle! She’d surely break a bone somewhere in her body!” Ewan replies with unfeigned confusion.
“She was’na side-saddle. She rode like a gentleman, astride, with breeches under her skirts!”
“Bloody hell!” His eyes widen as his mouth gapes open.
“Aye. And as ye can imagine, she was’na too pleased I found out her little secret. But when she realized I was’na there to judge her or reprimand her, that I was bloody impressed wi’ her skills, she put away most of the weapons she’s had pointed at me since first we met. She put away the rest after we had a few good laughs and a lively conversation about Norse mythology.”
“I can barely get a woman to discuss the weather wi’ me. Yer Lady Ella sounds like a keeper, m’lord.”
I cannot deny that I have thought the same thing on more than one occasion, and I’ve only just met her. “She is proving to be exactly that, my friend.”
After sleeping in due to a rough night of tossing and turning, my mind excited with thoughts of Ella, I’m dressed and ready to attend the Burtons’ soiree that I would have otherwise avoided had it not been for the intriguing faerie maiden that snuck up on me unawares only nine days ago. ’Tis a very short period of time to become so enthralled.Nine days and I can think of nothing more than her. The thought rotates as I stare out across the gardens.
I know what has happened; at this point, there is no possible way I could deny it, and acknowledging it makes me think of my grandmother, Nanna, God rest her soul, and the lengthy conversations she had with me throughout my childhood and adolescence. The Fey was strong in Nanna, that mysterious clairvoyance and sixth sense that is unusually prevalent within the Scottish people. Nanna would tell me that “the sight” and strong intuition came from our ancestors many, many generations back. She said she could sense it in me, but I never really entertained the notion because I was too busy being a boy and had more important things to do like train my horse, hunt, fish, perfect my sword fight, and anything else that involved me becoming a man. However, as an adult, I never question my gut instinct—ever. It is remarkably accurate, at times astoundingly so, to not only me but my crew as well. That is how I know what Nanna told me all those years ago is true; I can feel it in my gut.
“Ye have an auld soul, Allie,” she would say, using the pet name she gave me, her brogue thick through her aged voice. “It has walked the earth many times before, makes ye wise wi’ keen instincts, even beyond the Fey. But ye should know, there is another that seeks to find ye. A soul, ould as yers, an’ no matter time or place, hers will follow, an’ yours shall follow her. Ye belong together…ye always have an’ ye always will. ’Tis lovely, my boy, ’tis a lovely thing that ye are so fortunate. You’ll understand one day. Nothing compares to the love and passion than that shared by soulmates.”
The grounds of the Burtons’ estate are some of the most impressive I have ever seen. The lord and lady of the house are the purveyors of several botanical gardens throughout London and the countryside, and they have clearly wasted no effort here at their estate. Lush sycamore and oak trees line the drive along neatly trimmed shrubs with pillowing flowers. It is a fantastic statement for anyone taking the long, meandering drive to the opulent porte-cochere.
When I stop to appreciate the beauty of what they have created, my thoughts go to Ella and how much she will appreciate the Burtons’ botanical artistry, regardless of the lack of any sort of natural disarray.
After a brief greeting to the host and hostess—who was uncomfortably forward in the presence of her husband—I am ready to find my sole purpose for being here. After several greetings and a few short conversations, I could not avoid, I am pleased to see Ella has already arrived and appears to be enjoying herself as she freely laughs with her peers. Her golden, ethereal beauty stands out against the crowd of dark-haired young men and women and one vibrant red-haired lass that seems full of mischief even from this distance.
My eyes meet Ella’s, and my skin tingles—hers does as well, I can tell by the fear in her expression. My pace is controlled as I steadily move toward her, my only focus. Without saying a word, the circle around her breaks apart as everyone steps aside to give me access. She’s frozen, fighting her desire, and everything about it has my own desire on edge. I can see her mind debating whether she is happy to see me, but none of that matters. I can sense that her body has come to the same conclusion as mine.
“Lady Ella.” My greeting is traditional, and proper in every way as I wait for her to rest her hand in mine. Reluctantly, she does, and I bring it to my lips while breathing in her delicious scent. I linger too long, as usual, and she tries to take her hand away.No, my dear. I’m not letting go just yet.“’Tis good to see ye again. And might I add, ye look lovely this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Lord Stewart,” she replies as I release her hand a few seconds late. Her eyes are fiery, and I cannot stop the smile from stretching across my face.
To my right, I hear a strained whisper say, “Good Lord…a stallion.” Turning to the source, I find Ella’s red-haired companion staring at me with wide eyes, a bright mossy green that sparkle with a playful expression.
“Mary!” Ella hisses.