I watch them fly excitedly around one another, dipping and diving under and over the plants, and the laugh that escapes me is loud and invigorating. I rather enjoy coming out here to be surprised and entertained by these little mystery beings. Alasdair’s mother called them faeries, but I don’t think I’m quite there yet. Perhaps after I’ve lived here a while longer, that will be a notion that is easier for me to fully accept.
Standing up, I adjust my gown and look around at the scene before me. It truly is that of a storybook, the emerald forest where the princess is saved by a handsome knight, where hidden in the thick foliage are mythical creatures whose mischievous antics somehow teach important life lessons to the children fascinated by their mystery. I imagine bringing my own child to this forest, where the magic of folklore seems real and how it will inspire her imagination to soar with possibilities.
“I’m so glad I came here today. It has lifted my spirits tremendously. Thank you,” I say sincerely and wave goodbye.
Back on the main trail, I decide to go home to eat a normal size meal. For the first time in days, I have an appetite unaccompanied by terrible nausea. I pick up my pace, suddenly excited about the idea of food.
The breeze has calmed quite noticeably as I exit the forest. There must have been a storm nearby earlier as the sky is considerably brighter. Perhaps I will enjoy my meal outside, as it seems a shame to waste this precious sunshine.
Looking down, I notice that I have worn a trail through the grass of the moor that surrounds the manor. I smile, thinking of how prominent it will become as the years go on. I should line it with stones and flowers. I could plant a tree part way through, and when it grows big enough, I could put a bench under it, where we can sit and enjoy the fresh air coming in off the water.
I look toward the castle, wondering where I might plant the tree along my landscaped trail when I see a man walking toward me down the same path. I stop abruptly as my eyes adjust. I try to pull in another breath, my heart begging for this to be real.
“Alasdair,” I whisper as my fingers come up to cover my mouth.
It’s him. His dark shiny hair, his beautiful face—severe and unsmiling, his tall stature and broad shoulders.Am I imagining this? The cadence of his walk says I am not, as it speaks with its own commanding voice:I am alive, Ella, and you are mine.
I’m frozen in place. I fear if I move, I will fall to the ground and weep an endless flow of gratitude for what I see before me. Alasdair is alive!
My hands cover my face as the sobs break free. My knees are weak, and my head feels light. I want to sit down, but I can hear each footstep now.
He stops, close enough for me to feel the heat of his body. The sobs are wracking through my chest now as the fear, sadness, and regret all flee the confines of my heart where they were determined to break me. There is so much I want, Ineedto say, but there is no room for words as my emotions continue to overwhelm me.
“Come here, lass.”
The sound of his voice and its comforting familiarity forces the air from my lungs as he pulls me into the comfort of his arms.
Thank you, God.I repeat the prayer repeatedly as his warmth seeps through my skin and releases that terrible hopelessness my mind had latched onto.
The tears finally ebb, and I move my hands from my face and wrap my arms around his waist, my head resting on his broad chest.
“I must be honest, I knew ye probably missed me, Ella, but I had no idea it was to this degree.”
I can hear the humor in his voice, and I swat his back before reprimanding him, “Alasdair, don’t. I thought you were dead.” The words are strained as I bury my face further into his shirt.
“Oh? Why would ye think that? I assured ye I would return, did ye not believe me?” Although his tone carries the noticeable sympathy of concern, it is still laced with humor.
“Your name was on the wounded and deceased list from the garrison, and I…I had seen a white stag in the forest a few days prior and…” I stop, embarrassed to go any further.
“Look at me, Ella.”
I wait a moment, then take a small step back so that I can wipe my face and adjust my hair. When I do look up at him, I can’t help noticing the prominence of his cheekbones and jaw. My hand comes up to touch his cheek, my thumb naturally gliding across his full mouth. His turquoise eyes blaze with emotion.
“Ye saw a white stag, did ye? Well, I don’t know if ye are aware, but that is considered a good omen, no’ a bad one.”
“Yes, I know. But it is also said that when you see a white stag, it is a loved one that has passed away and returned to visit you. And I was able to approach him, even touch him. I talked to him for quite some time before he eventually turned to go. But, even then, it seemed he did not want to.”
Alasdair reaches up to stop a few more tears. “And…?” he questions, raising a brow.
“I convinced myself it was you, your spirit.” I put my head down, embarrassed by how wrong I was. “Why else would he have been so familiar with me? His eyes, they were so kind and knowing. I felt like he was communicating with me somehow, but I didn’t know what he was trying to say.” The pitch of my voice rises as I try to explain.
“Ye have an old soul, faerie maiden. Perhaps he was simply there to visit you.”
That thought never even entered my mind. Could that be true? It would surely make me happy if it were. I only wish I had thought of it then and saved myself weeks of grief. Before I can express my thoughts, Alasdair reaches up, grabbing onto my head with both hands, my jaw perfectly cradled in his palms.
“I will be kissing ye now, Ella.”
And so, he does, with all the passion and skill and hunger that I have been craving. My fingers dig into his back as he pulls me closer, hard against his body. I moan as his tongue sweeps across mine, forcing that tickling pleasure to blossom between my legs.