Authors: Shelagh Mercedes
He walked quickly back to where they began, tramping through the water and back to the banks where the horses were tied. Arwen was resting her head on Grey’s withers, nibbling at his mane.
Letting go of her hand he reached inside his saddle pack searching until he found a length of woolen string. It was tightly spun, making a yarn with strength to it. He took the yarn and wrapped it several times around Stella’s wrist. She looked at it with a small bit of alarm, wondering if this was some kind of kinky Highland sex game. She didn’t like kinky and her eyes became large with concern.
“What are you doing, Robbie?” He didn’t answer but finished wrapping her wrist and using the rest of the length of cord he wrapped his own. He held up his hand, her hand bound to his and looked her in her eyes.
“Stella, my love, hand fast w’ me. Say it, Stella, say aye t’ this hand fasting.” The laughter and passion was gone, leaving in its wake the sobering coolness of this summer glade, and the heated intent of Robbie’s fierce desire to tie her to him forever.
“Robbie, I don’t know…what does this mean, I can’t…”
“Say yes, Stella.
That
is the word, the one word that will bind our hearts. I say it t’ ye and in the saying I pledge myself t’ ye for all eternity. Yes, Stella. Ye are mine and I will ne’er leave ye, but shall search the world ov’r fer ye should we be parted. Say it, lass, say yes to this hand fasting.”
Stella looked at their hands bound together with yarn. She looked at his large hand easily twice or thrice the size of her own and thought to say no, but was immediately swept with a feeling of abandonment that was piercing in its pain. She could not lose this man.
“Hand fasting?” she looked at him wondering where this was going to take them. She could not envision a future with him, or without him. Would he follow her back to Texas. Could he? He found her in Texas, surely he could return!
“Say yes, Stella. I need that word. That one word that will make ye mine. Please, my heart, say yes.”
She looked at Robbie and acknowledged that he had drawn her reluctantly but hypnotically into the circle of his passion. Without asking permission he had implied intimacy as though it were a gift and not a privilege and it was now her task to decide whether she would allow him to continue to breach walls.
Stella closed her eyes, took a deep breath and stepped off the precipice, spread her wings and flew. She opened her eyes and looked at Robbie.
“Yes,” she tried to smile, but couldn’t so overcome was she with what she had said, what she had done, what she had agreed to. All of this was impossible, but she wanted it to happen and if it didn’t happen then she would make what short time she had left the most memorable of her life. She would live with the knowledge that she had loved greater, deeper and with more passion than 99% of the world.
Robbie pulled her head to his and kissed her reverently, pressing their bound hands between them, sealing their commitment. She was now his and he thanked the gods that were in heaven that in three days his life had changed from the grey of morning mist to a brilliant burst of crimson sunrise. Robbie felt a joy within himself that he had gained the prize of her lips. Her kisses were his now, freely given.
He was loath to pull away but the coming night held treasures yet to be uncovered and he was anxious to be at Dunollie and the marriage bed. He swiftly unwrapped his wrist from hers and using his dagger, cut a piece of the yarn, tying it around her wrist, a bracelet symbolic of the word she had given. He then unwrapped her hand fasted yarn and cut himself an identical bracelet, having her tie the yarn on his wrist.
“We are hand fasted, now Stella. We are one.” He pulled her close, his hands sliding easily beneath her buttocks, cupping their firmness and held her tight, and kissed her again.
Having a notion of what just happened Stella was at a loss for words over Robbie’s command and presence. He had performed this ceremony
like he did everything else - with purpose, intensity and strength. That's what she loved about him...his fierceness. Everything he did reflected the earnestness of his character. There was little guile in him, which was frightening because guile disguised and softened a multitude of character flaws. There were always shadows and surprises with guile, but she knew that Robbie shot from the hip and that he had neither the time, nor the inclination to waste words and actions. What he did, he did from his heart and this action was unconfused with his intellect.
“Quickly, lass, let us move on to Dunollie.” He kissed her hard and deep then pushed her toward her horse.
“Uh, Robbie, what exactly does this hand fasting mean?” Her look of confusion gave him slight pause until he realized that Texas must not be a hand fasting country. This was new to her and if such was the case then he was about the find out how agreeable she was going to be to this vow. He steeled himself.
“It means we are married, lass.” At her round eyed look of alarm he quickly amended, “It is good for one year and one day. At the end of that time if there is no bairn then ye are free to walk away. I am praying that at the end of that time ye will consent to become my wife forever in front of a priest.” He gained his saddle and watched warily as she absorbed the information. She was silent standing by her horse contemplating what he had just said, not looking at him but at Arwen’s saddle, she took a deep breath and slowly rose to mount. She gained her seat and patted Arwen’s neck. She cocked her head to the side and thought again of these new feelings surging within her.
“So it’s like living together, really, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Aye, lass, we will be living together as man and wife, but the hand fasting is a betrothal.”
She looked at him then and let him have his word again, the one word that he had wanted, needed to make her his own. He held his breath.
“Yes.” She said, smiling and nodding at him she repeated. “Yes.”
Robbie exhaled and smiled, his heart filled with the power of her smile. He turned his horse toward the north and began their last short leg of the journey. Stella followed a few feet and then stopped, looked around to find Ferghus. He was nowhere to seen, probably sore vexed that they had abruptly stopped what he had hoped to be a thrilling chase through the woods.
“Where is Ferghus?” she asked.
Robbie, without looking back assured her. “He is somewhere close. He will catch up.”
Stella knew Ferghus liked to dawdle and may have been engaged with a squirrel or whatever vermin the Highlands had to offer. She always felt better when he was near and now that she was close to Oban she wanted the security of not only Robbie, but Ferghus, too. Putting her two fingers inside her lips she blew a whistle so shrill and loud that both horses reared. Arwen was particularly frightened and became almost unmanageable in her panic. Robbie turned immediately around after reigning in Grey, looking at her with a startled expression.
“Shite, woman, did that noise come out o’ yer mouth?” Robbie would never tire of the surprises from this woman. “Shite, ‘tis a battle call, lass.” He laughed at Stella’s efforts to calm the startled Arwen, the horse having received most of the blast so close to her ears. He moved Grey close to the mare and she immediately quieted. Robbie grabbed Arwen’s halter and looked at Stella.
“No more surprises today, lass. I am no a young man anymore, surely ye shall be the death o’ me.” He winked and smiled, turned his horse northward again and smiled as Ferghus came bounding out of the woods, barking and eager to be on his way.
Chapter Ten
“Hail, MacDougall!” Robbie nodded at the greeting and repeated it, waiting for the gates to open for him and Stella. He had been gone too long and was glad to be home again. His mission had been difficult and only moderately successful but being here with her would remove whatever sting might remain from the English ambassadors. She had gifted him with her spirit, her trust and the scales are tipped in his favor in receiving that richness. He was overwhelmed with her generosity and marveled that she found him worthy to possess it. She was now the salve to his injuries and he would apply her liberally and with abandon to every slight and disappointment he had suffered as a political messenger boy. He was anxious to introduce his hand fasted bride to his family, anxious for her to find comfort and ease here and anxious that the bond that had blossomed between them grow stronger.
Dunollie Caste sat on a rise above a beautiful bay, the water sparkling with the suns reflection, small boats on the horizon. Stella was struck with the great beauty of it, the strength of the towering keep and the stone walls. He turned to her and winked. “We are home, love, do not fret, I am here with ye and will guard ye well.” The portcullis raised, they crossed over the wooden drawbridge, the sound of the horses hooves beating a warlike tattoo in her heart.
They entered the bailey, a crowded busy space filled with villagers, vendors, and soldiers, all of whom greeted Robbie with cheer and looked at Stella with wide eyed wonder. Her beauty set her apart, but her demeanor, her bearing, her eyes branded her as royalty. Only her odd clothes seemed out of place. She had on trews with a rough peasants dress over them and strange boots that were embroidered and wonderful to look at. She carried a curious pack riding on her shoulders and her curly short hair was covered in a strange hat with drying white heather in the head band. A young boy, not more than ten reached up to touch her boots. She looked down at him and smiled reaching toward him, offering him her hand. He pulled back his hand from her boot frightened that she might be angry, but upon seeing her smile, he reached toward her and lightly touched her fingers, awed that this princess would touch him. He was smitten at once.
“What is your name, child?” asked Stella
“Thomas, yer highness, I am called Thomas.” He bowed a grand courtly bow looking for her approbation, hoping that she might remember him again.
“It is good to meet you Thomas. I am called Stella.” She bowed her head and spoke softly. Thomas nodded his head in return as if this introduction was a secret just between the two of them.
Robbie dismounted giving the reins to a young stable boy and grabbed Arwen’s halter. A small crowd was gathering around them and he could see that Stella was apprehensive and more than a little nervous.
He turned to the crowd who eyed Stella with more than just a small amount of curiosity.
“My hand fasted bride.” He announced proudly. He looked up at Stella and offered her his hand to dismount. He knew better than anybody that this was a woman who needed no assistance in mounting or dismounting, but he would offer the courtesy for the benefit of his clan, hoping that instead of cartwheeling off the horse and walking on her hands to the keep, she would accept this small token of his regard. And she did.
Robbie took her by the waist and lifted her from the horse. She smiled shyly at the crowd that was cheering for Robbie, slapping him on the back and shaking his hand. It pleased Robbie that his people seemed to be so accepting of her in spite of her strange looks and clothes.
As proud as he was of her he was somewhat annoyed at the gaping stares of soldiers and the young men of the keep. They were pushing each other aside to look at her, pointing at her and smiling, trying to catch her eye. He knew at that moment that he grew in their estimation, not only as tanist, but as a man. A man capable and strong enough to capture and hand fast a beautiful woman, and for that he walked a bit taller for the notion of it. But he hurriedly escorted Stella into the keep to keep curious eyes from her.
“Robbie!! What is this I hear? Ye’ve been gone but these three weeks and ye are hand fasted?!” A woman’s voice, awed at the news came and hugged Robbie to herself. She was tall and slender, a handsome woman, fortyish, graying with tired smiling eyes. She pinched him on the cheek and kissed his chin. Robbie, happy to see her enveloped her in his large arms, pulling her close to him, a joyous reunion.
“Elinor, I ha’e missed ye, auntie. It is good to be back. Please come and meet my bride.” Stella had been standing behind Robbie who moved and pulled her forward.
Elinor was struck at the odd woman her nephew introduced as his bride. She was beautiful, granted, so healthy and regal, but Elinor had never seen such an odd assembly of clothes as this young noble had on. Surely there was some game afoot. She noted the white heather in her odd hat and wondered if she might be of the faerie folk. But no, Robbie would not be hand fasted to the fae folk. The beautiful woman offered her hand to Elinor, bowing her head slightly.
“Aunt, this is Stella. She is from Tegis, in the New World, and I have had the great good fortune of rescuing her from her kidnappers. She is now hand fasted to me.”
Elinor took her offered hand and smiled a genuine smile of welcome. “And yer last name, Stella?” It occurred to Robbie that he did not know her last name. He immediately felt like an idiot for not asking, but there had been so many things to discover, and she was constantly surprising him with her talents that he hadn’t even thought about asking for her family name. But no matter, it would now be MacDougall.
Stella wondered at the propriety of her last name. She was a McKenzie and had no idea if they were a clan friendly to Robbie’s. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’ she thought, ‘I’ll just change it, what are they going to do, ask for ID?’