Kilgannon (24 page)

"Oh, aye, they were indeed. She was fifteen, he was sixteen, and we almost went to war because Alex decided he wouldna marry Sorcha MacDonald. They sent Alex to France to get her out of his system." She laughed again, then looked at me shrewdly. "I dinna think ye have to worry, lassie. Alex doesna think on Morag the now. It's ye he's been courting, and ye he married, Mary." We both looked at Morag, her dark beauty luminous. "But I would still ken where he was when she's about. A word to the wise."

I was still musing on her words when Malcolm interrupted my thoughts, leaning across the table. "So Alex showed ye his sunset?"

"Yes," I said. "It was beautiful."

Malcolm nodded. "It is. All of Kilgannon is beautiful. And now it is yers as well." His voice was without inflection.

I was not sure how to react. "Yes, I am most fortunate."

"Fortunate. Aye, fortunate." He sat back clumsily and looked at me with bleary eyes, and I realized he was drunk.

"Time to put the young ones to bed," said Alex with a laugh that I tried to echo. The women were doing just that, I realized, looking out across the hall. Deirdre moved to lift a sleepy Jamie from Alex, and Ian reached for my hand with a smile.

"I always tend the boys myself, Mary," said Deirdre. "Come with us, why don't ye?" I did, glad to be leaving Malcolm.

The boys behaved as though we had done this a thousand times. Upstairs we talked of the day and of tomorrow, and Ian looked up at me as we walked and smiled a smile that was pure Alex. When we reached the room the boys shared, Deirdre tended to Jamie while Ian shrugged out of his kilt and flipped his shoes over his head with a grin at me, watching for my reaction. He is certainly Alexis son, I thought, and laughed as expected.

"I knew who ye were," Ian said. "When ye got here, I knew."

"How?" I asked. Without answering, Ian led me to a chest in the corner of the room and opened it, pulling out three sketches. They were all of me and they were very good.

"Da sent us yer picture so we could see ye." He looked-up into my face as if comparing Alex's sketches to the original.

"Your father showed me pictures of you too," I said.

He nodded and pulled his socks off. "He told us."

"Thank you for your letter," I said. "I enjoyed it." Ian nodded again and turned to the waiting Deirdre, who tucked him in and kissed him while I stood next to the bed feeling awkward. But Ian reached his arms out to me, and as I hugged him I realized I'd lost my heart for the second time to a MacGannon.

He snuggled under the cover. "I'm glad yer here at last."

"So am I," I said, kissing his forehead.

Jamie was already asleep, and I smoothed his hair back and kissed his cheek and followed Deirdre into the hall.

"They're good boys," she said, "but they need a mother."

I smiled at Alex's aunt. "They'll have one now," I said.

I remember no more of the second ceremony than I did of the first. It was a blur of candlelight and Scots, except for Alex's smiling face. I had expected to be calmer during this second wedding, but when I stood at the top of the stairs and faced the hall packed with upturned faces, I lost some of my composure. I remember Alex's family smiling as we filed past them into the chapel for the blessing, and I remember walking with Alex through the crowd back into the hall.

When we were married again, Alex kissed me boldly as the onlookers cheered and all formality ended. Music started and there was dancing, followed much later by a meal. We danced and talked and laughed for hours, and as the evening wore on, the accents got thicker and the English less frequent.

A few moments into the meal a lean man with tousled dark hair raised his glass as he proposed a toast in English, first to the bride, then to the groom, and the hall cheered. Bolstered by his success, he turned to face us, saying something in Gaelic and raising his glass defiantly as he glared at Alex. The room hushed and all eyes turned to us. Beside me, Alex stiffened and exchanged a glance with Angus, then rose and raised his own glass. Alex spoke boldly into the silence, and after a momentary pause many guests laughed or nodded and drank. Alex spoke again and the room exploded into cheers. I felt everyone at the table relax as conversation began again. Confused, I turned to Alex as he sat down, but before I could speak he smiled and said, "I'll explain later, Mary. Just smile at me now." There was anger in his eyes and I smiled stiffly, then sipped my wine as I scanned the crowd before us. The tension had retreated. Angus said something in Gaelic and Alex nodded curtly, then Malcolm made a remark and Alex smiled again, this time a real smile. The three of them looked at each other and grinned, and the moment passed.

Hours later, well into the evening's dancing, Alex leaned over to me. "Have ye had enough celebrating, lass?"

"Yes," I said. "I'd like to celebrate with just you."

"Good." He led me through the crowds toward the stairs, calls and hoots following us. Alex bantered with many as we passed, and I could feel my cheeks burning. At the top of the stairs he swung me up into his arms and spoke to the hall below. His remarks were answered with roars of laughter. "I told them they could celebrate until we returned in the morning," he said, carrying me around the corner. "Some of them will."

"And? What else did you say?"

He grinned at me. "I said I had my own celebrating to do."

I nodded, glad I had not understood. He kissed me then and I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him fully. Still holding his lips to mine, he whirled us through the hall, then lifted his head and ran up the next flight of stairs, whooping loudly, and dropped me to my feet at the top. When I responded by undoing the lace at his collar, he took me by the waist and lifted me against him, backing against the wall and kissing me until I gasped for
breath. Panting
and laughing, I began unfastening his plaid and shirt lacings. He laughed deeply and carried me, still fumbling with his clothes, down the hall and into our room, slamming the door behind us.

Once behind the closed door we threw ourselves at each other with abandon. I peeled his clothes off and tossed them away, running my hands the full length of him, from his shoulders to his feet. He watched, his eyes growing darker, and told me where to put my hands and then my lips. I followed his direction without hesitation. And when he groaned and stopped me to undo the fastenings of my gown, I helped him without a thought, throwing the pieces of my wedding gown aside in my haste to have him. We found the floor and later the bedcover and still later the mattress.

Sated at last, we lay in
each other’s
arms, spent and quiet. Alex kissed my forehead and sighed. "Welcome to Scotland, Mary," he said. "I think we're truly married, lass."

"Twice," I said, and laughed.

"Twice," he agreed, and lifted his head to survey the room. His shirt lay across the hearth, his plaid was caught halfway on the trunk, my stockings and petticoats littered the floor, and the sleeve of my bodice hung from the footboard. "It looks like a storm came through. I knew ye'd be an apt student, but, lass, ye have a gift for it." He laughed and kissed me. I felt my cheeks flush. "Mary," he said tenderly, "dinna feel embarrassed. What we did was good, lass. What we did was right."

"What we did was wonderful, Alex," I said, and watched him smile. It was amazing, I told myself, and sighed with satisfaction.

"Aye," he said. "What we did was wonderful. And gratifying, wife. I think we'll do." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Somewhere there's whisky and wine," he said over his shoulder as he stood, grabbing his plaid and wrapping it around him. "Let's celebrate that we don't have to marry a third time."

"That would be terrible," I said, sitting up and watching him move around the room. He found the liquor and poured himself a whisky and me a glass of wine, then sat on the edge of the bed.

He touched his glass to mine. "To us." I echoed him.

"Alex," I said, gesturing to the room. "Have you done this before?"

He sipped his whisky and looked at me over the glass. "Drink whisky? Aye, many times. Or do ye mean making wild love with the woman I love? Or do ye mean am I a virgin?"

I laughed. "You have two sons. I know you've made love before. No, what I mean"

"What ye mean is do ye have to be jealous of what went before, and the answer is no, ye dinna have anyone to be jealous of. And to answer yer next question, no, it was never like this with Sorcha. It wasna like this with anyone, Mary."

"Did you make love with Morag?"

He sipped his whisky and looked at me, and my heart froze. "We were verra young, Mary," he said. I opened my mouth to speak and found I couldn't. Alex had made love to Morag. "It was a long time ago," he said quietly.

"I see," I said, trying to be calm. He stroked my cheek.

"Mary, it's ye I chose. It's ye I married."

"But you still remember her."

He grimaced, obviously unhappy at the topic. "It's no' unusual for a man to remember the first—" I gasped, and he frowned. "Damn, lass, this is no fit conversation for us to be having." "I want to know. Tell me."

He shook his head. "Mary," he said firmly, "I will no' discuss Morag nor any other woman I ever—"

I stared at him, horrified. "There were others?"

He flushed, then sat up straight and put his glass on the table. "Mary," he said. "I will no' discuss this. I've told ye, lass, I wasna unfaithful to Sorcha, nor will I ever be to ye. Ever. Morag doesna tempt me, or she'd be here the now instead of ye. It's ye I married, Twice now. Come here, lass," he said, pulling me to him and kissing me. "Ye, Mary, it's ye I wanted, no other woman alive. Being with ye is like finding heaven. The others were a pleasant experience is all, and soon forgotten. It's ye I married, in two countries."

I let him lull me into tranquility with his caresses, but I never forgot that Morag had been his first. But he'd married me. Twice. I searched for another topic. "Do the people downstairs know we were married in England?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Some of them, no doubt, I took no trouble to hide it. Some of them are Anglicans, some are Presbyterians, some are Catholic. To most of them this was no more than a formality." He glanced at me. "As it was to me."

"I thought getting married here was important to you."

"It is," he said. "Marrying ye for all the world to see that yer mine is important. That's why I did it. In years to come they'll talk of being at our wedding." He took a sip. "No one can ever say we were not truly married. I'd not bring ye here without them acknowledging ye as my wife."

"I see."

"No." He shook his head. "Ye don't. What ye don't understand is that many of them downstairs despise the English, all English, warranted or no. But the Countess of Kilgannon is a protected person. Don't let them treat ye with anything but courtesy."

"I know how to behave." I could hear the asperity in my tone.

He nodded, untroubled by my reaction. "Aye, but some of them will test ye. Insist they are courteous."