Surviving Scotland (10 page)

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Cullon was waiting in the courtyard, sitting on the stone wall, dangling his legs. His grin grew wide as his eyes darted down to my and Ioan’s entwined fingers.

“I told ye ‘twould work, lass. And wasna I generous ta let ye have a bit o’ time ta yerselves?” Cullon wagged his eyebrows and I blushed. I glanced to Ioan.

“My gratitude is the only thing savin’ ye from me pushin’ ye off the wall an’ onta yer head,” Ioan called back.

Cullon chuckled, but jumped down. He strode to us and Ioan let go of my hand to clasp his wrist in a shake.

“Is there ta be some sort of announcement?” Cullon asked, still pumping Ioan’s hand.

“Wouldna ye like ta know…?”

“‘Tis only fair. After all, I—”

“Ye kissed her. Ye’re lucky ye still are walkin’,” Ioan countered back.

“Aye, I suppose.”

Ioan released Cullon’s hand and grasped mine once more. His warm fingers sent shivers through my arm, and I glanced at him adoringly.

“But because I’m the generous sort,” Ioan glanced down at me, giving me a smoldering grin. “I’ll tell ye that Elle agreed ta marry me.”

Cullon slapped Ioan on the back with a loud thump that almost knocked him over. Ioan grinned widely and then bent down and kissed me gently, tracing his tongue slightly over my lower lip. I shivered and pressed for more.

“Ahem.”

A throat cleared and Ioan released me abruptly. All three of our gazes met the curious one of Cullon’s father.

“This is somewhat unexpected,” he spoke, clearly confused by the sight of Ioan kissing me. After all, hadn’t I been sent to meet Cullon and marry him? If my uncle had said the same thing to Cullon’s father as to Ioan, the confusion was warranted.

“Does anyone care ta explain?” Niall asked as his arms crossed over his chest and a patiently guarded expression covered his face. My gaze bounced from Ioan to Cullon, then back to Ioan.

“Uncle, ‘tis a bit of a story,” Ioan began.

“I don’t doubt it, but why don’t ye shorten it up a bit for us all? Are ye honorable in yer intention toward the lass?” Niall’s eyes narrowed as he asked the question.

“I intend ta marry her, Uncle.”

“Well, it doesn’t get more honorable than that… unless…” Niall mumbled then cut a glance to Ioan.

“No.”

“Ah, ‘tis a good thing that. I wouldna want ta be the on the receivin’ end o’ Maol’s anger. Especially had ye taken liberties with the lass.”

The blood in my ears roared with embarrassment and anger. How could he think that of me? Of Ioan? I narrowed my eyes at Niall and started toward him, planning on giving him a piece of my mind, when Ioan’s arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me back.

“I think ye offended me future bride, Uncle.” Ioan chuckled.

Niall grinned then sobered at my glare. He nodded at Ioan.

“Ye have yer hands full with that one.”

“Aye, but I wouldna have it any other way.” His restraining embrace gentled into a caress and my anger subsided a bit.

“‘Tis fer the best, Da. She’s far too stubborn of a wench fer me.” Cullon jerked his chin in my direction.

“We best get inside an’ tell yer mither, Cullon. No doubt she’ll be dreamin’ up a new scheme to get ye married after this.”

Cullon’s gaze turned heavenward as if petitioning deliverance.

I gave an amused grin to Ioan who returned it. Niall turned around and went in. Cullon followed, tossing wink behind him. Ioan’s thumb caressed my wrist and he pulled me so that I faced him.

“Are ye sure, lass?” The green of Ioan’s eyes implored me.

“Aye, unless ye donna want—” Ioan’s fierce kiss ended my response and affirmed his own. The warm melting of his lips against my own cleared all thoughts from my mind. As my body warmed to the kiss he began to end it, chuckling at my efforts to coax him into kissing me longer.

“It pleases me ta no end that ye love me kisses, Elle. But I need ta have me wits about me if I’m ta explain everythin’ ta Aunt Margaret. Uncle Niall was the easy one…”

He leaned forward and kissed my nose. The soft touch left me aching for more.

“Later?” I glanced up into smoky green eyes.

“Ye have my word.”

Ioan grasped my hand and tugged me toward the door. A smile graced my lips as I thought about enjoying his kisses for the rest of my life. Ioan’s warm fingers held mine tightly. The calluses from hard labor were mildly abrasive to my skin, but I welcomed the contrast. Every few steps we took he’d glance back at me, as if assuring himself I was truly there. It was liberating to allow my heart to shine through my eyes and not worry about hiding it.

We came to the parlor where I first met his aunt, Margaret, and I saw Ioan’s shoulders rise and fall in taking a deep breath. Niall cleared his throat as we entered, and Margaret glanced up from a seat near the fire. Upon seeing all of us enter, she gave her husband a curious glance before setting her book to the side.

“Yes?” She glanced from Niall to Cullen then to me. Her eyes followed down my arm to my hand and its connection to Ioan’s. Her eyebrows rose and she shot a surprised glance to Cullon.

“Correct me if I’m mistaken, but I think ye should be the one holdin’ the lass’s hand.” Her gaze cut back to my own, wary. Her expression was tolerant, but there was an underlying resolve in her eyes that took me by surprise. Was it truly that scandalous that I’d be in love with Ioan, not Cullon? It wasn’t as if I’d backed out of an understanding… had I?

“Nay, Mither, ‘tis no’ I that should be lovin’ on the fair lass. I told ye no’ a few days ago about my suspicions. I was right, in a manner.” Cullon strode forward and took his mother’s hand. She smiled indulgently at him but then continued to watch Ioan. The grip Ioan had on my hand increased pressure for a moment and I glanced at him, but he kept his gaze on his aunt.

“Oh, and how so?” she asked politely, turning once again to Cullon. “Didn’t Maol send her here for ye, my son?”

“Well, yes but—”

“Margaret.” Niall’s voice carried a soft spoken authority. Margaret glanced down to her lap, her shoulders tense. Again I glanced to Ioan. Is this what he meant when he referred to his Uncle Niall as the easy one? “Margaret, ‘tis no’ important. Ye wish her ta marry our son when her heart beats for another?” Niall’s voice was gentle, but the question was like a saber, cutting through to the heart of the matter.

“Nay,” Margaret spoke softly, glancing at me with grudging acceptance.

“‘Tis fer the best, Mither,” Cullon added gently.

“Nay, but if she canna see what’s before her, then she doesna deserve ye. Excuse me.” Margaret rose and strode to the door. The sound of her footsteps echoed from the hall in the otherwise silent room. I turned toward Niall, who simply shook his head and watched his wife’s retreating form. Cullon shook his head as well and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. The quiet breathing of Ioan grasped my attention and I turned toward him, curious as to how he reacted to his aunt’s blatant disapproval. Ioan hadn’t turned to watch his aunt leave; instead he stood solid, but with his eyes downcast. Rather than meet my gaze, he closed his eyes and released my hand.

“‘Tisn’t the best kind of news for her. I apologize,” Ioan spoke quietly to Niall and walked toward the fire.

“She’ll survive it,” Niall commented but glanced at me and explained further.

“Ye are from an old family, lass. And though ye might no’ be as heavy in the purse as ye once were, ye are from a lineage of renown. Even when ye were a wee one, Margaret hoped ye’d marry Cullon and lend yer bloodlines to our coffers. ‘Tis hard ta understand, but ye must ken that Margaret grew up goin’ ta London on occasion. As the earl of Argyll’s niece, she had opportunities that others didna. Often times, I think perhaps she wishes she had married a lord and lived there, but ‘twasn’t ta be.”

I raised my hand to cover a gasp at the thought of being married to a person only to question whether they even wanted me.

“Over there she saw the importance of bloodlines, heirs, and titles. Since she would never have her own, the next best thing was having the bloodline marry into hers.”

“I understand.” The thought was familiar: bloodlines, titles, the London elite, who were called the
t
on.
“Did she have many interactions with the
t
on?
”
I asked the question before I could think it through.

Niall’s eyebrows rose at my question but he answered. “A bit. ‘Twas hard on her bein’ from Scotland. She tried her best ta lose the brogue, but ‘twas hard. People can be cruel.” He shook his head. “‘Tis enough. I dinna mean to speak so much, but I wanted ye ta understand her hesitation ta accept ye. ‘Tis nothing ta do with ye, Ioan.” Niall took a few steps forward and slapped Ioan on the back. “I, fer one, am happy fer ye.” He patted his back a few more times and left.

“I dinna ken me mither would be so upset. Seems strange, but no’ ta fear.”

Cullon reached out and grasped Ioan’s wrist, pumping it. “I, too, am glad ye are takin’ her off me hands.” Cullon winked at me. The mood was lightened by his carefree words and I was thankful. I rolled my eyes and walked over to Ioan, reaching my arms around his back and against his tight stomach. The heat of his back was searing against my cheek as I rested my head.

“Aye, I donna think ye could handle this one.” Ioan’s shoulders relaxed as he spoke.

“No doubt ye’ll have yer hands full with that one,” Cullon teased.

“Aye, day an’ night.” Ioan’s chuckle was cut short as I reached up to smack the back of his head.

“Aye, day but I’m thinkin’ especially the night.” Cullon spoke through his laughter.

“Ye are horrible! Donna speak o’ such things!” My face flamed and I buried it in the fabric at Ioan’s back. Ioan’s chuckle vibrated against my face and I sighed, thankful to be so close to him.

Cullon left and I released my grip as Ioan turned toward me.

“‘Twas good practice fer when ye tell yer uncle,” Ioan teased but his eyes didn’t sparkle with mischief like usual. It would be difficult to go against your family, as I was about to learn first-hand, whenever we told my uncle.

“We could elope.”

“Aye, donna tempt me, lass. Yer uncle deserves better than that.”

“I know, but ‘tis an interestin’ idea… donna ye think?” I winked at him.

“Aye.” Ioan grinned. He reached forward and played with a lock of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers. I reached up to run my fingers through the deep softness of his own hair but he stepped back, releasing the lock.

“Nay, ye canna start that now, lass, ‘twould be my aunt’s undoin’ ta see me tastin’ yer sweet honey lips. An’ ‘twould be what happens if ye begin teasin’ me so.”

I bit my lower lip and took a step forward. Ioan chuckled and shook his head.

“Ye head off ta yer room and best lock yer door.”

Ioan’s eyes smoldered like luminescent emeralds.

“Ye mean for me ta lock ye out?” I teased.

“Aye, but remember, me wee haggis,” Ioan wagged his eyebrows, took a step forward, and raised a finger to trace my lips, “‘twillna be long ‘til ye’ll be lockin’ the door ta keep me in,” he whispered against my neck and into my ear. My flesh rose in goosebumps and I shivered. Ioan ran his fingers over my arms and abruptly spun me around, pushing me toward the door. “Off with ye now, afore I change me mind…”

Ioan jerked his chin toward the hall, and I grinned at his empty threat. While the passion ran raging through his veins, I didn’t doubt that he’d remain honorable.

When I reached my room, I closed the door. Eyeing the lock, I debated whether to latch it or leave it alone. My fingers traced the wooden grain of the door, and I walked away, leaving it unlocked.