The Handfasting (7 page)

..ooOoo..

Emma fell asleep
in Gavin’s arms.  She was exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day’s
events.  The comfort of Gavin’s arms had lulled her into a reluctant, dream
filled slumber.  His scent calmed her like a soothing blanket.  He still
smelled like Gavin.

Gavin looked down
at the beautiful lass that slept in his arms.  He had been a lucky man indeed
to have claimed such a woman.  He brushed the hair gently back from her face
and noticed how the corner of her mouth tugged up into the faintest smile in
response to his touch.  It was clear that she had loved him very much.

His body betrayed
him as he felt arousal stirring beneath his kilt.  It had been a long time since
Gavin had touched a woman.  He knew this to be certain because of the way that
his body responded to Emma.  Feeling her nestled so innocently atop his manhood
stirred desire deep within him.  He fought to push his desirous thoughts from
his mind, astonished by how his body responded so readily to Emma.  He must
have loved her.  He wondered what it had been like to make love to her and his
cock pulsed eagerly in response.

Gavin gathered
Emma in his arms and stood from the chair.  He walked over and laid her gently
atop the giant four poster bed.  This had been the bed that they had shared. 
He settled a quilt over her sleeping frame and watched her in awe.  How could
this lass have accepted him so readily, memory or no?  How could she vow to
love him despite what had happened?

Gavin shook his
head and walked back towards the fire.  He removed his linen shirt at laid it
over the back of the overstuffed chair.  He made a bed atop the rug in front of
the fire, staring blankly into the dancing flames.

“What in the hell
am I going tae do?” he muttered aloud as he raked a hand through his hair.  He
had a wife!  He racked his brain, again trying to remember something, anything
about this beautiful, intriguing woman.

Sleep overtook him
slowly.  When his body finally relented to the exhaustion of the day’s
overwhelming events, his mind calmed and he succumbed to the solace of sleep. 

  Gavin awoke
suddenly when he realized that he was had been dreaming.  His eyes scanned the
contents of the chamber, glancing over the flagstone floors and the eerily
familiar stones surrounding the fireplace.   He had dreamed of making love to a
woman before this very fire.

..ooOoo..

Emma awoke near midnight, immediately aware that she was not alone in her chamber.

Gavin!
She
thought as she bolted upright in bed.

Her eyes scanned
the room, and she found him, chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber
before the dwindling fire.  Emma slid from the bed and grabbed a quilt, tip
toeing silently across the large room.  She knelt next to Gavin and watched him
sleep, still not believing that he had returned to her.

His thick black
eyelashes rested on his cheek, and his jaw line had a hint of stubble.  Emma
ached to trail her finger over his cheek and feel the delicious scratch of his
new beard against her finger.  Her heart fluttered as she remembered what it
had felt like when he had nuzzled her neck, when he had kissed her between her
thighs with that tickling stubble on his face.  Emma closed her eyes and said a
silent prayer for strength.

Gavin had stripped
off his shirt, and the dim light of the coals in the fire made his skin glow. 
His muscles were sinewy and looked tense even when he slept.  He was so
beautiful to her.  Her fingers ached to touch him, but she forced herself to
hold back.  She wanted to run her fingers over every inch of his flesh just to
assure that he was here before her, whole and real.

Her eyes settled
on the frayed red twine band that encircled Gavin’s ring finger.  Tears welled
in Emma’s eyes as she studied the tattered remnant of their handfasting vows,
the very symbol of remembrance that she had tied to Gavin’s finger seeking to
stake claim to him.  Gavin wore her ring still, and the thin red twine
encouraged Emma to believe that their love could survive.  If this ring
remained through war, separation and near death, surely their love could
survive.

Emma leaned over
her husband and felt his warm breath on her skin.  Shivers ran down her spine
as her body fought responding to him.  She ached for him.  Shaking her head in
protest, Emma gathered in quilt in her hands and settled it over Gavin.

She screamed when
he rose up suddenly, eyes wild as he held a dagger to her throat.  Emma’s heart
thundered frantically in her chest.  The look in Gavin’s eyes scared her.

 “Och, I’m sorry
lass,” he said, ashamed of himself when he realized that it was Emma that
hovered over him in the dark.  He withdrew the dagger from her neck and relaxed
against the floor, chest heaving heavily as the adrenaline cooled in his blood. 
He set the dagger down beside him on the rug and searched her face for acceptance
of his apology.

Emma couldn’t
respond and still knelt above him, frozen in terror.  Her eyes were wide with
fear.  This was not her Gavin.

“I didna mean tae
do that,” he apologized readily.  “It’s just that I’ve had a present need tae
sleep with that by my side and ye startled me,” he confessed, guilt flooding
over him.  He had not known it was her.  He had not intended to scare her. 
Watching her now, frozen in fear broke his heart.  She was trying to cover him
with a blanket while he slept and he had thanked her by nearly slitting her
throat.

“It’s alright,”
Emma lied shakily as she stood, seeking to put distance between them.  “I’ll
just go to bed,” she whispered as she retreated to the warmth of the quilts. 
She buried her face in the pillows and cried her eyes out, embarrassment
washing over her.  She hoped that she could be quiet, hoped that the pillow
would muffle her cries and that he would not know that she was sobbing.

The man sleeping
in front of her fire
was
her husband, but in reality, in the reality of
Emma’s heart he was not.

Gavin gritted his
teeth as he looked into the burning coals of the fire.  He hated hearing a
woman cry.  This woman in particular was his wife!  And she was crying because
of him.  He had acted like a brute and had done nothing but bring her pain
since his return to the keep.  Gavin wondered if it would have been better for
her, better for the entire Mackinnon clan if he had died.

Chapter Six

Gavin’s sword
struck Jaime’s with a resounding blow.  The giant claymores clashed against
each other and Gavin moved his sword up swiftly to block Jaime’s retaliatory
blow.  It was easy to anticipate Jaime’s attacks.  His movements were
predictable and safe.  Sparring with Jamie was no challenge at all and Gavin
suspected that his cousin was holding back.

“I may no remember
who I am, but I sure as hell
do
remember how tae wield a sword.  Is that
all ye’ve got, Jamie?” Gavin challenged.  He was angry that Jaime seemed to be
holding back.  Losing his memory had done nothing to diminish his expertise in
battle.

“I was testing tae
see if ye were ready.  If ye are able,” Jamie confessed, breathing heavily as
he stuck the tip of his claymore into the ground and gave his arm a break from
wielding the heavy weapon.

“I’d caution ye
tae treat me like an invalid.  I’m more than capable,” Gavin warned, insulted
that his Mackinnon clansmen continued to hold him at a safe distance.  He was
stifled by the clan’s smothering concern.  They trod carefully around him,
almost as if they were testing to see if he was really fit to be their Laird. 
He found their doubt insulting and he vowed to work tirelessly in an effort to
prove himself to his own people. He would put a stop to their doubt once and
for all by becoming a Laird worthy of his father’s name.

“Alright,” Jamie
said as he again picked up his claymore.  “As ye wish then.  Nay holding back
this time.”

Without further
warning, Gavin raised his claymore and swung it at Jaime with all of his strength. 
Jaime blocked the blow handily.  The raw power of Gavin’s strike reverberated
through his bones.

“No bad,
Mackinnon,” Jaime said approvingly.  He raised his claymore and clasped its
hilt in both hands.  He swung the deadly weapon at Gavin with enough force to
split him in two if Gavin had not deftly blocked his attack.

“I knew ye were
holding back,” Gavin chuckled approvingly.  Jaime was now an equal match to
spar with.  This was exactly the kind of practice that he would need as Laird. 
He would protect his clan at all costs and for this he needed to be at the
absolute peak of his physical strength.

The men took great
joy in sparring, each appreciating the other’s prowess with a claymore.  They
battled until sweat poured down their bodies, soaking their shirts.  For a few
moments, Gavin forgot about all of his problems.  He was simply Gavin
Mackinnon, an expert swordsman, sparring in the lists with Jamie.  It felt good
to be back.

Jaime clapped
Gavin on the back, clearly approving of his display of skill.  “Thank ye for
that.  I’ve missed havin’ ye here,” Jaime confessed.  Seeing Gavin fight had
given him hope that his cousin would return from the abyss. 

“Aye, that felt
damn good,” Gavin confessed.  “I needed that tae ken that there is still
something that I remember.”

“I’d say that ye
remember all right,” Jaime said, laughing now.  His bones had been rattled to
the core with the strength of Gavin’s blows.

“I’d like tae put
ye in charge of drills,” Gavin said suddenly, surprising Jaime.  He respected
his cousin as an expert swordsman and trusted him to aid with preparing the
Mackinnon warriors for battle.

“I…I’m honored,”
Jaime said.  He had certainly never expected to be placed in such a position of
honor within the clan.

“We need tae make
sure that the clan is prepared.  We lost many of our men at Culloden, and many
before that in the rising.  Some that have returned are no longer fit tae
fight, and we need tae ensure that our young clansmen are prepared tae take the
place of those we have lost.”

“Aye, I agree. 
I’ll put the word out immediately.  We’ll start drilling tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll no have the
clan unprotected.  I plan tae restore our forces to their former strength,
their former glory as quickly as possible.  I’ll no have other clan’s
perceiving us as weak or vulnerable.  I trust that ye’ll serve me well in
this,” Gavin said sternly, nodding at his cousin with approval.

Jaime’s chest
puffed with pride.  He clapped Gavin on the shoulder and sheathed his sword in
his belt.

“I’ll no let ye
down, Laird,” Jaime vowed. 

Jaime knew that
Gavin had never intended to be the Laird of the clan Mackinnon.  Being the
third of three sons, he had been carefully trained in the art of war.  No one
had ever suspected that Gavin would be the Mackinnon son that would succeed the
Lairdship.  Jaime thought that Gavin was shaping up to be a fine Laird, and he
knew that Gavin’s father would have been very proud of him indeed.

..ooOoo..

Emma watched Gavin
and Jaime spar from a secluded vantage point above the field below the keep
where the men went to practice sword fighting.  She had planned to bring Gavin
some ale and a sandwich, knowing that he had been so busy taking on the duties
of his new Lairdship that he often forgot to eat.  She worried about him.  The
stress that he had been placed under was wearing on him.  Gavin had been given
no reprieve upon his return.  The clan had thrust him directly into the role of
Laird Mackinnon and Gavin had entered his birthright as somewhat of a trial by
fire.  Emma smiled to herself.  She was so proud of her husband.  Her pride was
bolstered because even those who had initially doubted the new Laird were
beginning to admit that he was an excellent leader.

She clutched the
basket in her hands, her knuckles turning white as she gripped its handle in
horror.  Jaime was going to kill Gavin!  At first their swordplay had been
mild, controlled.  After a brief conversation, they resumed sparring with
renewed fervor.  Jaime held nothing back now and Emma’s heart raced as she
wondered if Gavin would be able to defend himself.  Jaime and Gavin were the
clan’s best swordsmen.  They had fed off each other in their teenage years,
each spending hours drilling with the sole intent of becoming a superior
swordsman to the other.

Emma’s heart
thundered in her chest and her hands held onto the basket for dear life.  She
forced herself to remain hidden.  She knew that she could not run around trying
to save Gavin from every danger.  Her eyes bulged as she watched Jaime deal
Gavin a heavy blow.  Gavin blocked Jaime’s attack easily, and Emma was able to
release the breath that she had been holding.

He was fine. 

She felt a smile
spread over her face as she watched her husband spar with Jaime.  They were
equally matched, just as they had always been.

Thank you,
Lord!
  She said a silent prayer.  At least this had not been taken from
Gavin.  He had always prided himself in being an expert swordsman and at the
very least, he still had this.

 How was it that
he could remember this?  How could he remember how to wield a weapon so
expertly when he could not remember his own wife? Emma scolded herself as soon
as the thought entered her mind and quickly pushed it away. 

Emma sighed and
loosened her grip on the basket.  She made her way down the hill towards the
warriors, watching as they ended their drill and spoke to each other next to
the large oak tree.  Jaime clapped Gavin on the back and then packed up his
things before heading back towards the keep.

Emma’s heart began
to beat faster.  This meant that she would be alone with her husband.