Highland Portrait (33 page)

“Och, Ferghus!  Leave off, ye mindless dog!”  Robbie did not want to disturb the lasses, no matter how much he longed to see Stella again, but was struck dumb to see the door open just marginally, Ferghus enter and the door slammed shut behind him.  Robbie stood staring at the croft, his mouth open, wanting to choke his dog.

Chapter Seventeen

Robbie drank the morning’s goat milk from the bucket, wiping his face with his fist and handed the bucket to Albert, who having slept fitfully in the small barn, was still feeling groggy and tired.  Merry and Stella had not summoned them at all through the night and Albert was content to sleep in the barn, wrapped in a plaid.  Robbie, was not content, having committed no offense, but still made to pay for it by the absence and inattention of his beloved, and the indignity of curling up next to goats for the night.  Having spent two glorious nights with Stella he was not happy about her dismissal of him, with not even a wave from the window.  He understood that she needed to be with her mother, and he would allow her that time as long as she came out to see him shortly, or he was going to storm the croft, regardless of Albert’s cautions.

“It is time, Rob.  I need to man-up and go see my daughter.”  Albert drank from the milk bucket and setting it down headed to the stream for his morning ablutions.  Robbie watched him walk away.

“I like that, Albert, ‘tis good.  Man-up.  Aye, ‘tis time to man-up and meet yer daughter’s wrath.”  He smiled, glad that Stella’s formidable anger would be turned toward Albert and not himself.  He followed Albert to the stream and wished that he could shave for Stella.

Leaving the stream the pair walked to the croft and Albert, after taking a deep breath, knocked on the door.  Ferghus barked and Robbie had a moment’s jealousy of the animal, although he had vowed he would not, even though Ferghus was apparently more privileged than himself.

Merry answered the door smiling. “Albert, dear, I was wondering when ye would be coming to see us.  Robbie MacDougall, I am so glad to meet ye again and to know that my daughter has finally done right by ye.”  Robbie wasn’t really sure what she meant by that but he didn’t care, he was just glad to be close to Stella again.  He spied Stella at the fireplace, stirring a pot, looking over her shoulder.  She smiled when she saw him, but turned her gaze to her father and instantly her smile left, leaving a serious frown on her face.  She set the spoon down and came forward.  Albert and Robbie, neither having moved into the croft, stood at the door and awaited Stella.  Merry moved out of the way and allowed Stella the door.

She stood tall and straight never taking her eyes off her father.  Her eyes and her demeanor were calm, but her chin firm, her mouth a grim line.  She nodded in greeting at Robbie.

“Stella, I have…,” Robbie began.

Stella immediately held up her hand, palm up, in that universal symbol of silence, briefly glancing at Robbie, and then returning her gaze to Albert.  Robbie may have been impatient to have his beloved back but he was no fool and would allow her the battle.

Stella took a deep breath and said to her father, her eyes heavy with unshed tears

“Albert, I have had time to consider your grave error and the hurt you have done me…”

“Stella, princess…”

“Do not interrupt me, Daddy, I’m not finished.”  Albert abruptly closed his mouth and felt his stomach twist.  He looked into his daughter’s eyes and saw the love she had for him there

“And in that time as I considered all that has transpired these last twenty or so years I have also considered what you gave me. Although it has been a privilege and gift of inestimable value it has been purchased at a great price.” She swallowed hard and tears, tremulous and shy breached the barricade of her haughtiness and slid with thanksgiving down her cheeks.  She loved her father.  She always had, she always would.

“So, I forgive you, Daddy, but I am still angry and we will have a conversation about this in the very near future.  But for now I am content to be in the company of both my parents and I think you for returning my mother to me.  I love you, Daddy.”  Stella opened her arms and allowed her father access to her heart once more.  Albert held her tight and whispered into her ear.  She nodded and moved from the door allowing both of them in.  As Robbie came through she smiled and took his hand.

“Good morning, my love, I’m so glad to see you.”  She smiled at him as he brushed her tears away.

“Och, Stella, it has been a hard night w’out ye, lass.  I pray we dunna have too many nights like this.” He grabbed her tightly around the waist and lifted her kissing her soundly.  Stella turned to see her parents in an embrace and as she watched them crying and consoling one another she thought that surely there was not a more wonderful site than two parents, in love, united and holding each other close.  Her heart opened and her anger at Albert, still formidable, loosened just a bit.

“Stella, let us walk and give them a moment’s privacy.”  Robbie pulled her out of the croft, quickly followed by Ferghus, and shut the door.  Bending down he reached behind her legs and swung her up carrying her to the stump in the front of the croft.  He sat down and set her on his lap, holding her close.  Stella heaved a sigh, wrapped her arms around Robbie’s neck and leaned in close.

“Ye have had a time of it, my love?” he asked gently, rubbing  her back.

Stella laughed quietly, “Aye, ye have the right of it, Robbie.”  She buried her nose in his neck wanting to find comfort there.  Sitting outside her mother’s croft everything felt different this morning.  The wind alternated between brisk coolness and smooth warmth, like the seasons had somehow forgotten their order, as if they were confused.  The air smelled one moment of salt, the next of pine, and then of grass.  She thought she heard an ocean in the distance but could not distinguish it from the wind. Perhaps her confusion came from the knowledge that her life had been altered in so many ways in such a short period of time.  Gone was the Stella of a week ago, hustling after commissions, drinking boxed wine, wearing tight jeans and dancing the two-step at honky-tonks.  Here, sitting on the lap of her beloved was a woman newly borne, with two parents instead of one, and a citizen of a time and place not her own.

“Where did ye come by this, lass?” Robbie was looking jealously at her bracelet.  “Who gave ye this?”  he scowled and wanted to hunt down and maim whoever had the temerity to give his betrothed a gift.  He was especially angry because he had not thought of giving her a gift first.  In fact, he felt like a complete and utter fool.

“Elinor and the MacDougall,” she said eyes opening wide, gracefully reaching her hand out to show off the bauble. “they liked the drawing I did and gave me this.  Isn’t it stunning?  I love it, Robbie, I’ve never had such a fine piece of jewelry.”

Robbie could only arch his eyebrows at the piece and he thought about what a dunce he was.  His mother’s jewelry was hid away in his own chambers and he had not thought about giving it to Stella and now his aunt and uncle had given her a piece that set her eyes on fire.  He was glad it was them and not any other, but he was still cross with himself for not being the first to gift her with jewels, but he would remedy that when they returned to the castle.

Robbie could still detect the subtleness of what remained of lilacs in her hair and it burned into his memory like a brand hot and white and unforgettable and added fuel to the fire that already burned in his chest.  A look of deepest seriousness replaced the excited smile on her lips and her eyes opened wider as if to see deeper into his soul, and slowly but deliberately she raised her hands to his face.  Never taking her eyes from his, she stroked the outline of his chin and then his cheeks letting the finger tips rest like feathers on his lips.  It was a message. A word. A volume.  Written in a language he could understand without sound and without explanation.

It wasn't her touch or the love he held for her that caused his knees to weaken and his feet to shuffle and change position ever so slightly.  Rather it was the invitation that she extended so earnestly that caused him to feel light-headed.  He moved his own hands to hers and held them softly against his lips.  Closing his eyes, he breathed in the fragrance of her hands and pursed his lips against her finger tips and kissed them lightly, drinking in their taste.  He opened her hands and kissed each palm, slowly and deliberately pausing carefully as his mind cataloged each new sensations.  She could see and feel and sense the emotion in his eyes and the gentle tremor in his hands told the story of the blaze that was consuming both of their hearts and she smiled gently in response and closed her eyes again, sighing softly.

He placed her hands on his chest, holding them there with his own hands and drew her closer.  He could feel the warmth and strength and solidness of her womanhood against him.  It seemed as if she had been made for him, and he for her, as their bodies pressed gently against each other and all at once, two pieces of a puzzle were joined and mated perfectly.  He felt her head nestle tightly against his neck and for the moment, was satisfied with the closeness and tenderness of the warmth she brought that seemed to encompass his soul...and he closed his eyes and dreamt of things only his heart could imagine.  And then she raised her face to his, moved her hands to his neck and gently but insistently urged his lips to her own.

Robbie’s arms slid along her thigh and reached around to her buttocks, pulling them closer still. “Stella, Stella, my love,” Robbie’s breathing was quick and ragged.

She opened her eyes to his voice.  She had been trapped in the closeness of Robbie and had not thought about where they were.  She pressed him back.

“Robbie, we’ll most likely be disturbed by my father when he comes out. Come, you must be hungry, Mama and I have made a good breakfast, let’s go in.” she reluctantly moved off his lap letting her hand slide over his stiffness.  He caught her hand and pressed it harder against his desire, and groaned, his eyes closed.  Stella smiled.

Robbie groaned, “Aye, Stella, I am hungry, but not for food.”

“Perhaps we can find a pleasant place by the stream after breakfast.  We could…uh…talk about things,” her soft chuckle opened his eyes and he grabbed her neck, bringing her to his lips and kissed her hard.

“Aye, lass, we will ‘talk’.”  Robbie stood up and took a deep breath, allowing his blood to climb back into his brain where it belonged so he could be fit company for Albert and Merry.  He followed Stella back to the croft watching her bottom sway with an undulating movement that ensorcelled him.  She may not be of the fae, but she was magic.

Stella was looking at the stone pathway that he and Albert had built.

“Robbie, look at this sidewalk.  It’s amazing.  Can you see how the stones, all fit together almost perfectly.  I wonder who did this?”  One of her great attractions was her use of words.  He did not know ‘sidewalk’, but guessed that it meant path.  He would be ever grateful to her, and to Albert, for words.  They were the coins of their realm and they spent them lavishly and generously. He chuckled.

“Aye, it is a right good ‘sidewalk’.  Looks like fae work to me.  Yes, ‘tis the work o’ the faeries.” 

Stella looked closely at the stones and merely nodded in agreement. “Well, considering what I’ve been through I’m totally inclined to believe just about anything today.”
 

“I need to be back in Oban on the morrow, Albert,” Robbie filled his bowl once more with porridge and honey, tearing a large piece of Merry’s barley bread and dipping it into the honey, and ate heartily.  Stella thought that were he not a warrior, a man inclined to movement and action, he would become quite a pudge, but she knew that often he would go for extended periods of time without a lot of calories so his excesses were quickly absorbed and burnt up. “It would please me that ye and Merry accompany us.”

Albert looked up from his own bowl and raised his eyebrows at Merry.  “What do you think, Merry, would a trip to Oban suit you?”

Merry smiled and kissed Albert on the cheek, “Aye, Albert, I would like that verra much.”  Stella had busied herself cleaning and putting away the dishes and had been amused to find odd bits of the 21
st
century lying about among Merry’s belongings.  She had a jar of peanut butter hidden in a wooden box along with a wire whisk, spatula, a fork and a bottle of olive oil.   Albert had obviously taken care of her, brining her little niceties without putting her at too much risk at being labeled a witch.  Albert pointed his spoon at Robbie. “I’ve promised Merry that I would clean out her well today, she believes something may have fallen in there.  I could use your help, lad.  Shouldn’t take too long, I think.  Then I’d like to make some repairs around the croft for her.”

Robbie looked at Stella quickly and knew that their afternoon tryst would now be an evening tryst, but he could not deny Albert or Merry his labor.

“Aye, Albert, we will fix Merry’s well,” he said and was glad that he could serve the mother of his betrothed.

Albert and Robbie worked well into the late afternoon at their tasks while Stella and Merry continued their mutual discovery of each other with the comfortable intimacy of working side by side to clean what Stella thought was an already immaculate house.   Stella gave Merry her last granola bar and her emergency first aid supplies, bandaids, gauze and some bacterial ointment.  Merry seemed quite comfortable with these items, and not at all surprised at them.  Albert had been generous with her, within reasonable cultural limitations because he feared for her safety, and she had grown accustomed to items that others might have been branded as magical. She particularly like hand lotion and she showed Stella her small pot of white cream.  Albert had insisted on taking the container back with him, and Merry had stored her precious lotion is a small crockery pot.