Summer Of Love Part 19

"- and the long talks we had about books."

"- and how we lay in the gra.s.s?"

"- and how you told me about your work?"

"- and we kissed,"

"- and never wanted to stop."

"Yes, I remember our summer." His face had become serious again. "It sustained me for almost four years."

"I felt like the world had come to an end when mother told me you were my half-brother."

"So did I, and then I cursed her... I still feel ashamed about it. She did what she thought she must do."

"You're kinder to her than she deserves. She betrayed me. She sent me into the s.h.i.+elings, knowing that I would try to find you, and then had Robert follow me... I can't forgive her for this."

They rode in silence for a while. Andrew picked up their conversation again: "Yet, I still admire her. Don't judge her too harshly, Helen. She didn't have an easy life. All she wanted was to protect her family. And I'm not her family, even if she thinks that she gave birth to me."

"Oh Andrew! How can you be so forgiving?"

"She was used by my father, like my own mother when she was sent there to learn to become a lady, and the little I know of my father's family tells me that they didn't make it easy for her once she was pregnant."

"No, they didn't. She told me that she wasn't given a choice; that shortly after giving birth, she was sent back to her parents, without her child."

"That's what aunt Lorna said."

"Who is she? You have an aunt?"

"No, I just called her that when I was a boy. She used to look after me. She is the one who told me who my mother was."

"Did you have any other siblings?"

"Not that I know of. I think after getting two girls pregnant, Lord Archibald was sent to England for several years. I remember seeing him for the first time when I was about five years old... Helen, please marry me! We will find another minister."

"Let's not rush it."

He searched her eyes and simply said: "I love you."

By late afternoon they got to the upper reaches of Endrick Waters, a river emptying into the southern sh.o.r.es of Loch Lomond. Hidden in a small coppice along the river, they rested and ate the remaining sausage, a slice of cheese, and bread. The clear stream meandering through bushes and stunted trees invited them to bathe. They both felt rather dirty and sweaty. Not just the healthy sweat of exertion, but the bitter, pungent sweat of fright and anxiety. They quickly shed their clothes and dipped into a dark pool of clear water, soaping themselves, their hair, and each other with Andrew's soap.

After changing into their riding gear, he retrieved the two wedding bands he had bought and offered her the smaller one without a word. She took it hesitantly, studied it, and then slipped it on the ring finger of her left hand. Holding up the hand in front of her, she looked at it and smiled bashfully. He put on his and kissed her cheek.

They were soon on their way west again, now keeping close to the ridges of the Campsie Fells, south of Endrick Waters, rather than to the more populated valley floor. They started looking out for a secluded glen to spend the night, where their horses could graze without risking discovery. Below the Corrie of Balgla.s.s, they saw a short valley, enclosed on three sides by steep crags, its entrance blocked by a dense copse of trees and bushes. Leading the horses on foot up the stony creek through the trees, they found a small meadow at its far end, offering succulent gra.s.ses for their horses.

They laughed with joy and spontaneously embraced. After releasing the horses, they lay on Andrew's riding coat, their first occasion for talking leisurely. Helen wanted to know everything of his travels. Dusk was settling into the glen when their stomachs a.s.serted themselves again, and they ate more cheese and bread. When darkness had swallowed the glen, they wrapped themselves in his coat, snuggling tightly up to each other, listening to the sounds of the night, until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

13.

Midmorning on the next day, they saw in the far distance the church tower of Killearn, surrounded by a few whitewash houses and cottages. Andrew turned south, and they soon joined the road to Glasgow. Their pace picked up, and they again watched out for a group of four riders. Periodically they cantered, letting their horses recover their strength in between. By late afternoon, the faint outlines of St. Mungo's Cathedral heralded their approach to Glasgow.

They put up at the Hotel of the Good Shepherd, the first inn they came across into Glasgow, just below St. Mungo's Cathedral at the intersection of Rottenrow Street with the top of High Street. This time, they were not met with suspicious glances. Helen's neat, fas.h.i.+onable outfit, their expensive looking horses, particularly the black stallion, and Andrew's impeccable English accent, cultivated for the occasion, were thoroughly convincing.

After a leisurely evening meal, crowned by an excellent bottle of French wine, Andrew suggested with a telling smile that they retire to their bedroom. Helen immediately knew what was on his mind, and what she wanted too. Once the door was securely locked, they smiled at each other, and without a word each began to undress the other teasingly, giggling, kissing, and cuddling.

"Oh, Helen, you're so lovely," he whispered, holding her away from him, his hands on her hips, admiring her sensuous womanly curves. He bent forward and kissed her left nipple. She lifted her right breast for him to kiss also, giggling as he did. Their eyes met, full of antic.i.p.ation. She put her arms around his neck, and their bodies came together, skin on skin. He felt her soft, warm b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest. She clasped his hot manhood inside her thighs. They kissed, their tongues playfully teasing each other.

"It's the first time we make love in a bed, Helen," he whispered.

She simply smiled and continued kissing him peckishly. "Andrew, don't make me with child yet. Not as long as we aren't married and still on the run."

Lying on the bed in blissful contentment, tenderly stroking each other, she said: "Andrew, do you believe me that I never lay with Robert. He was lying."

He kissed her nose. "Yes, Helen, I do."

"You're the only man I've ever been with," she whispered, and then she added, accusingly: "But you've been with other women, I know."

"How do you know?" he replied, smiling.

"Because you're so much more skillful. You do things that you didn't do the first time we made love up on the lochan. Sometimes I can hardly stand it."

"Maybe I just invented them, dreaming of making love to you these past four years." There was a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

"Maybe you did dream of making love to me, but you also were with other women... You can't fool me!"

He nibbled on her left earlobe. "Yes, I was with a few women," he whispered huskily into her ear.

"Many! ... How many?"

"I don't know. I didn't keep track."

She pulled away from him. "That many?" Her voice had a.s.sumed a bellicose quality. "I thought you loved me! And the moment you left me, you went to other women?"

"Love, none of them compared to you."

"How can I believe you really loved me when you forgot me so quickly?"

"I couldn't forget you, nor did I love any of them. Initially, I tried to forget you, ... and then it dawned on me that I tried to find you in them. But I never did... I guess this is why I had to come back... I only love you."

She was still sulking. He pulled her back in top of him. She tried to avoid his kiss.

"Helen, I never stopped loving you. Do you believe me?"

She nodded, putting her head on his chest. He stroked her back.

"Come, give me a kiss, love."

She raised her head and offered him her lips.

"Don't you ever dare even looking at another woman again!"

"Looking, yes. But no more."

"You promise?"

"Yes, my love. I promise," he murmured with a smile. "I didn't know you were jealous."

"I am ...with you. I wouldn't have cared a hoot if Robert had been unfaithful, but I want you all to myself."

"Oh Helen. I'm glad that you're jealous." He nuzzled her. "I only want you. I've no desire for other women. I never wanted another woman... You believe me?"

"Yes, but you did go with other women."

"You forgive me?"

"Yes, but-"

He turned her briskly on her back, and his kiss smothered whatever she wanted to add. "Let's do it again, love," he murmured with a wistful smile, as his right index drew ever tighter circles around the nipple of her right breast with a featherlike touch.

Sat.u.r.day morning they dressed in their best, Helen in her dark blue gown, Andrew in the clothing that the maid had cleaned and ironed overnight. The intention was to find a minister of the church who would be willing to marry them. Rather than go to the cathedral, they searched for one of the smaller churches on High Street closer to the center of town. After ascertaining that they were both above the age of consent and accepting their reasons for getting wed without the presence of any family members, the minister agreed to perform the ceremony. He instructed them to be in the church in half an hour's time with two witnesses.

After leaving the minister's sanctuary, Andrew whispered: "Helen, I'll go to find two witnesses. Will you wait inside the church? Maybe two of the men we saw working outside will agree to do it."

"Don't be long, Andrew."

"I won't, love," and he hurried away.

But rather than simply search for the workmen, he quickly ran down High Street to Trongate where he asked a flower girl to prepare a small bouquet, as he had seen brides carry at weddings while traveling in France. He waited impatiently, watching her select the flowers and tie them with a small white lace ribbon. Then he rushed back, offered two workmen sixpence each to serve as witnesses, and joined Helen in the church. All this took longer than he had intended, and he found her sitting anxiously near the entrance. With the light behind him, she saw only his silhouette in dark outlines as he entered. She rushed up to him and whispered reproachfully: "Where have you been so long? I got all worried!"

Then she saw the bouquet of delicate lilies of the valley that he held out to her, and she broke into tears. "Oh Andrew, I'm sorry... How sweet, ... how thoughtful of you."

"You like them?"

She took them and nodded, smelling their sweet fragrance, smiling through tears. He dried her cheeks with his handkerchief. She took it and blew her nose, laughing softly, embarra.s.sed, relieved that he was back. They sat, holding hands, while they waited for the minister to call them to the altar.

This time the ceremony went off quietly and without a hitch, and afterward the two newlyweds walked arm-in-arm out of the church, Helen with a mixture of elation and vague doubts about what they had just done. This was final. No going back. She had cut all ties with her own family.

Rather than return directly to The Good Shepherd, Andrew suggested that they celebrate by eating in a tavern. They wandered down High Street, strolled around Trongate and down Saltmarket Street, admiring the impressive stately houses of the merchants. A vague memory surfaced about the first time she had met Andrew at the Killin market. How she had then fleetingly toyed with the thought that marrying a man like him would offer her all the worldly comforts of living in a big house. These mansions here were even bigger and more beautiful than the ones of her dreams. And she had fallen in love with Andrew without ever thinking of such comforts. Will I ever live in such a house? she wondered, but she didn't really care.

At the top of Bridgegate Street they saw a tavern with a big sign outside. The delicious smells wafting from its door invited them to dine inside. They toasted each other over a bottle of champagne, followed by a scrumptious dinner of smoked salmon and grouse. After the meal, Andrew retrieved several coins from his little purse, slipped them into a pocket of his coat, and pa.s.sed the purse to Helen: "You keep this."

She looked at him questioningly. "Why?"

"In case we ever get separated temporarily... I'll try to get more cash tomorrow from Jarvis and Sons, the local correspondents of my bankers in London. By the way, there's a piece of paper in the purse with their name and London address, should you ever need it and I can't help you."

With an uncertain expression on her face, she hid the purse in the pocket of her skirt. "You frighten me with such talk. I wouldn't know how to contact them in the first place."

"Look, Helen, it's just a precaution. We never know, and now that we're married, anything I own is also yours. Any reputable merchant house will be able to help you, but I'm sure you'll manage if you ever need to. I've close to one thousand English pounds with these bankers. If anything happens to me, you should not want."

"Andrew, don't talk like this, not on our wedding day. I don't want your money, I want you."

"It's better to plan and be prepared, hoping the worst will never happen... Come, let's drink to a happy, long life together!"

It was early afternoon before they found their way back to The Good Shepherd. As they entered the small reception hall, the innkeeper came rus.h.i.+ng to Andrew, grabbed him by the coat, and lamented: "What have you done? A constable has come to my reputable establishment looking for you. This has never happened. You have cast shame on me and my house."

Andrew pulled the man's hands from the lapels of his coat and exclaimed with his impeccable English accent: "I have done nothing, my good man. Show me to the constable. I am sure this must be a misunderstanding that we can clear up quickly."

Although his voice sounded calm, underneath this veneer his mind was racing wildly. What could be the cause? Dougal MacGregor and his little band could hardly have caught up with them already, and even if they had, it was too late-Helen and he were married, nor would Dougal summon the law to apprehend him. He was convinced that Mary MacGregor hadn't told anybody else that she believed he was her son. It would have stripped her of all her dignity and pride. His days as a brandy smuggler were well in the past and no law enforcement officer had ever seen him anyway. So what could it be? He looked at Helen. Her rosy cheeks had turned ashen white. She held on to his arm, and he felt her hand tremble.

He had to repeat his request before the innkeeper finally recovered his wits and showed him into the parlor. Helen stayed at the door. The constable rose immediately when he saw them enter.

"Good afternoon, sir. I am Constable Fraser. Are you the owner of the black stallion in the stable?"

"Good afternoon, constable. Yes, I am. May I ask about the purpose of your inquiry?"

"This animal has been reported lifted in a daring daylight robbery from the property of Sir Hugh Stafford some weeks past."

"Oh? ... I purchased this stallion for twenty guineas from James Drummond of Balquhidder three days ago."

"Do you have any papers to certify that, sir?"

For a moment Andrew looked at him dumbfounded and then answered: "No, I have not. We shook hands to seal the deal." It had never occurred to him to ask for a receipt. He recalled Helen's warning that the horse might have been stolen, either by the Drummonds or another MacGregor. Why had he been so dumb and not suspected anything when he bought it. It should have been so obvious to him that a Highlander would hardly care to own such a striking and expensive horse when cheaper alternatives could equally well transport him where he needed to go. Why hadn't he smelled a rat when James had been willing to let that exceptional animal go for such a paltry price?

Like through a thick fog, he heard the constable repeat: "Sir, I have to ask you to accompany me to the magistrate in the tolbooth." He noticed that the constable used the word 'magistrate', rather the local term 'bailie', expecting him to be English from the accent he had carefully maintained.

"Yes, certainly. I would though just like to have a few words with my wife, constable."

The constable followed him closely. Only when Andrew turned and looked at him sternly did he keep some distance, so Andrew could talk to her in privacy.

"You heard what he said?" he asked in a low voice. "What a fool I was! You were so right. I should not have bought that horse."

"Oh Andrew, will they now put you in prison?" There was panic in her voice.

"I hope not, ... but if I don't come back by tonight, find a solicitor tomorrow to look after my interests."