Chapter Eighteen
A fortnight passed quickly. Both Sabine and Connor agreed that Gretna Green was neither right, nor for them. A return journey to England was imminent, but not before Connor’s need to prove himself.
“As a son of a Scottish Laird, ye will need to prove yourself before you be allowed to marry any lass, let alone Lady Sabine,” Mungo had said.
Sabine wasn’t frightened by the burly Scot, she was intrigued by his customs and way of running things. He commanded respect through wise leadership … and heavily enforced laws. During their stay, Sabine had told her future in – laws about who she was, and who her father was. They were surprised, and happy that they had made the decision to marry honourable and not run to Gretna Green as if they were ashamed. Sabine could tell Connor was thinking of Merida in that moment.
Connor and Mungo were making slow progress. Each day their conversations lasted a little longer. She could tell Mungo was still put out that Connor had not reclaimed his title, but she was glad he had stuck to his word. Connor didn’t want this life. He wanted a paddock full of stallions to train, and she wanted that too.
“He needn’t do anything to prove himself,” Sabine had assured him.
“Aye, but it is necessary. He won’ be worthy of any woman unless he proves it. We will hold another Games. Your brothers will compete, bar Fergus of course. The winner will marry Lady Sabine. No exceptions.”
Had Sabine really wished for Connor to compete in the Highland Games for her? The sudden thought of him losing washed over her and she entertained the thoughts of being married to one of his younger brothers. They were nice, young men, but there was only one Connor.
The impromptu Gamers was organised quickly. Servants re – constructed the field and oodles of food and ale were carted around ready for the feast afterwards. She noticed that the women of the castle didn’t wear such fine gowns every day, they wore simpler garments. It was tradition, however, to wear their finest dresses for the Games to increase their desirability to the competitors.
“It encourages them to perform well,” Deirdre had explained. “Especially the fiancé.”
She had been given a red velvet gown to wear. It felt so expensive in her hands as she brushed her hands over her hips. The material cascaded down in folds from her waist and followed her as she walked with a long train. The edges were lines with gold thread and a rope – like sash was tied around her waist with golden tassels at the ends.
Sabine had removed her lace handkerchief that she always carried in her sleeve and had given it to Connor as a good luck charm. In its folds was a small lock of her hair. The look on his face when he’d seen it was incredible, he looked as though it were the best gift he’d ever received.
“That’s pretty,” Heather commented, pointing to her necklace, the carved horse that Connor had made for her. Her relationship with Heather was difficult. They were friends in a way, but she was still hurt by the fact that Connor had moved on when she thought they were to marry. Sabine was very careful around Heather. She enjoyed having Greta with them as a mediator, however she was off for many hours of the day with Fergus. Sabine hoped that their wedding was soon as the future Laird could well have been conceived.
Sadly, Greta was not there to mediate as Heather helped her dress. “Thank you,” she smiled. “It was a present.”
“Connor always was talented when it came to carving,” she replied, helping her smooth out the creases in her skirt.
Sabine felt guilty immediately. She knew she shouldn’t be, but she couldn’t help it. Her comment made her wonder if Connor had ever made a charm for Heather, or if hers was truly unique. “He is,” she said uncomfortably. Heather’s lips pursed as she surveyed Sabine. Sabine took a quick breath and decided to confront Heather. She shouldn’t have to feel guilty about being happy. It was a happy day. Her fiancé was about to compete in a traditional Scottish tourney for her. She never imagined anyone would choose her, she’d always been labelled the ‘boring’ girl and she’d never had any friends. She would not feel guilty about being happy. “Heather, are we ever going to be able to be in the same room and it not be awkward?”
Heather’s dark eyes shot to hers. She began twisting one of her brown ringlets around her little finger. “I apologise if I’m making ye feel uncomfortable,” she sighed. “Ye are really nice, an’ I’m no’, I know. I … I don’ know why he picked ye and no’ me. Ye are pretty, I know, but I’m as, if no’ more than ye. An’ ye are English. He was raised in a Scottish home, he should marry a Scottish lass …”
“As much as I admire your modesty,” Sabine smiled through her slight offense. “I won’t apologise for falling in love with Connor, and he won’t apologise for falling in love with me. We fit. We can make a life together. Perhaps I’m not as attractive as you, or as Scottish – maybe he loves me in spite of that. Now, this is my day. Greta had her day, and now it is my turn. One day it will be your day but it is not today.” Handling her necklace, she cradled the little horse between her fingertips. “He made this for me, yes, and I love it. Now, I’m going to go downstairs and enjoy the festivities with a smile on my face.”
Leaving Heather stunned, Sabine gathered up her skirts and hurried out of the chamber Mungo had provided her with for the duration of her stay. She was in the guest wing, several dozen corridors from Connor. If she tried to find him, not that she would in fear her own mama would have a heart palpitation, she would surely walk for miles and still be lost.
When she arrived downstairs, she realised that she was too early. The Games were not to start for an hour so she had time to spare. She decided to make her way down to Mr Alexander’s blacksmith shop where Puissant was being boarded. She rode her as often as possible, but on days that she couldn’t, Mr Alexander promised to exercise her. He, too, believed her to be a magnificent animal.
Sabine was somewhat of a celebrity in the village. The unexpected return of ‘Sir Connor’ was an exciting turn of events, and Sabine, being his fiancée, gave her elevated status among the people. It was not something she enjoyed, per se, as she didn’t want preferential treatment, but she liked getting to know the villagers.
She waved and smiled as she walked into the village. There was energy in the air as everyone prepared to close their shops and businesses for the Highland Games. Mr Alexander wasn’t there when she arrived at his blacksmith shop. She was pleased. He was the only person she didn’t enjoy conversing with, mainly because he looked at her as if she were a piece of meat.
Sabine smiled as she saw Puissant’s head perk up as she saw her enter. She tried to keep the hem of the heavy skirt off the ground but it was impossible. If it got a little dirty, then she couldn’t help it. Entering the stall, she ran her hands down Puissant’s neck. Puissant matched her breathing to Sabine’s strokes as she relaxed.
“Who’s a beautiful girl?” Sabine whispered in her ear.
Puissant nuzzled Sabine’s neck affectionately.
“I love you, too,” she replied, giggling. “We’re going home soon, so you won’t have to be cooped up in here for too much longer. I’ll let you really stretch your legs and you can show me how fast you can run.” Taking a brush off the shelf in the stall, Sabine began running it through her mane, untangling any knots that had taken up residence.
As she brushed, she hummed, and marvelled at how relaxing spending time with her horse was.
She lost track of time quickly as the sound of the bagpipes filled the air so suddenly. The procession of musicians made their way up the street as the beckoned the villagers up to the castle to come and watch. Sabine quickly kissed Puissant’s forehead and raced out of the stall.
In a very unladylike manner, she ran up to the castle, past the many walking townsfolk who stared at her openly as she kicked up her heels.
She was out of breath by the time she came to the field, but that didn’t stop her focussing on the several men in the centre of the field. Five in total, all wearing their McKenzie tartan kilts showing off the white skin of their legs. Connor stood comfortably with his brothers as he smiled and took in the atmosphere. He looked to be in his element. His white shirt was unbuttoned, nearly down to his naval as it almost always was, and it was tucked into his kilt. His golden curls made him look even more handsome as his familiar crooked smile crinkled his face.
Sabine quickly made her way around the field to where the ladies were seated. Both Greta and Heather were sitting in the seats that she and Heather had occupied the last time. Deirdre was sitting in a throne – like chair leaving a similar chair vacant beside her.
“Lady Sabine, the bride always sits beside the lady of the clan,” Deirdre said, smiling, motioning for Sabine to join her.
Not meeting Heather’s eyes as she walked, Sabine took her seat beside Deirdre and settled down to watch.
Mungo and Fergus both stood to the side of the competitors as they riled up the spectators who had all filled in the bench seats on the opposite side of the field.
“Let the Games begin!” Mungo bellowed.
The men stood beside the long poles belonging to the caber toss event. She remembered the rules exactly, and felt sick to her stomach as she recalled the weight of them. What if Connor wasn’t even able to lift it, let alone throw it?
Connor’s eyes found Sabine and he winked at her. She felt a little more relaxed at the casual gesture but the butterflies still refused to leave her stomach.
“Relax, child,” Deirdre whispered as Connor began to prepare to lift the caber.
The muscles in his arms rolled as he concentrated. Every move seemed calculated as he lifted the caber off of the ground. The weight of it was etched onto his face as it balanced against his shoulder.
She found herself holding her breath as he began to do a short run up as he released it into the air. Her fingernails cut into her palms as she watched the wooden pole somersault in the air before it landed several feet from him.
The crowd erupted in cheer as Sabine realised that it was a perfect toss. He pumped his fist into the air and grinned devilishly at Munro as he came to do the caber toss next.
Connor continued to excel in the events as his brother plundered. Sabine knew it was on purpose, but not even Fergus in his Games was as good as Connor. He threw the furthest in the stone put and the hammer through. The speed and distance he put on the weight as he threw it over the bar was almost ridiculous and he had Ian standing in the Maide Leisg in under a minute.
The Maide Leisg, she’d decided, was her favourite event. Connor sat opposite each of his brothers with the soles of their feet touching. They would each hold the end of a stick and pull until one of them is elevated from the ground. In that particular event, she could tell that each man tried their very hardest. Their faces were red like beetroots when Connor pulled them to their feet.
Connor was declared victor at the end of it much to Sabine’s delight and relief. It was time, as Deirdre put, to claim her prize. She was helped over the barrier of the seating area and planted her feet firmly on the grassy ground. Grabbing a fistful of red velvet in each hand, Sabine began to run toward Connor as quickly as she could.
Connor closed the gap in seconds as he arms snaked their way around her waist and lifted her easily off of the ground. Spinning her in a circle, he laughed. “Ye are much easier to lift then any one of those.” Placing her back down on the ground, he pressed his lips to hers and smiled against her as the crowd, and his family all clapped and cheered for them.
Leaving her lips, they trailed to her ear where he whispered “O my Luve’s like a red, red rose, that’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve’s like the melodie, that’s sweetly play’d in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, so deep in luve am I: An’ I will luve thee still, my dear, till a’ seas gang dry. Till a’ seas gang dry, my dear, an’ the rocks melt wi’ the sun: I will luve thee still, my dear, while the sands o’ life shall run. An’ fare thee well, my only Luve, an’ fare thee well, a while! An’ I will come again, my Luve, tho’ it were ten thousand mile.”
Sabine’s lips parted as she gasped. Though it sounded so deeply Scottish, she knew and interpreted every word. “That’s beautiful,” Sabine croaked, her eyes filling with tears.
“I can’ take the credit,” he chuckled. “It was written by Robert Burns … it’s actually a song but I’m no’ a singer. I never liked it before now. My da’ used to sing it to mama. I guess it makes sense to me now. I do love ye, Sabine my bonny lass,” he said sincerely, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead. “An’ I will love ye still, my dear, even after my own heart stops beating. No’ even God in heaven could stop me.”
Sabine couldn’t fathom the words she was hearing. Such utter poetry, even the words Connor had constructed together himself. “I love you, too,” she breathed. “It is not poetic how I say it, but it doesn’t make it any less true. We may have to test that though if we are to face my father. He won’t stop us, I promise, but he will put up a fight.”
“I know,” he nodded, pressing his lips to hers once more.
“Will ye lovebirds stop kissing for three minutes?” Hamilton shouted from behind them. The sudden interruption reminded Sabine that they were not alone. People surrounded them talking and celebrating. The bagpipes were sounding and ale glasses were being handed around. “There are celebrations to be had!” Hamilton continued.
Taking Sabine’s hand, Connor led her back towards the castle where the feast was to be held. She would enjoy one last time at McKenzie Castle before she went home to face her father.
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Hope you liked it! How beautiful is that song? I loved it so much that I knew I had to include it in here somehow :)
Anyways, next chapter will be up Tuesday as tomorrow after university I'm going for my drivers license!! Wish me luck!! Here's hoping I pass :D
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