The Thistle and the Rose(53)

“If you're not careful,” she whispered. “I'll get used to being transported like this.”

“It's an old Highland custom to carry the bride over the threshold,” he replied suavely.

Reaching the wall, the muscular giant turned to edge his way through the opening, but the narrowness of aperture prevented him from slipping through smoothly. Cursing to the accompaniment of her giggling, Colin pushed and bumped at the sides of the entryway.

“Ouch!” Celia cried, giggling as she exaggerated the effect of a scrape against the door.

“Quiet!” he growled. “We're going over this threshold... if I have to take this damned wall down.”

“Custom or no custom,” she scolded, comically imitating his growl. “Do you need to tear my arms off to do it?”

With a final heave, Colin actually managed to work them through the door and into the passageway. Pulling the panel closed with an awkward effort, Colin turned toward the light coming from the open panel into his room.

Seeing the narrowed corridor between the two fireplace walls, Celia glanced with disbelief at the look of devilish determination in Colin’s eyes.

“Colin, No!” she gasped out, laughing out loud as the warrior charged down the passageway, wedging them firmly between the walls.

“Oh, well,” he sighed with a deadpan expression. “Another custom shot to hell.”



Soon thereafter, however, a contented, albeit mildly bruised Celia lay in Colin's arms in his great bed. Her silky skin lay smooth against his warm body, and her eyes half-closed in an attitude of satisfied tranquility. Her fingers unconsciously caressed the sinewy contours of his chest.

“Celia?” Colin said softly.

“Aye?” she responded, propping herself up on his chest with one elbow.

His black hair lay in disarray upon the pillow, and his face was relaxed. His gray eyes peered lovingly up at her in the dim light as he reached up to play with the dark ringlets that hung about her face.

“Father William said tonight that he wants to talk to the two of us tomorrow,” he said.

“About what?” she murmured, leaning down and kissing his skin. Laying her ear to his chest, she could hear his great heart beating. Sliding her hand across the taut skin of his belly, she smiled, listening to the pounding accelerate. Colin took a great breath before continuing.

“I think he wants to have a little pre-nuptial talk about our...our husbandly and wifely duties. Not that I think it's necessary, but it'll be either Father William or the Archbishop.”

“The Archbishop?” she asked hesitantly.

“Aye, my love. He should arrive early on Easter Monday. And, trust me, his speech will be a wee bit sterner than Dunbar's.”

“You don't think Father William suspects anything?” she asked quickly, her head shooting up to look him in the face.

“Aye, no question about it,” Colin answered teasingly. “Suspects? Definitely. Approves? Hmm...I'll ask him tomorrow.”

“Colin! You will not!” she exploded. “You'd better not bring it up!”

The warrior laughed and lifted her bodily, rolling her onto her back. Laying his head on her chest, he listened to her heartbeat race as his hand traveled across the quivering velvet of her abdomen. Lifting his head, he looked smilingly into her eyes.

“Turnabout is not just fair play. It's fun, too,” he growled. “Don't you think?”

Celia took his face in her hands and lifted her lips to his. The long, slow kiss was as tantalizing as it was satisfying. Laying her head back on the pillow, Colin's hand smoothed back the curls from her forehead, caressing the side of her face, the line of her chin. And all along, his eyes spoke the language of love.

“Celia,” he whispered in a low voice. “Do you still want me...now that you're a wealthy woman?”

“Aye, Colin Campbell,” she said tenderly. “My love is for life. Our wealth, our power, and our position have nothing to do with my love for you.”

“I hope you know that I fell in love with the woman that you are,” he responded. “Before I ever had any idea who you were, I knew I wanted to marry you. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I know that, Colin,” Celia whispered. “Nothing outside of ourselves could ever change that.”

Colin sealed her lips with a kiss. A hungry, searching, devouring kiss that was met with a fervor that equaled his own, and once ignited, their passion continued to mount, rising and soaring to an uncontrollable moment of ecstasy. Leaving them clinging to each other, breathless and awash in the warm waves of blissful love.





Chapter 13





What king sent us here? I’m so tired of these Highlands. There is nothing for us here. These Scots do not seem to feel the misery we inflict upon them. We even use them as our spies.

But I think I will never see England again. Tonight I ride to the west with my company and a shifty-eyed scoundrel of this turncoat Gregor clan. I will probably die in the west, looking for the woman they say is there.



“God created sex.”

Beneath the blossoming cherry tree, the old priest paced back and forth before the betrothed couple.

“My job today is to counsel you on the Church’s position regarding the subject,” he continued. “Though from my own study, it appears that Christ Himself had precious little to say on the...well, perhaps my own opinion is not particularly relevant at this moment.”

Father William paused. He never thought he’d hear himself delivering this sermon to Celia and her future husband. All this silly interference in the natural response of a man and a woman to each other. Ridiculous.

Ah, well, he thought.

“The only purpose God created...sex...for was for the continuation of His people on earth.”

“Then why, Father William,” Colin interrupted, “does He allow pagans and infidels to make babies?”

“Colin, I like you,” Dunbar grouched happily. This may turn out all right after all. “But if you keep on this track, we're going to have trouble. I do not want you trying to put me off the subject with theological quibbling. But...well, to answer your question, it's to keep the missionaries busy. Now, where was I?”

“Sex, Father,” Colin said helpfully, receiving a white-knuckled squeeze from Celia, who sat beside him on the turf bench beneath the cherry tree.

“Aye,” the priest continued, picking up his train of thought. “Now, St. Paul had a great deal to say on the matter, far too much for the old bachelor he was, I’d say. But regardless of that, I've put together a little list for you concerning when, where, how you should feel free to enjoy...er, participate in the...er, act.”

“A list, Father?” Celia asked incredulously, eyeing the rather long scroll of paper that her spiritual advisor was unrolling before them. She was certain Father William was, to some extent, teasing them, but the size of the scroll was certainly formidable.

“Celia, you surprise me!” Dunbar scolded, suppressing a smile. “Here you are, not even married yet, and you're already questioning my authority on these matters.”

“Excuse me, Father William. You're an authority on sex?” Colin asked innocently. Celia tried to hide her laugh behind a pretended cough.

“Aye, of course! I’ve read volumes on the subject,” Father William exploded, crooking a finger at the two. “You are not taking this matter seriously enough.”

“Sorry, Father,” Celia said, staring into her lap in an attempt to control her mirth.

“Aye, Father,” Colin added. “I'll not interrupt again. Please go on.”

“Well, that's better,” the priest grumbled, smoothing out his paper and preparing to read. They were going to love this part. “Now, after you've been married for three days...and no sex before then...there are a number of conditions that must be met, every time, before... well...before the act takes place.”

Father William paused to look at the two young people sitting hand in hand before him. He had their attention for the moment, at least.

“Now,” he continued. “Under pain of sin, you cannot have sex on any feast day. You cannot have sex on any fast day. You cannot have sex during Whitsun week. Nor during Advent. And certainly you wouldn't dream of having sex at any time during Lent.”

He stopped for breath and to give the wide-eyed couple as stern a look as he could muster at the moment. Interesting, the color that Celia can turn, Dunbar thought, suppressing a smile.

“It is, of course, also a sin to have sex during Easter week, which I hope you two will bear in mind next week,” he went on. “And you will not be having sex on Wednesdays, nor on Fridays, nor on Saturdays or Sundays.”

“What day is today?” Colin whispered under his breath to Celia, drawing a threatening glare from the priest.

“You also cannot have sex at any time during daylight hours. You cannot have sex unless you're fully clothed. And, for heaven's sake, try to remember that you cannot have sex in church. And did I mention that the purpose of sex is to have a child?”

“Aye,” Celia and Colin answered in unison.

“Very good.” Father William grinned. “You must both want to have a child at the time of the act. Think of nothing else!”

He paused and stood squarely in front of the two with his hands on his hips, the rolled parchment in one fist.