Page 26 of The Story of his Highland Bride (Dancing Through Time #4)
EPILOGUE
Three Months Later…
E loise and Jackson were married twice: once in the church, ordained by the new priest—a quieter, faithful man, with no intention of burning anyone—and once in the peace of a sacred cave, not far from the Cairns, in a hand-fasting ceremony that was witnessed only by Lorraine and the witch, Irene.
“I much preferred that one,” Eloise said, leaning into Jackson as they rode back to the castle.
His grandmother had gone on ahead, in a far more suitable carriage, while Irene had melted into the forest as soon as the ceremony was over. But not before she offered encouraging words to the newly married pair: “Ye’re blessed, the two of ye. The Old Gods are cheerin’ to yer union, and all they ask in return is that ye daenae forget who threw ye together.”
For as long as he lived, Jackson knew he never would, though it would not be easy to keep a flame burning for the old ways. The church continued to grow in power, and one day, he suspected that the new ways would do their very best to snuff out the old.
“As did I,” Jackson replied to his beloved wife, his thumb stroking the curve of her waist. “The first was a performance that I never want to repeat.”
She made a sound of mock outrage. “I should hope not! I didn’t give up running hot water, showers, and the internet, just for you to cast me aside for some other lass.”
“I cannae do much about two of those things, but we have what ye call “showers” in this world, too,” he told her, smiling. “And, nay, I wouldn’ae ever cast ye aside. Ye’re, as ye put it, stuck with me.”
She twisted around, flashing him a grin. “Happy to be so.” She paused. “But do you really have showers? I don’t remember you having them when I researched the era, but, my goodness, it’d make this day absolutely perfect if I could take one. There’s something about water beating down on you that a bath just can’t replicate.”
“Then, I’ll make this day absolutely perfect,” he promised, pulling lightly on Claymore’s reins to lead him off the forest path.
Before long, they arrived at the spot he had in mind. A shelf of rock formed a circle in the middle of the woodland, with a natural archway cut into the stone by time.
Jackson brought Claymore to a standstill, a short distance from the mouth of the archway, and slipped down from the saddle. “Stay here until I call for ye. When I do, just come through that gap in the stone there.”
“You’re leaving me out here in the forest at night?” She made it sound like a jest, but he saw real fear in her eyes. After all, the forest at night had yet to be good to her.
“I’ll nae be long. If any wolves come, I’ll leave me sword where it is for ye.” He winked, as she reached down and batted him lightly on the arm.
“You’re the wolf, remember?”
He growled up at her. “Aye, so there’s nothin’ to be afraid of.”
With that, he removed the pack that hung from the left side of the saddle and headed through the archway to the magical place within. As fast as he could, he fashioned torches from the branches that had fallen into the hidden circle of stone, dipping them in the oil he always carried. It did not take long for him to light them with his tinderbox, jamming them into the rock-face like strange lanterns. Although, he added his two spare lanterns, just in case the torches failed.
Adding some furs to the cold ground, he looked around and smiled: it was perfect. “Ye can come through!” he shouted, listening for the sound of her footfalls, coming through the archway.
She appeared a moment later, and the expression upon her face was everything he could have hoped for. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and her hands flew to her chest, clasping at her heart as if it had swelled too large.
“It’s beautiful,” she gasped. “What is this place?”
He walked over to her. “Yer shower, Love.”
“I don’t see a—” Her lips curved into the widest grin, as her gaze settled on the waterfall that cascaded down from the rocky shelf above. “Well, well, you proved me wrong.”
He stooped to kiss her, cradling her neck in his hands as his lips crushed against hers. She responded in kind, slipping her arms around his waist, pulling herself into him. They had been too tired and too merry to enjoy their wedding night the previous evening, after the pageantry of their official wedding, but this seemed like the perfect time and place to join themselves as husband and wife for the first time.
“Would ye shower with me, Love?” he murmured, close to her ear.
She moaned softly, her hand smoothing down the ridges of his stomach until her fingertips reached the belt of his kilt. She undid it with ease, dropping the garment to the ground. The teasing gesture sparked him into action, giving him his answer, and within minutes they were naked beneath the moonlight, bathed by the sound of tumbling water and the whisper of their own frantic breaths as they crashed together in a frenzied dance of mouths and tongues and hands.
By the time Jackson stepped down into the pool, he was in dire need of cooling off, otherwise his overwhelming desire for her would get the better of him too soon.
Eloise joined him tentatively, her arms tucking into her sides as the water lapped around her slender figure, making Jackson jealous. “It’s freezing!” she cried, sinking deeper into the pool. “How are you not shivering?”
“I’m nae a feeble Sassenach,” he teased, reaching for her. “I barely feel the cold.”
He wrapped her up in his arms, the two of them moving toward the falling water. Gradually, she began to relax in his embrace, her body growing accustomed to the chill. He was almost sorry about it, for it meant she broke away from him, swimming toward the waterfall.
A moment later, she stood beneath the glittering cascade, hugging herself as it shrouded her like a gauzy drape. But she was smiling, and the sight of it made Jackson’s heart pound with joy. He could not pretend to know much of the world that she had left, though she spoke of it whenever he asked, telling him more each time, but she had settled into life in his world as if she was born to it. Indeed, she had embraced his world, showing courage and excitement with every day that passed by, until everyone adored her.
Of course, she was still considered peculiar for her turn of phrase, but instead of “witch,” the people called her “writer,” forgiving her for her strangeness because she told such wonderful stories. It had become a thrilling event at the castle, taking place every Friday night, where the castle residents would gather in the Great Hall to hear Eloise’s latest tale. The people sat there, rapt, as she regaled them with her words, always leaving them on what she called a “cliffhanger,” to be continued the following week.
It had begun as a smaller gathering, but as news spread, and the stories spread, more and more people clamored to gain entry on a Friday evening. Soon, Jackson knew he might have to move the location, so that everyone who wanted to hear would be able to.
And I couldn’ae be prouder. He smiled and joined his wife beneath the waterfall, gasping with delight as the water thrummed down against his skin. She had been right—the sensation of the water cascading over him was far greater than the stewing feeling of a bath. It was… refreshing, awakening his body in a way that even a long rest could not.
“I feel as if I’d had a shower and a massage, all in one,” Eloise murmured, stretched out on the furs that Jackson had laid out upon the flat rocks beside the pool.
Jackson lay on his side next to her, his fingertips caressing her smooth skin. She looked ethereal, naked in the moonlight. Indeed, there were times when he had to keep reminding himself that she was not a creature of magic, masquerading as the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld.
“Are ye content?” he asked.
She smiled over at him. “If I were any more content, I’d be asleep.”
“Daenae sleep yet,” he urged, dipping his head to kiss her.
She chuckled against his mouth. “I wouldn’t dream of it. We’ve still got a wedding night to have.”
“Aye, and I would ken the pleasures of me wife, learnin’ what she likes,” he said, smiling as he kissed her more deeply, giving into the familiar desire that had not diminished at all, though they had been betrothed for three months. If anything, his need for her had only grown.
In the flickering torchlight and the silvery sheen of the moon’s encouraging glow, Jackson eased himself into his wife’s silken depths, their mutual gasp of satisfaction rose up into the air, carried away by the sound of crashing water.
By now, they knew one another intimately, attuned to everything that drove them to the point of delicious madness, both of them pursuing paradise together. And as they moved as one, a tangle of limbs and shallow breaths and warm skin, Jackson thanked whatever mystical force had brought them together. He never failed to offer his gratitude, fearful that if he did not, that force would seek to take her away again.
“Yes, my love! Oh, yes!” Eloise gasped as he slipped his hand between them, strumming her secret nub as he felt the surge of his own conclusion, racing toward him.
Before long, their bliss filled the circle of stone, their moans and cries sinking into the rock and rippling across the pool as they reached their euphoria together. And as the pleasure ebbed within them both, she collapsed into his embrace, melting into him as her smile curved against his throat.
“I much preferred that one,” she repeated, chuckling.
He laughed softly. “Och aye, the first was a performance I never want to repeat.” He kissed the top of her head, smoothing back the wayward hair that had grown wild with their lovemaking. “I love ye, sweet Eloise.”
“I love you more,” she protested sleepily.
“Impossible.”
She shook her head. “Nothing is impossible.”
Just then, a starling fluttered down, landing a short distance away from the blissful couple. And above them, perched upon the rocky shelf, more starlings peered down, as if waiting.
Eloise stared at the scout that had dared to hop too close. “I thought we’d been over this?” she said, breaking into a smile. “You don’t have to keep checking in on me. I’m not going back. I’m never going back, and if that’s not the answer you want, then you shouldn’t have sent me through the stones to the man—the husband —that I love.”
The starling chirped cheerfully, and took off into the air, pursued by the rest of its winged followers until the couple were alone again.
“Do ye nae miss it?” Jackson had to ask.
She grinned up at him. “Not even a little bit, now that I have a shower. Maybe, one day, those starlings will get the message.”
“I daenae mind them,” he admitted, brushing his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Whenever they come, it reminds me of how fortunate I am. I just hope there’ll never be a day when ye go with them.”
“There won’t. Like I’ve said a thousand times, and will say a thousand times more,” she whispered, lifting up to kiss him, “you’re stuck with me.”
He kissed her back, knowing that no words would ever make him happier.
The End?