Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

" O livia!" Hannah exclaimed joyously upon seeing the carriage arrive. "Ye are here!"

Her sister rushed out of the carriage, and the two fell into each other's arms. Hannah felt as if an entire eternity had passed from the last time she had seen her. She grabbed Olivia's hand and led her into the house.

"I am so glad ye have arrived," Hannah confessed. "I've missed ye."

"And me as well," Olivia returned the sentiment. "Are the preparations well underway?"

"Certainly," Hannah nodded. "But we always need more help with such an important task. Come, I shall show ye to yer chamber."

The following hour was spent with Olivia unpacking, and Hannah just sitting on the bed, watching her sister unfold gowns and skirts, then hang them nicely in a wardrobe.

"Hunter sends his regards," Olivia remembered. "He said to tell ye he will come a day before the weddin'. He will remain for the festivities, but then right afterwards, he will return home, as he has much business to take care of."

"Oh," Hannah said sadly. "I was hoping to have ye both here for a wee bit longer."

"I can stay," Olivia pointed out. "But I daenae think Hunter will be able to. To tell ye honestly, I am worried about him." Olivia stopped with her unpacking, walked over to the bed and sat down next to Hannah. She crossed her hands in her lap, staring at them.

"What is it, dear sister?" Hannah wondered. "Has somethin' happened?"

"Nay," Olivia shook her head, lifting her gaze to Hannah's. "At least, nothin' that I ken of. If somethin' did happen, Hunter is keepin' it to himself."

"He has always done that," Hannah remembered. "Ever since we were children. He dinnae want to burden us with any of his troubles."

"Aye," Olivia sighed. "But we're siblings. There isnae no one closer than the three of us. If there is anythin' pressin' on his mind, he should be able to tell us about it."

"We ought to give him some time," Hannah smiled reassuringly. "Hunter is a capable lad. He kens what he is doin'."

"Aye, he does," Olivia confirmed once again. "But this isnae the time for talkin' about troubles. This is a time for joy."

Hannah chuckled. "The life as I ken is endin', ye mean."

"It will only become better," Olivia said positively. "Ye shall see."

"Oh, I do hope so," Hannah sighed, getting up and pacing about the chamber. "I have to admit that I am much more at peace now that ye have arrived."

"Why?" Olivia wondered. "Has anythin' happened?"

"Well, nay… and aye," Hannah added the last word with a chuckle, which instantly made Olivia's eye widen in surprise.

"Do tell!" Olivia urged rushing over to Hannah and pulling her back to the bed, where they were once again seated next to each other. "Has yer betrothed approached ye yet?"

"Nay, nay," Hannah shook her head. "He is much too appropriate for that. He merely… kissed me."

"Kissed ye!" Olivia exclaimed so loudly that Hannah had to jump and press her hand on Olivia's mouth to keep her quiet.

"I daenae wish the whole castle to hear, ye silly goose," Hannah couldn't resist a chuckle. "Will ye be quiet if I tell ye what happened?"

All Olivia could do was nod, but that was more than enough. Hannah pulled her hand away and continued.

"We were plantin' some flowers in the garden the other day and—"

"Plantin' flowers!?" Olivia could obviously not resist the temptation to repeat everything that she found incredulous. "Ye meant to tell me that man plants flowers?"

"Well, obviously," Hannah pointed out, amused by the story as much as her sister, because now that she was retelling it, she realized again how incredible and unbelievable it was. In all honesty, she probably wouldn't have believed it about him if she hadn't seen him drop down into the dirt with her own eyes.

"Go on, I'm listenin'," Olivia silenced herself, focusing intently on the story.

"Ye promise not to interrupt again?" Hannah teased.

"Only if ye promise not to shock me like that," Olivia replied playfully, much to the amusement of her sister.

"Well, shocking or not, this man planted flowers with me," Hannah continued. "And we got to talkin' somehow about flowers of all things."

"Flowers!?" This time, Olivia's echo made both girls laugh aloud boisterously. Hannah felt this was exactly what she needed, someone she could be completely herself with, whether silly or serious, and not have to think about whether she was doing what was expected of her as a future wife.

"He got all muddy and he… well, he kissed me," Hannah admitted slightly anti-climactically, but with that shivering sensation that ran through her entire body, making her remember what his lips tasted like.

"Now, I'm wonderin' which one happened first," Olivia teased, alluding to the fact that maybe they rolled a little in the dirt.

"Ye are incorrigible!" Hannah's lips widened in mock shock, her eyes following suit. "How can ye even suggest somethin' like that?"

Still laughing, Olivia shrugged. "I read a lot, ye ken."

"Aye, I ken!" Hannah shook her head, although there was no serious judgment in her voice. "I need to tell Hunter to control yer reading materials."

"Nay!" Olivia pretended to be shocked, but in fact both girls could barely control their laughter.

After a while, once they managed to calm down, Olivia went back to unfolding the last few items she had brought, when Hannah remembered something.

"Alistair's mother offered me her weddin' gown," she revealed.

Olivia stopped what she was doing. She turned her attention fully to her sister. For a few moments, she was silent. Then, she spoke.

"That… says a lot," Olivia managed to muster, overpowered by this show of acceptance on the part of her sister's future family.

"Aye," Hannah's voice was almost completely silent. She didn't know why this gesture made her both happy and sad at the same time. She felt confused. She felt agitated with herself that she didn't react properly to it. She was supposed to be happy. Just happy. Nothing else.

"Ye feel odd about it?" Olivia pinpointed the problem immediately, like any good sister ought to do.

"A wee bit," Hannah confessed. "Odd in a sense that she was officially welcoming me into the family, and I daenae ken if even her son wants me in it."

"Why wouldnae he want ye?"

"I get the feelin' like he is tryin' to keep me at a distance," Hannah said solemnly. "Like there is somethin' holdin' him back, not allowin' him to be his true self around me."

"What do ye ken it is?" Olivia pondered, but Hannah had no idea.

"I daenae ken what it could be."

"I think ye are just concerned because of the weddin'," Olivia nodded sagely. "Ye are apprehensive, nervous with all sorts of other emotions, not letting ye think straight. Once it is all over and done with, things will be much clearer, ye shall see."

"Oh, I do hope so," Hannah sighed.

"Come, now," Olivia suggested. "I am in the mood for some tea, and I've been missin' Rosebud like crazy!"

"She's in the garden, I believe," Hannah replied. "Let's go out and see her. We can have tea there as well."

"Only if ye promise not to… uhm, plant flowers with yer husband to be!" Olivia could not resist teasing her sister, to which Hannah blushed fervently, then laughed joyfully.

Her sister was the only person in the entire world who had the power to make her feel better, no matter what had happened. Hannah didn't want to think about her future life without seeing her every day. It was something she would have to get used to, though. But she would cross that bridge when she got to it.

"Ye are actin' like a damn fool, Alistair!" his grandfather spoke, banging his cane against the wooden floorboards in rhythm with the syllables that he chose to accentuate.

Alistair rolled his eyes. His grandfather's flair for the dramatic was something he had gotten used to a long time ago. Only, he didn't think that this would extend to the woman he was planning on marrying as well.

"Daenae ye be rollin' yer eyes at me, ye unruly lad," the man threatened with his cane this time, but once again, Alistair knew that there was little gravity in that threat.

"Ye ought to be careful, grandfaither," Alistair advised. "If ye lift that cane off the ground one more time, ye might fall."

"Bah!" the man scoffed. "Youth is wasted on ye young ones. I can tell ye that much."

Alistair glanced over at the pile of documents on his writing table, which needed his seal of approval. That was what he had been busying himself with for the past two days. He told himself that there was a mountain-load of work, and he simply could not afford to be loitering about the house, with so many obligations waiting for him.

The truth, however, was that he resorted to any excuse not to face Hannah.

Kissing her made him realize that he had succumbed to his passions, and that was something he couldn't afford to do ever again. He was beginning to feel like she had occupied most of his mind, and that was not something he expected to happen. It was as if no matter how hard he tried not to think about her, she always found a way back into his mind, torturing him with her smile, with her melodious voice and now, with her tantalizing lips.

It was safer to bury himself in work and keep his future wife busy with the wedding preparations. It was, after all, a highly plausible excuse. However, it didn't seem to work on his grandfather, who obviously saw right through this rouse.

"Where is the lass?" the old man suddenly asked, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Alistair frowned. "How would I ken?"

"Exactly!" the man lifted his cane and pointed it in Alistair's direction, without any intention of touching him with it. It was merely to make a point, and it worked. "Ye daenae ken where yer wife is."

"She isnae me wife…"

"…yet," the man finished Alistair's sentence, reminding him of something Alistair himself knew already. "And instead of helpin' her around, showin' her the castle grounds, takin' her horseback ridin', ye have barred yerself in yer study, pretendin' to work."

"I'm nae pretendin'," Alistair scoffed, akin to a pouting child, who knew he did something wrong, only didn't want to admit it.

"I daenae see ye workin'," the man shrugged.

"That's because ye interrupted me!" Alistair got up from his leather chair, and walked over to the window, to open it. He wasn't desperate for fresh air. Rather, it was something for him focus on, instead of the ridiculous conversation with his grandfather. He knew that his grandfather was an old man, and his mind wasn't what it used to be. There was sometimes a thick fog not only around his memories, but his daily tasks as well.

However, Alistair sometimes wondered if his grandfather wasn't taking advantage of the situation, annoying others just for the sake of having fun at their expense… as he might have been doing just now. Because this conversation was more than meaningless. It was downright silly.

"I thought ye had somethin' of importance to tell me," Alistair sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"What is more important than the lass ye are about to spend the rest of yer life with?"

His grandfather knew he was annoying him. It was impossible for him not to be aware of that fact.

"Grandfaither?" Alistair managed to muster, with as much love and respect as he could gather for the old man. "Daenae ye have some other business to tend to? Maybe smacking Felix over the head with yer cane for somethin'?"

"Ye have always been the more rebellious of the two," the old man reminisced. "I suppose that is yer father's blood comin' out in his eldest."

Alistair didn't want to remind his grandfather that it was Lady McCann as a little girl who once hid in the castle, and it took everyone a whole day to find her. When they eventually did, she pointed her finger at them, laughing, claiming they were too slow. But the memory of Alistair's grandfather had become selective. In other words, he remembered only what he wished to remember. The rest vanished into thin air as if it never existed.

Alistair wished he could live his life that way as well. For there were many things in his past he wanted to forget, many things that even now breathed down his neck, threatening to become his undoing.

"She is a fine lass, Alistair." His grandfather's voice suddenly changed. Alistair swore he could recognize sorrow and melancholy in there now. "It isnae right to neglect her, for whatever reason ye think."

"I'm nae neglectin' her, for goodness' sake," Alistair sighed. "I'm workin'."

Usually, he would throw out whoever dared to talk to him in this manner. But he could not do that to his grandfather. He had to endure this conversation out of not only respect, but also deep love that ran on both sides. His grandfather was a difficult man on occasion, but his advice was equally invaluable, as it came from experience.

"Just make sure ye're nae workin' too much." His grandfather always needed to make his sentence the last one. This time was no exception.

"Aye," Alistair nodded, hoping that by agreeing he would be granted much needed privacy. "But bein' interrupted means I will be workin' longer."

This seemed to be the cue for his grandfather to stand up from the chair he was sitting on. He loomed over the mahogany writing table, like a reminder of something dreadful to come. Then, he pulled back.

"Love is like a flower," the old man spoke, turning his palm up towards the ceiling, hid hand spread out. "It needs care to blossom. If ye leave it in the shade, daenae be surprised if it withers."

Alistair sighed. He didn't like metaphors. He liked it when someone stated something directly, instead of wrapping it up in a pretty ribbon. But his grandfather was right. Only, Alistair had no intention of falling in love with his wife. He was attracted to her, that much he couldn't deny. After all, he was a man of flesh and blood, and she was a beautiful woman. It was only natural to be attracted to her, to react to her presence in such a carnal manner.

But love… that was something he would not even consider, let alone speak about.

He watched as his grandfather slowly dragged his left foot along the wooden floorboards, listening to the sound of the cane as it hit methodically. When he was all alone, he turned his attention to the pile of papers awaiting him. Only, his mind was elsewhere.

A loud chuckle reached him though the open window. He walked over to it, glancing outward, only to see Hannah and her sister playing with her three dogs. Immediately, as if it knew that they were being watched, Haggis looked up at Alistair's window.

Alistair quickly dropped to the ground, hitting both of his knees. He bit his tongue to prevent himself from cursing, as the painful string of anguish cut through his body. He counted until ten, then lifted himself back up. Haggis was still looking at the window.

"That damn dog," Alistair murmured to himself, vowing that he would make a friend of him or die trying. It had become more than just a game. It had become a matter of the utmost importance, although Alistair could not, for the life of him, explain why.

He hastily closed the window and went back to his writing table. All he had to do was stamp his seal. That didn't require too much effort or focus, did it?