Chapter 36
Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists…
When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves.
We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost.
That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
—Edmond de Goncourt (1822–96)
and Jules de Goncourt (1830–70)
French writers
A week passed. Isobella was ready to tear out her hair. She was frustrated. She did not understand what was going on between herself and Alysandir. How had it come to a complete standstill?
Everything had been absolutely perfect between them that night in his library. Truly, she was positive there had been a change in him that night; something beautiful had happened. She was certain. But what glittered like gold that night had turned to dross.
Now they seemed to be falling into a polite pattern of high regard. It was almost as if each of them was trying to outdo the other. She was upbeat and positive and pleasant. She laughed a lot and showed him her charming side. She was amiable, interacted with the family in the most positive way, and involved them in her digs, giving history lessons as they worked and explaining the value of what they were doing.
As for Alysandir, he spent more time around her. He was attentive, romantic, and devoted. They played games, danced, went riding, sat by the fire in the evenings, and talked. She taught him much about the future and modern civilization.
It was like the early days of courtship, but she wanted more than hand-holding and pecks on the cheek. Didn’t he understand he did not have to impress her? Didn’t he realize that she had been destined to love him from the moment he uttered his first words to her?
Her mind spun back to that day in the glen when he had flown down the side of the crag like a mythological being and into her life. She recalled how she had forgotten all about her throbbing ankle when he crossed his arms over the pommel of his saddle and leaned forward, his cold gaze going over her with slow ease as he spoke those magical words… “’Twould seem ye have yerself in a bit of a predicament, lass.”
Dammit! There had been so much promise in that face, those eyes, those words that flowed over her like molten lava. She wanted fire. She wanted passion. She wanted action. She wanted a declaration of love. She wanted marriage. She wanted children. She wanted a future… She wanted Alysandir.
But he seemed to be stuck on third base. And she needed a home run. She needed… She paused in thought, and then she smiled. She needed the Black Douglas.
Aye, anything is possible… if ye believe…
She plopped down on her bed. She closed her eyes. “I believe… I believe… I believe…”
Nothing happened. She opened one eye, then two. No ghost. No green vapor. Not so much as a puff of wind coming down the chimney. She stood up.
“I know you are there, and I know you can hear me.” She walked around the room. Finally she gave up. She had no idea how to summon him when he did not want to be summoned.
“All right! Throw away all you worked on! Don’t offer to help. We have a damozel in need of some major counseling here, in case you don’t know. What kind of family ghost are you?”
The tapestry over the window billowed out, and a great wind blew into the room. A candlestick fell over and rolled across the floor. Then everything died down.
“All right. I’m sorry. I’m just at my wit’s end. I don’t know what to do about Alysandir. He is being too nice, and it’s driving me crazy. At this rate, we’ll both be moldering ghosts before we come together on anything. You were my dearest friend and confidant, and now you have abandoned me.”
Another gust of wind came into the room, stronger than the first, swirling around her with great promise. Then poof! It was gone. Everything was still and quiet. The tapestry dropped back into place.
Where is he? Humph! Maybe that legend about him and the Countess of Sussex was true. Maybe he is gallivanting around the universe with her.
From somewhere behind her, a deep baritone voice seemed to rumble out of nowhere. I have passed o’er mountains old, through dungeons deep and caverns cold. I was not gallivanting with the Countess of Sussex.
She turned around, just as he folded his arms across his chest. “I thought we had the matter of ye and Alysandir settled.”
“Alysandir has changed. He seems stuck in neutral. We are going nowhere. I don’t know how to progress from here.”
“There is a time to retreat and a time to charge.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Ye will when the time is ripe.”
“Can’t you give me a hint?”
“When the right hand is wounded, the left hand takes over.”
“Gee, thanks.” She thought about that for a moment. Her eyes widened. “You mean me? I should take over?”
“Aye, ye are as wavering as a weathercock. Ye have fought him every step o’ the way, struggling to get the bit between yer teeth and run with it. Weel, ye have it now, lass. He has given ye free rein. What ye do wi’ it is up to ye. Ye are free to make a decision or to take action withoot Alysandir’s approval or asking me what I think aboot it. Every why has a wherefore, every action a result. But be careful what ye ask for.”
She was getting a headache from trying to follow his logic, and she decided he was either the wisest man ever created or the dumbest. “I never knew falling in love would be so difficult.”
“’Tis no’ so difficult once ye realize that when ye feel a great love for someone, the logical expectation is that it will bear fruit. But ye will never gather the fruit by standing still and doing naught.”
“Does this mean you are going to help me?”
“Nae, lass, it doesna. I willna do yer work fer ye. I am a ghost. I am not God. Ye were created with a free will. He who dares wins. Ye are either the hammer or the anvil. Ye canna be both. Yer destiny is what ye make of it. Ye canna choose what is in yer picture, but ye can paint it wi’ yer own colors.”
His hand reached out, and she felt the touch of warm flesh upon her cheek. “Ye are a lass this fond heart will never forget and when slumber has bound me in the dark o’ night, yer memory will be my light. Fear na ye. Yer destiny is a riddle for ye to solve. Stay the course, and ye will embrace stars.”
A sudden thought penetrated her mind and drew the mirth away, for something about the way he spoke touched her. “That isn’t the reason why you came here, is it? You came to tell me I won’t be seeing you again, didn’t you? This is good-bye.”
“Aye. Everything has its end. Now it is time to bid ye farewell, for ye have made yer journey and seen it to its completion.”
“But it isn’t finished yet. You’ve always had such a propensity for poking your head into my affairs that I’ve come to expect it.”
“Mayhap ’tis time ye learned to handle yer affairs yersel’.”
“This is not like you. You are always meddlesome. You love pulling my puppet strings one moment and tangling me up in them up the next. You tease and you taunt. You come when you aren’t invited and do not appear when you are.”
She paused and eyed him suspiciously. “Please say this isn’t good-bye. Maybe you could simply disappear for a while.”
“’Twould not be so good fer ye to become too attached to me, fer I canna remain in yer life forever, ye ken.”
“You can’t leave me now! This is the turning point in my life! You can’t abandon a sinking ship.”
Amusement danced in his eyes. “’Tis no sinking ship I ha’ been visiting these past months, but a man-o’-war, sailing full speed ahead with all cannons loaded.”
An aching sadness settled over her. She was not prepared for this moment. She had become so emotionally involved with him, accustomed to having him in her life. What could fill the gaping hole once he was gone?
“So, you are leaving for good this time.”
“Aye, the painting misses me, and it is time to give my puir ghostly bones a rest. Go and reconcile yer differences with the Mackinnon. Ye have found yersel’ a guid man. Yer future is now in yer hands to make of it what ye will. ’Tis no so verra hard to do, lass. But, before I go, I have one last thing to say to ye. If ye still wish to return to yer time, it is possible.”
“But you said…” Suddenly it did not matter what he said or how many times he confused her. She could not leave Alysandir. Not now.
“So, what is it to be lass?” He extended his hand toward her forehead. “Shall I touch ye, and ye’ll find yersel’ back in yer time for guid?”
She stepped hastily away. “No. My place is here, and you knew it before I did.”
“Aye, I had a suspicion, but there were times…”
“Yes, I know, and I am sorry.”
His form began to shimmer brightly. It grew darker and filled in more deeply until he was no longer a ghostly image but a man in human form. And what a magnificent sight he was.
He smiled, his eyes bright as the stars on his tunic. “Come and give an old knight a farewell greeting and send me away with a fond memory o’ ye.”
He opened his arms and she ran into them, crying and talking at the same time. “I don’t want to let you go. How can I, for I have become so fond of you.” She realized she was dampening the fabric of his tunic, and she began to wipe at it, crying and talking at the same time. “I cannot bear this. Please don’t leave for forever. Is there nothing I can say or do?”
“Nae, lass. ’Tis time ye made yer own way.”
“I shall miss you forever.” She pulled back and looked at his dear face. She wiped away her tears. “You don’t suppose you could pay me a surprise visit a time or two, do you? Would it be possible?”
His eyes were shining with mirth as he said, “With ghosting, anything is possible if ye believe. Now, go find yer lad, for he has suffered with yer indecision long enough.”
“It won’t be easy. We are miles apart on issues of grave importance, and there is the matter of the baby…”
“There will be other babes.”
“I’ve been the nice one in all of this. He’s the unreasonable one. Shouldn’t you be telling him that?”
“I dinna think I will have to, lass, for ye are certain to tell him yersel’.”
She sighed. “Well then, I suppose I will know when the time is ripe, like you said.”
“Oh, aye, ye will ken the moment it arrives,” he said, with amusement in his voice. “But, I ken ye willna want to discuss it at that particular moment.”
“Why not?”
His smile was X-rated, promising a vivid picture of just what she would be doing and who she would be doing it with.
“Oh.” She felt her face grow warm, and she tried to be nonchalant as she said, “I suppose one has to do what one has to do for the sake of history, doesn’t one?”
It was the first time she had ever seen him throw back his head and laugh heartily in his human form. Oh, how she wished she had known him as a mortal.
“Aye, all for the sake of history,” he said.
As his form began to fade for the last time, she said with conviction. “I will see you again.”
“Will ye now?”
She smiled. “Aye, I will, for in ghosting, like love, anything is possible if ye believe.”
His laughter rang out as his body faded away.
And then he was gone, and she knew no amount of calling would bring him back.
At least not today…
***
She sat in her room in the dark for some time, thinking. Moonlight spilled into the room. She wondered how long she had slept. She went to the window. The moon hung round and low in the sky. The night was young. She heard riders come into the courtyard, and she saw Alysandir with Gavin and Grim as they rode beneath the torches.
You win by surrender…
She lit the wall sconce and opened her trunk, pulling out the scarlet velvet dress that was new and yet unworn. She dressed quickly and went to Alysandir’s room. She did not light a candle but remained in the dark as she made her way to the far side of the room, away from the window and out of the moonlight.
She heard footfalls coming down the hall. The door opened, and Alysandir stepped inside. The door closed with a click. She watched his shadowy form as he crossed the room. He was pulling his hauberk over his head as he went. The metal links gleamed in the moonlight.
He paused long enough to light a candle beside his bed and then one of the sconces on the wall. He pulled off his tunic, washed his face, and ran his hands through his hair. Wearing only his trews, he turned and saw her. Astonishment plain on his face, he said, “Isobella. Why are ye here?”
She did not say anything. She did not need to. He saw the red dress wearing her. Indeed, it did look as if it had been stitched together on her body, so well it fit her form. It clung to all the right places and teased his imagination about the places he could not see. He looked her over at his leisure and felt his body respond. He liked the way the velvet clung to her slender shape, the way it outlined the fullness of her breasts. The velvet was like her, soft and smooth. Red, the color of passion.
“I did not expect to see ye here and certainly not dressed as ye are. I have never seen ye in that dress before.”
“I was saving it for a special occasion.”
“And is this a special occasion?”
“Aye, a very special occasion.”
“There was a time when I hoped you would come and a time when I knew you would not. I am surprised to see ye now, for I had given up on finding ye willing to reconcile.”
Oh, you have no idea just how reconciled we are going to be…
He picked up a decanter and poured wine into two goblets. He crossed the room, never taking his gaze away from her. He handed her a goblet.
She took it, her gaze savoring his face. “Some things come when you least expect them.”
He saluted her with his goblet. “To an unexpected spark that has kindled a blaze from smoldering ash. To see ye thus.” His voice broke. “’Tis difficult to keep my distance and my hands off ye. It takes a frightful amount o’ restraint, and I am no’ certain I am in possession of it at the moment.” He drank deeply and placed his goblet on the long table that ran along the wall behind them.
She did the same. “And if I did not wish you to exercise this frightful restraint?” She asked.
He did not know for certain why she was here, dressed as she was, but he would not make the first move. He had done that too many times in the past. Wherever they went from here, it was all up to her.
“Why are ye here, Isobella?”
“I bring you a peace offering.”
“And what is this peace offering ye speak of?”
She stepped closer. “Me.”
She was close enough that he could see the pale, white flesh of her breasts caressed by candlelight. He did not, could not stop looking at her as he waited to hear what she would say.
“I have had a revelation tonight.”
He said nothing. She went on. “I have learned that one does not always win by being the victor in battle. That sometimes you win by surrender. Being separate from you these past weeks, I died a little with each day that passed.”
He heard the small, whimpering moan that she tried to hold back and saw the tracks of tears on her face. He had never wanted to reach out and pull her against him more than he did now, but he would not make it easy for her. Not this time.
“I love you, Alysandir Mackinnon. So much that I have come here to accept your offer to become your mistress. If that option is still mine to accept. I surrender to you.”
He closed his eyes, pacing himself and praying for the right words. One wrong move and he would lose her forever. “I dinna want ye as a prize I have won in battle. Come to me as my equal. Canna ye no’ see ’tis yer fire and yer spirit that I love the most?”
His arms went around her, and he drew her against him, his chin resting upon her head. He held her for some time, feeling the warmth of her and knowing this was not a dream. She was here. And here she would stay. Neither at his head nor at his feet, but by his side.
“It has been agony for me to lie in my bed at night and to remember what it was like with you and to have felt your passion. I felt yer absence draining the life from me as would a hole in my heart. I kept seeing yer gown lying on the floor and you in my bed. Lying in my bed after ye are gone… ’tis agony. Yer scent remains, for a bit of fragrance always clings to the hand that has held the rose. I could waste my heart upon one last kiss.”
He tilted her face up to his, and his gaze wandered over her lovely features, to her slightly parted lips, then lower past the wild fluttering in her throat to the swell of her breasts.
“Aye, I have missed ye beyond compare,” he whispered hoarsely, as his mouth covered hers with a wide slanting kiss that left little doubt as to what he felt. Then suddenly, his mouth left hers with trembling reluctance and he rested his forehead against hers.
“I want to love ye for all time, Isobella. As my wife.”
She turned to him. “I have traveled back through time five hundred years to find you, and from this moment on, I hope never to be separate from you again. I love you, Alysandir.” And in case he did not understand it, she said it again. “I love you. And once more, just to be certain. I love you.”
She thought of all the men she dated in Texas and how they had all seemed to slip through her fingers. And as she listened to the beautiful sound of Alysandir’s beating heart, an ancient song of courage and determination, she thanked God for the one that did not get away.
And she owed it all to a beloved ghost…