paused and said very emphatically, ‘
love.
’
Morven was having none of it. How dare he assume such a thing? Very easily she suspected. Also she knew that if she did not strengthen her resolve it would happen just as he said. She must not be so lily-livered. ‘Also balderdash. Do you want to be forced to the altar?’
‘If we are married it won’t matter,’ Fraser pointed out sardonically. ‘What would be the point?’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘Which is why I need to go to the minister at the presbytery in Stirling and ask for advice. If I asked the local minister it would be all around Kintrain before you could say “amen”. Old Scott is not renowned for his discretion.’
Morven scarcely heard him. Her mind was full of such scenarios of wedded, bedded, how her mama would react, how she herself would react, what on earth might be the truth that nothing registered except one thing. None of it made sense.
‘How can we be married?’ That was the most important point. ‘We didn’t exchange wedding vows in front of a cleric. No mamas wept into lacy handkerchiefs and no raucous males took bets on the birth of…ahhh…’ She broke off and bit her lip. That was going down a route she didn’t want to think about. ‘It, whatever it was, happened in a field at the games in between tossing the caber and the Highland fling.’
And it mattered to me.
It had, she had thought on several occasions, been one of the most momentous happenings in her life. A golden moment of youth to look back on and savour. Even if for all these years she had decided it meant nothing to Fraser, it had still been something she cherished. Now though, she wondered exactly what it all meant.
‘No minister, I agree, but we did exchange vows,’ Fraser said, quietly. ‘Morven, I…’
‘Hold on.’ Her temper began to spike. ‘What vows? Marriage vows? We held hands and said…said…’ What exactly had they said? ‘We exchanged vows?’ Surely she would have remembered that, inferior brandy or not.
Fraser smiled wryly. He seemed to do that a lot at the moment, and it was new to Morven. He was older, more serious, and she mourned the spark he seemed to have lost. Then he grinned. His eyes crinkled up at the corners and for one brief second she saw the man she had fallen in love with.
‘Vows?’ Morven prompted. ‘You, me and whoever?’
‘So it may seem.’
Morven racked her brain, but other than enjoying the day, and holding hands, she only had the haziest of recollections of the exact proceedings of the day. ‘When do you mean? When we were at the games?’
After the brandy?
He nodded. ‘Exactly then.’
It didn’t make sense to Morven. ‘But that was fun surely?’ she asked in a puzzled voice. ‘That gypsy saying why not tell me your vows, and we did. Not to be taken seriously. It was all part of the atmosphere.’
Fraser reddened. ‘So we thought.’ He didn’t look her in the eyes, but it seemed his gaze was fixed on the wall above her head.
‘Fraser?’ The strong, determined voice Morven had hoped for wavered and she bit her lip. That would never do. ‘Fraser Napier, what are you not telling me?’
‘Oh Lord.’ He pushed himself off the mantelpiece and gestured to the chair next to her. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Mind? Oh you sitting down? Of course not.’ She waited until he did so and resumed their previous conversation. ‘You were saying about vows.’
‘I’m an idiot.’
Morven inclined her head and his breath came out in a long hiss. Well what did he expect? ‘I will reserve judgement until you tell me what, so far, you have been reluctant to share.’
‘That there was more to it than there seemed. I should have realised that. Hell, I’ve lived here all my life. I know the people, including the gypsies, and I know a fair bit about their lives, but please believe me, I also never thought it was more than a bit of fun.’ Fraser shook his head. ‘You know, let’s entertain the villagers who
love.
’
Morven was having none of it. How dare he assume such a thing? Very easily she suspected. Also she knew that if she did not strengthen her resolve it would happen just as he said. She must not be so lily-livered. ‘Also balderdash. Do you want to be forced to the altar?’
‘If we are married it won’t matter,’ Fraser pointed out sardonically. ‘What would be the point?’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘Which is why I need to go to the minister at the presbytery in Stirling and ask for advice. If I asked the local minister it would be all around Kintrain before you could say “amen”. Old Scott is not renowned for his discretion.’
Morven scarcely heard him. Her mind was full of such scenarios of wedded, bedded, how her mama would react, how she herself would react, what on earth might be the truth that nothing registered except one thing. None of it made sense.
‘How can we be married?’ That was the most important point. ‘We didn’t exchange wedding vows in front of a cleric. No mamas wept into lacy handkerchiefs and no raucous males took bets on the birth of…ahhh…’ She broke off and bit her lip. That was going down a route she didn’t want to think about. ‘It, whatever it was, happened in a field at the games in between tossing the caber and the Highland fling.’
And it mattered to me.
It had, she had thought on several occasions, been one of the most momentous happenings in her life. A golden moment of youth to look back on and savour. Even if for all these years she had decided it meant nothing to Fraser, it had still been something she cherished. Now though, she wondered exactly what it all meant.
‘No minister, I agree, but we did exchange vows,’ Fraser said, quietly. ‘Morven, I…’
‘Hold on.’ Her temper began to spike. ‘What vows? Marriage vows? We held hands and said…said…’ What exactly had they said? ‘We exchanged vows?’ Surely she would have remembered that, inferior brandy or not.
Fraser smiled wryly. He seemed to do that a lot at the moment, and it was new to Morven. He was older, more serious, and she mourned the spark he seemed to have lost. Then he grinned. His eyes crinkled up at the corners and for one brief second she saw the man she had fallen in love with.
‘Vows?’ Morven prompted. ‘You, me and whoever?’
‘So it may seem.’
Morven racked her brain, but other than enjoying the day, and holding hands, she only had the haziest of recollections of the exact proceedings of the day. ‘When do you mean? When we were at the games?’
After the brandy?
He nodded. ‘Exactly then.’
It didn’t make sense to Morven. ‘But that was fun surely?’ she asked in a puzzled voice. ‘That gypsy saying why not tell me your vows, and we did. Not to be taken seriously. It was all part of the atmosphere.’
Fraser reddened. ‘So we thought.’ He didn’t look her in the eyes, but it seemed his gaze was fixed on the wall above her head.
‘Fraser?’ The strong, determined voice Morven had hoped for wavered and she bit her lip. That would never do. ‘Fraser Napier, what are you not telling me?’
‘Oh Lord.’ He pushed himself off the mantelpiece and gestured to the chair next to her. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Mind? Oh you sitting down? Of course not.’ She waited until he did so and resumed their previous conversation. ‘You were saying about vows.’
‘I’m an idiot.’
Morven inclined her head and his breath came out in a long hiss. Well what did he expect? ‘I will reserve judgement until you tell me what, so far, you have been reluctant to share.’
‘That there was more to it than there seemed. I should have realised that. Hell, I’ve lived here all my life. I know the people, including the gypsies, and I know a fair bit about their lives, but please believe me, I also never thought it was more than a bit of fun.’ Fraser shook his head. ‘You know, let’s entertain the villagers who
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