Summer of Love (15 page)

    
It took but an instant for Andrew to realize that Dougal meant business.
He forced his mare to rear, keeping Dougal off-balance for a second, and
then turned abruptly, putting the horse into a gallop, aiming directly for the
two lads. Caught off-guard by Andrew’s swift ploy, both dove to the side just
as the horse jumped high past them. In vain, Dougal threw his sword. It
missed by a several feet. Within a few seconds, Andrew was out of reach,
racing away at full gallop, Dougal’s angry expletives following him.

    
Only when he reached Achmore, did he slow the mare. His heart belatedly
began to pound as the shock of the sudden attack fully sank in. Would
Dougal really have killed him he wondered? The expression on his face
seemed to leave little doubt about his intent. Strangely, he felt no animosity
toward the man. He had liked him from their first meeting, and too many
horrible things had happened. He understood that in Dougal’s eyes one was
either with him or against him. There was no in between, and Dougal saw
him as having sided with the English, and therefore he became the enemy.

    
Suddenly he realized that Helen had really been concerned about him. Her
warning hadn’t been an excuse to keep him away. A warm feeling crept into
his heart, calming its pounding to a flutter. Maybe it was true that she didn’t
know her own feelings yet. A glimmer of hope returned.
I’ll go back to see
her again as soon as I can,
he promised himself.

6

Helen spent the afternoon near the lochan searching her heart, trying to sort
out her own feelings. She knew she felt completely safe with him. He had
never put the slightest demand on her. She sensed she could trust him more
than anybody. It just felt right with him. There never seemed to be any
hidden undercurrents. There was no need to look for overt meanings. He was
naively honest and open, at least toward her.

    
She also knew that she looked forward to meeting him. Sure, there was
always the delicious food, but it was more than that. She felt attracted to him.
She enjoyed his company. He was more serious than anybody she had ever
met. But it wasn’t a morose seriousness. They often joked and laughed. It
was more a depth of character. He never made light of anything she said,
often picking up her thoughts, arguments, and ideas, and developing them
further. She felt affirmed by him and respected. But it always came back to
the same dilemma. He was a Campbell. Even if she loved him, was there any
hope for them? Her mother had voiced her opposition to any men from the
gentry quite openly, and her father had promised to strangle him with his
own hands. A sick feeling crept into her guts. Maybe she should stop seeing
him right away. It would hurt him for a while. But better a short, sharp hurt
than a long, drawn-out agony.
Yes, that’s the only right thing to do,
she
convinced herself.

    
And with that, a sense of emptiness, of regret and heartache took hold.
She saw his green eyes locking onto hers, felt losing herself in their depth,
not wanting to ever let go again.
No, no, no! You cannot do that,
cried every
cell in her,
why don’t you admit that you love him too?
…
Do I? … Or is it
just a conceit of being loved by a gentleman from the castle?
She searched
her heart. His background, if anything at all, would work against him. No, it
wasn’t vanity. She loved him in spite of it. She loved him in spite of his clan,
in spite of his birth. She lay back in the grass, watching the gray cover of
clouds relentlessly march by. Its billowing texture mirrored her own inner
turmoil. She whispered to herself: "I do love him
." Yes, you do! Yes, you do!
she heard the echoes from her heart.

    
Having acknowledged and accepted her love for Andrew, she felt
suddenly light, elated, happy. She would have liked to run to him and tell
him.
When will he be back?
she asked herself anxiously… He might never
come back. She had told him she didn’t know if she loved him. Calling up
his face in her mind, she sensed that what he had heard was that she didn’t
love him. What had she done? A tightness gripped her.
He must come back.
He must. If he doesn’t, I’ll have to go to him.

 * * *

That evening the MacGregor men returned to the shielings later than usual.
Dougal’s face left little doubt that he was in a bad mood. It soon became
apparent why.

    
At dinner, he began questioning Helen: "Did anybody come to the Lochan
today?"

    
Caught off-guard, she asked: "Why?" hoping that he would not notice her
cheeks getting red.

    
"Never mind! Did you see anybody?"

    
"No."

    
"You better tell me the truth, lass. If I find out that you lied, you will
regret it sorely."

    
"I didn’t see anybody, but then I was at the back of the glen most of the
time."

    
"What happened?" asked Mary.
 

    
"We trapped that Campbell son-of-a-bitch near Loch Tay. But the bastard
got away."

    
Mary gave Helen a penetrating glance. With a great effort, she hid the
sudden rush of fear and feigned to be busy trying to remove rye grass spikes
from her petticoat, convinced that her ears were bright crimson. Why didn’t
he take another way down to the valley? He must not have believed her
warning. He thought she was just making it up so he wouldn’t come
anymore.
Please, Lord, make him come again!
For a few seconds, she did
not listen to what her father said and just heard his last few words.

    
"… frightened the hell out of him. He won’t be back that quickly."

    
"The bastard aimed his horse straight for us," said Robin, "If we hadn’t
jumped aside, he would have knocked us down."

    
"There were two of you. You could have at least tried to grab the leads of
his horse," complained Dougal.

    
"I would like to see you stand still when a horse comes running at you!"
retorted Robin and Alasdair added: "When his horse reared, you jumped
back too. That gave him the opening to get away!"

    
In an all too obvious ploy to avert a fight, her mother asked: "When do
you think that we’ll be able to return to our clachan?"

    
Dougal looked angrily at his two sons, muttered something unintelligible,
and then answered: "I guess by the end of August. We should be finished by
then, at least enough to move back in. Cutting these roof beams is hard work.
But before we return, we’ll have to check out if the English soldiers have left.
I don’t want to get caught a second time."

    
In her mind, Helen already formed the words to volunteer what Andrew
had told her, but stopped herself in time.

    
"And when will you get us some cattle?" continued Mary.

    
"That will have to wait till September or October. I told you I will join up
with our cousins of Balquhidder. That’s usually the time when they do their
cattle lifting, when the beasts are healthy and fat. We’ll have to go into the
lowlands, or at least as far South as the Forth. It would cause too much of a
stink if we lifted it in Breadalbane."

    
"Wouldn’t it be better to drive the cattle south and sell it to the English
and then buy some here? It would raise less suspicion."

    
"Woman, don’t meddle in things you don’t understand. I know what’s
best! Haven’t I always looked well after you?"

    
Mary shrugged her shoulders and got goats’ milk for her youngest.

 * * *

Andrew wanted to return to the lochan the next day already. It was only the
fear of rejection that held him back. But he was there two days later. When
he saw her leaning against the wall where the path reached their secret
meeting place, a bashful smile on her face, her arms crossed protectively
under her bosom, he knew immediately that she had found the answer. She
walked slowly up to him until their faces almost touched, her eyes cast down.
Timidly, he placed his hands on her upper arms. He experienced an awkward
self-consciousness. She raised her head and their eyes met, uncertainly at
first, slowly filling with trusting wonder. He folded his arms around her.
Their lips touched shyly, and then she buried her head under his chin.

    
"I love you," he whispered. He would have wanted to shout it to the
world, to hear the mountains shout it back. Unbearable waves of happiness
coursed through him.

    
"I love you too," she answered almost inaudibly. He felt the warm
softness of her body against his, complete peace inside, the awkwardness of
a few seconds earlier gone.

    
She lifted her head and their lips touched again.

    
"Helen, I’ve never kissed a woman. I don’t know how …"

    
"Andrew, I never kissed a man. We’ll have to learn together."

    
They chuckled, not embarrassed at all, their foreheads touching, lost in
each other’s eyes. After a while, they broke apart with a soft laugh, holding
hands.

    
"I brought smoked salmon and a bit of salted roe… You like it?"

    
"I don’t know, but I’ll try anything today," she smiled.

    
He emptied his pouch, broke off bread and heaped salted roe on it with his
knife. He offered her a bite, and then ate the remainder himself.

    
"Mm. This is delicious. I want some more. I’ll never eat anything else but
this in my whole life."

    
"Then I better get back to work to earn enough money to pay for it."

    
Somehow, this pun brought them both back to earth.

    
"Is it very expensive?"

    
"Yes, but let’s enjoy it now. I love it when you let me spoil you."

    
"I love to be spoiled by you."

    
They relished the rest of the roe.

    
"Father said that they almost caught you two days ago." Her voice was a
mixture of alarm and reproach.

    
"Yes, they did. But it’s difficult to catch somebody on a horse when
you’re on foot," he tried to downplay the incident.

    
"Were you not scared?"

    
"Yes, for a second I was, but then I just acted by instinct."

    
"Andrew, you should have returned to Killin by another way." She
blushed, averting her gaze.

    
"Yes, Helen, you’re right. I should have, and from now on I’ll be more
careful. I hid the horse in the bushes at the head of the glen."

    
He reached out and raised her face, their eyes meeting uncertainly.

    
"Andrew, is there any hope for us?"

    
"You mean you being a MacGregor and I a Campbell?"

    
She nodded anxiously.

    
"This is our parents’ quarrel. It never was mine. It doesn’t solve anything,
it’s stupid. Anyway, I don’t feel I owe any allegiance to the Campbells—or
does it change anything for you, Helen?" he asked worried.

    
She looked down on her hands and murmured: "It might have, before I
knew you." Then she raised her face and met his gaze: "But not anymore
now."

    
The furrows on his forehead disappeared and his smile returned. For a
while they ate in silence, their eyes locked onto each other. After the meal,
she sat next to him. He put his arms around her shoulders, drawing her
closer. She nestled to his side. He hardly dared to move, keenly aware of
every inch where they touched. He would have wanted to take her into his
arms, to kiss her, hold her close, never let go, but he felt shy, afraid that she
might think him forward. He inhaled the tart smell of lavender in her hair; he
wanted to sink his hand into it, feel its soft springy texture.