The Guardian by Diana Knightley
Seven - Kaitlyn
Beaty arrived with her bagpipes and began to play Blondie’s Heart of Glass.
We had another round of whisky brought to the tables.
And as the night wore on we sang and danced to the music as she played.
Fraoch sang us a song. One of the stable men, Smelly John, played the lute. And James borrowed it to play Hotel California. We danced and sang for hours and the kids came down and played and danced with us. Then the youngest were taken up to the nursery, but Zoe stayed with her mama fast asleep on Emma’s lap and Isla fell asleep on my lap. I shifted her onto a bench beside my table while I danced.
Finally everyone left to go upstairs, first Emma and Zach with Zoe. It was Fraoch’s turn on the walls, so Hayley returned to her apartment, and James escorted the young widow up to her guest room. Then Magnus picked up Isla and heaved her little body up to his shoulder. Her sleepy brow resting against his chin, her little pudgy arms around his neck. Her eyes opened to find me, she smiled, and then fell back to sleep on his shoulder.
We stopped at the nursery, weaving through to the little room in the back, with wee beds for the kids, where once, long ago, my husband had slept beside Sean, near the window that looked out over Ben Cruachan. It was a window he showed me, years ago, as his whole other self — Old Magnus.
I kissed Archie on his brow, “Sleep little guy, see you in the morning.” Then I turned to see Magnus placing Isla down in her own little bed, tucking her in, and my heart skipped a beat for a moment. I stopped still.
He whispered, “What did ye just see?” We turned and walked from the nursery into the hall.
“You — I turned, and half expected you to be the young man from that moment on the deck, when you asked me to marry you... remember?”
“Aye, I remember. I told ye I wasna worth ye, but that I planned tae marry ye anyway.”
“So romantic,” I teased.
Just then James came strolling down the hall and we met under a wall lantern that created a small pool of golden light. “I’m headed to bed after seeing Madame Sophie to her room.”
I joked, “Very kind. You like her?”
“Yeah, she’s great, and beautiful, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I agree.” The hallway echoed, so we talked in hushed tones.
“And she’s an astronomer, she’s going to put up her telescope tomorrow night. Can you believe she assisted her husband, and actually noticed things he didn’t, but he took all the credit, even for her findings?”
“It’s not surprising, I think that happened all the time.”
“You’re always the feminist, huh?”
“That is literally one of the reasons feminism came to be.”
James continued excitedly, “And she came this close to being tried as a witch.”
“Another reason why feminism came to be. She might be an original feminist. This is very enlightened of you to be interested in her — a lady of science.”
He smirked, “Plus she’s got no children, she thinks I’m amazing, and she’s gorgeous, right?”
I chuckled. “Well, there goes your enlightenment. But yeah, she sounds perfect. Don’t forget to keep your eyes open though, she’s a wildcard, we can’t be too casual.”
“Sure, of course, but she doesn’t have a vessel, and her story checks out. Hey, I’m going to go back down to see if anyone is still up for a drink.”
Magnus said, “Quentin is still up, he will join ye.”
James wandered off. Magnus and I walked and I was thinking about what it was like to fall in love, how it was such a chemical bath, a stew of hormones that overrode our best senses — we meet, we enjoy them, then somehow it’s turned into desire and passion and love. To take that person and become their lover, and then their mate — it was a miracle that it happened at all.
I wondered if James would be able to do it with a woman from the eighteenth century? They had nothing in common at all, but then again Quentin had fallen in love with Beaty... theirs wasn’t a ‘traditional’ marriage. She didn’t defer to him in everything. They were partners, because he honored her — quirks, foibles, and all.
We came to the door of our rooms and Magnus got us inside and stoked the fire in the fireplace. I was taking down my hair in front of my mirror when Magnus came up behind me. His arms around, a longing kiss on my neck. “What else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ye said ye were thinking about the day we decided tae marry...”
“Oh, yes,” I met his eyes in the mirror. “I know we have been traveling through time, and we’ve lost people we care about and gained people we love, and so much has happened, but I just saw you tonight with Isla in your arms and I had a feeling come over me, love. That fresh love, that nervous love from the first days, when you promised you would marry me. But it was also that feeling plus seeing you now. You’re older — did you know?”
He kissed. “Aye, I am. I am much older than I was. What, like thirty?”
“By the year, you are now the ripe old age of twenty-five.”
“Och, add a few years.”
“In Florida time I am twenty-eight, so let’s assume you are twenty-nine in time travel years.”
I turned in his arms and wrapped my arms around his neck.
He smiled. “I finally overtook ye in the years.”
“I think it is so lovely that I can look at you and see the years, the comfort and steadfastness, the loyalty and commitment, and still feel that flutter in my stomach, have the breath leave my lungs, my heart race, because of my feelings for you.”
He kissed my jaw. “Tis a fine thing tae be loved by ye.”
“That’s a very nice thing to say.”
“Come tae bed and I will say more nice things, I hae tae go tae the walls soon; I want a stroll in yer gardens first.”
“Definitely.”