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irwinwe

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This is so frickin random.  lol 

***

"Follow me" he told me as he reached for my hand with his own, "I'll take ye inside."

I know it was just a subtle contact, but it still made my heart dance.  His hand was large and warm, a perfect combination of warrior and scholar, protector and submitter, and his grip was firm on mine.  I hadn't ever held hands with him until now.  I suppose today was a day of many "firsts"...the first time I'd heald his hand or been inside a car with him, the first time I'd seen him without his shirt and trousers (this thought made my eyes widen a little in memory), and the first time I'd kissed him, or rather the first time I'd ever kissed a man so passionately.  And hell, it had been the first time I'd almost passed out from "mild hypothermia" from my first time swimming in a loch.  I didn't exactly know what to make of these series of "firsts", or where they would inevitably lead me, but my strong inclination was to follow him, nonetheless.

The front door was made of wood and iron, and it stood so tall that I had to arch my neck to see the top.  "When was it built?" I asked Kane, curiosity making me forget the reason why I hadn't been talking before now.

"In the 1800s, quite a long while ago" he answered, looking intently at me.  Or at least I knew he was, because I could feel him staring.  I knew he wasn't dangerous, but sometimes he seemed so bold with his actions that I felt I was preparing to duel a panther, who had its green eyes drilled into mine with a challenging hunger.  I am by nature indecisive and analytical, so I am not bold in my actions until I have reached a long-sought decision.  I hadn't decided about Kane yet.  My body told me one thing, and my mind told me another.  So kept my gaze averted and went on with my observation.

Enchanted, I took a step closer to the door, and then gingerly ran my fingers across the stone that circumnavigated it.  I saw a tiny inscription that had been carved in the stone, as if many years ago it had been inscribed as a mockery for incoming enemies who surely would not take notice of it.  I squinted my eyes to read it, but it was in another language so I could not.  

"It's in Latin" Kane said, "it means touch me not with impunity".  I recognized the phrase.  Robert the Bruce and William Wallace had spoken it to their men before battle, and the Scots had used it against the Vikings many years prior to that.  "You are the only visitor who has ever noticed it" he said, half-smile on his face and eyebrows raised.  A strand of his dark hair had been misplaced by the gale, and I had to fight back the hand that so wished to correct it.  His eyes were still staring.

"A woman has an eye for detail" I said. 

"So do some men" he said, hand coming to my face.  I inhaled slightly, and the muscle in his jaw quivered because he knew why I had.  Then his fingers came up to my ear, "your earring is gone."  My hand instintively flew to both of my ears, and sure enough he had been right.  It was gone.  I only had one earring.  I must have lost it when I was running, or when I was in the loch.  I raised my brow at him, perusing him.  Did the man miss anything?  The rain from the dark clouds above began to fall.  It did not deter him though, ashis hand lingered.  Moments later he turned, and I took a deep breath.  

"This place is so wonderfully antiquated" i commented just as the door creaked with age as Kane pushed it inwards, "is it haunted do you think?"

He grinned and chuckled, "Weel, if it is, now is a bad time tae be askin', no?"

I returned the laugh, and our laughter followed us, echoing, as we walked into the foyer.  It was without doubt the most uniquely decorated place I'd ever seen.  A chandelier hung from the sky-high ceiling, providing somewhat dim light for the otherwise darkly ethereal realm.  A wide staircase presided on the left-hand side of the foyer, rich gold and cranberry-colored carpet covering steps.  Much of the old stone, from the orginal construction of the mansion in 1800, still remained, but newer fir planks had been included in more recent remodeling attempts to uphold the older, expectedly precarious areas.  The remodeling had been superb, as the combined wood and stone had a natural, elegant appeal.  I noticed a large knight in armor in the right corner of the hall and went quickly towards it, intrigued.  It was holding a highland claymore, only a few inches shorter than my full height.  I reached out to touch it warily.

"Is is true how heavy they are?" I asked Kane.

"Aye, they arena lightweight, tha' is for certain" he said, reaching for the claymore, "but here, hold it and see for yourself."

I held out my hands as he lowered the huge sword on to them.  When he let go, my hands dropped with the weight of the weapon.  He laughed and I huffed, "Well, i knew it was heavy but i wasn't expecting it to be that heavy."  Then i was pensive, "How on earth did the warriors fight effectively with these things?  By the time they swung the sword around, their enemy could have already stabbed and killed them."

"Ah, practice makes perfect" he said, taking the sword from me.  "There are techniques" and then he tossed it up into the air, seemingly without effort, catching it directly around the handle and holding it somewhat like someone would hold a baseball bat.  "On guard" he said, bending at the knees and squinting his eyes.  He adopted a roguish expression, right before he lunged forward in full extension to stab an imaginary opponent, then danced backward and made a few impressively quick motions with the heavy object.  He looked as if he'd been doing it his entire life, like he could have been a highland warrior himself if he'd not been dressed in his running attire.

"I've always wanted to learn how to fence" I said to him when he was placing the sword back into the knights grasp.

"Weel if ye want to learn, I will teach you" he offered.

"I would love it!" I returned, immediately excited.

"I wager ye'd be guud at it.  We would get ye a lighter sword.  Besides, it isna strength tha' matters, rather speed.  And you are quick on your feet."

"You know, I used to outrun all the boys on the track team."  I smiled at the memory, "that must have been ten years ago".

He grinned, "Och, I bet ye did, ye've got long limbs" he said as we walked, momentarily placing an outstretched finger on one of my thighs.  My skin became warm where his finger touched, and I swallowed.  "Come this way" he said as he began walking under an arch and into another room. "This is the den...Da' already has the fire burning like I told ye he would."

It was beautiful in this room as well.  The oriental carpets were evergreen and gold, and there was a mounted red stag on the wall across from me.  The chandelier in this room was one made of antlers, and it appeared to be somewhat of a hunter's lodge.  Animal furs hung over the couches, and I reached out to touch one, attracted to their unique coloring.

"This one is a wildcat pelt" he said as he took it from me and then wrapped it around my shoulders.  A shudder ran through me as he came nearer, and as his eyebrows furrowed, I think he misinterpreted my action as one revealing that I was sitll cold from our recent loch experience.   "You're still cold arena you?  Bide a wee" he said, "I'll go and get ye something else to wear tha' isna so damp."

Bide a wee? I thought to myself, half-smiling.  I loved the way he talked.  It reminded me of old time-travel novels that i'd read about the modern-day women and how they elusively sifted into another land and another time, only to find their true loves, which were always warriors with accents who lived in castles.  I laughed to myself and shook my head.  The sad thing was, I actually liked those stories, and had dreamed once or twice that they would happen to me, fully knowing they were merely imaginary.  But then again, I was now standing in a stone mansion that looked very much like a castle.  And the man that I was with was surely just as alluring as any of those devised romance novel warriors.  Ironic, i thought to myself. Then I got cynical and began to question my reality.  Maybe Kane was not so wonderful as I thought.  I hadn't ever noticed him having a girlfriend, or even dates, but that didn't mean he hadn't.  Perhaps I was just one of many women he had "wanted for two years".  I wondered what on earth he could be finding me to wear.  He, his father, and his four brothers, were the only ones who lived in this place.  There wre surely no womanly articles of clothing around.  Or at least I prayed not.

Interestingly though, Kane returned with a red, fitted Ralph Lauren sweater and a pair of black pants.  They were clearly articles of clothing made for ladies.  I looked at them for a moment, then looked into his eyes.  "Just something you had lying around?" I asked him.

"Aye" he told me nonchalantly as he handed them to me.  He looked at me in confusion as I stiffened and backed away from them, eyes now cold.

Then he understood, "Ellen ye couldna think...surely ye must know I havena looked at any other woman but you for two years, much less...do anything else with them."

My shoulders relaxed a bit, and I felt foolish for not trusting him, but still not completely convinced.

"These were my mother's" Kane said, "you are her size so I figured, weel, I just thought you could wear them." 

A feeling of shame washed over me.  How could I have jumped to conclusions so ridiculously like that?

"Oh, Kane, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

He smiled and chuckled again, "Ach doona fash yourself.  Here put them on."

I wasn't sure about wearing his mother's clothes.  She had died when he was a child, and I felt strange wearing clothes that she had worn so long ago.  I felt like her clothes were meant to be her clothes, like I was an intruder, a stranger invading her memory.  But maybe I was just being silly.  He didn't seem to mind or else he wouldn't be offering them for me to wear.  "Are you sure?" I asked him, "it just doesn't seem right that I should wear your mother's things.  I mean, these are a part of her, I just..."

"Ellen, you are both a part of me.  Tis na a problem.  I said doona worry" he interrupted, putting the clothes into my hands, "now get changed before ye get sick from the cold."

Both a part of him?  Was he honoring me by letting me wear his mother's clothes?  Was he trying to prove something to me?  Perhaps the subtle realities of real life were even better than those stories in romance novels. I exhaled with a contradictory feeling of victory and consent, then followed his signal to the nearest restroom.