Page 41 of The Speed of Lightning
A rumble of laughter shook from him. “No—wait…that’s not…”
Her cheeks burned, and she pressed her hands to them, unable to stop her own laughter.
He scooted his chair closer. “That’s what I want to do with you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“No, no, not that—though I cannae deny that the thought’s crossed my mind?—”
“Och!” She buried her face in her hands. “Calum, you’re embarrassing me. I’m no’ a tawdry flirt.”
Still laughing, he touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I keep making it worse. I mean…My parents are happy—they still love each other, still spend their nights under the stars. That’s what I want for us. For you never to know another day of sadness. To have a family that’s all ours, loads of children, time together under the stars, the whole…thing.”
Disbelief broke over her. “Happiness?”
“Aye.”
“You still think you want to wed me?”
At that, he blinked, startled. “I dinnae think. I know.”
She was stupefied. “You dinnae know what you’re saying.”
Sliding a hand into his tunic, he drew out her leather pouch. From it he unwound a cord and removed a folded slip of vellum. “This is for you.”
Her hands trembled. “Is it from my Papa?”
He shook his head. “The king.”
Cold shock slithered through her, freezing her insides as he pressed the small square into her palms. She slid her thumb beneath the wax, opened the missive, and read.
John of Islay, by the Grace of God, King of the Isles.
Know ye that We have given consent to the contracting of matrimony between Tànaiste Calum Bjorg MacLean of Jura and our beloved Freya Anna of Iona.
In witness whereof, We have set Our hand and caused Our great seal to be affixed at Ardtornish Palace, the 18th day of October, in the fiftieth year of Our Reign.
John, Rex Insularum
Witnessed: Hector, Chief MacLean of Lochbuie
Freya traced the ink with trembling fingers, unable to believe what she held. “Why has the king sealed the banns?”
“I thought it prudent to have them signed by the highest authority.”
“This isnae correct.”
Calum’s brow knit. “What do you mean?”
“It says ‘beloved Freya Anna of Iona.’ I am not from Iona.”
He shifted, uneasy, as though weighing how much truth she could bear. “The church required proof of your parentage for the record. I didnae know your mother’s surname, and your father refused to give it. Inverlussa held nothing of your birth. But my parents remembered your mother was Christian, that she bore you during pilgrimage to Iona. So I sent Father Timothy to search the records there. By some miracle he found you, April 1360. You are of Iona…recorded as illegitimate.”
He spoke slowly as if she were still fevered, and for moments she wondered if she was. Her mouth fell open. “You must have the wrong record.”
Calum tugged at his collar, swallowing hard. “Your mother was Amie Godfrey of Ross?”
Her heart plunged. “Aye.”
