Island of the Swans by Ciji Ware Page A

kissing her ear and then trailing his lips down her neck, finally resting his cheek against the smoothness of one breast. “You’re the one thing that hasn’t been lost to me… don’t think the next two years will be easy for either of us…”
    Jane arched her body toward him, pressing through the unwanted layers of her boned bodice and voluminous skirts.
    “Thomas, please don’t go!” she cried. “Tell Simon we’ll live in Monreith or—”
    “Jenny, lass,” Thomas interrupted, rocking her gently in his arms. “You know that’s not the kind of life we want… and besides,” he whispered into the soft strands of her hair, “soldiering suits me, I think.”
    Jane pulled away from him and stared.
    “’Tis what my father was,” Thomas said slowly, “and ’tis the only chance left to me to make my way— our way.” He kissed the top of her head, murmuring, “I want so much for us, lass…” His voice began to throb with intensity. “I want us to be able to walk our own land when we go to the Highlands. I want to rebuild Struy House… to create a life we can share with those poor souls who are still wanderers in their own homeland…”
    Jane looked away, feeling frightened by something she couldn’t identify, but that filled her with a dread she couldn’t seem to put into words. Until now, the stories her uncle James had told her of the savagery of the Indians across the sea had only been exquisitely frightening entertainments. Suddenly, a vision of Thomas, covered in blood and lying motionless, swam before her eyes.
    “I’m so afraid you’ll be lost to me if you go to the Colonies,” she whispered brokenly. “Two whole years! I don’t think I can stand the wondering and worrying…”
    Thomas took her chin in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes.
    “Don’t worry for my safety, pet,” he said softly. “You’re my own lucky talisman… you’ve always been, you know.”
    “But Thomas,” she persisted, “how are we to persuade Simon and Mama to agree to our marriage? There’s so little time left!” Brightening, she exclaimed, “We could elope to Gretna Green! ’Tis only a half-day’s journey south, and…”
    Her voice trailed off as she stared at Thomas, slowly shaking his head.
    “I can’t marry you afore I go, Jenny,” he said with finality. “’Tis not just Simon… ’twouldna be fair to you, lass—”
    “But—”
    Thomas interrupted before Jane could protest further. He took her hands, kissing each gently.
    “You’re just a lass yet, Jenny, darling. Just sixteen today! You haven’t begun to taste of life. If I made you my bride and then left you, your mama’d punish you greatly, I fear. You’d be shut up like a nun for two years, at the moment you’re about to bloom like Highland heather. You wouldn’t be a wife and you wouldn’t be a maid.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “You’d grow to think badly of the lad who’d caged you up and left you a prisoner in the prime of your youth.”
    Jane stared into his eyes and saw a finality in their depths. She withdrew her hands from his. Her chin tilted up slightly in a pose of characteristic stubbornness.
    “I think ’tis more to do with your not wanting Simon’s wrath upon your head!” she said, fighting her disappointment. “He might not lay down the silver for your Commission, would he now, if he thought you were betrothed to me !”
    “Aye, ’tis true,” Thomas said evenly. “And that would defeat our ultimate plan to be free of Simon, wouldna it?”
    “Mayhap by then you’ll feel differently about taking me as your wife,” she replied cuttingly, turning quickly to avoid his gaze. “I suppose you’d like to keep several arrows in your quiver.”
    “Jenny!” he said heatedly. “’Twill only be two years. Surely you have stronger faith in our love than you’re showing me here!”
    “Perhaps you fear I won’t be suitable when you someday recover your lands and your title,” she persisted,