A/n's: As requested here's yet another chapter for my faithful fans. If after reading this you still want more go ahead and read my newest writing attempt Daughter of the Moon. Yes, another shameless plug...hey, ya can't blame a girl for trying. ;)
Chapter Eight
She was embarrassed a week later to have to go into the hospital's head office and explain that she was leaving again so soon after being taken back, but the superintendent listened with enthusiasm as Sharni outlined the plans for the island's future.
"I really feel I can be more use there than here-" Sharni tried to say, but the superintendent broke in.
"My dear, if they're really going to build a cottage hospital on Mint, I'd rather you were there. You'd be amazed how many hospitals are designed and built by idiots who know nothing about how hospitals work. You'll be able to stop them from making stupid mistakes, I dare say."
That was Sharni's own feeling. She did not regard herself as leaving work but as changing one job for another. Making sure that things went well on the island was going to be a full-time occupation.
******
Three weeks later she became Mark's wife in a big, round fifteenth-century kirk, whose spire dominated the village.
Her headdress, as befitted an island bride, was made of small white flowers that had been picked in the wild. Her bouquet was white roses interspersed with myrtle, the symbol of life, union and rebirth.
Pastor Dunbar led them down the steps to a large stone pillar into which another, much older bit of stone had been embedded. Part of it protruded just above head level, and into this was cut a very large hole.
Every neck in the kirk craned towards them, for although the rumor had gone round that the new owner meant to be married in the old way, it had been met with general incredulity. But now, fascinated and only half believing, they saw Mark Calloway pass his left hand through the hole in the stone and take hold of his bride's right hand.
Pastor Dunbar spoke with a raised voice, using the words of the old dialect.
On the previous day Sharni had translated the words to Mark. She wondered if the shared her sense of being caught up in a implacable destiny from which there was no turning back. The solemn words underlined it. Whatever the future held, they said, their oaths had made them one, to endure together all their lives.
As they walked out of the kirk door, it was the piercing sweet tones of Joey's fiddle that met them. The man turned and began to lead the way, playing a lively jig and occasionally capering to the music. They swung away from the kirk towards the bridge. Sharni looked up and found her husband watching her face with a smile in his dark eyes that made her heart turn over.
"Am I doing this right?" he said softly.
"You're doing fine," she assured him. "Keep your eyes on me till we get over the bridge. Then, as legend goes, you'll be safe from the kelpies, and you can look away."
But perhaps he didn't understand her, for when the bridge was passed his gaze remained on her face. He seemed transfixed by the faint flush on her cheeks, which glowed in peachy softness against the white of her veil.
Later that night, when it was dark and folk were wandering happily home to their beds, it was said by many that the queen of the kelpies could have shouted herself hoarse. She'd not have got Mark Calloway away form his bride.
******
When he carried her over the threshold of the castle, she blushed. When they were inside the bedroom, he kicked the door closed and set her on her feet. Then his mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her hungrily. There was passion in it, but also reassurance, so that the reckless speed at which she was swept along became less alarming.
She had often tried to imagine him naked. Now she could see all his beautiful body. He radiated power in every line, from the deep chest, to the lean hips and long thighs.
His hands were touching her naked body with caressing, intimate movements. She twisted her head violently, as a fork of fire went through her.
She felt him part her legs and move between them, possessing her quickly, so that she gasped at the sharp pain that briefly invaded her. But then it became suddenly easy, as though Mark were really a part of her. The piercing sweetness of his movements inside her compelled her into his rhythm until at last she let herself fall into the void. She called his name, and when the tremors that shook her were finally stilled, she found that he had never let her go, and his arms had held her safe all the time.