Surviving Scotland by Kristin Vayden

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    “Ioan, what is it? What are ye dreadin’ so much?” I reached out and grasped his arm. His muscles tightened against my grip, but I wasn’t letting go. With a boldness I refused to dwell on, I traced my fingers down his forearm till I was to his fingers. Heart pounding, I swallowed and caressed his fingers with my own and then held his hand within my grasp.
    “Ioan?” I whispered, stepping closer to him.
    “Elle, please. ‘Tis hard enough. He’s my cousin, Elle, I willna do this ta him.” Ioan’s voice was steady as he pulled away from my grasp and walked to a large rock and sat down. “He’s a good man, Elle. Ye will be happy with him.”
    “Why does everyone want ta marry me off? First me uncle, now ye? Am I such a burden that ye all wish ta get rid o’ me?” I was confused and hurt. Did Ioan see me as a duty? A responsibility to guard ‘til his cousin could take over his job and he’d once again have his freedom? Did he resent me? Is that why he was silent? Yet, his expression spoke otherwise. Confused, I waited for him to explain.
    “Elle, did ye tell yer uncle you agreed ta marry my cousin, Cullon?” Ioan’s words were spoken softly, but his expression was carefully guarded.
    “Nay.” I shook my head.
    “What did ye promise yer uncle?” He waited, watching me closely.
    “I promised him that I’d meet Cullon an’ get ta know him.”
    “And that’s all?”
    “Aye.”
    Ioan’s face split into a grin for only a moment before his expression grew grave.
    “Elle…” Ioan’s voice was weary. “‘Twould be wise ta marry him.”
    “Why?” My heart was breaking. Ioan couldn’t want me if he was pushing me toward his cousin, could he? When his face broke into that mischievous grin, my heart had shuddered, but now he was telling me to marry his cousin. His words were like cold water over my heart.
    “‘Tis best fer the clan.”
    “But what is best fer me?” My heart hurt and I didn’t care that my question sounded selfish. I gazed at Ioan, willing him to give me a shred of hope that I was wrong in assuming he didn’t want me.
    “Ach, me wee haggis…” Ioan walked over to me and tilted my chin up so I’d meet his intense green gaze.
    “I hate that name,” I mumbled and Ioan chuckled, but the light I craved to see dancing in his eyes was gone, extinguished.
    “Ye love it, lass.”
    “No, I do not.”
    “So ye are English again, are ye?”
    My heart was beating frantically as I stared up into Ioan’s gaze. If my heart was to be broken, I was going to have it done quickly. So before I came to my senses, I asked Ioan the question that would seal the fate of my heart.
    “Ioan, do ye want me ta marry yer cousin?” I took a deep breath, expecting Ioan to fight an internal battle and make me wait for an answer. I was wrong. His response was immediate and strong.
    “Nay, Elle. I donna want that a’ tall.” Ioan’s fingers moved from my chin and traced the outline of my lips. I closed my eyes in response and my body tingled from the top of my head to my toes. Ioan’s breath tickled my lips a moment before he pressed his to my own with aching softness. I tilted my head to feel more of his lips upon my own, and he responded by running his fingers down my shoulders, caressing my arms, then finally holding my hands. His lips were soft and gentle, but I craved more. I leaned forward, but Ioan pulled away. My eyes opened to see Ioan watching me with a sorrowful expression.
    “Elle, I want ye somethin’ fierce, but ye aren’t mine ta take.” Ioan shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck with hand. He glanced away and into the trees. “We need to continue on.”
    I couldn’t move or speak. What had begun as the best moment of my life, at least that I could remember, had quickly turned into the worst.
    “Ioan—”
    “Lass, no’ now. Let’s be off.”
    He glanced at me and I nodded. Tears filled my eyes and spilled over onto my cheeks. I angrily wiped them away. If Ioan