Chris Reynolds, always wanting to please his family as he was growing up, knew that something about himself was amiss: His body was just plain wrong! This sense of wrongness pervaded him and eventually sank him into a deep depression.

One fateful day, deciding to end it all, Chris wound up being caught in a freakish accident in which he was killed - only he didn't die!

Finding himself alive was the first thing he was surprised at. Finding his lifelong prayers answered, through some sort of swapping of bodies during death with another person - a girl equally as depressed as himself, and in a similar situation as he - except she had always desired to physically be a man, was simply amazing!

Chris, now Christina, pursues living life to it's fullest, but once again realizes something missing from her life. Will she find her answer?

Just what will Christina do with her Second Chance?

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Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

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The Legal Stuff: Second Chance © 2009, 2010 Tanya Allan
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
Please enjoy.
Tanya
 
 

 
 
 
Chapter 4
 
 
The school and surrounding countryside was truly magnificent, so the four of us went for long walks along the river in the sunshine. There was even a golf course, where Mark and Alex could battle it out in the heather. Mark actually accepted things by giving me some space, but he would watch me with that dopey expression all the time.

We had a few days before the first party, so spent the evenings practicing the Scottish dances. It was hilarious at first, as we just hadn't a clue how to do them, but the more we did, the better we became.

My arm was fine, and my bruises were less tender. However, I was still aware that I was a little fragile, so was determined to take it easy. Bruce and Sheila were fabulous, and were very patient with us. The first party was a private one, one of Alex’s friends was twenty-one, and it was at his large house between Perth and Dundee. Alex had told him that he had the three of us staying, and so we were invited as well.

I was keeping my spectacular ice-blue dress for the Balls, so I wore my black silk skirt with a diaphanous black silk top. It had long sleeves, as I wanted to keep my cast covered. It was cut low across my bust and showed my cleavage in all its glory.

Ingrid wore a white dress that looked wonderful on her. With our very blonde hair and Nordic looks, I had to admit that we were a very striking pair. There was no doubt that we were sisters, not twins, but definitely sisters. She was slightly shorter than I, and I had a larger bust, but she was very slim and more graceful. There was a six-foot bloke lurking in my past, so I was still new at this grace business.

I wore some really pretty jewellery that had black onyx set amongst the diamonds, and I had a simple gold crucifix set on a chain between my breasts. Ingrid had to help me with my nails, as the cast was a real pain, but when we joined the men downstairs, they stared at us with open admiration.

Mark was looking rather self-conscious in his hired kilt and accessories. He looked fabulous, but I knew that he felt rather uncomfortable. Alex was dressed the same way, but he was at ease with it, he had worn his kilt every week for years.

"Wow! Girls, you look absolutely stunning!" said Sheila, breaking the silence. "Alex, stop dribbling, dear," she told her son.

Alex took us in his father’s Volvo, for which I was grateful, as the Golf was fine, but not when dressed like this.

I sat in the back with Mark, who had yet to say anything.

"You look great," I told him.

He shook his head.

"I had no idea," he said.

"About what?" I asked, frowning.

"I knew you were beautiful, but never did I dream you were this beautiful."

I blushed, and Ingrid snorted with laughter in the front.

"That goes for you too, Ingrid. You're two of the most fabulous girls I've ever seen. I just feel completely unworthy to be see with the pair of you," he said, and that set us all laughing. The problem was he was perfectly serious.

"You're a sweetie, and it's nice of you to say lovely things about us, but it's all make-up," I said, and Ingrid laughed.

"No it’s not. I've never met two girls who use less make-up. You're simply natural beauties," Mark said, to which Alex agreed.

We pulled up in front of the most enormous house, and if Mark was uncomfortable at our home, this would scare the shit out of him. Built in the Victorian age, it was a Gothic monstrosity that must be a nightmare to maintain and heat. It was truly magnificent and very ostentatious, in a very ugly way.

"Bloody hell!" said Mark. "People actually live here?"

"Aye. My friend Jamie and his folks," said Alex as he parked the car in the field provided. Lots of other cars were arriving, and Alex was hailed by most of the other people. Jamie’s sister, Mary, was celebrating her eighteenth at the same time, so the other party-goers were all our sort of age, with quite a few younger.

We went in the main front door and entered the hall. Mark gasped as he took in the myriad of dead animals, many still with antlers or horns attached, that stared down at him from amongst the austere portraits of long dead ancestors. Arms and armour were scattered about the place, and he looked totally lost, poor love. I took his arm and gave it a squeeze.

"You’ll be fine. Just remember that very few people actually live like this, so just pretend you’ve been doing this all your life," I whispered.

He smiled, somewhat nervously, and chuckled.

"If my shift could see me now," he said.
 
 
We walked through the house to the ballroom, which was enormous too. The plain sprung wooden floor was ready for dancing, while around edge of the room, chairs had been placed to sit out a dance, if one so desired. There was a proper seating area set aside in an antechamber. Dinner was a buffet in the dining room, which was through the double doors at the end. There were already about eighty young people in these rooms. Virtually all the men were wearing the kilt, while all the girls were in long dresses.

"Alex. Great to see you, man," came the voice of a shorter young man with sandy hair. He extricated himself from a group of people and made his way over to us. He was wearing a green velvet kilt jacket, which had lacy cuffs and looked a little ostentatious too. There was a hush in the conversation, so I suddenly felt that all eyes were on us.

"Jamie, it’s grand to be here. Happy birthday," replied Alex.

"Oh, my birthday was last month, but we were in the Seychelles," Jamie said, and then noticed us.

Alex introduced us.

"Jamie, this is Ingrid, we're at University together. This is her older sister, Christina, and her fella, Mark," he said, pointing us out in turn.

Jamie shook hands with Mark, and kissed us girls on the cheek. It was nice to meet a guy who was only 5’8", because with my heels, I was taller than him.

"Wow. You're looking lovely ladies. Very Scandinavian," he said, with a cheeky grin.

"That's because we are, sort of half, as our mother is from Sweden," I said. "It's really nice of you to allow us to slip in like this."

"It’s an absolute pleasure. I'm pleased that you could come. Usually these sorts of things have all the same people at them, so it's greatly refreshing to have some new blood. Go and grab a drink, and food will be in about twenty minutes," he said, and went off to greet some newcomers.
 
 
We moved on through to the dining room where Alex met up with many people he knew. I was introduced to so many people that I forgot them all instantly. We stood around, feeling very self-conscious and rather odd. The lads found us a glass of wine each, and we stood making small talk to complete strangers. The thing that struck me as strange was that despite being about a hundred and sixty miles inside Scotland, they all, or most of them, spoke with no discernable accent at all.

"Ruperts!" muttered Mark, making me laugh.

"You're in their world now, boy. Behave!" I whispered.

"You two are the most stunning girls here by far," he said.

"You look very Scottish, so try to disguise your southern accent."

"Fat chance," he said.
 
 
We gradually moved to the large table, from which we helped ourselves to the superb food. We then found a space and sat and ate it. I was having difficulties with my broken arm, so Mark carried my food for me. We ended up sitting on a sofa in a small sitting room. Mark, a typical copper, ate everything on his plate in two seconds, and disappeared to look for seconds. I was in no hurry, and did not want to spill anything on my new dress.

I became aware of a shadow across me, so looked up. It was another tall young man wearing the full mess dress of an army officer, but it wasn't a kilt.

Such was my past that I knew a little about such things, so recognised that he was a Lieutenant in the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards. Two medal ribbons adorned his broad chest.

"Hello," he said, with a broad smile. He was older than most of the others, which made him nearer my age. He was very lean and tanned, so I guessed that he had been abroad and probably in a field of conflict. He had sandy hair, which was as short as I had used to keep mine in my other life. He oozed confidence and quiet professionalism.

"Hi."

"I’ve been watching you; what happened to your arm?"

I was surprised, as the sleeve covered it, so I thought I had done a good job hiding it.

"I got hit by a van that jumped a red light."

"Nasty. But you seem to be coping very well."

"Thanks. It's a right royal pain in the arse, but it's better than being dead." I said, and he smiled again. He had a very nice smile, and I got a tingly feeling again. Bloody hell, girl, make your mind up.

"I’m Alistair McLeish. I’m a friend of the family."

I laughed.

"I’m Christina Reynolds, my younger sister is dating Alex Robertson. They're at Cambridge together."

"So what do you do, are you at university too?"

"No, I work for an advertising company in London. I left Cambridge a couple of years ago."

He nodded and smiled again.

"I sensed you were a little more mature than most of this lot."

He took my hand, but instead of shaking it, he kissed the back of it. His lips hardly touched it, but I blushed, experiencing that warm tingly feeling again. He really was very dishy.

"Are you with the man who was sitting here?" he asked.

"I suppose so." I said, and grinned. "Yes, his name is Mark, and I arrived with him."

He smiled, bowing his head.

"Then I shall not intrude, just permit me to say that you are, by far, the most wonderful creature I have seen in a very long time."

I was speechless, but he smiled as he watched Mark making his way back to us.

"If I may have but one dance with you this evening?" Alistair asked.

"Of course, any in particular?"

"The Reel of the Fifty First Division, it’s my favourite," he said, so I nodded my agreement.

Mark arrived with another huge plate full. He frowned slightly, so I sensed he felt possessive.

"Mark, this is Alistair McLeish. Alistair, this is Mark Williams," I said, and watched them as the eyed each other up. Mark was faintly wary, but Alistair was charm personified.

"I did not mean to intrude, but I saw her sitting all alone, and thought she could do with some company. Now you have returned, I shall retire from the lists," he said, bowing slightly to me and shaking Mark’s hand.

"Toffee nosed git!" Mark said after he'd left. Poor Mark was feeling like a fish out of water. I had to confess, that although it was very alien and slightly pompous, I actually felt perfectly at ease. It was the exhibitionist in me, I suppose. My one regret was my arm, and I was mildly annoyed that the handsome soldier had immediately seen it.

"Mark, you’re jealous," I said.

He grinned.

"Who wouldn’t be? You're the best looking woman here, and you're mine," he said.

"What did I say about being anyone’s possessions?" I said.

He looked at me and had the grace to blush.

"I know, I didn’t mean that literally, but. .. Shit, I’m sorry, but I do love you and I don’t like seeing you with other guys."

"Mark. You know I'm fond of you, but if you get too possessive, then this isn’t going to work. Is it?"

"I guess not."

"Because all it says to me, is that you don’t trust me, and if that is the case, we may as well end things before we start," I said, feeling rather a heel.

"It's not that I don’t trust you. I do. But I don’t trust General Gordon there," he said, nodding in the direction that the tall army officer had gone.

"If you trust me, then you will know that I'll be loyal. Even so, it's very early days, and as I told you, I don’t know if I want to be tied down yet. Although you say you love me, I don’t actually think you've had enough time to get to know me. But without that trust, then where are we?" I asked.

"I’m sorry. I'm so terrified of losing you. I’ve only just found you, and I'm still in shock that you're with me at all," he said, looking very sheepish.

I smiled and kissed his cheek.

"To keep me, you have to learn to give me space," I said, and he grinned.

"Okay, just hit me if I get too possessive," he said, so I punched him on the arm.

"Ow. Okay, point taken," he said, and proceeded to finish everything on his plate.

"Do you want some dessert?" he asked.

"Okay," I said, and we went back to the dining room. While we were gone, someone else took our spot, so I was left holding my plate and no way could I use my broken arm to feed myself.

Mark managed to find us some room on the stairs, where we sat with a group of people that I had never met, and found it quite fun. Mark was quiet, but somehow I had relaxed, and was able to join in the conversation with no difficulty.

We finished our food, and they announced the first dance. It was a Dashing White Sergeant, and required threesomes. No sooner than we had entered the ballroom, looking rather lost, than Alistair materialised at my side, and offered himself as our third person. Mark saw my expression, grinned, and welcomed him with a curt nod.

I was on cloud nine.

I had two gorgeous blokes, almost fighting each other for me, and they were so polite about it. We met Alex and Ingrid with another girl about halfway round. Alex and Alistair obviously knew each other, and they exchanged pleasantries.
 
 
When we moved on, Alistair turned to me.

"I can see why Alex is attracted to your sister. She is almost as beautiful as you," he said, and I went pink, again.

At the end of the dance, Alistair thanked us both and left us alone. Mark was confused. On the one hand, he was as jealous as hell, and yet he knew he mustn’t express it or show it.

Our relationship was too new for this environment really, but it was a good testing experience for both of us.

"I tell you what. I won’t flirt, if you don’t become too jealous," I said to him and he grinned.

"The problem with that is simple. You and Ingrid don’t need to flirt, you just have to walk into a room, and, bang. You're immediately the focus of all male attention," he said.

"Poor Mark, any regrets?"

"Yes."

"Oh?"

"I regret the fact that I'll be leaving you up here when I head south next week."

I smiled, and gave him a kiss.

"Relax, trust me," I said.

"Christina, I do, but I can’t help what I feel."
 
 
We went and had a dance together, and although we were novices, the others helped us through.

I sat out the next dance, so Ingrid took Mark for a dance, while Alex danced with Mary, Jamie’s sister.

Alistair appeared as if by magic, and sat next to me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, nodding at my arm.

"Yup. I have the most spectacular bruises all over my body, so I need to rest now and again."

"How long are you up here for?"

"Two weeks, or at least Ingrid and I are. Mark has to go back next week, he is in court."

"Court? Is he a lawyer?"

"No, he's a police officer."

"Ah. That would account for it."

"For what?"

"He has an almost military bearing, so i guessed that he is used to wearing a uniform and doing a tough job."

"I suppose so."

"How did you meet?"

I told him my tale of the accident, after which he nodded.

"I don’t blame him, I would have done the same," he said, so I smiled.

"He's very jealous of you, you know?" I said.

"So he should be. For I fully intend to make you my wife," he said with a laugh.

I laughed, and looked at him. He stopped laughing.

"Actually, I know that's not really funny. It's rare for me to say silly things like this, but you have literally taken my breath away," he said.

I looked down, unable to find the right words. I found him attractive, and yet I found Mark and Steve attractive for different reasons. Yet there was something else. I could not put my finger on what attracted me to him, but then I had only met three unattached men, and had found them all attractive.

"You don’t know me, so don’t be so silly," I said, trying to make light of it.

He looked at me with such tenderness that my heart almost skipped a beat. Then he smiled, and changed the subject.

"Are you going to the Perth Ball?"

"Yes, and the Angus Ball, although Mark won’t be here for that one."

He grinned, so I punched him on the shoulder, gently.

"Stop it. I’ll have you know that I am loyal, and besides Mark and I have only just met, so it's still early days," I said.

"In that case, I live in hope," he said.

The dance ended, so he smiled and left me alone. Mark returned, looking flushed and out of breath.

"How was that?" I asked.

"Cool. Your sister has so much energy."

"I know, she's very fit."

"I saw General Gordon, what did he want?"

"To marry me," I said, perfectly honestly.

"Sorry Chris, that was out of order. I need a drink, do you want one?"
 
 
We went to get a drink together, and stood on the terrace as he cooled off. It was a lovely night, and it was a perfect setting. It was so amazing to wear fine clothes and to mix with such exotic people in such a romantic setting, with the Scottish dance music in the background.

I stared at the stars, and wondered which man was the ‘one’ for me.

"Penny for them?" Mark said.

"I was wondering where my future lay, and with whom," I replied.

He was quiet.

"Sorry, but you did ask," I said.

"I know. I live in hope," he said, and I caught my breath, for those were the exact words that Alistair had said a few moments before.

He put his glass down, and wrapped his arms around me, standing behind me. I was content to stand there, safe and happy.

"I know that someone like you will never belong to any one man, so thank you for sharing your life with me for a short time," he said.

It was so romantic and humble, that I almost cried.

"Don’t be silly. When I find the right man, I fully intend to be a one man woman, but I need to find myself first."

He kissed the nape of my neck, and shivers went up my spine.

"Just remember, I love you, Chris."

"I will," I said, and just let him hold me for a while. His sporran started to move, and I sniggered.

"That's a very dirty laugh, Chris."

"Well, stop your sporran from assaulting my bum then," I said, and he sniggered too.

"Who has the dirty laugh now?" I asked.

We decided to go back in, and no sooner we did that Alistair appeared and claimed my hand for the dance I had promised him.
 
 
He was a polished and experienced dancer, so I was only to aware that I was a complete novice. We were far down the set, so he explained the moves as we watched the other couples go through the dance. I managed to get through it with no terrible gaffs, finding the whole experience exhilarating and great fun. I liked dancing with him, as I found his dress uniform was very smart. Being a Cavalry Officer, he did not wear a kilt, but breeches, with lots of stripes and buttons all over the place. He was wearing boots, but had taken his spurs off, so as not to rip girls’ dresses.

Mark stood and smouldered on the sidelines. He was not a good dancer, poor love, he was as new to it as I, but lacked the grace to wing it as Ingrid and I managed.

"Your policeman doesn’t like me very much," Alistair said.

"When I told him you wanted to marry me, he was a little upset," I said.

"You never told him?"

"Yes, but he didn’t believe me," I said, so he laughed.

When the dance came to an end, Alistair bowed low over my hand, which he took to his lips once more, and kissed.

"You have made my evening, fair Christina, for that I thank you."

"Oh, do us a favour," I said, but my heart went flutter-flutter.

He smiled, and led me back to Mark.

"I return your maiden. Please look after her," he said, and left us alone.

"He's a pompous ass," Mark said.

"Mark. Behave!" I said, still glowing with pleasure at his words.

"Sorry, but he is."

"Jealousy does not become you," I said, and he had the grace to grin.

I felt like Elisa Doolittle - I could have danced all night. However, it came to an end, so we eventually had to say our farewells. I had met so many people, yet with several I had become quite friendly, so saying goodbye took some time. Alex knew nearly everyone, and as Ingrid was stuck on his arm, I never thought we would get away.
 
 
Finally, we were in the car park and walking to the Volvo. Mark and Alex were ahead, and I was behind with Ingrid. A Porsche pulled up next to us, and the window was lowered. It was Alistair.

"Goodnight fair Christina, and I meant every word," he said, and sped off.

"Who was that? He’s gorgeous," my sister asked.

"He's called Alistair, and he proposed to me earlier."

"No? Oh Chris, you're just too bad!" she said, and convulsed into giggles.

"It’s awful, as he and Mark almost squared up to each other. Mark got so jealous, and Alistair teased him something rotten," I said, and Ingrid giggled even more.

We got to the car and Alex wanted to know what was so funny, so I told him, and we all ended up laughing. However, I could sense Mark was far from happy.
 
 
The rest of the week sped by, with several parties and the Perth Ball. It was all fabulous, so even Mark relaxed, and was reasonably friendly to Alistair when we met him at the Ball. Fortunately we did not see him at any other party, so Mark and I enjoyed being with each other.

By the end of the week, I was tired, but my injuries were less painful that at the start. Mark took a lingering and rather emotional farewell, promising undying love and all that. As I watched the VW disappear, I knew that, however nice he was, he wasn’t the ‘one’. I sensed he knew it too, but we both were a little sad.

The weekend was quiet, but although the school was back now, we just took things easy. We attended chapel on the Sunday morning, sitting in the gallery above the main chapel. It was all very fine, but too much ceremony for my liking. Ingrid and I dressed in quite short skirts and high heels, so were rewarded by causing not a few adolescent heads to turn.

There were two parties planned for this week, on Friday and Saturday. One was the Angus Ball.

On Sunday afternoon, Alex and Ingrid wanted some time alone, so I was sitting in the Robertson’s kitchen, chatting to Sheila, when the telephone rang. Sheila answered, and looked at me in a strange way.

"It's for you," she said. I frowned, for no one knew I was here, apart from my parents.

"Hi?" I said.

"Hello Christina." It was Alistair.

"Alistair. How nice to hear from you."

"Has your policeman gone yet?"

"Yes, as it happens, but he's not my policeman, he's just a friend."

"Good. Then will you come out to dinner with me, I thought we could go to the theatre?"

I was stunned, my heart was racing in any case, so this made it worse.

"I’d love to," I heard the tart inside me reply.

"Good. How about tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at seven?"

"Hang on," I said, and covered the mouthpiece with my hand.

I explained what was on offer, and Sheila thought it funny.

"There's nothing planned, go for it girl. How I wish I was your age again," she said.

"Fine, I’ll see you at seven," I said.

There was a moment’s silence on the other end.

"Great. Dress smart. I’ll see you tomorrow," he said, and then we said goodbye. I switched off the phone.

"I know Alistair, he's a very nice young man. He was here, as a pupil, a few years ago now," Sheila told me.

"Oh Sheila, I feel so guilty."

"Why? No one man owns you; you do what you want and see whom you want. Why should you lock yourself away, just because one young man declares his undying love for you? Once you reciprocate that love, and you make a commitment, that's different, but as for now, why hold back? It's not as if you're sleeping with anyone, is it?"

"No. That I reserve for my husband to be," I said.

"That in itself is very rare, and something wonderful, in this day and age," she said, and I smiled.

"I still feel guilty," I said, to which she laughed.

"There's no need, these men all demand such things from you, but actually offer no guarantee that they'll be as loyal in return."

"I suppose so. But poor Mark, he so wanted to stay."

"It's obvious how he feels about you, but how do you feel about him?"

"He's attractive, fun to be with, I like him, and he makes me feel good, but I don’t think he is the ‘one’ for me. But, if I don’t try, how will I ever know?"

"Quite. He is a nice boy, but not in your league," Sheila said.

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Christina, your humility is so tangible, it’s wonderful. You’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever met, and you’ve a gentle and kind personality to match. You’d be completely wasted as a policeman’s wife, although you’d be very happy and make a wonderful wife and loving mother. I feel you’re destined for far greater things."

"So an army wife is out of the question too?" I said with a smile.

"What do you know about Alistair?"

"Not a lot, we didn’t get talking much, Mark was always in the background."

"Well, he's not cut out to be a regular soldier, his father is the Earl of Dundas, and as the heir, Alistair has obtained a commission before taking over the reins of his father’s empire. Edgar McLeish, his father, is the head of a large conglomerate of international companies, as well as having vast estates that spread across three counties. He is one very rich and powerful man, and Alistair is set to follow his footsteps."

"Oh."

Sheila smiled.

"It's not that bad. As it happens, he's a nice young man and isn't as arrogant as his father was. Edgar is still a rude and unpleasant man, but because he's rich, he gets away with it. Alistair takes after his mother Julia, who was a lovely woman."

"Was? I take it she died?"

"Yes, several years ago now, she had breast cancer. Edgar took it badly, and is not well himself these days. The booze mostly."

"Oh," I said, again. Life was getting complicated.

I was ready at six-forty and he arrived at six-forty-seven. I was wearing a black dress with straps, stockings and smart high heel shoes. I had a white jacket, in which I could hide my plaster cast. I was more nervous on going on this date than anything else I could remember. Ingrid and Alex were off to the movies, and had already left.

I heard the sound of his car on the gravel, and saw him as he parked the car. It was a black convertible with the top down. Several of the boys were already admiring the car, as he made his way to the door. He was dressed in a smart jacket and trousers, with a pale blue shirt and regimental tie.

I opened the door before he rang the bell, and he grinned at me.

"My word. You're so beautiful," he said.

"You don’t exactly look like a tramp, yourself," I said, and he laughed.

"Hello Alistair," said Sheila.

"Hello Mrs Robertson. Sorry to love you and leave you," he said, she smiled and waved.

"Have a lovely time, my dear," she said to me.

I walked to the car with him. There was a large group of boys around it full of technical questions. He answered them as he opened the door for me. I showed a lot of leg as I squeezed into the passenger seat, with my handbag on my lap. The crowd went very quiet, making both Alistair and I laugh.

I took a scarf from my bag and tied it round my hair. I did not want to get totally windswept before the meal. I slipped on my sunglasses, as did he.

We drove to Perth, but the wind made conversation difficult. I became aware of the glances we received from other drivers and passersby. I felt good sitting here, with Alistair looking very suave and cool with his Rayban sunglasses.
 
 
After he parked the car, we walked to the restaurant. It was in one of the old buildings, furnished entirely with antique furniture. The owner was an ex-army officer, and the place felt really friendly. Alistair obviously knew the owner, so he introduced me to him.

"Christina, my darling, this is Norman, he and his lovely wife Carol have run this place for many years. When I left school, I worked behind the bar until I went off to Sandhurst."

Norman kissed me on the cheek, while I was still reeling from being referred to as, ‘my darling’.

We sat at a pleasant little table in an alcove, with Alistair sitting next to me on a small padded bench. We were very close together, ‘cosy’ would be the expression.

I selected garlic prawns to start, followed by fillet of Scotch beef. He smiled.

"I was going to go for the game pate, but if you are having garlic, I suppose I had better too. Otherwise, I won’t want to kiss you," he said.

"Oh, and who says you'd be allowed to?" I asked, teasing.

He took my good hand.

"Don’t mistake my poor attempts at humour for anything other than a smoke screen. I still meant every word I said to you. For I truly believe that you're really an angel come down to dwell amongst us, and as soon as you walked in that ballroom the other night, I lost my heart, totally and utterly."

"And how the hell is a girl supposed to respond to that?" I asked.

He laughed.

"You say, ‘I too fell completely under your charms, so when shall we get married after which I can have lots of your babies?’ or something like that," he said.

I laughed, but he still held my hand. However, I had no compulsion to remove it.

"You're a nice guy, I think. But I don’t know you, any more than I know Mark."

"Argh! You said his name. I had hoped you would have forgotten all about him."

I laughed again, and the waitress came and took our order. I told her what I wanted, and he simply said, "I’ll have the same."

I was still laughing, as he was just so silly.

"Tell me about yourself," he said.

"I’m twenty-four, as I told you I work in advertising as a graphic designer, and have been since leaving university. I'm a virgin, and intend to remain that way until I meet the man I marry. My father is a mad scientist, and I still don’t know what he does. You’ve met my sister and, thanks to my mother, I'm half Swedish."

"You have the most beautiful eyes," he said.

I was lost for words, but my heart was racing.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, quietly. He kissed my hand.

"What?"

"Complicating my life," I said.

"Am I?"

"I don’t know. Yes, yes, you are."

"How?"

"By coming into my life now."

"Would you like me to go?"

"No. You know I don’t."

"Do I?"

"Alistair, don’t play games."

"I promise you, I'm not playing games. I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you. I told myself that I was a fool, as such things couldn’t happen. But the longer I watched you, the deeper I fell, until I just had to speak to you. If it was a game, it would be easier for both of us."

I was quiet, for again I sensed something different about him.

He looked at me, as I studied the table mat. My mind went back to whom I used to be. I remembered all my previous life during which I had for so long yearned, with all my soul, an experience such as this. Yet that previous life seemed so unreal to me now. It was as if it was the dream and this was reality.

This was reality, so could that have been a dream?

Why didn't I remember?

I so wanted this to be real, but part of me thought that this might be a dream and I would wake up as a male once more.
 
 
He smiled, reaching over with his hand to brush some hair from my face.

"You're crying," he said, surprised.

I nodded.

"Why?"

I shrugged.

He still had my hand, so he loosened his grip, but I held on tight.

"Why do you cry?"

I shook my head.

"You wouldn’t understand," I said.

"Try me."

"I have never been so happy in my life, nor have I ever been so confused," I said.

He laughed.

"Oh, to understand the female mind!" he said.

I smiled.

"You see, in the last couple of weeks, three men have told me they love me, and I feel something for each of them. It makes me feel very humble, because I never wanted such power over anyone."

"Am I one of these three?"

I nodded.

"So, you feel something for me, is it revulsion?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

"No, and you know it."

"Oh, Christina, tell me, what do you feel for me?"

I looked at him, his face so open, and so earnest. I let go of his hand and stroked his cheek. He caught my hand and took it to his lips.

"Tell me, please. I have to know."

"I don’t honestly think I can. It's not that I don’t want to, but I'm more than a little confused. You see, it was only a few days ago that I was knocked down and died on the road. The paramedics jumped started me, and they were able to save my life. Since then, my memory of my life to that point is poor, but I seem to have changed. I want to find myself first, as I don’t really know who I am, and so when I meet someone who makes me go weak at the knees, and in whose company I so like being, I get confused."

I paused, realising that I was babbling.

"I’m sorry, I'm probably making no sense at all," I said.

"How are your knees now?"

"Weak," I said, and he smiled.

"Why?"

"Because you do something to me," I admitted.

"Did Mark?"

"You mentioned him this time," I said, making him grin.

"Yup, I suppose I did."

"Yes, he did, but not in the same way," I said

He nodded.

"What do you know about me?"

"Up to accepting your date - nothing, but Sheila told me a little about you. It's all a bit daunting."

"Yet, you still came?"

"No, I'm a mirage," I said, and he laughed again.

"Have you any idea what it's like living under my father’s shadow?"

I shook my head.

"I've hated him for so long, it's horrible. But I don’t hate him any longer. He's just a greedy man, who has had his time. I actually forgive him everything, as I see that really he was the product of his generation. The title meant so much to him, and then the money took over. He became so acquisitive that it took over his whole life. My mother was the most wonderful and gentle woman. He never deserved her, but watching her die killed him a little."

He paused and the waitress brought us our starters.

I still held his hand.

"You remind me of her, you know?" he said.

"Really? Why?"

"Because you have the same gentleness of spirit, and infinite capacity to love."

I smiled a little sadly.

"Anyway, Dad is ill now, but he's still a sad and miserable old sod. I'm not afraid of him anymore. He has shown me how not to be. And for that I am eternally grateful."

"I feel so sad for you," I said.

"Why?"

"Because you missed out on a father’s love. Everyone should have that, as well as a mother’s love."

He smiled.

"My mother made up for him."

I shook my head.

"No she didn’t. She tried, maybe, but that's something one can never do completely. My children will have all the love from both parents, for I would not have a child with a man who did not have the capacity to love them."

He stared at me, and I was surprised to see tears form in his eyes.

"Your turn," I said, and he looked down.

"That was beautiful," he said, letting go of my hand so I could eat.
 
 
We ate in silence, but something special had happened between us. I felt a pang of guilt, as I recalled Mark’s sad face as he left me.

I sopped up the garlic sauce with my hunk of brown bread. I was getting good at eating with one hand now.

As soon as I finished, he took my hand again, or did I take his?

He looked into my eyes, which made me smile.

"What?" he asked, on seeing my smile.

"You," I said.

"What about me?"

"You look so serious."

"Falling in love is serious," he said.

"Well stop looking so miserable about it," I said, so he smiled obediently.

"Actually, I don’t think I've ever been as happy. I'm with the most beautiful woman in the world, who's just told me that she feels something for me. What more could I want, except perhaps for her to tell me that she loves me?"

The waitress came and removed our plates, so he poured me a glass of wine.

I sipped it and tried to assemble some rational thoughts.

"How long are you in the army for?"

"Another year, and then it's decision time."

"What, whether to stay in or get out?"

"Something like that. Dad wants me to get out, so I can take over his business interests. But to be honest, I have neither the inclination nor the ability to do so. No, I probably will leave, but I want to make my life count."

My heart quickened, for here was someone who had a similar yearning.

"What do you mean?"

"We get one crack at life, right? So, why do most of us scrub about storing nuts like squirrels, just to die and leave piles of nuts all over the place for others to get fat on?"

I laughed.

"And why do we spend so long using our talents for others to get fat on?" I said.

He looked at me.

"You feel the same way," he said, it wasn’t a question.

I nodded, and he gave me the hugest smile.

"You are the first person who knows what I am talking about. Oh, forget the wealth, that’s an incidental, if I could give it all away, I would, but if I could use it for some worthwhile purpose, that would be truly wonderful."

"Alistair, you said we get one crack at life. Well, I have been given a second chance, and I so want my chance to count."

He took my hand to his lips, as this time we both had tears in our eyes.

The waitress, with wonderful sense of crap timing, brought our beef.

We both laughed, and I stared at the steak, wondering how I would cut the thing up.

Without a word, Alistair cut the steak on his plate into eatable sizes and swapped plates.

I looked at him and smiled.

He shrugged, as no words were necessary.
 
 
We ate our food, but all the time I was very conscious of him next to me, neither of us needed to sit as close as we did, yet we were squeezed up close, with him on my right.

We finished the main course and sat back, so I rested my head on his shoulder.

"That was really lovely, but I’m stuffed," I said. I couldn’t eat as much as my male version.

"Pudding?"

I shook my head.

"You have one if you want, I’ve had enough," I told him.

He looked at his watch.

"The play starts in a few minutes, so we don’t have time in any case."

He paid the bill and we walked the short distance to the theatre. We didn’t hurry and I held his arm, catching our reflection in the windows of the shops we passed, and we looked right together.
 
 
We took our places in the theatre and, seconds later, the lights dimmed and the curtain rose. It was supposed to be a comedy, but I was so conscious of Alistair that I couldn’t concentrate. I laughed when everyone else did, but spent most of the time trying to work out why he had the effect upon me that he obviously had.

I sat to his left, and our arms were entwined holding hands for the entire first half.

When the interval came, we sat there, just enjoying being together. No words were exchanged, while I tried to compare how I felt about him with Mark and Steve.

He whispered to me that he had to go to the loo, so we both went. I joined the queue for the ladies, while he went into the gents. Here was one area of life that was still grossly unfair.

When I finally got to the cubicle, I sat there and tried to analyse how I felt. I kept getting pictures of myself dressed as a bride, and of him standing at the altar wearing his uniform, and sword. Shit. Had I fallen in love with the silly sod?

I was cross with him and myself. This was not in the plan. Like, yes, fun to be with, have a laugh, yes. But love? This was getting too heavy by half.

When I rejoined him, he sensed something was the matter.

"What’s up?"

"Nothing," I said, and then realised how female that sounded. I laughed, and so did he.

He just looked at me.

"Okay, I’m cross, alright?"

"Why, what have I done?"

"You fell in love with me."

"So?"

"I’m not cross with you. I’m cross with me!"

"I don’t understand?"

"Look, it’s actually quite simple. If you’re in love with me, I can cope with that. But I think that I have gone and fallen in love with you, and you have no idea how complicated this makes my life."

He stared at me for a second, and was just about to say something when the lights went down again.

I stared to the front, but felt him take my hand again.

I enjoyed the second half more than the first, but didn’t really understand what was going on. Nevertheless, it was fun, and at the end I clapped with everyone else.

We let everyone leave, as they all seemed in such a hurry.

He placed his arm across my shoulder.

"So, what happens now?" he asked.

I shrugged.

"You go back south next Monday. I go off to Iraq two days later. What do we do now?" he asked.

I stared at my thumb, just because it was there.

"Alistair, I don’t want to lose you," I heard myself say.

"Why should you?"

I shrugged again.

"Come on, we’d better leave," he said, and I looked about me. We were the only people left in the theatre, apart from the staff who wanted us to bugger off.
 
 
We walked slowly back to the car, as he placed one arm around my shoulders.

"I feel so guilty," I said.

"Mark?"

I nodded.

"You weren’t to know."

"I knew. The first moment I saw you, I knew. I just denied it to myself."

"Really?"

I nodded.

His grin could possibly be seen on Mars.
 
 
The September evening had become quite chilly, so he kept the car’s roof up on the way back. I rested my hand on his shoulder as he drove. I seriously considered offering him my body for sex, but told myself to be sensible, as this was more serious than sex.

"So you’ve never made love to a man?" he asked, and I smiled.

"No, not that I remember. I think I would recall something like that!"

He chuckled.

"Are you prone to memory lapses?"

"Not that I can remember."

He laughed again.

"Why not?"

"Why can’t I remember, or why haven’t I had sex?"

"The sex bit."

"Because I’ve yet to meet my husband."

"Still?"

"I don’t know any more."

He smiled, glancing at me.

"Thanks," he said.

"What for?"

"You know."

I smiled.

"This relationship is going to be fun," I said.

"Relationship?"

"If you want?"

"I want."

"I need time and space. Alistair, I need to deal with other people in my life without hurting them."

"I understand. So, where do we go from here?"

I thought for a moment.

"Let’s take each day as it comes. We go our separate ways next week, as that will give us each some space. Who knows, maybe we will have had enough of each other by then."

"No, I don’t think so, somehow."

"Neither do I, but I really need the time and space. I think."

He drove into the school grounds, parking outside the house.

We sat there in silence for a while.

He leaned over and kissed me. I had all the symptoms I had experienced before, but magnified a hundred fold. These went deeper, not just to the brain and to the reproductive organs, but to my soul. I returned his kiss with a passion that even surprised me.

To my disappointment, he broke it off.

"Christina, if I stay with you any longer, I’ll not be able to leave you alone. I want you so much, it hurts!"

"I want you too," I said, quite honestly.

"Then, I’ll say good night. I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning."

I frowned.

"Why?"

"I want to show you my home."

I was surprised.

"Do you often take girls home?"

"Only my intended wife."

"How many of them have you had?"

"One — you."

"I haven’t said yes."

"I know that, that is why I called you my intended wife."

I smiled.

"Thanks for a lovely meal. The theatre was fun too."

"I don’t remember a damn thing about the play."

"Neither do I," I admitted, and we both started to laugh.

"I love you Chris."

"I know."
 
 
He got out of the car and opened the door for me. I got out and flung my arms round his neck, kissing him again.

"I will see you at nine then," I said, as I came up for air.

He nodded, and watched me go into the house.

Ingrid was full of curiosity over my date, but I was reticent and quiet about it.

"Oh my God, you’ve fallen in love," she said. I looked at her.

"Bloody hell, you have, haven’t you?"

I smiled and gave a little shrug.

"Maybe."

"Come on, tell me all about it," she said, and I told her about the evening, and how I felt.

"God, it is so romantic, the dashing dragoon and the fairy princess."

"Shut up Ing."

"What are you going to do about Mark?"

"Oh I don’t know. This is such a mess."

"He’s so dishy. I’m not saying that Mark wasn’t, he’s gorgeous, but the soldier is something else. He’s in a totally different class."

"You’re not helping."

"Sorry sis. So, what happens now?"

"He’s taking me to see his home tomorrow."

"Oh-oh. Got to show you off to Mummy then?"

"His mother died several years ago, breast cancer. No, his father is still alive, but there is little love lost between them. He just wants to show me his home."

"My God! This is serious! He hasn’t proposed yet, has he?"

I nodded.

"You haven’t?"

I shook my head.

"Not yet."

"Oh God. You’re thinking about it? Chris, you only just met him."

"No, I’m not, I want to wait and see what happens."

She wasn’t convinced, but then neither was I.
 
 
Chapter 5
 
 
I was up and ready by eight o’clock, with an irrepressible urge to smile all the time. Ingrid grumbled at me, while Sheila smiled and shook her head. I didn’t care, I was going to see Alistair again, and life was wonderful.

He arrived at a quarter to nine, so I was already out the front door before he had switched his engine off.

I was wearing a fawn skirt and knee length suede boots, with three inch heels. I had a cream blouse and a khaki body warmer. I thought that I looked like a cast member from the ‘Monarch of the Glen’.

Alistair opened the car door, so I kissed him.

“Morning,” I said.

“Hello, you.” he said, kissing me again. We stood and kissed for ages.

“Mmm, you taste divine,” I said.

“Shit, Christina, I want you more than ever.”

I smiled and got in the car, letting my skirt slide up so he could see my legs.

He laughed and shut my door.

As he got in, he pulled my skirt down.

“You’re a tease, Madam.”

“Sir, you deserve it.”

He laughed and started the car.
 
 
It was a pleasant drive, up towards Pitlochry on the A9. The sun was out, so Alistair put the top down on the car, and I just enjoyed the fresh air. He drove well, and not as fast as he could have done. I got the impression that he was secure and had little to prove to anyone.

He kept giving me little sideways glances and smiling.

“What?” I asked.

“I still can’t believe you’re real.”

“Oh, I’m real,” I said, and he shook his head.

I looked at him, watching him as he drove. He was very handsome, giving off a real feeling of strength and power. He wasn’t a loud person, but as with quiet people, his strength was unassuming and controlled. I thought he would make an excellent soldier.

“Do you like the army?” I asked.

“I love it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, probably because it gets me away from the old man, and allows me the freedom to follow my own destiny, within the parameters of the military, that is.”

“Are you a good soldier?”

He smiled. “I like to think so. You’d best ask some of my troopers.”

“What do you think of women in the army?”

He looked at me, and I smiled.

“I’m not a militant feminist. I enjoy being a woman, and revel in the differences between us,” I said, and he smiled.

“I’ve come across some brilliant women, for whom the army is the perfect place. But I cannot seem to get rid of the old fashioned notion that they should not be in harms way.”

“Are they a liability?”

“Some, but not all. But then, some men are bloody liabilities.”

“I don’t think women should be soldiers,” I said.

“Why not?”

“We should be helping make lives and not taking them. It doesn’t seem right for a potential mother to have to kill.”

“You would not be politically correct amongst certain quarters,” he told me.

“I don’t care. I have no say in it, that’s just my rather naíve opinion.”

“Hardly naíve.”

“You’re sweet, but I’m not exactly an expert.”

“So you don’t fancy being a soldier under me?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, if you put it like that, it sounds rather nice,” I said, and he burst out laughing.

“I’d have you under me, any day,” he said, and I touched his arm.

“I rather think I’d like it on top,” I said, and he looked at me sharply.

“Are you sure that you won’t marry me?”

“No, I’m not sure. But at the moment I reserve the right to think about it. Besides, if your home is like a horror movie, I won’t have committed myself.”

He smiled, and swung off the road, through some huge gates.

“Bloody hell, Alistair, how big is this place of yours?”

“Big enough.”

“Come on, compared to Jamie’s place, say?”

“Jamie’s place is about a fifth of Dundas House.”

“Shit!” I said, as it came into view.

It was huge. It wasn’t a house, it was a castle. Similar to Blair Atholl, but not white. In the setting with the forest and hills behind, it looked very imposing. I felt very insecure, as a little English girl out of her league.

He stopped the car outside the front, while I stared at the vista in a daze.

“Do you mean to tell me, that if I marry you, I have to clean this bloody place?” I asked, and he chuckled at me.

He got out and opened the door for me, as my left arm was still bloody useless.

I stood next to him, staring up at his ‘home’.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked.

“Has it got central heating?”

“Oh yes, we employ about fifty peasants to run around a treadmill that generates sufficient power for our needs.”

“Stimulated and encouraged by a bloody good whipping every now and again, I hope?” I asked, taking the joke one step further.

He laughed and kissed me.

“That is why I love you; you are like me in so many ways.”

I frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“You don’t give a toss about convention, and just get on with life.”

“So?”

“It’s your finest quality.”

“What about my tits? I thought they were pretty fine,” I asked, looking down at my chest, and he laughed again.

He took my hand, pulling me into his arms.

“Come here, you,” he said, kissing me.

“Is your dad at home?”

“Somewhere. Are you sure you want to meet him?”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

“Not really, this is my home, I wanted you to see it.”

“I’ve heard a lot about the old man, so let’s get it over with,” I said.

He took me into the house, and up the very ornate stairs. We went down about half a mile of corridors, finally entering what could only be a private apartment.

“This is his little den. He has a nurse living in, and he hardly ever leaves this bit of the house any more,” Alistair explained.

“So who lives in the rest of the house?”

“No one. It’s open to the public for much of the year, and in the shooting season we let the west wing to shooting parties who take the moor. It brings in enough to keep the place in good nick.”

“So where do you live?”

“I’ll show you after we see the old man,” he said, opening a door.

The smell hit me first; - the rank ‘old person’ aroma of urine, anti-septic and stale body. A tall, powerful looking nurse looked up from her book. She was sitting at a desk, and frowned until she saw it was Alistair.

“Hello Anna, how is the old bastard?” he asked.

“No so bad, sir. He’s on the terrace, taking a wee bit o’ air,” she replied, then looked at me.

“This is Christina, she’ll be my wife eventually,” he said, and I hit him.

“Okay, she might be my wife eventually,” he amended his statement.

“Hi, I’m Christina, and I have yet to accept his proposal,” I said, to which Anna smiled indulgently. She was not used to meeting Alistair’s women, so I could tell that she was unsure how to talk to me.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Christina,” she said, nervously shaking my hand.

It suddenly dawned on me that there was an enormous social divide here, far more extreme than in rural Buckinghamshire, and I was clearly on the ‘haves’ side. My faultless accent and appearance marked me as the same strata as Alistair, so therefore as a potential employer, and so she was taking no chances. If I did marry Alistair, I would be the Countess of Dundas, and that was way on the other side of the divide.

Before I could think too deeply about this, Alistair led me out onto the terrace, where I saw a figure in a wheelchair in the sun.

Edgar McLeish was nearly seventy-five, but looked ten years older. His portrait had greeted me on entry to the castle. Painted when he had been in his fifties, it portrayed a powerful and arrogant man dressed in tweeds with a grouse moor as backdrop. He looked out at the world with an air of ruthlessness on his handsome face. The reality was a shadow of his former self, as he was now a shrivelled old man. His white hair was sparse, and his face was almost yellow, with the appearance of parchment. Veins stood out on his forehead and neck, and his bulbous red nose was evidence of years of alcohol abuse. He had married late, and to a woman who had been twenty years his junior. They had one child, Alistair, and now Edgar was not a well man.

Alistair told me that after his wife died, he’d hit the bottle, but in a controlled way. He had been single minded concerning his business affairs before she died, but after the death, he became positively predatory. All his efforts went into making money, and not in a pleasant way at times. However, he had to stop sometimes, and it was in those times he drank himself to sleep. He smoked at least forty cigarettes a day, and as I watched, I saw the remains of two cigarettes on the terrace by his wheel chair. He was still smoking.

He now was paying the price. With chronic heart disease, emphysema and terrible circulation, he was unable to walk, for so ulcerated were his legs as to make it virtually impossible. He breathed with a noisy wheeze, and I would not have been surprised if he died in front of me.

“Alistair. What are you doing here?” he said. A harsh voice with no affection, ruined by years of smoking.

“I’ve brought someone to see you, Dad.”

“I don’t want to see anyone,” the man said, but then saw me.

“Who’s this?” he said, rudely, but then went very still, his eyes wideneding, and I noticed his hand started to shake.

“Dad, this is Christina. I hope to persuade her to be my wife.”

His father still stared at me, so I began to feel extremely uncomfortable.

“Pah. Little chance. She looks far too intelligent for that,” he said. “Come here girl, I don’t bite.”

“You may not bite, sir, but I am not a servant you can order about, and I have a name,” I said, getting angry with the old man.

“Ha! Finally, Alistair, you’ve found one with some guts,” he said, surprising me. “Christina, I apologise, I was anxious to see what kind of woman he had chosen.”

“Well, it seems to me that the boot is on the other foot. For as much as he might want me, the decision rests firmly with me. Which means I have to power of choice, and not your son,” I said, still angry at his obnoxious attitude.

He stared at me, with red and watery eyes. He had been a very handsome man, once, and even now he still held onto an air of power and command.

He nodded slowly, looking me up and down, and I felt like a lump of meat in the butchers. I felt my anger rising again, and Alistair saw it too.

“I’m sorry, my child, my son has probably told you that I am not a very pleasant man. For too long I have behaved like a spoilt child, and rarely does anyone stand up to me,” the old man said. His voice softer and almost like a different person.

“If I stared at you, I apologise, but you’re very like my dear late wife, so I can see why my son has fallen in love with you. I’m so very pleased to meet you. And once again, I am sorry for being a rude old bugger,” he said, wheeling himself towards me.

I was quite taken aback, as he held his claw-like hand out, so I shook it. Surprisingly, he had a dry firm handshake, as I had expected something damp and almost reptilian.

“Tell me, have you any Scandinavian blood?” he asked.

“My mother is Swedish,” I said.

He nodded.

“Thought so. Do you speak the language?”

“I do. Yes.”

“My wife’s mother came from Norway. You have the same cool eyes, and strength of character.”

I said nothing, what could I say?

“Gad, you’re a fine looking woman, what do you see in my son?”

“I think that I see a lot of his mother,” I said, and instantly regretted it, for it was heartless of me.

He smiled and nodded.

“You’ll do, girl, you’ll do. It’s so refreshing to meet someone who is as strong as I. I had always hoped he would find such, and I can now relax. Christina, I’m so very pleased to meet you.” He took my hand again, holding it to his lips, and in that gesture I saw his son. I told him so, and he laughed.

“Then my blood runs true,” he said, and wheeled himself inside.

“I’m not well, too much of the wrong things. I have to rest, why the hell I can’t die, I’ll never know?” he said.

The nurse helped him onto his bed, and he pulled his blanket over. His legs were bound in dressings, but I could see the liquid seeping through. In a more confined space, the rank smell was almost overpowering.

“Not pleasant, is it Christina? Well, I pray every day for it to end. But I have to pay for my sins, obviously,” he said, with a humourless chuckle.

He turned to his son.

“Mind you look after this lass, boy. She’s the one,” he said, and Alistair nodded, shyly.

“Goodbye Christina, we probably won’t meet again. I know you don’t care, but for once I can tell my son that I approve of something he has done,” he said, and he lay back and let the nurse put the oxygen mask on his face. He closed his eyes, and it was as if we ceased to exist.

Alistair led me back out, and with some relief he closed the door.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

I shook my head. I was choked up, as I felt it was all so sad.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concerned.

“Fine. No, I’m not fine. Oh, Alistair, it’s so sad, that poor old man, how much he has lost.”

Alistair looked at me, and seemed ready to crumple.

“You’re the only person who has ever felt sad for him,” he said, and I saw tears in his eyes.

I stroked his cheek, wiping a tear away.

“You poor man, how much you have missed out on too.”

We walked slowly back to the main part of the house, and I held his hand.

“I’m sorry, perhaps this was a mistake,” he said.

“No. It wasn’t. I am glad you brought me, as it’s right in some perverse way. I need to meet the father so I could try to understand the son.”

He looked at me, as we stood on the large landing at the top of the stairs.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because I know that our futures are somehow connected, and I need to know you as best as I can.”

He held my hand, but looked at me very oddly.

“Christina, please, will you be my bride?”

I looked into his eyes.

“Probably, but I need some time first.”

He smiled. “Who the hell says ‘probably’ when they get proposed to?”

“Me,” I said, and he laughed.

“Then I accept that for the moment. How much time?”

“I don’t know. Really, I don’t. I have to sort things out, you know that.”

“All right, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressurised you.”

“You didn’t, but let’s see what happens.”

He showed me round the enormous house, which was truly splendid, if you like living in a museum. Then he took me to a small cottage by a loch. It was white, with a slate roof. It had a sweet little garden, and out the back there was a walkway to a boat house.

“This is my real home. It used to be the ghillie’s cottage, but he now has a modern house down the road. So I converted this to be my bachelor’s pad. I’m not here very often, and I couldn’t abide living in the big house, so this suits me fine.”

He showed me in, and it was a super little place. Two nice bedrooms, the master with a huge double bed. I smiled and looked at it and then at him, and he had the grace to blush. I wondered how many lassies he had deflowered here. Then there was a fully modern bathroom with separate loo, and a large open plan living room/kitchen area. He had made a small study in the old boiler room, and it was big enough for a desk and a computer.

“It’s lovely,” I said.

“It’s more like a home with you here,” he said, and I punched him again, gently.

We had a lovely day, he took me over the hills in an old Land Rover, showing me some extent of the vast land they owned. Most of it was moor, upon which the grouse were bred specially for the shoots that started on the 12th August every year. When he told me how much money was generated by the business, I gasped. I had no idea of the sheer size of the industry.

“Do you ride?” he asked

“I used to. Being a graphic designer and living in London are not the best things for an equestrian. Besides, my arm has buggered up my chances for the horse of the year show.”

He laughed, informing me of the stables and the pony trekking business that was run by the estate. Then there was the fishing, the stalking, the canoeing and the sailing. I shook my head, this wasn’t a home, it was an adventure playground for the rich.

We stopped by a small loch, way up in the hills. I could just see the house far below us.
He took out a rod and walked to the loch. He showed me how to hold the rod in my good hand, and then to cast the fly upon the water.

“There are some fine brown trout up here, so shall we get us some lunch?”

He was very patient, despite me not being very skilled, but I improved. So much so, that after ten minutes, I caught a fish. The reel started to run out, so I followed his instructions, playing the fish for a while, and slowly reeling it in.

He helped me land it, and it was a fine little fish, about a pound in weight. I felt rather guilty and sad that I had caused it to die. He took the rod from me so, within half an hour, we had a total of four.

He made a little fire using small twigs and dried heather roots there on the little beach, and dug out an old pan from the car. We sat in the sun, watching the fish fry, and then ate the pink flesh in our fingers. I had never tasted such wonderful fish, and it became a magical moment for me.

I had never been much of a country person, but it seemed a very simple and nice way to live. Just catching what you ate, and leaving no mess when you were done.

I watched as Alistair washed the pan in the sand, and then in the loch. He buried the remnants of the fire, so there was no trace of us ever having been there. I heard shooting in the distance.

“Are they shooting today?”

“There’s a party from abroad, they’ve taken the west wing of the house, having bought a couple of weeks’ shooting. The gamekeeper has arranged it all, so we just sit back and collect the money.”

“What kind of people come to shoot little birds?” I asked, and he laughed.

“There are two types. The first are the people who live here, who will go out and walk the moor and shoot enough for the pot, and a perhaps few for the freezer. Then there are the rich city folk and foreigners, like the English,” he said with a smile at me.

“They pay through the nose, and are provided with loaders and beaters. They stand in a butt and have the birds driven onto their guns. They don’t even have to reload their own guns, for goodness sakes. Then they have their lunch brought out to them, where they get pissed, and then try to shoot some more in the afternoon.”

I looked thoughtful, watching as a brace of grouse flew low over the heather to my left.

“I know it’s all part of the way of life up here, but I don’t know if I like the idea. It seems wrong somehow, with all the starving in the world, that rich people pay to kill and maim pretty little birds, just for the fun of it.”

“That’s man. If it’s any consolation, I agree in principal, but if it wasn’t for the breeding, feeding and protection we give them, the grouse would probably be extinct by now.”

“I’ve heard that argument, but it won’t wash. They were around long before the shotgun was invented, and the same predators were around too. In fact, there are less predators today, with the exception of balding over weight wealthy sadists.”

Alistair laughed.

“So, you will be opposed to fox hunting too?”

“No, not necessarily. I don’t agree with causing suffering, but accept that some traditions are for the best of reasons. Foxes are a real problem in some areas, and I think it is right that farmers have a right to control the population to preserve their livestock. I only question the right of people to take pleasure from causing suffering to any animal, no matter how destructive the animal may be.

“Besides, they do look complete pillocks, and one can see why they get up the noses of the general populace,” I added.

“I’ve been hunting,” he said.

“Of course you have. You see before you Christina, the girl with her foot in her mouth.”

He laughed; a deep, warm sound.

“Not at all, at least you have thought about the situation, most people dismiss it out of hand because it is the trendy thing to do.”

“I don’t dismiss it, I just question the motives. I have ridden, and it is fun, so I accept that the actual riding side of it is a wonderful activity. But it’s the chase and death that I feel uncomfortable with. I feel it should be down to an individual’s choice, whether to take part or not. I feel it is pathetic for the government to legislate, as where next, fishing?”

He smiled, and held out his hand to me, pulling me to my feet. We walked back to the Land Rover, hand in hand.

“You really are very like me,” he said.

I looked down at my breasts and then at his broad, flat chest, and he chuckled.

“You know what I mean, you feel for things deeply, but use your intellect to rationalise. I like that.”

“Hey, I’m a blonde, so don’t let anyone overhear what you just said.”

He took both my hands and kissed me. I put my arms behind his head, while he held me close. It felt so right. We kissed, very gently for a few moments, so I got the warm fuzzies again. Then I spoiled it by accidentally clonking him with my cast.

“Ow.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, but he smiled.

“That’s okay. How is the arm?”

“It’s okay. I forget it’s there most of the time. I just get frustrated when I have to do fiddly little jobs. Painting my nails is a nightmare.”

He laughed at me, with his eyes softening.

“What will you do when you get back down south?”

“I don’t know. I should go back to work, but somehow, I don’t feel I want to. I need to sort things out with Mark, which I’m not looking forward to. I shall probably join a gym and get myself fit, as I’ve been a slob for long enough.”

“You’re no way a slob.”

“Maybe, but neither am I fit. I need to get a grip of my life, and start looking to see how I can make a difference.”

He smiled, taking my hand once more.

“While you’re at it, if you get any ideas, let me know,” he said.

We got into the vehicle and trundled back down towards the house again. We passed the group of people with guns as they were having their lunch by a stream. They had even been supplied with picnic tables upon which to eat.

Alistair pulled up, as a large florid man in tweed plus fours came over to the Land Rover.

“Hello Angus, how’s it going?”

Angus was the gamekeeper, and he rolled his eyes.

“There’s a fair few birds aboot, Mr Alistair, but yon Swedes canna hit a barn door at ten paces.”

“Swedes?” I asked.

Angus looked at me, and Alistair chuckled.

“Angus, this is Christina, whom I hope will be the next Countess of Dundas. My love, this is Angus Campbell, he is the main man on the estate, our gamekeeper.”

“Howdoo, Miss. You need yer heed examined to get hitched te a McLeish.”

We all laughed, but he remembered my question.

“Aye, Swedes, yon party are fe Sweden,” he said.

As we spoke a tall, but heavy man, well into middle age, approached us. He was wearing almost a paramilitary uniform, with a great bandolier of cartridges round his shoulder.

“Ah, Alistair. The birds they are fast, yes?” he said, in reasonable but heavily accented English.

“They are certainly that, Lens. But can you hit them?”

“Sometimes, the younger men are having trouble, but we older guys find it easier,” Lens said.

“You would find it easier visiting the butcher, and saving an awful lot of money,” I said, in Swedish.

He looked at me, frowning.

“Hallo, á¤r ni svensk?” he asked.

“My mother is. My father is English,” I replied.

“Your accent is faultless, I’d never have known you as anything other than Swedish.”

“Tack,” I said, smiling.

Alistair laughed as this exchange missed him completely.
 
 
“Lens. This is Christina, whom I hope to marry.”

“Ah, you show good taste, the Nordic beauty can rarely be beaten,” Lens said, in English.

Alistair looked at me.

“I have come to see that,” he said, making my heart go flippity-flop, again.

We said goodbye to Lens and carried on down the dirt track.

“Do you realise that I have just introduced you as my fiancée, twice, yet you never challenged it?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, staring straight ahead, but my mind was in a whirl.

“So, does that mean you will marry me?”

“I don’t know. Alistair, don’t rush me. I’ve only seen you a few times, but never for more than a few hours at a time. I’m just letting the concept settle in my brain first, so then I may be able to make up my mind.”

He nodded, concentrating on driving through a deep ford in the stream. I watched him, while part of me wanted to say ‘yes.’, but the other part of me just said, ‘don’t rush.’.

“You know I love you?” he said, no looking at me.

“So you said, but then so did Mark.”

He nodded. “He’s alright, but you’re far too good for him.”

“That’s what Sheila said. Poor Mark, he’s very sweet,” I said, feeling guilty again.

“You know what your problem is?”

“What?”

“Everyone who meets you falls under your spell.”

“Are you saying I’m a witch?”

“No, more like a fairy princess.”

I laughed. “So, what does that make you?”

“Ah, that’s easy, I’m Prince Charming,” he said with a chuckle.

I smiled, but realised that my story was almost a fairy tale. I just hoped that I would live happily ever after.
 
 
We arrived back at the house, so he gave me a more detailed guided tour. It was like being in a time-warp, as one could imagine people at the turn of the nineteenth to twentieth century living here, with an army of servants. The furnishings and general atmosphere was of a time long gone.

I actually found it slightly oppressive and some of it downright repulsive. The vast array of various dead animal parts was obscene. It was against everything I believed in, too much wealth in the hands of too few, with no inclination to share it with the people who needed succour.

I never considered myself political, yet if I was it was probably conservative with a small ‘c’, but I could understand why many of those early socialists came from families such as these.

“Pretty ghastly, isn’t it?” Alistair said.

“You think so?” I asked, surprised.

“I hate the bloody place, but I wanted to know what you think.”

I told him and he looked at me.

“Really?”

“Sorry,” I said.

“What for, we both think the same way?”

“But this is your home.”

“No. My home is that wee cottage; this is my father’s home.”

“But it will be yours.”

“For a while.”

“You’d sell it?”

“Of course. What did you think I’d do, come and live here?”

“I don’t know, possibly. I think it would make a super place for underprivileged kids to come. You could turn it into a holiday centre for youngsters from all over the world, and start a trust to help pay for those who couldn’t afford it. The rich men like Lens could help pay for, say the homeless orphans from Romania, and the place could be opened up to the laughter of children who have to learn to laugh again.”

Alistair looked at me with a very odd expression. So much so, I felt embarrassed and smiled self-consciously.

“What?” I asked.

“You are beautiful.”

“That’s not the answer I wanted, you’re avoiding the issue.”

“You have vision and compassion, oh yes, you are beautiful,” he said, so I punched him.

“You’re also violent and I love you,” he added, rubbing his arm.

“You are a mushy so-and-so, how can we have a conversation if you dissolve into mush the whole time?”

“Keep the vision, for together we could make such things happen.”

It was my turn to stare at him.

“What?”

“Your vision, we could make it happen.”

It’s not a vision, it’s just an idea that came off the top of my head.”

“Even so, it or something like it could be done,” he said.

“Really?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, probably because it would cost a fortune.”

“Have you any idea how much the estate is worth, let alone my father?”

I shook my head.

“This estate is worth about twelve million alone. Then there are the estates and farms in Angus and Aberdeenshire. The house in Mayfair and the villa in Monaco, brings the total up to about one hundred million. Then there’s the yacht Dad keeps in the Monaco Marina. The commercial side is worth twice that, stock market permitting, so money is hardly a problem.”

“Oh,” I said, now lost for words.

“Makes the poor policeman from London seem out of the league, really, doesn’t it?”

I nodded, but then shook my head.

“No, never place anyone in a different league just over an accident of birth. I may only be a scatty blonde, but the one thing that really pisses me off is unfairness. Mark is a lovely
guy, of whom I’m very fond, so never place him out of the way, purely on social breeding or financial standing,” I said, rather too heatedly.

He looked at me, but a smile slowly spread across his face.

“Christina, firstly, I apologise, unreservedly, for being a snob of the first order; secondly, I thank you for bringing me back down to earth. And, thirdly, the one thing you are not is scatty. A blonde, yes; beautiful, yes; intelligent, yes; and passionate, most definitely. But scatty, never!” he said.

“That’s cheating,” I said.

“What is?” he asked, in mock surprise.

“Apologising with compliments is a sneaky and underhand tactic, and doesn’t work,” I said.

“Doesn’t it?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.

I smiled. “Well, sometimes it might.”

He took my hands again. We stood facing each other in the vast banqueting hall. Stags’ heads with resplendent antlers were spaced out on the walls, with shields and huge broadswords in between them.

“Christina, all this is as nothing to me. If you said the word, I would sell it and give the entire proceeds to the charity of your choice. I don’t think it would help in the long term, but I would do it without hesitation.”

I looked into his eyes and believed him.

“You would?”

He nodded.

“For me?”

He nodded again.

“For you, I would lay down my life.”

For the life of me, I still don’t know why, but I started to cry. No one had ever said anything quite so deep and sincere to me, ever.
He kissed my cheek, where the tears rolled.

“Don’t cry, it wasn’t meant to hurt you.”

“I’m not hurt, you stupid man. You managed to move me to tears. There is a big difference.”

“You taste salty,” he said, kissing me again. I felt the passion build up, so responded. My whole being ached for him; at last I understood what it felt like to be in love.

Had he wanted me then, I would have surrendered to him, willingly.

Thankfully, he was made of stronger stuff than I.

He broke off and held my hands.

“My father said that you were the one. For the first and only time, I agree with him, so hereby declare that I will not rest until you are my bride.”

I smiled, saying nothing, but in my heart I had already made up my mind.

“I want to introduce you to my aunt Eileen.”

“From which side?”

“She’s my father’s younger sister, but is nothing like him. She lives in a small house on the estate. Her husband used to farm one of the farms, but he died a couple of years ago of a heart attack. She is a lovely lady, so is the only other woman who ever stood up to my father’s tantrums.”

We took the Porsche, which was more comfortable than the Land Rover with its hard seats. The house was quite a big one, obviously a farmhouse, with five or six bedrooms.

“Has she any children?”

“Three, Phillippa who is thirty, Ralph (pronounced Rayfe) twenty seven, and Jane who is twenty four. All are married, but only Ralph lives here, as he farms this and the next-door farm.

He and his wife Sally live in the big house in the trees over there,” he said, pointing across the glen.

As we pulled up outside, three overweight black Labradors waddled up, barking in a half-hearted way. They obviously knew Alistair well, so greeted him with enthusiasm, until they discovered that he had no food for them.

A sprightly, grey-haired woman came out to greet us, who, despite being in her late sixties, was still very good looking. She had on a tartan kilt and a green pullover. Stout walking shoes showed her for the countrywoman she obviously was.

“Alistair, darling. How lovely. I was wondering when I would see you,” she said, giving him a huge hug and a kiss. Then she saw me and paled visibly.

“Aunt, this is Christina, whom I hope to persuade to marry me. Christina, this is Eileen, Dad’s sister.”

She looked at me most strangely, so I looked at Alistair to help.

“My Gracious, child, I am so sorry, but you looked so like someone else, it gave me quite a turn,” she said and then embraced me.

“She does, doesn’t she, Aunt?” Alistair said.

“Not so much the features, more in the bearing and general demeanour. Has she met my brother?”

“Yes.”

“What was your father’s reaction?”

“He saw it too, she stunned him almost to silence,” he said, at which point I realised what they were talking about.

“Christina, I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m afraid you gave me quite a turn, as you do look very like Alistair’s mother, it's quite uncanny, for when I first saw you it was as if she was standing there again. We were all very fond of her, so her death hit all of us very hard. Even my cold-hearted brother was affected deeply.”

She took us inside and put the kettle on. We sat in a lovely sitting room, where she gave us tea. She handed me a photograph, and I gasped.

There was another, older, Alistair, dressed in a kilt standing beside a girl who could have been my sister in the most beautiful wedding dress. It was his parents in the early 1970s. She was a lot younger than he was, and she even had her hair the same length as I.

I laughed, and teased Alistair.

“The Oedipus complex?” I asked, and he chuckled.

“Not really, you were simply the most beautiful girl at the party, it was only later that I realised that you resembled my mother. But as Eileen said, it's not the features, but your Nordic bearing and expression.

“Have you Scandinavian blood?” Eileen asked.

“My mother is Swedish, and I have many relatives over there.” I said, and she nodded.

“I heard Alistair say he wanted to persuade you, I take it you have turned him down?”

“No, but I haven’t accepted either. We've only met on a handful of occasions, and never for more than a couple of hours each time. I have to know someone rather better if I am to agree to commit myself to them for the rest of my life.”

“Good girl. Scone?”
 
 
It was a lovely afternoon, and I liked his aunt very much. She was very down to earth, and my kind of person. Although younger than her brother by six or seven years, she had started a family long before Edgar. She said that having children, and now grand children, had kept her young, and she certainly seemed almost a generation younger than that poor man in a wheelchair.

We left her at about six, but I felt that I had met someone who would have an impact on my life, if ever I should actually accept Alistair’s proposal.

He opened the door of the Porsche, for me to get in. He slid into the drivers seat and looked at me before starting the engine.

“So, what do you want to do now?”

“What are the options?”

“Dinner at my abode. Which means eggs, as that’s all I’ve got. Dinner out, or straight to bed, and spend the next twelve hours making wild passionate love.”

I actually hesitated, and this made him laugh at me.

“Why don’t I cook for you?” I asked.

“No ingredients.”

“Show me,” I said, and he drove me to his little cottage.

I searched his fridge, freezer and larder, and made my mind up.

“Right, you go and make me a gin and tonic, with ice and lemon, and I’ll make you supper,” I said.

I had enough to make a Spanish omelette, with potatoes, tomatoes, peppers and cheese. There was a little bacon, which I fried and added at the last minute. Using egg whites and sugar, I made a floating Island with a caramel sauce. He found a bottle of Sangre de Torres, and even lit a candle.

We sat at his small dining table, and ate our simple meal together. He was very quiet, and I cleared away the main course. I brought in the floating Island, which had not collapsed, and poured the caramel sauce over the top. He stared at me, and looked very strange.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect. Christina, I just don’t want this moment to end,” he said.

I knew exactly what he meant, and smiled.

“If it's any consolation, I have made my mind up over one thing.”

“Oh yes?” he looked at me hopefully.

“I have decided that I do love you, and that being married to you would not be the end of the world.”

“Does that mean you will?”

“Probably,” I said, and he laughed.

I dished up the dessert, and we ate in silence, content to be in each other’s company.

We washed up together, and sat, snuggled together on the sofa, drinking coffee.

“Stay the night?” he said.

“I’d love to, but I won’t,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because I am not ready to take that step, and if I stayed, I would make love to you. I need that to be something special, and once I know for sure who will be my husband.”

“It would be something special,” he said with a wicked grin.

“I know, but I'll only give myself to a man once for the first time, and that man will have my heart, my soul and my all. I can’t give you that tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have unfinished business to sort out first, not least in my own mind.”

He nodded, and kissed the side of my head.

“You're such a strong person.”

“No, I’m not. Had you wanted me, there in the heather, this afternoon, you could have but asked and I would have given myself to you. I am not strong, as I'm afraid of my own mind, and I'm afraid of hurting anyone, particularly you.”

“You know that I would wait for you, for as long as you want?”

“Then you're a fool,” I laughed at him.

“I need you Chris. You make my life complete.”

“I need to be needed, and I promise not to make you wait too long. But we need to know for sure.”

“I already know for sure,” he said.

“I know you think you do. I think I do, but that's not enough. Not only must we be able to live together, we need to be able to live apart to find out if we should be together.”

He laughed.

“You lost me. But I get the gist of what you're saying. Well, next week, we'll be apart, and once I ship off to the Balkans, then I have no idea when I'll see you again.”

“That hurts, Alistair. You have no idea how much that hurts.”

“Then stay the night.”

I thought about it.

“No. Not because I don’t want to, I do. But it’ll make the parting even worse.”

He gently held my cheek, and turned my face towards him, and saw that tears were in my eyes.

“You’re crying again?”

“I don’t want to lose you,” I said, feeling a tear roll down my cheek.

“You won’t. I promise. I’ll try very hard not to get killed.”

I laughed, but it wasn’t funny.

“Now I know a little of what they felt like in the two world wars, and why everyone rushed to get married. No one knew if they would ever see their loved one again,” I said.

We kissed for a while, and I felt myself melt into his arms. My resistance was weakening, so I knew that if this kept up, not only would I stay the night, but I would make love to him as well. He knew it, too.

I broke off.

I was ready for him, and I could feel that he was more than ready for me.

“Take me back, please,” I said, and he nodded, smiling sadly.

The journey back to the school was a silent one, both of us knew where we were at, so no words were necessary. Besides, we both knew that we would be seeing each other again over the next few days.

He pulled up outside the Robertson’s home, where we sat in the car for a while. He held my hand, but I felt awful.

“Why so sad?” he asked.

“I feel that I’ve disappointed you,” I admitted.

“You haven’t. In fact, I can honestly say that I’ve never respected anyone as much as I respect you, right now.”

I smiled. “I also feel that I’ve hurt you by turning you down.”

“I’m not hurt. Yes, I would have liked to have made love to you, and I’m sure we would have been wonderful together, but I still have that to look forward to. But you’re so special to me that it is actually relatively unimportant, all I need is your love.”

I looked into his eyes.

“You know that you have that,” I said.

“Have I?”

“Oh yes. You certainly have,” I said, and he kissed me.

He broke off, smiling down at me. It was very strange being smaller.

“Why does kissing you turn me into a quivering wreck?”

“I don’t know. Why?” I asked.

He laughed and got out of the car, walking round and opening my door.

“Thank you for the most wonderful day,” he said.

“It was, wasn’t it?” I said.

He kissed me, and I wanted to throw myself at him.

“Goodnight, my little love,” he said.

“Goodnight.”

I watched him drive away, knowing that my life’s course had just changed.
 
 
Chapter 6
 
 
The next day turned a happy dream into a nightmare. September 11th was more than a nightmare. The images of those planes flying into the Twin Towers will haunt me forever. One can wake up from a nightmare, so that reality is a welcome relief. This day was the day when reality became the nightmare.

Alistair came over, and we went out to walk in the hills, numb with shock. Neither of us could comprehend the insane inhumanity that caused these people to kill so many innocent people. The world became a much sadder place, and it made me see my own past problems in a new light.

Alistair found an excuse to see me every day, so when we were at the Angus Ball, he hardly left my side. Ingrid teased me to start with, but then realised that I was hooked. When she found out the extent of the hook, she was aghast.

“You would be a Countess?” she asked.

“Yup.”

“Bloody hell!”

I just smiled, as I was growing to like the idea.

Alex was working out how to get us back down south. He and Ingrid were due back at Cambridge University eight days later, so they planned to come down and stay with us, we were toying with train timetables, as there was no way that they could keep a car in Cambridge.
 
 
The Sunday after the Ball was our last day with the Robertsons, and we were all tired after the Ball and parties. I was feeling down because I was missing Alistair already, and feeling guilty over Mark.

I phoned Steve on my mobile, and poured my woes out to him.

He was great, listening to it all without comment.

“Mark will understand,” he said at the end.

“How do you know?”

“I get the impression that he felt out of his depth.”

“We all were.”

“But did you show it?”

“Probably not.”

“Then he will have persuaded himself that you are out of his league.”

“You reckon?”

“Definitely. Look, I suggest you ring him, arrange to see him to talk about stuff, and he will understand.”

“Oh, Steve. I feel awful.”

“You never meant to fall in love, and besides, you never thought Mark was the ‘one’ did you?”

“No, but he was so sincere.”

“Have you any idea how gorgeous you are?”

“What do you mean?”

“Chris, this is Stephanie talking, or Steve, I’m the person who knows you better than anyone else. Would I lie to you?”

“No.”

“Then realise, that to meet you is to fall in love with you. Shit, Chris. I was a lesbian, yet I fell in love with you when you were a bloke, so when you turned up as a girl, it was a double whammy.”

“Oh.”

“Give Mark a ring. I promise, he will have already seen how the land lies, and will be content to remain a friend.”

“Shit, Steve. I’m not sure.”

“Trust me, my love,” he said.

“Okay. Anyway, how are you?”

“Great. I’m really enjoying life now.”

“How’s Debbie?”

“She’s fine. She moved in with me last week.”

“No?”

“Sorry. But she has.”

“That’s great. No regrets?”

“None, it’s like a dream come true.”

“Are you okay in yourself now, what with your parents and everything?”

“It’s fine. Chris, it is like coming home after being lost for years.”

“I know; I feel the same. I keep pinching myself, to make sure it’s not a dream.”

“So, if you married this Scottish soldier, you wouldn’t really be a countess?”

“His father is the Earl of Dundas, so he would be the next Earl, and his wife would be a Countess. So, if that is going to be me, then yes.”

I heard him chuckle on the other end.

“It’s not that funny.”

“No, it is bloody wonderful. My friend Christian Reynolds, a bloody Earl’s wife.”

I had to laugh too, as it was surreal in the extreme.

We promised to see each other soon, I said that I would come back to work in a week or so, when the cast came off.

“You’re going to leave the office, aren’t you?” he asked.

“What makes you think that?”

“I know you. The bloody office is hardly where your destiny lies.”

“Oh yes, so, clever clogs, oh great all-knowing One, just where does my destiny lie?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“With your soldier in that misty glen, where your heart is.”

I was silenced. For he was right, my heart was exactly there, with all its imperfections, I was drawn to that strange and wonderful place.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you maybe.”

I laughed.

“Look I have to go, Debbie will start getting the wrong idea. She was convinced we were an item in any case.”

“We may have been.”

“No, I could never have loved you like that and let you go.”

“Okay, then I’ll phone you when I get home.”

“Fine, and good luck with Mark.”

“Thanks, bye.”

“Bye.”
 
 
I then rang Mark’s mobile, with my heart in my mouth.

“Mark Williams.”

“Hi Mark.

There was a moment’s silence.

“Christina. How are you?”

He was awkward, and I sensed something was not quite right.

“I’m fine, how was court?”

“He was found guilty, but it took three days. Look, I need to speak to you.”

“Oh.”

This wasn’t going to plan.

“I realise that things ended a bit strained, and I’ve been thinking. I want to apologise.”

“Why?”

“I over-reacted, and said lots of things that perhaps I shouldn’t have.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is awkward. Is there any way we can meet up?”
“I’m still in Scotland. We should be coming south tomorrow. I just wanted to talk to you,” I said.

“Shit. I’m sorry Christina, I’ve been a bit of a idiot, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re a beautiful girl, and you have so much going for you. But I don’t think we could ever make it.”

“Why?”

“Look, I feel really awful, because I know how strong I came onto you, but I’ve had time to think, and, well, we just belong to different worlds.”

“Oh?”

“You see, it was bad enough when I came out to your place. I felt out of my depth there, but then in Scotland, it was completely different. You fitted in, as if you were born to it. You even spoke the language and looked the part, while I just felt like an interloper, a fraud. But it was fun and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. So for that I thank you. But you deserve someone who can take you out of the London Sprawl, and never in a million years would you end up as a copper’s wife.”

“Mark, I…”

“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. But as I look back and think about it, I fell in love with a dream, and reality is different. You’re a fabulous, generous and warm hearted girl, and I was chuffed that you were attracted to me, but over the last week, I know that I loved what you stood for, and felt possessive over that.”

I was very quiet, my guilt was heavy on my shoulders, and yet I was too much of a coward to tell him the truth.

Mistaking my silence for being upset, he apologised again.

“Chris, you were right, I was besotted by someone I had seen brought back from the dead. I’d like to remain friends, if you could bear it, that is?”

“Oh sweet Mark. What happened to wanting to marry me?”

“I came back to the real world. I could make you happy, but it would be like cutting a swan’s wings, you and me are just too different.”

“It could have worked,” I said, realising that I was wrong.

“Chris, I feel privileged to have known you, and would value you as a friend, but to be realistic, I could not see you as Mrs Williams, and struggling with several squealing brats on a copper’s salary.”

I was quiet again.

“I’m sorry to have told you on the phone. I feel a coward.”

“Mark, don’t be silly. You’re a sweet guy, so I’d be honoured to have you as a friend. Most of what you told me, I already knew, but didn’t know how to tell you. You took me by surprise by coming out with it first,” I admitted.

He actually sighed with relief.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” I said.

“I thought you’d be upset.”

“I am in a way, as I was, am, attracted to you. But I think I knew that it was partially reaction to the accident and all that.”

“You’re still the most stunning girl I have ever been out with.”

“Thanks, you aren’t so bad yourself.”

“Any chance of meeting up for a drink, sometime?”

“Give me a ring next week, and we’ll set a place and time.”

“Okay, and thanks.”

“What for?” I asked.

“For being you, and understanding.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was fun.”

“How did the soldier make out with you?” he asked.

“Oh, him? He wants to marry me as well.”

He laughed. “You just have that effect on us blokes. Will you?”

“I don’t know, what do you think?”

“You’re too good for him.”

“You still jealous?”

“Of course, but to be honest, he’s nearer your league than I ever was.”

“His dad is an Earl.”

“You deserve royalty.”

“You’re soft.”

“Chris, you’re so lovely, when will you realise that you could aim for the moon, and hit the sun?”

I was stunned into silence for a third time.
 
 
We finished the call and suddenly I felt better about life, but then I remembered that I was not going to see Alistair for ages, so felt miserable again.

I found Sheila and helped her prepare dinner. She had a secretive smile on her face, but I was too grumpy to wonder about it. Alex and Ingrid were on the Internet sorting out train timetables, and I was feeling very spare.

“So, did I hear you were talking to your policeman?” Sheila asked.

“Yes, he told me we were from different worlds, and it would never work between us.”

“Sensible boy, but why the long face?”

“I think because I felt the same, but didn’t expect him to dump me,” I said with a grin.

She laughed.

“He was a nice boy, but as I said, not in your league.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“Are you planning to see Alistair again?”

“I’d love to, but no. He’s off to the Balkans in a few days, so there isn’t time.”

“So, how do you feel about him?”

I smiled. “I’m not sure, but I think I love the silly sod. He makes me feel good, and I feel as if I am walking on air when I am with him.”

“You’ve seen the responsibilities he will inherit.”

“Yes, and I met his father. Poor old man, it’s so sad.”

“Sad? Most people think he’s getting his just desserts.”

“No one should have missed what he has, even if it was his own fault. He may have been responsible for people disliking him, but he has missed out so much, I feel sorry for both him and Alistair, who may stand to inherit millions, but he will never have a loving father.”

“My, you do care deeply for people, don’t you?”

“I care when I see such sad things happen, yes,” I agreed.

“Well, don’t be too grumpy, because Bruce asked a certain young man to join us for dinner tonight.”

“Who, not Alistair?”

“Might be,” she said with a smile.

Suddenly the world was a much brighter place, and I found myself smiling again.

“Come on, help me with the pie,” Sheila asked, and I happily peeled and cored a pile of cooking apples.

Alex and Ingrid came in, and I was humming away happily next to the sink.

“Oh, Mum. You told her,” Alex said, on seeing my mood.

“I had to, she was so bloody miserable, I couldn’t let her near a kitchen knife for fear she would slash her own wrists,” Sheila said.

Ingrid laughed and came over to help with the apples.

“I am glad to see you can be cheerful,” she teased.

“It’s only for the evening. You will have me all miserable on the train tomorrow,” I said, to get back at her.

“We aren’t going tomorrow. Ingrid is staying here for a couple more days,” Alex said, with a smirk.

I frowned.

“But I thought we’re all going together. I’ve even packed,” I said.

“You’re going tomorrow. We aren’t,” Ingrid said.

I was confused, and must have looked it because Sheila laughed.

“Oh for goodness sakes, let the poor girl out of her misery,” she said.

“You’re going by car, Chris,” said my sister, with a grin.

“Yes, we thought it much better, what with your arm in plaster,” said her beastly boyfriend.

I was still frowning.

Then I felt two arms encircle me from behind.

“Hi gorgeous. Ready for our trip tomorrow?” said a very familiar voice.

I spun round.

“Alistair!” I almost shrieked.

He laughed at my reaction.

“They haven’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

He looked at them, and they were almost wetting themselves with laughter.

“That was very cruel,” he said to them.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on?” I begged.

“Alex called me to ask me for dinner, and wondered if I would mind taking you home tomorrow. They’re planning to go straight to Cambridge, and so as I was going south anyway, they thought I could give you a lift. Your sister arranged for me to stay over at your house tomorrow night, so then I can join my Squadron at RAF Brize Norton on the following day, to ship out.”

I looked at Ingrid and she was crying with laughter.

“You wait,” I said, and she got worse.

I turned to Alistair and kissed him.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. Believe me, it’ll be a pleasure.”

To say my spirits were restored was an understatement. I was so bubbly that Ingrid threatened extreme violence at one point. But it was a lovely last meal. Bruce and Sheila had treated us so well that I was actually very sad to be leaving them. We really felt that we were part of their family, so knew that we would see them again, regardless of whether Alex and Ingrid actually ended up together.

Alistair sat next to me, and it was as if it was the most natural thing in the world. In fact, we did not behave like a couple of besotted lovers, as we hardly spoke to each other. We didn’t need to, as the fact he was there was enough for me, and our legs were touching all through the meal.
 
 
After washing up, we all sat up chatting and drinking liqueurs. I was conscious that Alistair was drinking too much if he was going to drive home later. But by eleven thirty, Sheila and Bruce said goodnight.

“Oh, and Alistair, you know where your towels are, don’t you dear?” asked Sheila as she was leaving the room.

“Yes, thanks. I’ll be fine,” he replied.

I looked at him and he grinned.

“You sneaky sod,” I said, and he tickled me until I surrendered.

We continued chatting for a little longer, and then Ingrid started yawning, and Alex took the hint. I was aware that their relationship had deepened, and I was prepared to bet that my little sister may well lose her virginity before me at this rate.

We were alone, and I snuggled up to him on the sofa.

“I was so miserable when I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” I said.

“Me too. Then Alex called and told me you were making everyone depressed, so he came up with this plan. I selfishly thought that it was brilliant, because this way I get you for another couple of days, all to myself.”

I grinned and kissed him.

“Thank you,” I said.

We sat, just being together.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?”

“Marry me?”

“All right,” I said, without any hesitation, and straight from the heart.

He fell silent, just looking at me. I just sat there, with my head on his shoulder.

“What?”

“All right.”

He shifted slightly, so he could see my expression. He thought I was teasing.

I smiled.

“Chris, don’t muck about, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” I replied, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Oh my God!”

“No, just me.”

“You will?”

“I will.”

“Bloody Hell. Really?”

“Look, you asked, I accepted, do you really want to invoke the Spanish Inquisition?”

He laughed and hugged me.

“I can’t believe this. What made you change your mind?”

“I realised how miserable I was without you, and not knowing where you were, what you were doing, or even when I was going to see you again. My whole being yearned for you, and now you are with me, I feel complete. I have never felt this way about anyone, and I find I like it. I want us to be together, so if that means marriage, then I will marry you.”

He jumped up.

“Stay there, don’t go anywhere,” he said, and dashed out.

I sat there, my mind in yet another whirl. I had accepted his proposal, so that meant I had agreed to become a Countess. It was all a bit unreal, and I tried to guess my mother’s reaction. I couldn’t, but then I didn’t really know how I was reacting myself. I was going to be Lady Christina McLeish, Countess of Dundas. Oh my God. What had I agreed to?

I was still having a wobbly when Alistair returned.

He got down on one knee and produced a small box. He opened it, revealing the most delightful ring I have ever seen. It was gold, with three enormous diamonds set in a line, but with an intricate design all around them. It looked very precious.

“Christina, will you make me the happiest man in the world, and accept my hand in marriage?” he said, very formally.

I grinned, and said, “Yes, my love, I would be honoured to accept your hand in marriage.”

He looked at me, as if he was expecting a funny remark, but I restrained myself.

He took my left hand, carefully, for he was aware of the cast, and slipped the ring onto my ring finger. It fitted perfectly. He then kissed my hand, and I pulled him up next to me.

“Now you have me, what are you going to do with me?” I asked.

“What would you like me to do with you?”

“Love me, cherish me, and be mine forever,” I said.

“With pleasure, if you will reciprocate.”

“You know I do.”

“Then you have just made me the happiest man in the world.”

We kissed, and it was a totally new feeling, I felt warmth spread across my whole being, starting from my heart, and reaching the tips of my toes and fingers. I was where I really wanted to be.

He picked me up, and carried me upstairs. He pushed open my door, and laid me on my bed. I wanted him to undress me, and make love to me, for I would have let him. No, that wasn’t quite right, for I would have helped him.

Instead, he kissed me tenderly, said goodnight, and left me alone.

I lay there, feeling as if I was floating on air, and examined my new ring. It was so beautiful that I almost wept. I eventually undressed, slipped on my nightdress and cleaned my teeth. I sat brushing my hair, still staring at the ring on my finger, still disbelieving what had happened. I was tempted to go next-door and slip into my beloved’s bed, and allow him to make me totally his, but chickened out.

I eventually slept, but dreamed of him.
 
 
I was awake early, eager to be alone with Alistair. I dressed in a light blue denim skirt and a low cut top, which had short sleeves, and was quite tight. I went down and found that Sheila and Bruce were already up. Ingrid and Alex were still in bed, and I heard the shower going, so I knew that Alistair was up.

I made myself a coffee, but kept seeing the ring, causing me to grin inanely. I poured myself some cereal, and took the milk from the fridge. I sat down and was just pouring the milk when Sheila caught a glance of the ring.

“Oh my God. Christina, tell me you didn’t?” she said.

I looked at the ring and smiled.

“Let me see,” she said, so I put my hand out.

“My, it’s beautiful, really beautiful. So, you succumbed, you mad fool.”

I smiled, as Bruce looked up from his Daily Telegraph.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Christina is engaged to young Alistair,” Sheila said.

“Gracious, when did that happen?” he asked.

“Last night, after you went to bed,” I said.

“That was quick, you only met last week,” he observed.

“I suppose, but I know it’s right,” I said.

Sheila smiled. “I knew that first time I saw you together at the Perth Ball. You just fitted so well together. I had a strong feeling then that you were made for each other,” she said.

The man in question made his entrance.

“Congratulations Alistair, when’s the day?” Bruce asked.

He looked at me and smiled. Ignoring Bruce for the moment, he came over and kissed me.

“Good morning, my love.”

“Good morning,” I said, my whole being tingled with pleasure now he was near me.

“Morning Bruce, Sheila. I have no idea, because we haven’t discussed it. I imagine it will be in the summer, when I get some leave.”

It hadn’t crossed my mind, I had thought about being a wife, but not a bride. I now had visions of wedding dresses and my mother being bossy and organising everyone. I smiled, as she had wanted this for so long. At least I would beat Ingrid to the altar.
 
 
We had a quiet breakfast, after which Bruce said goodbye and went off to work. I went back upstairs to make my bed and collect my things. I was about to lug my cases down stairs, when Alistair took them and carried them to the car.

I hugged Sheila, and she asked me to write in the visitors’ book. By then Ingrid and Alex had put in an appearance in their dressing gowns. I hugged them both, and just as I got into the car, I flashed the ring at my scheming sister, and as we drove off down the drive, I mouthed the words, “GOT YOU BACK.”

I last saw her doing goldfish impressions as we disappeared round the bend.

I sat quietly, feeling sad that my holiday was over and I was leaving Scotland. I loved the place, as the whole pace of life was so much quieter and slow compared London. The strange thing was, I almost felt more at home up here than my flat in London, or even at my parents’ home in Buckinghamshire.

“You’re very quiet.”

“Mmm, sorry, but a lot has happened over the last few days.”

“I can’t think what. Honestly, you arrived up here with one man, and end up leaving engaged to a complete stranger. Morals of a complete tart.”

I laughed, as it did look rather odd.

“It’s all unreal. I don’t think it has sunk in fully yet,” I admitted.

“Listen Christina, I know that I bullied you a little, so if you feel uncomfortable or unhappy with everything, then say so, and we can take a step back,” he said.

I reached out and touched him with my hand.

“No. I’m very comfortable and extremely happy. I don’t know what I’ll say to my mother, but I have never been happier.”

“What will you say to Mark? That has been bothering me.”

“We’ve already spoken. He decided that he likes me a lot, but that we are too different. We’ve already agreed that a relationship is not a good idea, but we will stay friends.”

Alistair looked at me in surprise.

“When did you speak to him?”

“Yesterday, I phoned him. In fact, it was his idea, so he dumped me before I could dump him.”

He smiled. “I’m glad. For him, particularly, as I felt bad about him, and the fact I encroached on his territory.”

“I’m not territory. Neither am I possessions, chattels or property. So, please do me the honour of realising that now.”

“You are my woman,” he said firmly.

“Yes, I am a woman, and for the moment, I am yours, and long as you are mine, or one of us should die,” I said.

He looked at me sharply.

“Till death us do part?”

“Or you are unfaithful, and I castrate you with my curling tongs.”

He grinned.

“So, what will you say to your mother about us?”

“I don’t know. What was said to her when they told her you were bringing me home?”

“Just that someone was dropping you off on the way. Ingrid was careful to mention no names, or give a clue about how we felt about each other.”

“Why?”

“I think she didn’t want to upset you, or say anything out of turn.”

I smiled, remembering her face as we drove off. At that moment my mobile rang, it was Ingrid.

“Hi,” I said.

“Chris, you absolute cow. How could you?”

“Well, how could you make all those arrangements behind my back?”

“That was different. Sheila said that you and Alistair are engaged. Is she right?”

“Yes.”

“When did that happen?”

“After you and lover boy went to bed.”

“God. That was very sudden. Chris, are you sure you know what you are doing?”

“He’s the one, Ing. I know it for sure. He is the one. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Shit, Chris, what will you tell Mum?”

“The truth - hi Mum, had a lovely time, and by the way I am engaged, and this is Alistair, the Earl of Dundas, my fiancé,” I said, looking at Alistair, who laughed.

Ingrid was silent, which was rare.

“Bloody hell. I’d forgotten. He isn’t yet though, is he?”

“Not yet. But I met his father, and believe me, it won’t be that long.”

Alistair smiled sadly and nodded.

Ingrid laughed.

“My sister, a bloody Lady Muck!”

“I’ll have you carted off to the Tower if you’re not careful,” I replied and we both laughed.

“Seriously Christina, I am so pleased for you. Do you love him?”

I looked at Alistair.

“Yes, I really do love him,” I said, and he smiled at me.

“Do you want me to call mum and break the news gently?” she asked.

“No. Please don’t. I need to do that myself when we get there.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon. We will have to swing by to collect some of my stuff anyway.”

We ended the call, and I put my phone back in my bag.

“I saw my Dad before I left, yesterday.”

“Oh yes, and how was he?”

“Not good. The doctor was there. I don’t think he will make Christmas.”

I was quiet, not a lot one can say to something like that.

“He likes you,” he said.

“Does he?”

“Yes, he gave me the ring. It was my mothers. He told me that if I let you get away, then I should be shot.”

I smiled.

“I never really liked the old sod, but somehow, now I feel sorry for him,” he admitted.

“It’s hard for you both. But when you become a father, there is no way I would allow you to behave to your children in the same way as he did.”

He smiled. “I believe you.”

“So you should,” I said.

“Does the title bother you?”

“Should it?”

“It does some people.”

“I’m not one of them. It’s just a title. It means nothing really, just that somewhere in history someone ass-licked enough of the right people.”

He laughed so much that I was worried that he was going to lose control of the car.

“You are something else. Oh, Christina, that’s one of the many reasons I find you completely irresistible. You just say what you feel, and it’s lovely.”

I smiled.

“The man makes his own mark on the world, not what his forefathers did.”

“Oh, I agree, that’s why I don’t use my title of ‘the Honourable’ unless I absolutely have to. It is all so bloody silly.”
 
 
We sped south, down the M74, then hit the M6 at the border, and once again no silly comments were made about Gretna Green as we passed it.

The miles flew past, and we chatted about everything and nothing. We began to get to know each other just a little better as each mile passed beneath us. The more I got to know him, the more I came to love him, and I sensed that he felt the same about me.

We stopped for lunch at a small pub in Lancashire, and I felt so happy to be part of his life. So, I was quite sad as we came off the M40 near Oxford, and started the cross-country route to home.
 
 
When we finally pulled up on the drive, I felt as if I was on the eve of a completely new part of my life. I had consigned the memories of Christian Reynolds do the deepest depths of my mind, so much so, that he almost ceased to register in my life at all any more.

Barney came out, sounding far fiercer than he could ever be capable of, and greeted me with his usual affection. He also greeted Alistair with far more enthusiasm than he normally showed strangers, but then I thought that Alistair was part-retriever anyway.

It was my father who came out to greet us, and he immediately gave me a hug.

“Hello sweetie, did you have a lovely time?” he asked me.

“Oh Daddy, it was wonderful. I can’t tell you. Oh, this is Alistair McLeish, my fiancé,” I said.

Daddy started to hold his hand out to Alistair, who grinned at my casual remark, and then stopped. He turned and gaped at me.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“This is Lieutenant, the Honourable Alistair McLeish of Dundas, and the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards. The man to whom I am engaged to be married. Alistair, my love, this is Professor, the mad William Reynolds, my father.”

Daddy’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then, very slowly, a smile began and developed into an enormous grin.

“How do you do, sir?” said Alistair.

“I’m not sure, young man. My dear daughter has succeeded in completely wrong footing me yet again,” Daddy replied, shaking Alistair’s hand.

“I apologise sir, I should have spoken to you first, and formally informed you that I intended to ask for your daughter’s hand, and sought your permission to do so. But events overtook us both, and she only accepted my proposal yesterday.”

“My dear boy, that sounds very formal, and I’m sure that we can dispense with such outdated traditions in this day and age. If my daughter has accepted, then I should just shut up, and accept your inevitable fate,” he said, making Alistair laugh.

My mother then appeared, as Alistair lugged my case from his car.

“Christina, my sweet. How was your journey?”

“Fine Mama, it was actually very nice,” I said, as we embraced.

She saw the ring immediately, and opened her mouth to speak, but Daddy got in first.

“Chris is engaged,” he said.

“So I see,” she said, calmly, and then looked at Alistair.

I introduced him to her, and she took both his hands.

“Let me look at the man who has so much courage as to take on my terrible daughter,” she said, and he laughed.

“Now I can see where she gets her character from,” he said, and Mama chuckled.

“What does, ‘the Honourable’ mean?” she asked, as we moved inside.

“His father is the Earl of Dundas,” I said.

She looked at me, frowning.

“Earl, what is an Earl?”

Alistair laughed.

“An earl is one of the oldest titles. It comes from the old-Norse Jarl, and comes below Duke, Viscount, and Marquess. The wife of an Earl is a Countess, and they are addressed as Lord and Lady Dundas, or whatever the title stipulates.”

“So, you make my daughter a Lady?”

“Madam, your daughter is a princess, but I seek to make her my wife.”

This was too much for Mama, and she burst out laughing. She took his arm and bombarded him with questions. He carried our cases into the hall, and put them down. My father offered him a drink, so he accepted a small whisky.

“Pah. I must see to the dinner, Christina, come and help,” Mama said, so I followed her to the kitchen, leaving Alistair in my father’s hands.

My mother had dinner well taken care of, so she sat me at the kitchen table, and the interrogation commenced.

“So, young lady, tell me, how you manage to go up to Scotland with one young man, and return engaged to another?”

I shrugged and told her everything. Even down to the phone conversation I had with Mark.

“You were right, Mama. I knew he was the one,” I said, to finish.

She smiled, nodding.

“I knew that there was a special man out there. Never in a million years did I ever dream that my daughter would become a Countess.”

“It may not happen. His father may live for another fifty years,” I said, with a smile.

“I don’t care, you are so happy,” she said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“You can see that?” I asked.

“Oh yes, of course. You are aglow with happiness. He is the one for you.”

We had a little cuddle, and nothing more needed to be said between us on that score.

“He is a soldier?”

“Yes, he is a troop commander, tanks, I think,” I said.

“You will miss him when he goes abroad, won’t you?”

“Very much, but I accept that for the moment, that’s his life.”

“Will he always be a soldier?”

“No, only a couple more years at the most. He may stay on, but I am hoping that he will want to be with me and the children,” I said.

“Christina, no. You are not expecting too?”

I laughed.

“Mama, no. Of course not, but I want his children so much,” I said.

She looked relieved, and I laughed at her reaction.

“Mama, you know that I will save myself for the man I marry, so will Ingrid.”

“I know, but it was the way you said it.”

We chuckled together, and went through to the drawing room, to find Daddy and Alistair on their hands and knees closely examining a piece of Chinese furniture. It was a cabinet that had been in the family for as long as anyone could remember. Alistair knew a bit about furniture, and it appeared that we owned a very rare and superb example of antique Chinese craftsmanship.

“I am not an expert, but I think this is worth around thirty thousand,” Alistair said.

“Good God,” said my father, genuinely surprised.

Alistair saw me, and grinned.

“Hi, you never told me your father collected antiques.”

“He doesn’t. He lives in a house which has antiques in it, he wouldn’t know an antique if it got up and bit him,” I said.

“Oh, Christina, that is unfair,” Mama said.

“”Maybe, but am I right?”

“Perhaps. But it doesn’t help his confidence much,” she said.

Alistair laughed, and stood up. Daddy was still interested in the Chinese lettering on the base of the piece.
 
 
The evening passed very pleasantly, and my parents retired after the ten o’clock news as they did every night. We were left alone, with Barney, sitting in the sitting room.

“Your parents are brilliant.”

“Thanks, I like them,” I said, and he laughed.

“What exactly does your father do? He tried to explain, but I still don’t know.”

“No one does. We have all tried to understand. He is a physicist, and it is all to do with atoms and particles. So he exists on a different plane to the rest of us for most of the time.”

We sat, snuggled together, both aware that he was leaving in the morning, and neither of us knew when we would be together again.

He seemed to have something on his mind.

“What is the matter?” I asked.

“Christina, last night, after we went to bed, I wanted to come to you, and make love to you,” he said.

“I wanted you to,” I admitted, and he smiled.

“Well, tonight, I want to more than anything else in the world, but I so respect you for saving yourself for your special man. I am afraid of asking you if you would come to bed with me.”

My heart was racing, as I wanted to give myself to him above anything else. I was in my parent’s house, and I did not want to offend them.

“If I should die, then I should at least have known your love before I go,” he said.

I grinned and punched him.

“Ow.”

“You are a sneaky and nasty man. You are not allowed to use emotional blackmail to get me to sleep with you.”

He looked abashed.

I smiled.

“Besides, you don’t need to. I want you to make love to me, as much as you do. I so nearly came to you last night, but did not want to offend my hosts. Oh Alistair, I have dreamed of you screwing me, ever since we first met, but I am afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Becoming pregnant, failing to satisfy you, upsetting my parents, just about everything.”

He chuckled, and kissed me.

“You’re twenty-four, and I imagine one of the few virgins left in Britain. You satisfy me just by who you are, and I promise that I will take all the necessary precautions.”

I sat for a moment, and assembled my thoughts.

“Then take me to bed, please my love.”
 
 
I awoke first, dawn was breaking and my left arm ached abominably.

I was naked, while Alistair was asleep on his stomach next to me in the bed; - his double bed in the spare room. He was naked too. One of his arms was across my belly.

I was no longer a virgin.

I expected to feel guilt, but instead I regretted not having succumbed before. I was in heaven. We had gone upstairs, hand-in-hand, but then I had undressed in my room and done my teeth. I slipped my dressing gown on, and tiptoed across the landing to his room.

He was in his bathroom, and I smiled and slipped naked under his duvet.

He came out of the bathroom,

Switching off the bathroom light. He was wearing boxer shorts. His torso was lean and well muscled, his broad shoulders and tight tummy made him look very hunky.

“Hello you,” he said.

I held up the duvet, so he slipped in beside me.

“Light on or off?” he asked.

“Am I that ugly?” I said.

He smiled, kissed me, and left the light on.

He ran his hands across my body, as shivers of anticipation and excitement ran through me. I held him close, allowing him a brief release so he could take off his boxers. He was already erect, so I touched it, feeling nervous and excited at the same time. It was hot and pulsating, so I felt myself respond, as my nipples hardened. I stroked its velvet helmet, he moaned, and kissed me.

He then kissed my breasts, sucking my nipples as I felt the pleasure course through my veins. He then kissed my belly, and then he tickled my clitoris with his tongue.

I thought I had died.

I came with such force that I was literally winded. And, while I gasped for breath, I came again and again.

The duvet was discarded, and thrown to the floor. He lay beside me, kissing me so tenderly, while he stroked my clitoris with his hand. I was so wet he felt that I was more than ready for him. I held his cock, experiencing an overwhelming desire to taste him, so I pushed him onto his back, knelt on the bed, and took him into my mouth.

He was big, as once I got the knob in, there was no room for any more. I ran my tongue around the little hole, he moaned with pleasure, thrusting with his pelvis, so his cock almost went down my throat, gagging me.

I held the shaft, preventing any more than I wanted from penetrating my mouth. A small amount of liquid seeped from the hole, and I tasted him for the first time. I wanted him inside me so much now, but I did not want him to come in my mouth. At least not this time.

I released him, and he looked at me.

“I want you,” he said, and I smiled. He took a condom and opened the packet. I took it from him, rolling it onto his cock as I had seen in the movies.

“I said I want to be on top. I have so many bruises, I don’t want you crushing me, yet,” I said, as I swung my leg over him.

He slid into me as I slowly lowered myself onto him. There was a slight pause as my hymen gave, and then he was inside me, up to the hilt. It was an indescribable feeling, physically, I felt wonderful, emotionally I felt complete and spiritually I felt as if we had just become as one.

He held my bottom, so I slowly raised and lowered myself, as he thrust inside me. I smiled down at him while he played with my breasts. The pleasure I felt was out of this world, and I felt myself building towards another orgasm. It hit me like a burning glow of pleasure and I almost screamed with pleasure. He was thrusting inside me, faster and faster, and I was going wild.
 
 
I lost count of the orgasms I had, as they seemed to run into each other, getting better and better as time went on.

Finally, with an almighty grunt, he arched his back, and impaled me as deep as he could get, shuddering as he came.

I clamped myself tight, holding him inside me, and kissing him all over his face.

“Christina, get off. I might leak.”

“I don’t care, I want your baby,” I said, and he gently, but firmly pushed me over onto my right side.

He carefully withdrew and held the condom on his cock.

“You might, but to be honest, it would be a mistake, just now,” he said, and I felt rather sheepish.

We showered together, and I was a little amazed at the amount of liquid that I had generated. I held him in the shower, revelling in our nakedness, but feeling wholly at peace with what had just happened. We went to bed, still naked, and I just hugged him.

We went to sleep in each other’s arms, and I knew that I was now wholly committed.
 
 
I lay there, listening to the birds as a new day had begun. I felt wonderful, and I silently thanked who, or whatever had engineered my miracle. I knew that women had the better deal, for the pleasure I had experienced was truly amazing.

As I looked at my lover, he stirred slightly. His arm moved, and he cupped my breast in his sleep. My nipple hardened under his touch, as a now familiar yearning spread to my groin, and I ached for him to fill me again.

I stroked his face, now rough with stubble, and he opened an eye.

He smiled.

“Hello you,” he said.

His hand on my breast stroked my nipple, and I moaned a little.

He rolled onto his side, and I saw he was already aroused.

“I need a pee,” he said, and got up.

He came back a short while later, a condom already in place.

I opened my legs, and he knelt between them, inserting himself where he belonged.

“Mind my bruises,” I said, and then lost myself as a wave of pleasure hit me.

He took longer to come this time, but he was slow and tender, supporting all his weight on his knees and elbows. We kissed and caressed each other, learning what each of us liked and didn’t like. It was a true voyage of experience, so when he finally came inside me, I was almost whimpering. Several times I wanted to rip his condom off, so I could feel him unprotected inside me, imagining his seed being injected deep into my womb. Such was my drive, that I recognised the power of the reproductive nature in woman. I wanted him to make me pregnant. The feeling soon left me, as we lay in a sweaty and luxuriously sated heap, but I remembered the feeling, and it frightened me a little.

“Are you sure you are a virgin? You make love like a professional,” he said.

“How would you know?” I asked, and he chuckled. “Anyway, I’m not a virgin any more,” I said.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. Why do you think I wanted more?”

We lay there, faces inches apart, touching and caressing each other under the covers. After a little while, I felt him harden again, and he screwed me in the spoon position. The desire for me to rip off his condom was strong again, but common sense prevailed. The position brought new sensations, and as he stimulated my clitoris with his hand as he fucked me, I broke all my previous records for orgasms.

The alarm clock rang at eight, and we rose, and showered together. I returned to my room and dressed in jeans ad a tee shirt. I was brushing my hair when Mama came in.

She sat on my bed, and looked a little sad.

“So, my daughter has grown up?” she said, and I felt a pang of guilt.

“I got up in the night, and your room was empty,” she said, with that all-knowing look of hers.

“Mama, I ….”

She held up a hand.

“Shhh. Christina, we were all young once. I lost my virginity to a young man at a party when I was sixteen. I didn’t even know his name. You have been such a wonderful girl do you think I am angry that you allow the man you love to make love to you before he goes off to potential war?”

I looked at my hands, wracked with guilt.

She came over and held me.

“Was he wonderful?” she asked, not was ‘it’ wonderful, but ‘he’.

I looked her in the eyes.

“Yes Mama, he was more than wonderful.”

“Then I am happy for you. You have a special memory. Which is more than most of us.”

She gave me a cuddle and left me alone.

They left us alone until he had to leave, and I was crying even before he carried his case to the car. We held each other for an age, and then he kissed me.

“I’ll be back soon. I’ll phone and write, and if I can I’ll Email you,” he said.

“I don’t want you to go,” I said, not unreasonably.

“I don’t want to go, but I have to. I had a chat with your father, and he’s going to put our engagement in the Times and Telegraph. I’ll call before I leave the country. I promise.”

He gave me a photograph of him in uniform. The one he had taken when he was promoted to Lieutenant a year or so ago. He looked very handsome, almost film star quality.

I held onto him, just for another minute.

Eventually and reluctantly, he took his leave, and I was plunged into gloom again. It was as if the light in my life was suddenly extinguished.
 
 

*          *          *
 
End of Part 2
 
 
To Be Continued...