Mystic Mountains

good enough to be a wife to you. Well, let me tell you, I would rather wed a kind and gentle man like Dougal who treats me with respect, than shackle myself to you. And if you lay a finger on me again, ever, so help me God, I'll kill you."
    She ran then, across the garden, through the gate, across the home paddock, then in and out of the fruit trees.
    Tiger stood and watched her until she was a white blur at the far side of the orchard. Vaguely he wondered if she would return this time. Running a hand over his head he gave a convulsive shudder. Never mind about her killing him, he felt capable of killing himself. He was the lowest of the low, no better than the scum she'd often named him. Sweet Jesus. If Thelma ever suspected he'd ravaged her she would likely lay a rolling pin to his head. He was no better than Malloy.
    He returned to his bathing, but all the water in the world couldn 't wash her sweet scent from his body. It lingered in his nostrils, enticing, enthralling him. He suspected it always would.
     
    * * *
     
    In childish daydreams Isabella had imagined being wed in a great church such as one she'd been inside in London long ago. A huge vaulted place where footsteps echoed on the stone floor and the priest stood before the bride and her man in a flowing white and purple robe. There had never been a clear picture of the man who would stand by her side swearing to honor and love her until his dying day. But in the darkest corner of her mind she now knew he would be tall and straight with hair and eyes of gold.
    She gave Dougal a diffident smile. It was unbearably hot in the s mall chapel and she feared at any moment she would have to run outside to bring up her breakfast.
    Dougal looked uncomfortable and nervous in the new trousers and shirt Tiger had bought him for this occasion. There had been something different about him all day. Over breakfast he 'd kept throwing odd looks that she could only interpret as anger. It was very strange and for a while she'd had the feeling he was about to tell her he couldn't go through with the ceremony. That thought dismayed her, even as she'd hoped it would be true. Then her stupid imagination had Tiger stepping in and taking his place.
    Fool! When would she learn?
    No, she was standing beside Dougal in a gown of pink muslin, also provided by Tiger. For all she cared it could have been sackcloth. Inside, a little voice cried out for him to step forward, to shout the priest down, to insist this farce of a marriage be stopped, for the woman standing before the altar was carrying his child and so should be marrying him.
    But things like that only happened in dreams, and the time for such nonsense was over. With bemused eyes she watched as Dougal pushed the gold band onto her wedding finger. She wanted to clench her fist, to refuse to accept it. Dougal 's eyes held a look of disbelief. Perhaps he was having second thoughts. But as the priest joined their hands and pronounced she was his wife she knew it was a certainty; she and Dougal were wed. For better or worse.
    Thelma came to give them both a hug. "Bless the two of you. Be happy," she said to Isabella. But the look in her eyes said she had little hope for such an eventuality.
    Gillie cleared his throat. "Lord, but I only hope you'll be half as happy as Thelma and me," he said, also hugging Isabella awkwardly, before shaking Dougal's hand as if working the pump.
    Tiger wordlessly thumped Dougal on the back before he too shook his hand. Then he stood before Isabella, his hands cupping her shoulders. She refused to meet his eyes. Ev ery part of her body trembled, and she knew if they didn't get out into the sunshine soon she would make a fool of herself and vomit among the pews.
    "Let 's get out of here," Tiger said, frowning as she swallowed hard. "I think Bella's about to be sick."
    "Thank you, sir," Dougal turned to say to the priest, then he took Isabella 's arm and led her outside into the sunshine.
    Tiger had already taken care of the reverend 's fee. In fact Tiger had covered all the expenses. Isabella knew this stuck in Dougal's craw, but there was nothing to be done about it. He was her owner, so presumed to take the place of her father, assuming all responsibility.
    Dougal helped Isabella into the wagon, beating Tiger to it when he offered her aid. Once they were seated though, Dougal dropped her hand as if it was a hot cinder.
    It was a quiet ride home in the wagon, fraught with tension. Thelma had decorated