Free Short Story online_The Veil: 1846 by Neale Sourna

The Veil: 1846

by Neale Sourna

Gretna Green, Scotland

His mother hates me, fears that I'll take him from her, or, well actually, neither he nor I know for certain what she holds against me. But he understands this hindrance; that she wishes to post the banns for his marriage to … that other person.

So we ran, he and I, with my aunt's tacit approval, including giving me a gift before our late night journey began northward, to Scotland's nearest border and the famous Blacksmiths of Gretna Green, who forge both metal and legal marriage.

We were soaked from the rain's downpour, literally steaming in the hot work shelter, leaving me unable to wear my aunt's fair gift, as the smith was hot of foot to close and splash through cold puddles and slick mud to dry home and warm supper, and so we'd married without our rings, too deeply buried in my love's valise for safekeeping, as the smith impatiently waited to legally bind us.

And we runaways were forged together, man to woman, husband to wife, with full intent to double secure our matrimonial with a visit to a somewhat distant, but well-respected, ordained minister—in insurance against my new mother-in-law's contrary wishes and any possible suit of that other's frail love and family, in desiring to forever bind him in law, and with child.

We'd been hard pressed by possible pursuit and by our own leaping hearts to be forged together as one, over the tongs of Scotland's generous law. Now, it was done.

* * * *

We'd arrived at this lovely, gabled inn, a room was provided, warm meal and warm blankets, too, and our clothes had gone to be cleared of travel mud and dried.

All we wore were scratchy, woolen blankets.

We ate in mute happiness with nervousness underlying our delicate, new bond. Words of power had been spoken in that forge's rainproof shelter, the smith's apprentice a witness to acknowledge our new status in sacred mutual agreement; and the minister's extra weight of rank and piety would hold till floods ceased.

Our meal was eaten, with only bodily consummation the next surety to our bond of runaway love as yet left undone. We put aside food and wine for later, in case we hungered and thirsted in the night, during our first night alon‑.

I ran, with nerves too heightened, to the window and stared out, and stated, "The rain slows." He came and stood behind me, he in his blanket and I... http://www.weddingnight.com/stories/the-veil.html

Free Short Story: Becca Gets Her Sea Legs, Part 3 by Neale Sourna

Atlantic Ocean, Ireland; 1680s

"It's not fair," Becca moaned between gulps, of drinking a watered wine concoction, and promptly vomited, again. Aidan wiped her face, and then she fell back into his bunk, and watched as his hammock, which, though pulled to one side, swayed with the rocking of his ship. Damnable pirate. This new world of his would not be still.

"Utterly not fair."

"Your new husband, who you jilted your wedding night, pretending to be sick, so you'd not have to accommodate him, as per your full wifely duties, and then dashing away to me and sea, I think he'd say it was your just desserts, skittish girline."

"I doubt he'd say 'skittish,' perhaps something starting with an 's' and 'l.' And don't say 'desser‑'." And she hastily draped herself over the edge, and nothing came. A wholly unattractive way to spend one's time with one's new lover.

"More?" He proffered the drink and she shook her disheveled head and groaned with pathetic intensity, as he....http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/becca-03.html [short story chapter]

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