Topic: A Small Bump

Katrina Nichols

Date: 2014-12-07 10:34 EST
Stretching between the castle and the royal palace of Holyrood, the Royal Mile in Edinburgh seemed to boast everything you could possibly want from an historic city. And yet if that was all you saw, then you hadn't even scratched the surface of the beautiful city itself with all its wonders, both in history and in the present day. Rand had been amazingly forbearing in allowing his new wife to drag him into every church they passed, to admire the woodworking more than anything, and chatter on about technique and form until he knew more than most sane people might ever want to know about her chosen art form.

North of the border, the days were chilly and the nights chillier yet, but there really was nothing quite like windburned cheeks and a sense of brightness that came after a day spent trawling through the hidden treasures of the beautiful city. Kit had finally relented today, after belated realizing that she had somewhat dominated their honeymoon thus far, which was how they had ended up on the Royal Mile to begin with. They were debating whether or not to visit the castle or the palace first.

"Well, it depends if you want to walk up the hill after lunch, or down," Kit was saying to her husband, ducking cheerfully out of the way of a group of English students who looked as though they would rather be anywhere but Edinburgh today. "It isn't as though either place is going to suddenly disappear just because we went to the other one first!"

He seemed to consider this very seriously for a moment, as if it was a matter of great import, before replying. "Well, if we go uphill before lunch, it will be easier to go downhill after," he reasoned, when their stomachs would be fuller and they'd likely be feeling lazy. Whichever they decided, he seemed in no great hurry, perfectly happy to indulge her in whatever she wanted to do.

He had a new lease on life, after all. He couldn't be happier, and it showed in the way he was smiling and laughing, more relaxed than he'd felt in many years. This little honeymoon of theirs wasn't so much about having fun as it was about spending time alone together without the worries and cares of everyday life hanging over their heads.

"So ...the castle it is, then!" She beamed, delighted to have come to a decision in half the time it would have taken her on her own, and hugged him impulsively. He wasn't the only one with a new lease on life, and was learning that one of the many reasons his little wife worked with wood had very much to do with her tactile nature. She tended to pout if she wasn't allowed to touch, and now he was hers irrevocably, she touched, hugged, and kissed whenever the mood took her.

He had no complaints. That part of him that had been a ghost for over a hundred years craved the warmth of a human touch, especially that of the woman he had loved for so long. He beamed a smile back at her as she hugged him, glad to see her so happy after all the sadness she had suffered during her life. Somehow he knew her grandmother was smiling down on them from the afterlife, the plan she had set into motion years ago finally coming to fruition. He did not doubt Katherine had hoped for this outcome all along, somehow knowing that Kit was the one who could break the curse that had help his soul prisoner. Taking hold of her hand, they started up the hill together, hearts light and carefree.

It seemed as though nothing could cast a cloud over them, until Kit heard a voice she hadn't been expecting to hear at all.

"Katrina" Oh, my goodness, Katrina!"

She froze on the esplanade in front of the castle, her hand tightening in Rand's, and slowly turned to find that, yes, it was indeed her mother bearing down on them.

Bottle blonde and dressed to kill, Amelia Clarke descended on them in a cloud of expensive perfume, wrapping her daughter up in a hug that was evidently not warmly received. "What are you doing here, my darling?" she declared, apparently delighted.

Kit's jaw clenched as she ground her teeth, hating the performance more than anything. "I'm on my honeymoon, Mum," she told her mother calmly, tugging Rand closer. "Please meet my husband, Randal. Rand ....this is my mother."

Inwardly, Rand cringed at the realization of just who it was they had happened upon here on their honeymoon, of all times and places. Later, he might ponder why here and now, but at the moment, there was no time to consider such things; he could only react. He could have passed the woman on the street and neither would have known who the other was, nor would have had noticed much of a resemblance to the young woman who'd stolen his heart. He stood back a pace while the two embraced, or more accurately, Kit's mother gave her daughter a hug. He was unable to tell whether that hug was sincere or her mother truly was the master of deception Kit claimed her to be, but it seemed he was about to find out. He plastered on the most polite and charming smile he could muster as he was tugged closer, offering a hand to the woman in greeting.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Clarke. Your daughter has told me so much about you." Hopefully, she saw that for the warning it was. The part of him that had been a ghost remembered Kit's mother differently. She'd been a timid woman then, plain, lonely, and frightened of her own shadow. This Amelia was very different.

"Oh, and this must be your young man!" Evidently listening wasn't among Amelia Clarke's skills. She bypassed the offered hand and enveloped him into an embrace that was deeply inappropriate for her to be giving to even a friend of her daughter, much less her own son-in-law.

Kit's teeth ground audibly for a moment, anger flashing in her eyes as she watched her mother plant a kiss far too close to Rand's mouth for her liking. "What are you doing in Edinburgh, Mum?" she asked, old habits built on keeping on the woman's good side keeping her tone light and friendly.

Amelia drew back from Rand with a saucy wink, turning her wide smile back to her daughter. "Oh, darling, I'm here with Andrew," she declared brightly. "You remember Andrew, don't you?"

The blank look on Kit's face said it all, until her mother flashed a sparkling diamond solitaire in her face. She sighed, careful to keep her irritation under wraps. "When did you divorce Joseph?" she asked politely, gripping Rand's hand tight as her mother laughed gaily.

Katrina Nichols

Date: 2014-12-07 10:35 EST
"Oh, darling, that was back in May," Amelia told her. "I sent you an email, didn't I" Oh, perhaps not. Well, if you would pick up the phone once in a while, you'd have known then. And look at you, wearing that old sack of a coat your grandmother gave you still - darling, you're a rich woman now, you should buy something that at least makes you look taller!"

For Rand's part, he didn't return the embrace, except to be as perfectly polite as he could, tensing as her mother embraced him and carefully disengaging himself from her as soon as he was able. He slid an arm around Kit's waist to reclaim her and make it clear just who held his love and loyalty. He clenched his jaw, inwardly cringing once again at the woman's obvious selfishness and lack of empathy for her own daughter's feelings. He arched a brow at the remark about Kit's monetary situation.

If she was rich, she certainly didn't flaunt it. While it was true they weren't hurting for money, he wasn't quite sure he'd call them rich. Didn't she realize that Kit didn't wear that coat because it was stylish but because it had sentimental value" He could only imagine what her mother would think of the antique Kit was wearing on her finger that passed for an engagement ring. It wasn't half as flashy or expensive as hers. "Yes, well, I've been meaning to buy her a new one, but we've been so busy with wedding plans!" he broke in, saving Kit from an explanation.

Forestalled in her habitual critique of just why Kit didn't quite match up to her high standards, Amelia blinked, finally seeming to engage her ears. "You're getting married?" Her eyes darted to Kit accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone, you sly little thing" Oh, well, we must get you measured and fitted in something extraordinary - tell me, Randal, what sort of people are your parents?"

Kit nearly exploded at the utterly tactless question. "Mum! You can't ask people things like that, it's incredibly rude!"

Amelia brushed her objection aside. "Oh, never mind, darling," she beamed, patting her diminutive daughter rather patronizingly on the head. "The two of you must come to dinner tonight, Andrew will be thrilled to meet you both. Here ..." She pulled a visiting card out of her handbag, pressing it into Rand's hand even as she turned to walk away. "Must dash, darling. Tonight, eight o'clock. Wear something nice, and don't be late!"

Rand opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get a word in edgewise, her mother was pressing a card into his hand and not taking no for an answer, dashing away before he could explain or she could detain them further. "Bloody hell," he muttered to himself as he glanced at the card in his hand. Who presented their own daughter with a visiting card, anyway' And what would she say when she found out they were already married and that his parents were dead" "It's a shame I can't haunt her. I think I should rather have enjoyed that."

Kit stared after her for a moment before looking up at Rand, clearly horrified by the older woman's behavior but at a complete loss as to how she could possibly apologize for it. "Well ....that was my mother," she offered, her expression torn between apology and concern.

"What do you think she's doing in Edinburgh?" he asked curiously, as her mother's response hadn't really given them much of an explanation, other than for the fact that she was with someone named Andrew, who perhaps was of Scottish heritage, though even that was uncertain.

"Who knows?" Kit sighed softly, twisting to take a look at the card in his hand. It irritated her to no end that her mother was even in the same country, even more so that she had apparently divorced and was already engaged again without even mentioning it to her own daughter. At least Kit had been intending to write to her about her own marriage. The card was printed with the address of The Balmoral Hotel here in Edinburgh, holding up her private theory that her mother had found another rich admirer to take for all he was worth. "Well, she obviously isn't living here," she mused. "That's a blessing, at least."

"Neither are we," Rand pointed out, looking over the card. "Would it be terribly rude not to show up?" he pondered aloud, not only dreading spending any more time with her mother, but not wanting to interrupt their honeymoon to do so.

Kit bit her lip, torn between getting it over with and avoiding it entirely. It was a very posh hotel, The Balmoral. "I doubt she'd remember she saw us if it was only me," she admitted awkwardly, "but she never forgets a handsome face. She probably only invited us to dinner so she can see more of you."

He sighed, tucking the card into a pants pocket for further consideration later. At the very least, they might get a decent meal out of it. At worst, the woman stood a chance at ruining Kit's mood and hence, their entire honeymoon. It was not a decision he was willing to make for her. He wished, not for the first or probably last time, that it was her mother who'd died, instead of his, but felt a horrible stab of guilt at the thought, too ashamed to admit it aloud, even if she did agree with him. "Well, it is an opportunity to show her how ridiculously happy we are, but if you would rather not, I will abide with whatever decision you make," he said, taking her hand to head toward the castle entrance.

"If we don't go, she'll track us down," Kit admitted ruefully. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather get it over with. I don't want her setting foot in our home - any opportunity to deny her access to start poking and prodding and loudly telling me how much the place is worth ..." She heaved out a heavy sigh, and just like that, partitioned her irritation away, heartbreakingly used to setting her feelings toward her mother aside. "But this is our honeymoon, and I refuse to let her ruin it."

The talk of the house and the thought of her mother attempting to take it from them or talk them into selling made his face flush hotly with anger, though he was not angry with Kit. "It is my house," he said, with an uncharacteristic touch of stubbornness and even anger in his voice. "And she has no right to it." The flush faded quickly, as he tried to hold his emotions in check. There were two things he held dear to him - one was his wife and the other was the house that bore his name. His mind lingered on various legalities that would prevent her mother from making any claims on the place.

"Hey." Kit halted, turning to look up at him, her hands fisting in the folds of his coat. "She doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of ever getting what she wants from us," she told him firmly. "I told you, what she wants is for us to sell the house and invalidate the terms of Nana's will, so that Nana's money will revert to her. We're never going to sell the house, love. It's our home. And frankly, Mum's got being a serial bride down to such an art form, she's probably got more in her bank account by now than I will ever have."

Katrina Nichols

Date: 2014-12-07 10:36 EST
"I've half a mind to warn this Andrew before she gets her hooks into him," he said, between clenched teeth, the anger slowly fading. He knew it would do no good though. She might have some people fooled, but she hadn't fooled him or her daughter. It was too bad things had to be this way when she was the only real family either of them had left. He sighed, visibly relaxing as he let the anger go, not one to linger too long on such things anymore, not since he'd met Katrina. It had only taken one brief meeting with the woman for him to change his mind entirely about whether or not her relationship with Kit was redeemable. "I suppose we should give her this one chance, but I will not let her ruin our lives or our honeymoon. She need not be part of our lives, Kit, unless you wish her to be."

"I know." She couldn't help smiling, part of her inordinately pleased that her mother had managed to annoy him in one meeting as much as she'd annoyed her own daughter in a lifetime. "But men know what they're getting into when they sink in with Mum. She doesn't make a secret of the fact that money is what motivates her, and she's beautiful. She can be fantastic company; she's virtually the perfect trophy wife."

"She's shallow, narcissistic, and greedy. The woman hasn't a maternal bone in her body. Why, if my mother..." He broke off at the mention of his own mother, not only because the memory her still made his heart ache but because he didn't want to be a selfish lout by comparing the two. Thankfully, Kit had had a wonderful father and grandmother to make up for the lack of a mother's love. "She isn't half as lovely as you," he said, turning to face her so that he could kiss her worries away, cupping her face between the palms of his hands. "No more talk of your mother. We are on our honeymoon and we are going to enjoy it."

Easing her arms about him, Kit was only too happy to have her worries kissed away, sure she would be able to handle a few hours with her mother if Rand was there to force both of them to at least keep from nipping at each other. "I love you," she promised him all over again. "Nothing's ever going to change that. Nothing's going to change the fact that I love our home, and I couldn't think of anywhere I would rather want to raise our children, when the time comes."

Touched by her words, there was still something he needed to say, something he needed her to know before they closed the topic of her mother, at least until later that evening. "I am going to look into some legalities," he told her, leaving no room for argument. "Just to be sure there are no loopholes," he explained, assuming she would be in agreement. There was only one way her mother was getting her claws into their house or her grandmother's money and that was if they were both dead.

She nodded, breathing what might have been a soft sigh of relief. It was a source of constant worry, however well buried, that her mother might well try actively to get her hands on the house, and thus, Katherine's money. "Thank you," she smiled to her husband, tickling her fingers down his arm to take hold of his hand. "And we're going to see the castle and have lunch."

"Yes, we are, and we are not going to think about or talk about your mother until tonight," he said, once again not taking no for an answer. He wasn't so much asserting himself or making demands for his own sake as for hers. Mother or no mother, they were going to enjoy their day, as they had originally intended. He smiled at last and brushed a kiss against her lips. "Shall we, Mrs. Nichols?" he asked her, not for the first or last time that day. He liked how her name sounded on his lips. Mrs. Nichols. Not Isabelle Nichols, but Katrina. Though she might be the ghost's second wife, she was Rand's first and only love.

"Absolutely, Mr. Nichols," she nodded enthusiastically, tugging him onward to the castle. "And after lunch, I might just persuade you to save Holyrood for another day." She flickered a cheeky wink in his direction, his instruction to forget about her mother only too easily obeyed. "I think there's still some places in our room we haven't christened yet."

He chuckled at her cheeky wink and insinuation that they change their plans just a little to indulge in a little afternoon delight. "As you wish, dearest," he replied with a smile of his own. Wouldn't it just irk her mother if they came to dinner fawning all over each other and ignoring the woman' Oh, he could be evil when he wanted to be.

For some reason, those three words sent his merry tempered little wife off into gales of laughter, remembering watching that particular film with his ghostly self not so very long ago. "Well, lets just hope I'm not inconceivable," she teased, pretty sure she was nothing of the sort, digging into her pocket to find her purse and pay for admission to the historic site looming above them.

If she hadn't been his wife, it might have felt strange to let her pay his way, but her money was his money now and vice versa, and he was not so full of ego that he needed to take charge of every detail of their lives, though he did tend to be a little old-fashioned. "It's inconceivable that you're inconceivable!" he teased back, with a short laugh as he finally took a moment to look up at the grand sight in front of them. "It rather puts the house to shame, doesn't it?" he asked, though there was little point in comparing the two.

She leaned into him, still giggling a little at his tease as she drank in the beautiful building. It wasn't so much the architecture as the sense of age about the castle; the knowledge that these strong stone walls had seen so much more than they were telling. "It's not very homey," she offered quietly. "I'd rather live in our house than here. At least we know all the ghosts there."

"Ghosts?" he echoed, turning his glance to her, brows arching sharply. "You haven't seen any lately, have you?" he asked. He'd only known of two, and as far as he knew, they had both been laid to rest, in a manner of speaking.

Shaking her head, she smiled up at him. "No, none," she promised him faithfully. "If Nana was around, she would have shown herself by now, I'm sure of it." She hugged him about the waist affectionately. "Teach me about Scottish history, husband mine."

"Scottish history?" he echoed, laughing. "What makes you think I know anything about Scottish history?" he asked as he settled his hands against her hips, pecking a kiss to her lips before turning to take her arm and lead her beneath the shadow of the castle that loomed over them. "I'm not that old!" he reminded her with a grin.

Katrina Nichols

Date: 2014-12-07 10:37 EST
Wrapping her arm through his, Kit fell into step as they entered the castle, hugging close to him. "Don't tell anyone, but I think you might be a bit of a crumbly," she teased him under her breath, daring him to take offense at that with her bold smile. "I mean, look at you. You dress like you know it's going to make me weak at the knees."

He furrowed his brows, a little confused, and glanced down at what he was wearing - a simple pair of trousers and sweater over a crisp, white shirt peeked out from beneath a wool peacoat, a scarf tossed casually around his neck. "What, this?" he asked, a little aghast, wondering if he was just a little old fashioned. "Should I have worn a suit and tie?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Don't ever change the way you dress," she told him firmly. "You look stunning, all the time. Why on earth would I want you to change that?" She loved the way he dressed - more layers just meant more teasing when it came to putting him to bed, so to speak.

"And that makes me a bit of a crumbly?" he asked, thoroughly confused. Women, he decided, were a confusing lot, even the ones he knew as well as he knew her. They stepped at last into the castle, letting it swallow them up in its history, the talk of her mother long since forgotten. It would take hours to make a proper tour of this place, and he wanted to explore every dark corner of this place and seek out all its little mysteries.

"Well, only a bit of you is over a hundred years old," she pointed out teasingly. "So you're only a bit of a crumbly."

Beside him, she was easily caught up in the history of the castle, only too happy to trail along and explore everything there was to see. They even managed to catch the midday gun salute, the deafening boom of the castle cannon proclaiming the middle of the day across the city before they had even explored half the castle itself. By the time they emerged, blinking, into the twenty-first century once again, the afternoon was moving along at a brisk pace.

"Wow," Kit murmured through a delighted grin, glancing down at his watch. "I didn't think that would take up so much of the day!"

"And I have a new appreciation for Scottish history," he remarked, just as awed as she was as they emerged hours later into the fading afternoon. They still had a few hours yet before they were expected at dinner, and they'd have to change into more appropriate clothing before they did that, but they still had a little time to kill. "If I recall correctly," he started, turning toward her and snaking his arms around her waist. "Someone said something about a little afternoon delight."

"I do believe you recall correctly, Mr. Nichols," she mused impishly, tucking her arms inside his coat to slide her fingers up beneath the back of his sweater and untuck his shirt just enough. Her fingertips stroked against the skin of his lower back as she batted her lashes at him. "Do I need to try and seduce you?"

He smiled back when he felt her fingers tug his shirt loose and travel up his back, teasing his bare skin. "No need, but you may, if you wish," he replied, only too happy to be the subject of her seduction. "But not here," he said, wanting to get her in private before they had their way with each other.

She laughed aloud at the hurried addendum to his warm reply. "What, you don't want to throw me down and have your way with me right in front of Edinburgh Castle, love?" she teased him playfully, fingers gently retucking his shirt before she smoothed her hands out from under his coat.

It didn't much matter if his shirt was tucked or untucked, as it was hidden beneath his coat, but he let her do as she would without argument or complaint, unable to hide his amusement. He laughed a little, equally amused by her suggestion. "Hmm, I might be tempted but for the fact that we'd likely be arrested."

Fingers curling into the lapel of his coat, she pulled him down into a giggling kiss. "I should probably take you back to the hotel and have my wicked way with you there, then," she conceded sweetly. "As often as we possibly can before we have to get up again."

"We're on our honeymoon," he reminded her, only too eager to reciprocate her kisses and more. "We don't have to do anything," he told her, and that included dinner with her mother. "What do you say to being fashionably late?" he asked with a smirk, looking forward to seeing the look on her mother's face when he told her why.

She laughed, finding it only too easy to imagine just what it was he was anticipating there. "Only if I get to watch you tell her why," she murmured teasingly. "See if you can stop her in mid-flirt." She dissolved into loud laughter at that thought. When it came down to it, she did love her mother, but the thought of seeing Amelia Clarke pulled down a peg or two by her new son-in-law was just too tempting for words.

"Well, I am honest to a fault," he replied with a mischievous grin, dropping a final kiss against her lips before he let her go so that he could take hold of her hand and start on their way back to their hotel to take advantage of what remained of the day before having to endure dinner with her mother and her new boyfriend. Endure it, they might have to, but they could both be very sure of how the night would end for them, in love and laughter that no amount of petty mothers could take away from them.

((Wouldn't be us if we didn't drop another pebble in the path to true happiness, would it' Many, many thanks to my awesomely amazible writing partner!))