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“Does it happen tae you?” she asked curiously.
“No’ in the same way,” he replied, chuckling at her fondly. “Men an’ women are different, Greta.”
“Ye noticed that as well?” she asked, laughing as she pretended to be surprised. “There is so much ye will need tae teach me, Finn. I am stupid when it comes tae the ways of the body.”
He cupped her face in his big hands, looking at her fondly. “Ye are not stupid, lassie, an’ it will be my pleasure tae teach ye.”
“Can I teach ye anythin’?” she asked.
Finn could hear the catch in her voice. She was trying not to weep, and he suddenly felt frightened. “What is upsettin’ ye, Greta?”
“I am scared that I will not make ye a good wife,” she said simply. “I lost my ma an’ da a few years ago. I was never told about what goes on between a man an’ a woman. What if I do somethin’ wrong?”
Finn pulled her against his hard chest and kissed her forehead. “Do ye love me, Greta?” he asked softly.
“Ye know I do,” she replied softly.
“An’ I love ye.” His voice was firm. “If we love each other, nothin’ can go wrong. I will tell ye what I like, an’ ye can tell me what ye like.”
“Are ye sure?” Greta looked up at him.
Finn nodded. “I am. But wait an’ see for yerself, Greta. Nothin’ will go wrong, I promise. Now we must go home.”
Greatly reassured, Greta walked with him back to Clodagh’s house. There was still a little light seeping under the door, and Greta supposed that the old widow had stayed awake to wait for her, perhaps anxious in case something had happened to her.
“Goodnight, my Greta,” he whispered. “I will meet ye in the clearin’ in the mornin’, an’ soon ye will be mine.”
She nodded, and with a swift kiss, he left her and ran down the path into the darkness.
When Greta stepped into the modest little cottage, Clodagh was sitting by a chair at the fireside, mending a hole in one of Greta’s dresses. She jumped to her feet as soon as she saw the young woman and rushed over to hug her.
“Oh! Thank God!” she cried, relief written all over her seamed old face. “I didnae know what had happened tae ye!”
“I am sorry, Clodagh,” she whispered. “I went tae stand an’ look at the sea. It is such a beautiful night.”
“Then Finn came tae find ye?” the old woman asked, her eyebrows raised in a question. “He came here first, an’ I told him where yer favorite place was.”
Greta nodded as she went over to the fire, shedding her cloak. “We started tae talk, an’ before we knew it, time just flew away from us.” She sat down and held her hands out to the fire since she had been nestled in Finn’s arms and had not realized how cold she was.
“Talkin’, eh?” Clodagh looked at her with a suspicious twinkle in her eye. “Aye, when I was just a young thing, me an’ my Sean used tae do a lot of ‘talking’ too.” She chuckled and winked.
Greta blushed hotly, and the old lady came to put a hand on her shoulder. “Are ye worried, lass?” she asked gently.
Greta nodded. “Aye, a wee bit.” She sighed in frustration. “My mother never told me what goes on between a man an’ a woman, Clodagh. Well, no’ the whole thing anyway.”
“Oh!” Clodagh drew up a chair for Greta and bade her sit down. “We cannae have that, hen. Ye must know what is ahead of ye.” She bustled over to the fireplace to heat up some ale for them, then gave a cup of it to Greta. “Has he kissed ye?”
“Aye, an’ we did some other things,” she replied. Her cheeks were flaming now. She took a deep breath and began to tell Clodagh about the last hour she had spent with Finn. When she had finished, she was so embarrassed that she could not meet the old woman’s eyes.
To her surprise, Clodagh laughed. “Do ye think ye are the only one that has ever done anythin’ like that, hen?” she asked, reaching out to touch Greta’s cheek. “I was nae always old, an’ when I was young, my Sean an’ me—we were just the same as ye.” She laughed at the memory and sipped her ale. “We had seven wee ones. Now, do ye want tae know the rest?”
“Aye,” Greta answered hastily. “Ye might as well get it over with.”
Clodagh nodded, then began to speak. When she was finished, Greta was looking at her with eyes as round as saucers. She tipped the rest of her ale back in one gulp, then coughed.
“Are ye a’ right, hen?” Clodagh asked, concerned.
Greta nodded as her throat cleared. “So that is what is goin’ tae happen tae me?” she asked.
