Page 12 of Mistletoe and Kisses
“There. Can you see the gray walls? Keep watching; it will come into full view any moment now,” he said.
Mary peered out and she caught sight of a solid patch of gray between the trees. As the coach turned, the wood was left behind. She then got a clear view of what Adelaide and Hugh had been searching for.
Across the distance of a mile or so, beyond a small village loomed a towering Norman era stronghold. Strathmore Castle, home of the Duke of Strathmore and the Radley family.
Her mouth dropped open.
Hugh chuckled, and Adelaide clapped her hands. “Over five hundred years, never been taken,” they chorused.
She had seen pictures of castles in books, and there were several real ones in the area around Cambridge, but none of them were anything like what Mary now saw. There were no ornate towers or flying buttresses. This was a stone behemoth built to withstand attack from bloodthirsty invaders.
“That is Strathmore village. Most of the castle servants live in the village and walk up the hill each morning to come to work,” explained Hugh, pointing to the small collection of buildings in front of the castle.
Mighty though the imposing structure was, Mary’s gaze was now drawn to the mountain beyond the castle. It dominated all that lay before it. Strathmore Mountain rose high into the sky. Its snow-capped shoulders were visible, but its peak was shrouded in thick, menacing cloud.
Mary shivered, imagining how bitterly cold it would be up on the mountain. She looked back at Hugh. “I now understand why you were so insistent on buying me that fur-lined hat.”
Hugh’s generous gift of winter clothing would be put to good use during her stay at Strathmore Castle.
After passing through the village, where the coach slowed down to make way for the local inhabitants on foot, and where Hugh waved out the window to everyone, they crossed over the castle’s heavy wooden drawbridge and through the gateway.
Adelaide fussed with her hair as the coach entered the courtyard and drew to a halt in front of the main steps of the keep. “How do I look?”
Her husband leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Enchanteur commetoujours,” he murmured.
Mary felt close to tears. Charles thought his wife enchanting. With such sweet endearments, it was little wonder that a minor nobleman from France had managed to capture the heart of a duke’s daughter.
The door of the coach was opened by a heavily set gentleman with a long white and gray beard, who poked his head inside. Mary sat back in alarm; he must have been close to seven feet tall. A giant of a man.
“Wylcome. Well then, who would we be a havin’ here?” he asked.
Hugh leaned forward. “A son and daughter of the house. Family and friend.”
The gentleman looked around the carriage and stood for a moment, scratching his beard. “Hmm. I canna sae I know you. The only other son of the house was lost long ago,” he replied.
Mary cast her gaze from the gentleman to Hugh and back again. She suspected there was some sort of byplay happening, but everyone was keeping a straight face.
Hugh broke first. “One Christmas. I missed one Christmas—am I never to be forgiven?”
He launched himself out of the carriage and into the embrace of the huge man, who wrapped him in a bear hug.
“Lord Hugh? Why, I didn’t recognize ya. The prodigal son has returned!” he cried.
Charles climbed out next and then helped Adelaide down. She held Will in her arms. At the sight of her, the man-mountain set Hugh aside and bowed low.
“Wylcome home, Lady Adelaide,” he said.
Adelaide immediately handed her firstborn over to him. As Will’s eyes settled on the hulking stranger who held him, Mary gripped the door of the carriage. Any moment now she expected the infant to be registering his protest. Instead, he softly gurgled and wrapped his hand as best as he could around one of the man’s thick fingers.
“So, this is William. He is a fine bairn. He is as hairy as a wild mountain boar!”
Mary laughed, but her mirth quickly died when the man mountain caught her eye. With Will still safely held in the crook of his arm, he reached out a hand to her. A blushing Mary took it and stepped down into the castle courtyard.
A murmur rippled through the other castle servants who had gathered over the past minute or so. Mary caught a whispered, “Who is that?”
It only took a sideways glance from him in the direction of the gathered servants, and they all fell silent.
“Wylcome to Strathmore Castle,” he said.
