Page 28 of Mistletoe and Kisses
She crashed through on the end of one of his deep and powerful thrusts, sobbing his name as she came. Hugh buried his face into the base of her neck. She felt the nip of his teeth on her skin before he let out a shout. He shuddered, then collapsed on top of her, pressing her into the mattress.
Mary wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him to her, promising to herself that she would never let this man go.
Chapter Eighteen
“Is that everything?”
Hugh looked inside the basket Mary held in her hands, pointing at each of the items. “Bread, blackbun, and salt for food. A bottle of whisky for your host’s good health... Oh, I forgot the coin.” He opened his sporran and pulled out a gold coin. “This is for wealth. This is a pistole; the last of the coins minted for Scotland.”
He dropped it into the basket, stealing a kiss from his wife in the process. “Now you are ready.”
The love she saw shining in his eyes was the same she had beheld on Christmas Eve as she and Hugh had stood facing one another to speak their marriage vows in the castle chapel. Ewan had escorted her down the aisle to the tune of a single bagpipe, beaming as he placed her hand in Hugh’s.
The Radley family had, of course, been delighted when a sheepish Hugh and Mary appeared at breakfast the morning after spending their first night together and announced their betrothal. Master Crowdie had overseen a flurry of activity in the castle and village, which saw Hugh and Mary married that same day.
Aunt Maude gave the bride a family heirloom wedding band, which matched Mary’s engagement ring to perfection. The Duchess and Dowager Duchess of Strathmore presented Mary with a blue woolen gown and a matching Strathmore tartan sash and shawl. Mary Radley was now one of the family.
It was New Year’s Eve, Hogmanay in Scotland, and in a break with tradition, Mary had been chosen to conduct the ancient First Foot ceremony.
Earlier in the evening, she and Hugh had led the castle staff down to the village and shared a hot supper with them. Her welcome into the Strathmore Castle and village family had been so heartfelt that she’d felt close to tears at many moments during the day. Only Hugh’s constant presence—he was never far from her—kept her from dissolving into a weeping mess.
Master Crowdie strode into the village tavern with a large brass bell in his hand. A hush fell over the gathering before he swung the bell high and rang it loudly. He then turned and marched out the door.
Hugh offered Mary his arm and they followed. A happy, chatting group of villagers took up the rear. Flaming torches held on spikes were dotted along the road to light the way back to the castle.
Walking arm in arm with her husband, Mary felt sure of her future, and thanks to her trusty tackety boots, also of her footing. Her Strathmore tartan shawl kept the bitter night wind at bay.
As they crossed over the drawbridge and into the castle bailey, a loud cheer rose from the assembly. Hugh smiled at her. “The cheers are for you, my love.”
They waited until everyone from the village had arrived and gathered around them in the courtyard. Master Crowdie pulled out his pocket watch and checked it. He nodded toward Mary. Hugh let go of her arm and stood back, a huge smile of pride on his face.
She gave him one last nervous look, then climbed the steps of the keep. A hush descended on the crowd. All eyes were fixed on Master Crowdie.
He held his hand up and then dropped it to his side. The bells in the village church began to peal. The castle chapel bell rang in time. The crowd looked to where Mary stood on the steps of the castle keep.
She took hold of the door knocker and raised it before hitting it hard on the wood. The knock echoed in the still night air.
She did it a second time, and then a third.
After the third knock, the door of the keep slowly opened. Ewan Radley stood in the doorway, a glass of whisky in his hand.
Mary cleared her throat. “A happy new year and good tidings to you and yours,” she said.
She handed him the basket, and Ewan gave her the glass of whisky in exchange. He stepped back and she crossed the threshold. Inside the great hall, all the Radley family, her family, were gathered. The heady scent of burnt juniper filled her nostrils.
Ewan shrugged. “Evil spirits only leave if you burn enough juniper to have everyone’s eyes watering.”
At the sound of steps on the stone flagging behind her, she turned and saw Hugh race in the door, just ahead of the rest of the castle staff and villagers. He grabbed hold of the door and after swinging it fully open, stood and held it for the crowd which quickly filed through.
The great hall was filled with lit torches, and on the first table was a mass of cups—all full of whisky from the look of it. One by one, the villagers took up a cup. Then, with their whisky untouched, they stood back and waited.
When every last cup of whisky had been taken, Ewan Radley climbed up on one of the roughly hewn wooden tables. Master Crowdie held up his hand once more. Silence descended on the great hall.
The Duke of Strathmore was about to speak.
Chapter Nineteen
“Wylcome to you all, this most special of days. May the new year find you blessed by good fortune and good health,” he said.
