they had discussed the night before. “No, I have another proposition to offer you. One I hope you and Deacon both agree to. My family owns property in North America, purchased by my grandfather. Having lived with the aftermath of Culloden and being an English hostage for a time, he feared the family might someday be forced into exile. He wanted the place of exile to be of his own choosing.”
Robbie had turned sullen, but Deacon was listening. “What place did he choose?”
“Canada. Along the St. Lawrence River,” Aidan answered. “I’m told it’s good land and I have the surveyors’ reports as I had the land recently remeasured. I’m told the property could be developed profitably by the right men.”
“For your own gain,” Robbie shot back.
“No, for yours,” Aidan answered. “I will deed the land over to the two of you. You can start fresh. When you are established, pay me what it is worth.”
“I don’t want to start fresh,” Robbie mimicked. “I have lands, lands that were stolen from me.”
“And will probably never be returned to you, either,” Aidan shot back. He moved with Anne to the door. As they passed, Robbie childishly made a show of pretending not to want them to touch him. His actions disappointed Aidan. He’d hoped for better. “It’s your decision,” he said, opening the door. “I won’t talk you into it. You can stay and fight—I can’t stop you. Or you can try to build something new.” He and Anne left the room.
Anne waited until they were out of earshot to ask, “Do you think they will accept your offer?”
“I don’t know. Every man must make his own decision. I’ve made mine.”
Norval was waiting for them in the great hall. “Everything is ready, my lord,” he whispered conspiratorially.
“Every what thing is ready?” Anne asked.
“You’ll see,” Aidan answered cryptically, and led her to the front door.
She hung back. “My lord, I don’t like surprises.”
“Trust me, my lady.”
“You ask for my trust quite often.” She arched a suspicious eyebrow.
“Aye, and have you ever regretted it?”
Her expression softened. “No.”
He grinned. “Then trust me now.” He opened the door.
She hesitated a moment, and then went forward. Aidan and Norval followed, the manservant almost skipping, he was so excited to be a part of the surprise.
Outside, spring had truly arrived. The wind off the North Sea blew with as much force as always, but there was a difference in the air. Tender shoots of green grass peered around the cobbles of the courtyard, and the baaing of newborn lambs could be heard all the way from the sheep shed to the castle.
It was the time of year for a new life, for a new beginning, Aidan thought, as he piloted his wife in the direction of the chapel.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, curious. She frowned. “Aidan, I don’t like surprises—”
He covered her lips with one finger, warning her to ask no more questions. “Close your eyes.”
She didn’t want to, but in the end curiosity got the better of her. She closed her eyes. Standing behind her, Aidan put his hands on her arms and guided her forward.
“There’s a step here,” he said in her ear, warning her of the rough-hewn slab of stone at the entrance of the chapel. “Over the threshold.” Dutifully she lifted her foot higher.
“Open your eyes,” he whispered in her ear.
Anne didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t what she saw. All of Kelwin was crowded into the chapel dressed in their very best, even Nachton McKay, the distiller, and his two other daughters. They held thin sticks with bright bands of multi-color ribbons tied to the top. The ribbons bounced and jiggled with the movement of the crowd.
Reverend Oliphant stood before the altar dressed in sacramental robes.
“What is this?” Anne asked.
Aidan took her hand. He glanced at their audience, drew a deep breath, and said, “Well, if you’ll have me, I’d like to marry you. Only this time, it will be of my own choice…and I’ll be present for the ceremony.”
People chuckled at his words. They all knew the story. Anne’s proxy marriage had already become the stuff of legend.
She looked around the room. There was Bonnie Mowat with all her boys. Fang stood proudly at the other end of the row, a head shorter than his oldest sons. Hugh Keith had placed himself at the very front of the church. He was flanked by his mother, Kathleen, on one side, and by his sweetheart, Fenella, and her mother on