They parted with a soft kiss and she went to the writer’s desk Leith had carried in from Glasgow for her. Taking a seat, she looked around the room and smiled at the mix of Leith’s Scottish ancestry and her English culture. The tapestry of the vivid rising sun was there but to the side was a bookshelf laden with English books.
She started the letter and was halfway through it when she was called to dinner. Before she left, she fixed her hair, brushing it out again, pulling one side up to secure it with pins, and letting the rest of the thick tresses fall free over her shoulders and back. Her footsteps were quiet as she made her way to the great hall, and when she entered it, she spotted Leith talking to Theodor Addair.
The poor man had lost his wife at the same time Cooper had taken her to the forest for execution. Leith had told her how it had pained him to leave his friend, but his situation was quite dire. Just after they had buried Lady Lenichton, he had taken her to visit him. The man’s pain was still plain in his face, but the lines of grief were a bit softened.
She went nearer, smiled and slipped her arm through Leith’s, “Laird Denwen, happy to see you. I hope your journey wasn’t arduous?”
“It wasnae,” he said. “If ye dinnae mind, Lenichton, may I say, ye look lovely, Miss Thompson.”
“And why would I mind?” Leith huffed.
“Because ye have a possessive streak a mile wide and ten times longer,” Tarrant Allanach, the Laird of Robasdan, said behind them.
Mary spun to see the happy couple coming near and she went to hug Lady Robasdan with joy. “Welcome.”
Smiling, Lady Robasdan embraced her, “Happy to be here, dear.” She looked over to Leith. “And ye’ve managed to train him too.”
“Och,” Leith grunted, “Ye two are as bad as the other. Let’s get to the table before the food goes cold.”
The table was laden and the wine was flowing. Leith still stuck to water and she applauded him for it. After he had told her how he had gotten drunk at nineteen, had made the mistake of boasting he could swim the loch nearby only to nearly drown himself, she understood.
“The winters arenae as cold in the borderlands,” Laird Robasdan said while swirling his wine. “But the lochs get flooded and takes a while to cross.”
Mary looked around at the table, two seats were vacant, those of Aaron, Leith’s father, who had gone to the village early that morning, and Nicolas Cooper who had voluntarily retired from the clan’s daily running. Gone too was Fiona, the woman who had put dung on her bed and had written the threatening note, all under the influence of the misguided Cooper.
“So…” Tarrant’s voice dragged her attention back to them. “I was right all along, wasnae I?” Using his finger, he pointed to her and Leith. “Young Lenichton, I kent ye were taken with the lass the moment ye brought her to me doorstep, and now I see ye truly are. When are ye getting married, ye ken before yer first bairn comes?”
Mary felt heat race up her cheeks and knew her face was flaming red. Leith broke it by laughing. “Thank ye for making mo leannán, fixing to run for the hills, Robasdan, I kent I could always count on yer brashness.”
A little mollified, Mary, reached for her goblet, “I suspect we’ll need to have the banns published and all. My dowry, however, is left back in England.”
“Psh,” Laird Denwen snorted over his wine, “Ye dinnae need a dowry. Young Lenichton is rich enough for ye thrice over with all that gold in his coffers and his lands. Ye dinnae have to worry about that. And a priest can come in and waive the need for the banns if ye had a proper cause.”
“And what proper cause would that be?” Mary asked.
Before Leith could answer, the doors were pushed open, and Laird Lenichton strode into the room, brushing snow from his hair and shoulder and tugging his coat off. The older man had become dear to Mary, knowing what his duplicitous wife had done to her.
“Yer nay eating at me table without me, are ye?” Aaron’s voice boomed light with humor.
Leith stood and watched as his father took the two steps to the table. Aaron was getting better every day and that warmed his heart. He took his seat and surveyed the table with an all-seeing sweep. “Lairds Denwen and Robasdan, welcome, ye too, Lady Robasdan. Leith, MacCulloch sends word he won’t be here tonight but will be here in the next few days. What have I missed?”
“Young Lenichton’s marriage,” Tarrant said mischievously, “or the delay of it, rather.”
“I dinnae need a ring to mark me love as mine,” Leith put in with a liberal roll of his eyes.
“Why nae?” Lady Robasdan asked. “Ye men dinnae count the things that are precious to a woman. Have ye even asked her?”
“Well…nay in so many words,” Leith said. He looked around as Mary did and as she could see expectancy on their faces; she knew Leith saw it too. “What? Ye want me to do it now?”
“Wouldnae hurt,” Tarrant grinned.
Shaking his head. Leith turned to her and said, “Before the Almighty—”
“Lenichton,” Tarrant admonished. “Ye ken better than that.”
Huffing a curse, Leith slid out of his chair and went on one knee. He took Mary’s hand, “Before the Almighty and these troublesome, aggravating witnesses, I ask ye, Miss Mary Thompson, will ye have me for yer husband?”
Mary’s lips were tight as she held in her laughter, “Nothing in the world would make me happier,” she answered with a smile.
“Wonderful,” Leith stood and took his seat, “We’ll be wed tomorrow.”
A cry of outrage rose from those at the table but it was chased by laughter. “When we’re gone?” Tarrant scowled, “Shame on ye!”
Leith shrugged, “We can do
