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.
Some of the younger members of the gathering went to raise their cups to drink, but a growl from Master Crowdie had those same cups quickly lowered.
Ewan shook his head, a smile still on his lips. “Now some of you may have noticed that our First Foot tonight was indeed a woman. But she is of dark hair and also a member of the Radley family, so I think the sprits of Hogmanay will forgive my trespass,” he said.
Hugh caught a sideways glance at his new bride. Mary’s eyes shone bright with happiness. The touch of her fingers met his, and he leaned in and brushed a soft kiss on her cheek. A soft “ah” rippled through the gathering.
“I see I am going to have to make this a short speech,” Ewan added, looking directly at his brother.
Hugh grinned back at him. He was a newlywed, and that entitled him to a healthy degree of leeway.
“As I was saying, my family and I welcome you all to our home tonight. And to Mary, a special welcome on the occasion of not only your first Hogmanay, but your first as my brother Hugh’s wife. Thank you for your First Foot gifts; we shall put them to good use. To the rest of the Strathmore family, I am both honored and humbled to serve as your laird. I raise my glass to you and yours. May the new year be a good one and your health stay hearty. Slainte!”
“Slainte!”
The sound of cups and glasses being clinked together echoed through the great hall, followed by loud cheers of “Happy New Year!”
With the formalities over, Hugh pulled Mary into his arms and gave her the kiss he had been aching to give to her all evening. Her soft lips met his as she melted into his embrace. Holding her in his arms was as natural as breathing
“Happy New Year, Husband,” she said.
“Happy New Year, my wife, my love,” said Hugh.
Waking up beside her that morning had been a gift beyond words. He’d been humbled when she had welcomed him into her arms, and they’d made love. With the new year would come a new life for the both of them. Knowing that every day he would be blessed with her love had him lost for words.
“Come,” she said.
He let her lead him over to where the mistletoe still hung.
“I love you,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Hugh did the only thing a newlywed man could do. He pulled his wife into his arms and, ignoring the cheers of the crowd, kissed her senseless.
With his loving wife to support him, Hugh Radley did make a success of his career in the Church of England, rising to one of its highest positions of rank, eventually becoming the Bishop of London.
And every year he, along with Mary and their children, would arrive at Strathmore Castle a few days before Christmas, bringing with them a red box.
Inside that box would be a perfect branch of mistletoe, ready to weave its magic.
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Sasha Cottman was born in England, but raised in Australia. Having her heart in two places has created a love for travel, which at last count was to over 55 countries. A travel guide is always on her pile of new books to read.
Sasha’s novels are set around the Regency period in England, Scotland, and Europe. Her books are centred on the themes of love, honour, and family.
Please visit her website at www.sashacottman.com
Join Sasha’s Historical Romance Bookclub on Facebook for competitions, book news and new friends.
A Scottish Duke for Christmas
London, April 1789
Dear Reader,
Your intrepid correspondent has it on good authority that a certain duke, with lands north of the Scottish border, has had the unfortunate luck to be
