Page 118 of The Fierce Scotsman

Then two more voices joined him, the Duchess of Raven and Mrs. Rose Sinclair stood to accompany him.

“Beautiful,” Bram whispered.

It was, Mungo thought, but his eyes were on the beginning of the aisle. Lottie, Anna, Matilda, and Fred arrived first. The sight of them all dressed in thick dark blue cloaks with flowers braided into their hair made his throat tight.

These were his children in every way, and he loved each one as he did the men at his side.

“Damn,” Bram muttered, pulling out his handkerchief and blowing his nose.

But it was the two who came down the aisle next that stunned Mungo. Calder had said his family couldn’t make the wedding, and Mungo and Eliza planned to travel there soon to reunite with his mother. Fenella and her younger sister Heather, who he’d never met, appeared, also in deep blue cloaks with flowers in their hair.

He was moving in seconds, running to them.

“Hello, Uncle Mungo,” Heather whispered from the depths of the hug he was giving both his nieces. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“Aye, lass it is.”

“Look behind us now, Uncle Mungo,” Fenella whispered into his ear.

Mungo straightened. Three people were before him. Calder and his beautiful bride, but it was the one in between them who caught his eye.

“Mother,” he rasped. Releasing his nieces, he moved toward them. “Mother,” he whispered this time, standing before the woman he hadn’t seen in many years.

She was older, with more lines on her face, but that smile was the same, as were the eyes—his eyes. He stepped closer, and her hands came up to cup his face.

“Mo mhac ghràdhach.”

“Mungo’s mother just said, ‘my beloved son,’” someone—he thought it might be Rose Sinclair—interpreted loudly.

He wrapped an arm around her, and with the other, he reached for Eliza’s hand. She gripped it with both of hers and held him tight.

“I’m sorry I stayed away, Mother.”

“’Tis done,” she said. “Today is about happiness and the future.” She kissed both his cheeks before releasing him.

“Thank you, brother,” Mungo said to Calder before hugging him. Then he looked at his bride-to-be.

“Tha thu brèagha, mo ghràidh,” he said. “You’re beautiful, my love,” he translated.

Eliza was dressed in a long deep green velvet cloak, her hair loose like the others, and on her head she wore a circlet of flowers. Happy, he thought. Unlike the scared and lonely woman who’d come into his life, this one was happy—like him.

“Shall we marry, then?”

“I want that very much.”

He walked with them down the aisle to where the others waited.

“This is my mother, Bram.”

His friend smiled. “I know.”

“It was you who organized this?”

“Calder and me,” he said.

Mungo nodded, as the tears were choking him now. Then he nodded to the vicar, who in turn cleared his throat, as most of the guests were now discussing the goings on and how much Mungo looked like his mother.

Eliza said their vows in a steady voice, as did he, both more than ready to bind themselves to each other, and when it was done, he turned his wife to face him.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“As I do you.”

He kissed her softly.

“Ewww,” Lottie whispered loudly.

Trestle tables were heaving with food and drink, and lamps cast a soft golden glow over the celebrations. As Mungo danced with his wife—Mavis playing the piano and Clemmie coaxing sounds from his violin that mimicked a rusty door hinge—he knew life would never be perfect. But in this moment, it came wonderfully close.

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