Page 37 of Wouldn’t it Be Scottish?

By the time Donal arrived at the Kilsyth residence, everyone was up and eating a late breakfast. He was amazed to find Agatha bright eyed and excited, and Miriam Robinson was there with Archie Kilsyth, the two of them flushed and happy.

“They are getting married too,” Agatha said excitedly, taking Donal by the hand. “And Miriam is going to use her immense fortune to save us!”

“My dear Agatha, it is my pleasure,” Miriam said warmly. “And it will be our fortune.”

Donal listened to the story, trying to make sense of it and then agreeing with Agatha that this was wonderful news. Not that he wouldn’t have helped them, but he could see the justice in Miriam’s decision.

“I have written to my father,” he said, when he and Agatha were alone in the garden, their hands clasped together. “I’ve told him I am marrying you and to expect us to arrive at Bonnyrigg next month. I wasn’t sure where you wanted to marry, here or Setholm?”

“Setholm is home for now,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “Will your parents come to the wedding, do you think?”

Donal wasn’t sure. They rarely left Bonnyrigg, but they had made an exception for Rory, traveling south when they thought he was in trouble. Would they journey to the border to see their youngest son married?

“I hope so,” he said.

“I am looking forward to meeting your family.” Agatha said it as if she meant it.

“They can be a wee bit overwhelming,” he admitted, “but I know they will love you, just as I do.”

He imagined Bonnyrigg with all of them there. Callum and Penelope and their little daughter, Henrietta, and Penelope’s brother who visited more and more often. Rory and Grace and her two sisters. And Cat, his little sister. He hoped Aunt Jennie and Uncle James would be there too. And of course Maxwell and Luna, who found their sons troublesome, and sometimes incomprehensible, and loved them all the same.

Bonnyrigg was where he belonged, but he had learned that he could be happy in other places too. Agatha’s home, and mabbe London now and again. In fact, anywhere she was made it home for him.

*

The wedding was held earlier than planned because Agatha found herself expecting. Which was not such a surprise when she and Donal could not keep their hands off each other. When she admitted her state to her father, he had seemed happy rather than disapproving, and Miriam had even shed some tears.

They married in the garden, while the donkeys looked on from their paddocks. And Donal’s family were there. All of them. Which truly was rather overwhelming, but they were so friendly and kind that she began to feel as if she would make a very good MacKenzie.

Luna asked her personal questions about the baby but in such a way that Agatha was happy to tell her. Maxwell was gruff and gave her a hug, looking down at her with his dark eyes in a face older but just as handsome as Donal’s. “Welcome to the family, wee Agatha!” he declared.

And she did feel welcome.

After the wedding, she and Donal stayed awhile with her father and Miriam, and were guests at their wedding, and then they traveled north to Bonnyrigg. The journey felt uncomfortable because she was rather large by now, but she had wanted the baby to be born in Donal’s home. Luna would be there to watch out for her, too, and that was part of the reason for the decision.

One May evening, with the light outside fading to darkness, Donal and Agatha’s son came into the world. He was braw and loud, and let everyone for miles around know he had arrived. Maxwell shed tears as he held him, and Donal and Agatha gazed upon their son, already besotted.

“What will you name him?” Luna asked, wiping her own eyes. “After your father, Agatha?”

But Agatha smiled. “We are naming him Maxwell,” she said. “If you will allow it?” with a questioning look at the duke.

“Of course he will!” Luna cried, wrapping her arms about her husband.

Maxwell swallowed, and then he clasped a strong hand to Donal’s shoulder. “I am so proud,” he said shakily. “Proud o’ all our children and their children. Proud of you all!”

Epilogue

A year later

The ceilidh was in full swing, the fiddle screeching and the drums thumping and the flute trilling. The dancers laughed and bumped into each other, but some of that might have been because of the whisky that was flowing freely.

Donal found Agatha and she looked up at him with bright, laughing eyes as he took her hand in his and led her into the melee.

He remembered dancing with Mary, swinging her around until she shrieked and believing she would always be with him. Now he had Agatha, and he knew how lucky he was to have met her and married her. Maxwell, their son, was safe in the castle, and Donal could not have been more content with his life. But tonight was a gift for them, just the two of them.

Agatha laughed as he turned her, clinging to his hand, her hair swinging with her. Her cheeks were pink, and she gasped as some tall red-haired brute cut in and took her away into the midst of the crowd. The brute was Rory, of course it was. Donal gave him a scowl, but he wasn’t truly angry. His brothers treated Agatha as if they had known her all their lives, as if she were another beloved sister, and he knew how much she valued it.

The women in his family were all close, spending time together, sharing their tasks with Luna. Bonnyrigg was the sort of place where everyone had their say, and decisions were made jointly. Maxwell believed he was the one in command, but he wasn’t.