She didn’t see Rabbie for two days. Had he not found her riddle? Was he ill? When she’d asked Fin, the boy had shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned. That afternoon, fifteen tulips of various colors were delivered to the shop. An hour later, Rabbie appeared, looking braw in a crisp white linen shirt and cravat, an umber coat and waistcoat, fawn trousers, and a new brown beaver hat. He smiled like the cat that had just caught the mouse.
“Where are ye going all dressed up?” she asked, swiping the dust from her hands.
“To see you, of course.” He leaned over the counter and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I received a reply from Anthony.”
“Och, already?” Her heart was pounding as she waited for the news.
“He apologized for his behavior, thanked both you and Finlay for your letters, and said he would be honored to see me again in London when he returns to Westminster.” He held up a finger when Annis opened her mouth. “He is willing to come to Glasgow and meet us but is not yet ready. He still needs time.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Relief rushed through Annis. She had not wanted anything to mar their nuptials—when he asked again.
He stepped around the counter and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her close. “I have a riddle for you.”
“And I may have an answer,” she retorted with a grin.
“I am endless, and once you have me, you are bound for life. What am I?”
Annis looked into those brown eyes, the green specks bright with love. The ice around her heart had melted long ago, and she only wished to begin the next part of their journey.
“Marriage?”
He kissed her, a slow, unhurried kiss that sent heat rushing to her toes.
When he pulled back, he asked, “What connects two people but only touches one?”
She sucked in a breath as he opened his fist and held out a small box to her.
“A wedding ring.” He bent on one knee and opened it. A sapphire stone winked at her from an intricate braided silver setting. “Will you do me the honor of finally becoming my wife?”
The tears began, silently at first, then sniffling, and ending in a loud sob. She nodded her head and clung to his neck. “Aye, my ridiculous, dearest, kindest, sweetest, most romantic Rabbie. Aye, I will marry ye.”
Robert couldn’t wipe the lopsided grin from his face. It had been a small ceremony at Annis’s parish kirk. Lachlan and Fenella had arranged for the wedding celebration to be held at their larger home in a western Glasgow neighborhood. Since this was Scotland, and not England, there would be a supper, music, and dancing. Everyone from the mill who belonged to the MacNaughton clan would arrive for the latter.
Annis stood across the room, speaking with her father, Jamie Craigg, her Aunt Sorcha and Uncle Donald, Rose and Colin. Her wedding dress was a simple cerulean silk that brought out the blue of her eyes. Her hair was pulled up in a half chignon, the dark-honey waves tumbling down her back and onto her shoulders. She caught his gaze and smiled at him.
“I didn’t believe there was a man left in all England with such courtly love,” Fenella said, coming up to him. Lachlan’s wife was a beauty. Very tall for a woman, she had white-blonde hair and clear gray eyes.
“High praise coming from a fellow Englishman. Although Aileen would remind us you have Scottish blood running through yer veins,” saying the last in a terrible brogue.
“I knew when you survived a brawl with my husband and Colin that it was meant to be.” She snorted. “For some reason, smashing a fist into another man’s face is some kind of Scottish bonding ritual.”
“I was thankful nothing was broken.” He nodded toward Colin and Rose and the young boy hanging from Colin’s arm. “It seems Mungo is happy with his new family too.” The dark-haired boy grabbed Colin’s upper arm, used it as momentum, and jumped up to steal the giant man’s cap.
“They’ll be married next month. Rose wanted my sister, Evie, to attend the ceremony. She’s living in Wales with her husband, the Earl of Brecken.” She narrowed her eyes as she studied him. “Will you take her on a honeymoon?”
Robert groaned. “We’ll spend a few weeks at Birkwood Manor, so she and Finlay become familiar with the place. It will be his someday. But the only place she wishes to go is Dunderave. It seems they’re planning a huge ceilidh. Will you and Lachlan go?”
“If he can get away. He and Colin prefer to have at least one of them at the mill.”
“A coin toss or something?”
“Or something,” Lachlan said from behind Fenella.
The men all wore their dress kilts in the MacNaughton or Craigg tartan, with linen shirts, waistcoats, and dress sporrans draped on their hips. Dress hose stretched to their knees with a colored fringe, or flash, attached at the top. The ghillie brogues, or kilt shoes, had been rubbed to a high sheen. They had tried to convince Robert to wear the traditional attire, but he preferred to keep his knees covered.
Annis appeared at his side, clutching his hand as she reached up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “This is the second happiest day of my life.”
“The first being the birth of our son, I hope?”
“Of course. And the next will be when our first grandchild is born.” She held up a glass of champagne as Colin called for a toast and raised his own glass.
“Cousin, it’s been a long road for ye and Fin, but we’ve found a happy ending for all three of ye.” He raised his glass above his head. “May the road rise to meet ye, may the wind be always at yer back. May the sun shine warm upon yer face, the rains fall soft upon yer fields, and until we meet again, may God hold ye in the palm of His hand.”
His father-in-law called out next. He was a handsome man, with dark hair and a sense of humor. Robert had liked him immediately.
“Daughter, I told ye that love always finds ye when ye’re ready. It’s something ye never have to look for. Son”—he made eye contact with Robert—“if ye break her heart this time, I’ll have to kill ye. Which will no’ put me in my grandson’s good graces.”
Everyone laughed, but Robert thought the man might be serious.
Jamie Craigg raised his glass above his head. “May you be healthy all your days. May you be blessed with long life and peace, and may you grow old with goodness and riches. If ye love each other half as much as I loved Annis’s mother, it will be a braw marriage.”
Robert saw his father-in-law’s eyes glisten before he closed his lids and threw back his whisky. To his surprise, Finlay called for a toast.
His son no longer seemed a boy in his dress kilt, and pride rumbled through Robert. Would his toast be emotional? Would he soon be blinking back tears as Annis’s father had just done?
“In honor of my newfound father, and to celebrate the many ways we seem to mirror each other, I ask ye a question.” His expression was solemn as he continued, “What do ye call two young married spiders?” He peered around the room of shaking heads. “Newlywebs!”
Finlay laughed so hard that he doubled over and spilled his drink. Robert guffawed and raised his own glass. “To my son! A chip off the old block.”