“Say yes!” Fiona whispered excitedly in her ear. “Say yes!”
“Do you really think I should?” Alix teased the child.
Fiona nodded her head vigorously.
“Very well, my lord,” Alix told him, and the smile she gave was for him alone. “I will gladly be your wife and mother to this wonderful little girl.”
“Hoo Ray!” Fiona cheered. “I have gotten my birthday present early.”
Alix set her down upon the floor. “Do you feel better now?” she asked.
“Aye!” Fiona responded. “Can I call you Mama now?”
Alix felt tears pricking at her eyelids. She nodded. “Aye, my Fiona. You may call me Mama if that is all right with your da.” She looked to him.
He nodded, smiling.
“A Christmas wedding!” Fenella said. “We’ll have to start planning right away, for tomorrow is the first of December. We must send to Drumcairn to your uncle. He will be so pleased. And my lady must have a new gown in which to be married.”
Afterwards as they sat in the kitchens Iver said to Fenella, “Well, you escaped the wrath you deserved. I knew he was bedding her, but I didn’t think he’d marry again.”
“I told you he would,” Fenella said. “It isn’t natural for a man to live without a wife. Just because the Ramsay was the wrong woman didn’t mean the right one wasn’t out there, Iver. The lady is perfect for him. She’ll never betray him like the other did.”
The priest was called for, and he came from the laird’s village of Dunglais, which was nearby. His name was Father Donald, and he was a man in his middle years. Learning that the laird wanted to wed Alix, the priest posed several questions. “You are both free to wed, my children?” he asked them.
“I am widowed,” Alix responded. “My late husband is dead, God assoil him.”
“And I am free, as my first wife’s bones were found out on the moor,” the laird said quietly.
“You both wish to have children?” Father Donald asked Alix, his mild brown eyes searching her lovely face. He had been at Dunglais for twelve years and had known the beauteous but high-strung Robena Ramsay.
“Aye!” Alix said without hesitation, causing the priest to smile.
“And you, my lord?”
“Aye,” the laird said, looking at the object of his desire. “Son or daughter, it matters not to me. But our home should be filled with the laughter of children, and Fiona should have siblings. Family is most important to me.”
“There is one thing, Good Father,” Alix said. “My late husband’s father wanted to wed me, and sent to York for a dispensation. I thought this desire unnatural and against church teachings. I fled his home. I am told he obtained that dispensation.”
The priest looked troubled. Then he said, “That is England. This is Scotland. No dispensation can make clean that which is unclean, my daughter. I believe Bishop Kennedy at St. Andrew’s would agree with me. I will marry you. You have but to name the day,” the priest told them. “I am pleased, my lord, that you have decided to take this step. Your uncle at Drumcairn has been most worried. Have you sent to him yet?”
“We but awaited your blessing, Good Father,” the laird said.
Father Donald chuckled. “No matter what I might have said, my lord, you would have found a way to make your union with this young woman a legal one. I shall draw up the marriage contract for you in the next few days.”
“I can bring my husband a dower,” Alix said proudly. “My father gave me a small bit of gold and silver before he died. He said it was for me alone. I will not come to my husband in naught but a chemise, Father Donald.”
The priest nodded. “Bring me your portion then, my daughter, and when the contracts are signed it will be turned over to your husband,” he told her.
Robert Ferguson, upon receiving word that his nephew was to remarry, came with all haste from Drumcairn. Although he had wanted Malcolm Scott to wed again, he was a bit disappointed that his nephew had not chosen one of his candidates. But when he learned of Alix’s dower, he decided the laird had not made a bad bargain. True, Alix was English, but her parents were French, and Scotland was allied with the French. True, she had no relations who might be of use to the Scotts, or who would fight beside them, but she had a queen, albeit an English queen, for a godmother, and Scotland’s queen had become her friend. And she was certainly pretty. And biddable without being boring. And both his nephew and little Fiona obviously adored her. It would be a good marriage, and he wagered silently to himself that Dunglais would have a male heir within the year.
Chapter 9
The marriage contract between Alix and Malcolm Scott was drawn up. The bride brought her dower portion to the priest.
“Is this all of it, my daughter?” Father Donald asked as he took the small chamois bag. He would count it out when he was alone and add the amount to the contract.
“Nay,” Alix told him honestly. “My father always said a woman should have a bit of her own money put aside.” Then she drew two full-weight silver coins from her pocket and gave them to him. “A donation for the church, Good Priest.”
