Chapter Twenty-Five
The journey from London to Scotland was long.
There was no doubt Penelope had left behind the mellow countryside of her home and entered a far wilder and less civilized realm, and with every day that passed, she felt her fears grow.
Callum was attentive, ensuring they had the most comfortable rooms in the most comfortable inns, and she tried her best to hide her anxiety.
She had made her bed now, as the saying went, and must lie in it.
And lying in bed with Callum was one of her favorite things.
The closer they got to his home, the more her husband spoke of it and his family, and Penelope was in no doubt of his love for both.
She did not want to come between them, and she did not want him to have to choose.
“Dinna fash, my love,” he whispered to her the final night before their arrival at the castle. “We will muddle through it.”
“Yes,” she agreed with a confidence she wasn’t feeling. “Of course we will.”
Penelope had been expecting Bonnyrigg to be grand, but it was more than that.
A castle fit for a duke, set in one of the wilder parts of Scotland.
Mountains rose to the rear of the turreted building, their snow caps seeming close enough to touch, while the forest cradled the castle on three sides.
There was something very untamed about it that spoke to her despite her growing worries about her reception.
When their coach arrived at the front door, there were people standing, waiting for them.
Callum held her hand, and she wanted to cling to him, but now the moment to face his family had come, she knew she must not show weakness.
She suspected Maxwell would despise her if she simpered and begged to be liked.
She had been told that Callum resembled his father to a marked degree, and now she saw that was the truth.
Tall and handsome, dark hair streaked with some grey, and brown eyes, he was how Callum would look in years to come.
His mother Luna was smaller, with flaming red hair and bright, watchful blue eyes.
It was Luna who came forward and took Penelope’s hands to rise her from her curtsy.
“My dear,” she said, her voice husky with emotion, “you are just as my sister described you. Welcome! Welcome to Bonnyrigg.”
That was certainly more kindness than she had expected, and she blinked away sudden tears, while behind her she heard Callum’s sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I am grateful to be here.”
She wanted to say that she understood this was not what Callum’s parents had hoped for, she wanted to explain, but this was not the time. Besides, the rest of Callum’s family were descending upon her.
“I am Rory. How do you do?” The man with red hair like his mother’s spoke in a low, confident voice. He slid his gaze over her in a practiced gesture as he took her hand. “Callum is a lucky laddie.”
Callum grunted a warning. “She’s mine, brother.”
Rory laughed easily, sure of his charms, and moved aside for the other brother, Donal, who looked more like Callum. He also took her hand and smiled sweetly. “Welcome, sister,” he said, and again Penelope felt the sting of tears.
“Thank you,” she said. “I hope . . . that is, I will do my very best to . . .”
Callum put his arm about her. “You always do your very best,” he said firmly. “And here is my sister, Catriona, although we call her Cat.”
Cat had their mother’s red hair and bright, watchful eyes, but her smile was as sweet as Donal’s. “I am so glad you are here,” she said, with a sly glance toward her father. “I have longed for a sister. Just think what fun we will have.”
Penelope smiled back, but by now she was feeling very overwhelmed.
“Not too much fun,” Callum warned, but he spoke indulgently, as one who would endure a great deal from his sister before he lost his temper.
There was a pause, and that was when Maxwell spoke. “Welcome, Callum’s wife,” he said, but there was no warmth in his voice. “We have made ready a room for your stay.”
Everyone seemed to freeze, and glances were exchanged. “Callum’s wife” was bad enough, but “for your stay” had an ominous feel to it.
“Stay for as long as you like,” Luna added quickly, but that only made it worse.
“Did you receive my letter, Father?” Callum asked, fixing Maxwell with a determined look.
“Aye, I got it,” Maxwell said dourly, turning away.
Callum took her hand firmly in his, squeezing her fingers almost painfully, trying to make up for his father’s unfriendliness, and walked by her side into the castle that would one day be his.
Penelope tried to take in her surroundings.
They were grand in a medieval way, and as her new husband had warned, it was cold.
A fire was roaring in what she guessed was the great hall, and then they were climbing the staircase with portraits gazing at her, as unfriendly as Maxwell, and she found herself in a bedchamber with windows overlooking the forest. The fire was lit here, too, and she went to warm her hands.
They were trembling, which annoyed her. She had known this first meeting would be awkward.
She would have to work hard to gain acceptance, and she must accede that maybe she never would.
You could not force people to like you. Perhaps they would end up in Inverness after all, making their own lives away from Callum’s family.
Despite Callum’s claims that he could deal with that, Penelope knew he would be sad. He would be homesick.
It was up to her to see that it didn’t happen.
*
Penelope was woken the next morning by a hushed conversation.
It was early, the sun barely risen, and she had tossed and turned for much of the night.
Eventually, Callum had held her, his warm body a comfort, and she had reminded herself that she loved him and he loved her, and whatever came next they would weather together.
She lay still, attempting to listen to what was being said at the door to the room, but the voices were too low. It sounded like Callum and Luna, and it sounded like an argument. A quiet argument. Finally, the door closed and Callum returned to bed.
She sat up. “What was that about?”
He groaned. “My father has invited the neighbors over for luncheon.”
“Oh.” Was this a test? She assumed so. A test set for her by Maxwell. And if she failed . . .?
“Don’t fash yourself,” Callum said gently. “My father doesn’t like our neighbors anyway.”
“And yet he wanted a wife who would help him to fit in with others of his rank.”
Callum groaned again. “I wish we had gone somewhere else instead of here. I thought . . . I hoped my father would be prepared to accept our marriage. He is a stubborn man.”
“He is disappointed,” Penelope said. “I understand that.”
“I don’t want you to feel you have to prove anything.
Not to me, anyway. I love you and we are wed, and nothing will change that.
Just because my father has some bee in his bonnet about us rising to the top, like we’re swimming in a dish of cock-a-leekie .
. .That’s soup, my love, and Maxwell was never one for it anyway, so why—”
“MacKenzie,” she put a stop to his rambling. “I think I understand your father. I can accept that I am not the wife he wanted for his son and heir. I think I am up for the challenge he has set me. At least let me try.”
He looked up at her with shining eyes. “You are a bonny woman, my wife,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “A brave and wonderful woman.”
She smiled and rumpled his hair. He was letting it grow again, the curls poking up in all directions, just the way she liked it. “We can always go back to London,” she said.
“No, not London,” he said. Then added hastily, in case he had offended her, “I don’t mind a visit now and then, to see your brother and my aunt, but not to live.”
“No, it does not suit you,” she agreed fondly. “I think Bonnyrigg does. Since we arrived, you seem to . . . glow.”
Which was all the more reason for her to win over Maxwell.
Callum wrapped his arms around her and drew her down, kissing her long and passionately. “If I am glowing,” he whispered, “it is because my fairy wife has put a spell on me.”
She laughed. “You do talk nonsense. Now kiss me again. Let’s make the most of this comfy bed. I have become used to making love in far less comfortable places.”
“Hmm, that reminds me,” he grinned wickedly, “I have a few places in mind . . .”