Chapter Twenty-Eight
The first year of married life for Callum and Penelope, and their first year at Bonnyrigg, had flown by with so many joys to celebrate.
Despite her doubts, Selina had sailed through her pregnancy and birthed a healthy baby.
Now here she was, holding the child wrapped in a fine new blanket, as Angus leaned protectively close, smiling like the proud father he was.
Callum smiled too at the sight of them. They were both besotted, and the guests in the little chapel cooed and sighed at the sight as the sun shone through the stained-glass window.
This baptism was the first for Bonnyrigg for some time, and everyone was making the most of it.
Penelope had told Callum that Selina still called her baby a miracle, and Callum laughed and wondered aloud what they would call it when the next one arrived.
“I think one is probably enough,” she had replied, grimacing at the memory of her friend in labor.
Callum placed a gentle hand on his wife’s belly, which had grown rather large in the past few weeks.
According to Luna, their baby was due very soon now.
Maxwell was worse than Callum when it came to worrying about it.
He was forever insisting Penelope sit down or setting a stool for her to rest her feet on.
He would have rubbed them, too, if Callum had not taken on that role.
No one would ever have believed his father had ever been against their marriage.
“Where is Rory?” Maxwell said now, frowning about at the congregation.
“He promised he would be home for the birth of Penelope’s baby,” Luna whispered.
The MacKenzies’ standing had improved since Penelope had come to stay.
She had the knack of drawing the neighbors together, and the oatcake competition had been so successful it was now to run every year, with contestants coming from near and far.
Sir Hector’s and Luna’s cakes had been declared a draw, but they both vowed to win next time.
Callum loved his wife more each day, and the thought of their child made him smile every time he thought of it. He had been worried at first, Penelope was so small, but his mother had reassured him.
“I am small, too,” she had reminded him, “and I have three strapping sons and a daughter.”
So Callum had set aside his fears to enjoy this special time in their lives.
The minister caught his eye, and he rose to go to Angus. He was to be godfather to the baby and was determined to take his role very seriously. Godmother was Penelope, but due to her condition, Cat was standing in for her.
“Oh, look at her tiny fingers,” his sister fussed, peering down at the child. She smiled at him shyly, “I can’t wait until your baby is born, Callum. Will it be a boy, do you think? Father hopes for a boy.”
“Well, Father has no say in this,” Callum said, “and I will be happy either way.”
“There can never be enough girls at Bonnyrigg,” Cat announced seriously. “That is what our mother says.”
Callum looked toward the people packed into the pews. Penelope was smiling in the dreamy way that meant she was feeling their baby move inside her, and Maxwell and Luna were smiling at each other. Donal was there, looking miserable since his true love had left for London.
Only Rory was missing. Callum wanted to see him, if only so he could scoff at his brother’s assertion that he would never marry, but he was genuinely happy that Rory the rake was finally settled.
Callum found himself remembering the day he had left all of this behind to ride to London, and how he had been determined not to enjoy himself and certainly not to find a wife. How differently it had turned out. How glad he now was that he had set off for the south.
His gaze searched out Penelope again, only to find her looking straight at him. Her eyes were open wide, their silvery color very evident, and then she smiled. “Callum!” she cried out. “The baby is coming!”
And everything turned to chaos.
*
Penelope sat propped up with pillows in the bed, blind to everything but the baby inside her wanting to get out.
Selina had told her it was a “trifle” painful, and she had seen for herself how much hard work it was to deliver a baby, but she still hadn’t understood the full extent of it.
Callum was outside—she could hear his voice as he demanded entry—but Luna had told him to stay put.
“Can I see her now?” he kept asking.
“Your mother will not allow it,” Maxwell had replied.
“I cannot bear to think of her in pain,” Callum had wailed.
“Your mother will see her through, son,” Maxwell had soothed.
Luna’s calming voice brought Penelope back to the bed.
“The duke wants an heir,” Penelope gasped.
Luna snorted. “The duke will have to make do. None of us care if it is a boy or a girl, my dear, and we will love it just as we love you.”
Penelope thought that was perhaps the nicest thing she had ever heard. She wanted to answer, to say she loved the MacKenzies too, but the next moment the baby decided it was ready to be born.
Sometime later she lay, washed clean and wearing a fresh nightgown, the child swaddled in a fine blanket, awaiting her husband.
When Callum arrived, his hair looked like he had been tearing it out, and his eyes were wide as he hurried to her side. “I am so glad . . . so proud . . . so grateful,” he said, but couldn’t seem to finish a sentence.
Penelope received his kisses and let him hold her, carefully, before she said, “You haven’t asked about the baby.”
His eyes widened. “The baby is well?”
“Of course,” she soothed him. “I meant you haven’t asked whether it is a boy or a girl.”
Callum buried his face against her neck. “Tell me then,” he said, “but the truth is I dinna care, my love. It is our child and I will love it, but I am just so happy all is well.”
Maxwell peered around the door jamb, looking as frazzled as his son. Luna waved him in. “Have you forgotten?” she asked him gently. “You were always beside yourself when our children were born.”
“Aye, I had forgotten,” he admitted. “And I find I do not care if ’tis a boy or a girl. ’Tis a MacKenzie, and our dear daughter-in-law is healthy and strong, and that’s what counts.”
Despite feeling rather tired, Penelope beamed. She had won Maxwell over long ago, but hearing him admit it still warmed her to the very cockles of her heart.
The door opened again and Cat came in, her flaming hair down, in her nightgown. Her excited gaze went to the bundle in Penelope’s arms. “Oh!” she whispered. “Please tell me ’tis a girl, Pen.”
“You have your wish,” Penelope said, smiling.
“A wee girl!” Callum cried. “Did you hear, Father?”
Maxwell reached out a gentle finger and stroked the baby’s cheek. “Aye, I did. We are indeed blessed.”
Penelope allowed their voices to drift around her, half dozing as she lay, surrounded by her loving family, with her husband at her side, and her daughter in her arms. Life was very good, and it could only get better.