Page 71 of Scandal with a Sinful Scot

Scotland

April 1845

Since Garrett and Abbie’s reconciliation in February, he had indeed courted her. He stayed in Standon with Abbie for three weeks. After the first week, he’d sent Jonas, Jacob, and Samuel home in the carriage and instructed Samuel to return with more clothes and other items. He’d brought her flowers and chocolate when he could procure them, and took her on carriage drives and shopping expeditions to the nearby town of Stevenage.

He’d kept his room at the inn for propriety’s sake, but on the nights Megan was away at school he was in Abbie’s bed. No doubt his attentions on Mrs. Hughes had been noted and speculated about by the villagers, but Garrett was beyond caring what others thought.

He had tried to see Aidan during his three-week stay in Standon, but his nephew had refused, though Dr. Bevan had kept him up-to-date on his progress. The gossip about Aidan made the rounds in London, and when his father and grandfather returned to parliament at the end of February, they’d refused to comment on it. All that it appeared to do was enhance Aidan’s reputation as a notorious rake. Many young ladies were anxious to make his acquaintance in hopes that they would be the one woman to tame him. His absence from London had fanned the excited flames of speculation.

March arrived, and Garrett, Abbie, and Megan made the trip from Standon to Wollstonecraft Hall. Megan was officially removed from school with the agreement that a tutor would be hired once they had completed their journey to Scotland. Abbie and Megan had stayed at the hall. Garrett decided to hell with proprieties for once and all. Late at night, he and Abbie met at the hunter’s hut, loving each other with a fierceness that never ceased to surprise him. An upcoming marriage had been implied, expected, but no solid plans were put in place. Abbie and Garrett were enjoying getting to know one another. Building the trust. Deepening the love.

Since the end of March, Abbie, Garrett, Megan, and of course, Laddie, had been traveling in Scotland. Upon their arrival, Garrett had met with his grandfather’s barrister and been told that he’d not only been willed the house outside of Edinburgh, but a share in the Mackinnon liquor business along with a generous settlement.

Then came the burial, a sad and solemn occasion, and many of his grandfather’s friends and neighbors gave tribute to an honorable man. Alec Mackinnon had been buried next to his beloved wife, and Garrett was touched his mother’s name, Moira, had been etched in remembrance on the tombstone even though she was laid to rest in the cemetery at Wollstonecraft Hall.

They had decided to stay at his grandfather’s house instead of at an inn, and Abbie suggested that he use it for yearly summer sojourns. He could not think of a better solution. Garrett would keep on his grandfather’s small but loyal staff to handle the maintenance. One night, over a hearty dinner, Megan had suggested the house be rented to people for short stays, with the proceeds going to his ‘physicians training to treat addiction cause’. His grandfather’s housekeeper had agreed wholeheartedly.

With the last week of April drawing near, they’d reluctantly decided to end their trip to Scotland with promises of returning late in the summer. As the carriage headed south, Garrett gazed out the window at the turbulent sky above. Abbie was curled up next to him, reading, and Megan sat opposite, also reading, with Laddie curled up next to her. Laddie was hardly a puppy any longer, but fit into their little family as if he had always belonged there.

Garrett clenched his fist, grateful that his arm had healed fully, and for the fact he had not lost any mobility. In the interim, he and Dr. Bastian Faraday had become good friends. They had visited him on the way to Scotland, and would again on the way home. Abbie especially had grown fond of Bastian, grateful not only for his intervention in Garrett’s treatment, but for his good-natured personality, innate intelligence, and gentle humor.

The carriage pulled up in front of a small inn. “Where are we?” Abbie asked while yawning.

“Gretna Green. We will stop for a meal, and allow the horses and Samuel to rest. As well as ourselves. We should stretch our legs,” Garrett replied.

Once they entered the inn, the man behind the counter called out, “Are ye here for a weddin’? For ye are a lad and lassie in love, I’ll be bound. ’Tis plain. The smithy next door ’tis the best place for a genuine anvil weddin’.” The ruddy-faced man smiled broadly.

Garrett faced Abbie, taking her hand and kissing it. “Marry me, my love?”

Her eyes widened. “Here, in Scotland? Can we? Should we?”

He kissed her hand again, then caught her gaze, giving her a smoldering look. “Absolutely.”

Megan clasped her hands together excitedly. “Oh, yes, Mama. How romantic!”

Abbie laughed. “Then yes, I will marry you.”

They hurried next door to the blacksmith shop. A wedding was just concluding. As the young couple left the building, the smithy waved them forward. How impulsive to marry like this, but it stayed within the parameters of their turbulent and passionate relationship.

After introductions, the brawny smithy, Mr. Campbell, nodded with approval. “So ye wish ta wed? We need two witnesses.”

“Our daughter, Megan, will act as one. My coachman and assistant groom will serve as well,” Garrett replied. “Megan, be a dear and fetch Samuel.” Laddie woofed, making his presence known. “And unofficially, Laddie will act as one.”

As Megan hurried away, Mr. Campbell’s heavy eyebrows raised at the “our daughter” statement, but wisely let it pass. “A Scotch collie is always welcome at any of my weddin’s. Do ye have a ring?” Garrett shook his head. “Ye can purchase one here.” He slapped a wooden box on the table and opened it. There were a number of plain gold bands along with more antiquated designs.

“Oh, I like this one,” Abbie said, pointing to a gold ring fashioned into a key unlocking a heart.

“’Tis a luverly choice. Made of the finest gold. Now, stand before the anvil. Ah, here be the witnesses.” Mr. Campbell fussily arranged them in a semi-circle. “’Tis too bloody bad the heather ’tisn’t bloomin’ as yet, begging yer pardon, ladies.” Mr. Campbell blushed at his curse. “But these posies ’twill do.” Mr. Campbell handed Abbie a bouquet of bluebells and white wood anemones, early spring wildflowers they had seen in abundance during their travels. Abbie’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “There now. Are ye unmarried persons?” Mr. Campbell asked, his tone serious.

“Yes,” they answered simultaneously.

“Do ye take this man to be yer husband?” Mr. Campbell intoned.

Abbie’s gaze softened. “I do. Most happily.”

“Do ye take this woman to be yer wife?”

“I do. Most gratefully.”