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They entered the small country church, constructed of stone blocks, with its arched roof of oak, and made their way down the aisle to the chancel where he and Ailie took their place between Robbie and Emily. They were married there in the simple setting with light from the one window falling onto Ailie’s copper hair like a halo around her.

The ceremony was blissfully short. Nash answered at the proper time but his thoughts were all for his bride, the gift the Good Lord had seen fit to give him. He slid the gold ring he had procured the afternoon before onto her finger, as they repeated the words that made them man and wife.

And then he kissed her. Not wishing to embarrass her, he did not allow himself a long kiss but he put his heart into it. Lifting his lips from hers, he told her, “You’re mine now, Aileen Stephen Powell.”

Her smile in reply was winning. “So I am.”

They left the church hand in hand and were greeted by the women, who circled around Ailie wishing her well, and the men, who teased Nash about marrying above his station.

“I am only too aware of that fact,” he admitted.

“Congratulations, Brother,” said Robbie. “You have won the heart of The Mistress of the Setters.”

Angus Ramsay came to Nash’s side. “Treat ’er weel, Sassenach, or I’ll be seein’ ye. An’ consider namin’ yer first bairn Angus.”

The smile on the old fisherman’s face belied the warning and the request, but Nash did not take either lightly. “I intend to love her well, Angus. And if God gives us a male child, we shall find a way to add Angus to his names.”

Nash tucked her hand in his arm and they walked out of the church and passed through the gravestones toward the carriages.

Suddenly, Muriel said, “Why, that’s amazing!”

Everyone came to see what had drawn the countess’ attention. “What is it?” asked William.

The countess bent over a stone marker, her quizzing glass held in front of her as she read the carved words. “It’s a memorial stone to mark the Covenanters who died prisoners in Dunnottar Castle in 1685. Look,” she said, pointing to the stone, “it speaks of two women whose names they didn’t know. I wonder…”

Angus glanced at her. “Be ye thinkin’ o’ the ghost?”

Muriel lifted her head from reading the stone. “I am.”

Ailie tugged Nash closer to the stone. “The inscription reads ‘for their adherence to the word of God and Scotland’s covenanted work of reformation’.”

Nash watched Ailie’s face, wondering what her thoughts might be. “Heroes of the faith?”

She squeezed his arm. “I’m glad they’ll be remembered.”

“Time for the wedding feast, said William, “and, since it’s Hogmanay, we might as well indoctrinate the groom into proper food.”

Nash laughed. “Why not?” Today he would eat most anything.

“’Tis haggis,” Ailie told her new husband when Nash inquired about the “strange” dish the servant had just placed before him. “Remember, I described it for you. ’Tis sheep’s intestine, oatmeal and spices cooked in a sheep’s stomach.”

“Right,” he said, his face contorting into an expression of pain. “Perhaps I’ll begin with the soup. But what’s that floating with the chicken and leeks?”

“Prunes. ’Tis the traditional way it’s made.” She could tell by the look on his face, Nash did not favor prunes, though they added much to what was essentially chicken soup.

“Well then,” he said, “I’ll have some salmon and potatoes.”

“Tatties,” she corrected, trying hard not to laugh. Glancing around the table, she noticed the others had declined the haggis, too. All except her grandfather, Captain Anderson, who’d been invited to the wedding, and Robbie.

Angus lifted a large bite of haggis onto his fork. “Food fer warriors.”

“I’m for trying it all,” quipped Robbie. “Else how can I describe the taste when asked?”

“Brave lad,” said the eldest Powell brother. “I might have a go at the other dishes, but I’ll be leaving the haggis to you.”

“Personally,” put in Tara, “I try to stay with what I recognize. Roast game, fish, steak pies and almost any dessert.”

Ailie remembered Hugh’s family had an estate in Scotland and wondered what foods he may have eaten. “Hugh, might you have tried some of our food while you were in Scotland?”