Page 62 of A Dash of Scot
Her heart dropped, afraid now was when he’d let her down gently.
“About Lucia?” she asked with hope.
“Aye.”
Poppy let out the breath she’d been holding. “I heard she’s eloped.”
He stopped walking, facing her with a grin that made his eyes sparkle. “Aye, she has.”
“And that means you’re free from your…what shall we call it? Your folly?”
He chuckled, and for a minute, she thought he was going to kiss her, but perhaps sensing that her mother and sister were most likely spying, he stopped. “I’d say I dodged a bullet, perhaps from her father’s pistol at dawn.” Dougal got down on his knees, and Poppy gasped.
“Oh, do get up,” she pleaded. “They can all see you.”
“Good. I want them to know that I am forever your servant. That I love ye from the bottom of my heart, and I would be honored if ye would agree to be my wife—again, formally. No’ when we’ve…well, no’ when we’ve just been in the garden. I want ye to be my life partner.”
Poppy’s heart seized somewhere behind her ribs, and then, as quickly as it stopped beating, it started up at an erratic pace. “On one condition,” she whispered, her voice failing her, so thick was her throat with emotion.
“Anything.”
“You promise to teach our sons never to make oaths to women, declarations of any kind, while under the influence of too many spirits.”
“I promise, love, and I will also request they speak with their very intelligent mother before doing any such thing to make sure they are making the right decision.”
Poppy felt as if she were floating on air with happiness. “I want any children we have to find love.”
“I would never wish for anything less. So, do ye accept my proposal?”
“I have another condition.”
“All ye need do is ask.” The earnestness in his gaze, his tone, was enough to make her want to drop to her knees with him, but her mother would kill her if she dirtied her dress.
“I would like for you to give my dowry to my mother. She has not been left with much, and she has done so much for my sister and me.”
Dougal nodded. “Done. And I will see to your mother’s comfort and every need. She will want for nothing.”
Tears stung Poppy’s eyes, and she smiled. How the world had turned! And she was going to be the happiest of brides. “Then it is with much joy and hope that I accept.”
Dougal stood then, wrapped her in his arms, and in front of her sister and mother, who were most definitely staring out the window—for she could hear their gasps—he kissed her.
“I love you, Dougal Mackay,” she whispered against his mouth. “You stole my heart in London, and I feel as if you’ve now given it back tenfold.”
“I would give ye anything ye asked for.”
The front door of the cottage burst open, and Mama popped out with Anise on her heels.
“Do we have cause to celebrate?” Mama asked, her voice several octaves higher than usual.
“We do.” Poppy gazed up at Dougal. “We are to be married.”
Anise let out a squeal that scared off a few birds perched in the trees.
“Oh, my darling girl.” Mama started to cry, holding out her arms, and Poppy rushed into them. “You did it, I am so happy for you.”
There was more to her mother’s emotion, her words, than simply being proud Poppy had finally made a match. It was a relief from the financial tightness she’d felt. The worry that they’d be able to make it on the small allowances they had.
A thousand pounds was ten times the annual income her mother was allowed from their father’s estate, and she could use it however she wanted.
