Their eyes met. Ximena's were bright beyond all shadow of remaining doubt, and answered whatever hesitation Adam himself might have entertained. Only barely containing his joy, he took her hand and turning her palm up, kissed it with a tenderness approaching reverence.
"This is not the setting I imagined," he told her gravely. "Certainly not the one this moment deserves - but it will have to do."
In a single fluid movement, he left the bench and sank down on one knee before her, keeping her hand in his.
"We've talked about marriage before, but never come directly to the sticking point," he continued. "Well, I'm coming to the point now. I would give you the sun, the moon, and the stars thrown in, if that would make you happy. Will you marry me?"
Ximena was wavering between laughter and tears. With her free hand she dashed the wetness from her eyes.
"Adam, you dear fool, of course I will!" she exclaimed. "Just tell me when and where."
Although Dr. Philippa Sinclair was American born and bred, and currently residing in New Hampshire, she had spent more than half of her life in Scotland as the wife of a Scottish laird. Among the British customs she had adopted in the course of her marriage was the time-honored ritual of afternoon tea.
That custom had been introduced as a regular feature at the private psychiatric clinic at which Philippa was chief consultant. On the twenty-second of December, she was taking tea in the parlor with senior members of staff when one of the secretaries poked her head into the room.
"Dr. Sinclair, I have your son on the line. He says he's ringing from San Francisco."
"It's Adam? Good heavens. Put it through to my office, please, Janine."
She had known, of course, that Adam was stateside. He had rung her from his hotel in Houston, primarily to advise her of his safe arrival, but they had also spent some time discussing the situation he expected to encounter when he joined Ximena on the West Coast. En route to her office, as she calculated the time difference between California and New Hampshire, she concluded that something significant must have occurred to warrant Adam's phoning in the middle of the day.
Her first thought - that Adam was calling to report the death of Ximena's father - was put to flight the moment she heard her son's voice, buoyed up with a strange note of excitement that conveyed a wide range of emotion.
"Philippa," he said, "are you sitting down?"
"No," his mother said astringently. "Should I be?"
She thought she detected the suppression of a chuckle.
"Quite possibly. I've got a fairly important announcement to make."
"I see," Philippa said, groping behind her for her chair. "All right, I'm ready. Now, what's your news?"
"I think you'll find it to your liking," Adam said with a laugh. "Will you mind terribly if I bring a new Lady Sinclair home to Strathmourne?"
"What? Do you mean - "
"That's right. Ximena and I are getting married."
Philippa restrained an undignified impulse to squeal.
"Oh, thank heavens!" she exclaimed. "And about time, too! Have you set a date?"
"Ah. That's partly why I thought I'd better call you as quickly as possible," Adam replied, on a note of apology. "Do you think you could get out here for Christmas Eve?"
"This Christmas Eve?" Philippa blurted, then made haste to recover herself. "Probably not without a minor miracle," she allowed, "but this being a good and worthy cause, I daresay I could probably conjure one up."
"I know. I'm sorry. I know this must seem a bit sudden."
He sounded like a guilty schoolboy - which gave Philippa an absurd twinge of delight.
"Oh, I don't know," she said airily. "I've seen it coming for at least the last year. So far as I can see, the only mystery involved is what took you so long. That having been said, I hope you'll forgive me for asking why you're going ahead so precipitously now?"
Adam's voice took on a more serious note.
"I'm afraid the rush isn't intended for our benefit. It seems that, many years ago, Alan Lockhart promised his daughter that he would attend her wedding - and Ximena and I would like to make that possible. He's already waited far longer than he should have done."
Philippa's agile mind was quick to seize the unspoken implications of this disclosure, but she made herself move on to practicalities.
"I see. Holiday air schedules aside, have you considered other important logistics?" she asked. "Blood tests shouldn't be a problem for two doctors, but this close to Christmas, the license might be."
"We've already decided not to worry about that for now," Adam replied. "We haven't the time. Alan Lockhart hasn't the time. We'll have a second ceremony when we get back to Scotland. Besides, Christopher will be crushed if he doesn't get to officiate."
"Quite so," Philippa agreed, somewhat taken aback.
"Meanwhile, we're making arrangements for a small, very intimate ceremony in Alan's hospital room," Adam went on. "The chaplain who's been working with the family has agreed to preside, and to offer a Eucharist, and she's in full agreement with our reasons for rushing things through and waiving the legalities. Even if the wedding isn't technically legal, it will be sacramentally valid."
"Very sensible, under the circumstances," Philippa concurred, "though that still leaves a great many loose ends to tie up. Professionally speaking, is Ximena quite resigned to giving up her job there in San Francisco?"
"It wasn't her job that brought her back to San Francisco," Adam reminded his mother quietly, "though she wouldn't be human if she didn't have a few regrets. Fortunately, with her qualifications, she'll never have any shortage of job offers. I was pleased to learn that she's kept up her contacts with her old colleagues at the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. Apparently most of them would be delighted to have her back, including the head of section. But even if that doesn't work out, she assures me that she's still committed to returning to Scotland, once her responsibilities here in San Francisco are discharged."
"You seem to have the larger issues well in hand," Philippa said, deciding not to pursue the lingering questions centered around Ximena's father. "Just to give you more to think about, I wonder if you've thought about your own obligations back in Scotland. Social obligations, if nothing else. I know you've thought about the others."
"Social obligations'?" Adam said, puzzled.
Philippa clucked her tongue. "Adam, Adam - getting married ought to be one of life's most memorable experiences, not only for the bride and groom, but also for those who are closest to them," she pointed out. "You needn't make any decisions just yet, but speaking as the most senior surviving member of the Sinclair family, I would like to see you celebrate the event in a style worthy of your station and equal to a mother's fondest ambitions."
This declaration earned her a chuckle from her son's end of the line.
"I see what you're getting at," he said. "Did you think I'd make Ximena settle for a registry office wedding?"
"Well, hardly that. You did mention having Christopher preside, and he'll insist on bells and smells, even if you'd prefer to run away to Gretna Green. Just remember that most little girls dream of a fairy-tale wedding to a handsome prince. If that's Ximena's dream, you wouldn't want to deprive her of it."
"It's my fondest wish never to deprive her of anything," Adam replied with a chuckle, "but I'm afraid she will have to settle for a baronet rather than a prince. But never fear: Ximena deserves nothing but the best - and whether she knows it or not, I intend to see that our 'official' wedding is no exception. Since we've got to go through the forms a second time in any case, we might as well make the most of the occasion."