We married in the ancient chapel at Laverlaw at dawn on Beltane Sunday. Hugh looked decidedly uncomfortable in doublet and hose, with no sword at his side and in a place with bad memories of past betrayal. I had chosen Laverlaw for that reason: the best way to remove a bad memory is to replace it with a better one. I ensured that there would be no bad memories this time, as our marriage cemented the two surnames of Tweedie and Veitch into a single family.
I tried to get Hugh to drop his name of Veitch in favour of Tweedie, but he refused.
"I have always been Hugh Veitch and Hugh Veitch I will remain," he said, adding a slow kiss to sweeten his words. I welcomed that kiss and continued it to its natural conclusion with a mad encounter that left us both gasping and in disarray and the bedc
