The Laird’s Christmas Kiss: The Lairds Most Likely Book 2 Read online

  Go away, he said back, without any hope that it would listen.

  Another small delay, then the girl said, “Perhaps.”

  He was gearing up to push for something more definite—and enthusiastic—when a maid came in with fresh coffee. He bent his head and began to eat, surprised at how famished he was.

  By the time they were alone again, he had another cup of coffee on the table before him, while Elspeth sipped her tea. “How long are ye staying at Achnasheen?” he asked, not sure why he persevered, but persevering anyway.

  “Until after New Year,” she said.

  He’d intended to leave after Boxing Day, but now he changed his mind. “Me, too.”

  “That’s longer than usual,” she said in a neutral voice.

  This was the first indication that she’d paid him any attention over the years. Pleased, he said, “I’m looking forward to seeing more of Marina and Fergus, given this is the first Christmas they’re hosting here.”

  “Yes, it’s meant a change, hasn’t it?” At last, she sounded almost friendly.

  He was about to follow up on the thaw, when Diarmid, blast him, came bouncing in. His friend was awash in good spirits, which seemed dashed unfair, given the amount of bad spirits he’d imbibed in Brody’s company last night.

  “Elspeth, I should have known you’d beat me to breakfast. How did ye sleep? I slept like a baby.” The tall, handsome, charming bastard came forward and kissed the girl’s cheek with a familiarity Brody couldn’t lay claim to. After all, the two were cousins, whereas he was a mere family friend. “Hope this snow stops before too long. The plan is to go riding later.”

  For the first time that morning, she smiled. “Good morning, Diarmid.”

  Her face expressed fondness, with a touch of the humor she’d signally failed to share with Brody. Diarmid beamed back, then turned to Brody. “Good morning, my lad. Thought you’d be nursing a headache.”

  “Not at all,” Brody said coldly, wishing his friend to Hades.

  “I suppose that’s one benefit of all that licentious living,” Diarmid said, before he toddled off to pile a plate high with food.

  Brody wanted to tell his friend to shut his blasted mouth. A man’s entertainments were his own business. More, he cursed Diarmid for interrupting an encounter that showed signs of heating up from near freezing.

  The moment Elspeth had smiled—not at him, damn it—he recognized why he’d decided to put off his departure. The next few days offered intriguing possibilities, and he was just the man to take advantage of them.

  Chapter 2

  The weather soured as the day progressed, preventing the promised riding expedition. Elspeth was grateful. Now she’d decided to abandon her foolish penchant for Brody Girvan, it seemed cruel to be thrust into his company. Not that she believed he’d meant a word of what he said about riding with her if they went out.

  She’d had years of observing him as closely as only an adolescent girl observed the object of her affections. He liked to flirt with any pretty woman in his vicinity. This morning at breakfast, pretty women had been thin on the ground, so he’d made do with her.

  She didn’t mind. Or not too much. After all, a girl who was the afterthought in her own family had no delusions about her ability to hold a raffish young man’s attention.

  Thank goodness, Diarmid had come in and put a stop to the awkwardness. Nor had Brody’s sudden interest turned her head. Once she might have taken his invitation as a sign of awakening attraction. But after last night’s bracing conversation with herself, she accepted that he’d never pursue her in any serious way.

  Now, after dinner, the guests relaxed in the greenery-bedecked great hall. Huge fires burned in the two hearths, warming the air, despite the inhospitable conditions outside.

  From where she sat on a sofa, Elspeth surveyed the gathering. Hamish, Fergus, her mother, and her sister Charity played cards in one corner. Prudence thumped out Christmas carols on the piano, her husband Charles standing behind her and turning the pages. Charity’s husband Donald read a book near the fire. Diarmid sat at a desk under the windows, writing letters. After a day of running around the castle, shrieking with excitement, Fergus’s nieces and nephews were asleep upstairs.

  While Elspeth didn’t mean to pay him an ounce of special attention, she couldn’t help looking for Brody. With a glass of whisky in one hand, he stood alone at one of the high gothic windows and stared out at the falling snow.

  Elspeth supposed these family entertainments must strike him as abysmally dull, after the dissipated life he led in Edinburgh and London. She was surprised he planned to stay so long at Achnasheen. His habit was to make an appearance, then leave after Boxing Day. Perhaps he changed his plans this year because the festivities took place at his cousin’s castle. Before this, they’d all celebrated Christmas on Hamish’s estate, with her mother as hostess, and all three of her older sisters and their families joining them.

  Elspeth reminded herself that she was no longer interested in Brody Girvan’s doings, and she went back to her novel, although for the life of her she couldn’t remember a single word of the story.

  “May I join you, Elspeth?” Marina, her hostess, asked from beside the sofa.

  Elspeth glanced up with a smile. She didn’t know Fergus’s wife well, but what she knew of her, she liked. “Of course.”

  “If you’re enjoying your book, I’ll happily sit here without talking. I’ve never hosted a big house party before. It’s much harder work than being a guest.”

  “I’m sure.”

  As she sat, Marina’s instinctive grace made Elspeth green with envy. Lucky Marina, to be so tall and slender. A short little pudding like her could never aspire to that languid elegance.

  “Is it a good book?” Marina slid a pencil and a small sketchpad from her pocket and opened it to a blank page.

  Elspeth gave a huff of self-derisive amusement. “I have no idea. I’ve been woolgathering for the last hour.”

  “Cozy winter evenings encourage that.” Marina began to sketch a vivid picture of the card players, using only a few, economical lines. Fascinated, Elspeth watched as swift strokes of the pencil captured Fergus in all his lean, auburn-haired magnificence, then dark, handsome Diarmid.

  “You’re lucky being able to do that.”

  Marina smiled absently and with a sweep of her pencil delineated the fall of Elspeth’s mother’s extravagant bronze velvet gown. “Yes, I am.”

  “Fergus tells me you’re having an exhibition in Edinburgh in April. That must be exciting.”

  “It is. Landscapes, of course. I only do portraits as a hobby. I hope you’ll come.”

  “I’d love to.” She paused and decided that now she’d grown up, she needed to be brave and say what she thought. “Especially if you tell me where you buy your clothes. I love what you wear.”

  She might envy the other woman’s grace and talent, but she’d kill for the panache to wear that crimson silk evening gown. It turned black-haired Marina into a column of living flame.

  “Grazie.” Marina’s hand fell still, resting the pencil on the half-finished drawing. “Are you saying you’d like a new look?”

  Elspeth cast a disparaging glance at her blue merino frock. “I am.”

  “Your mother is always dressed à la mode. Doesn’t she help you to choose your clothes?”

  “She has other fish to fry. Specifically fish of either the Tory or the Liberal variety.”

  Marina smiled at the small joke about her mother’s political activities. “But you’re her daughter.”

  Elspeth’s smile was fond but wry. “By the time I came along, Mamma was way past any interest in bringing up another girl. My arrival was a surprise—Hamish is eight years older than I am. With the rest of the family so handsome, Mamma decided I didn’t give her enough to work with.”

  Marina frowned, rolling the pencil between her fingers. “You do yourself an injustice.”

  Elspeth shook her head. “I don’t think so
, although I know I must sound horridly sorry for myself.”

  “Un poco.” Marina’s lips twitched. “A little perhaps. But I’ll forgive you.”

  Elspeth smiled back, liking this unusual woman more and more. “Thank you.”

  Marina was regarding her with an assessing gaze. “You know, if you stopped being so self-effacing, you could give your family some competition.”

  Elspeth’s laugh was dismissive. “How kind you are.”

  “Not at all. I’m looking at you the way an artist does. With the rest of the Douglases, the eye goes straight to that golden fairness and the height. And ovviamente, they are all proud like lions and know they’re beautiful. Look at your mamma over there. She’s still a great beauty, even though no longer young. She’s used to the world paying her homage, and she takes it as her due. You, on the other hand, are inclined to cling to the sidelines and watch what’s happening, as if you have no right to join in.”

  Elspeth winced. “That artist’s eye can be quite ruthless, can’t it?”

  “Sometimes I’m a little too frank for politeness.” The hand holding the pencil made an apologetic gesture. “I’m sure it’s because I’m half-Italian. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

  “No, you’re right.” Hadn’t Elspeth said something similar to herself last night in her bedroom, when she’d forsworn all passion for a certain Brody Girvan?

  Who had turned his gaze away from the window and toward the corner where she and Marina sat. Not that she paid him any heed. That wasn’t what the new Elspeth Douglas did.

  To her mortification, her hostess noted the way her attention strayed in Brody’s direction. “Cielo, these Highlanders are spectacular men. When I first saw the Mackinnon, I was sure there couldn’t be a man in the world to match him for handsomeness. Then I met your brother, who is golden and powerful like Apollo. And the dark, intriguing Diarmid, with his looks in the style of the famous Lord Byron.”

  Elspeth rolled her eyes. “You still think Fergus is the handsomest. You two positively glow when you’re together.”

  Marina’s smugness was charming. “Perhaps I’m biased.” She nodded in Brody’s direction. “Although your young Laird of Invermackie vies with his cousin, when it comes to dashing looks.”

  Despite having relinquished all thought of Brody as anything more than a family friend, her cheeks heated to fire. “He’s not my Laird of Invermackie.”

  Marina appeared puzzled. “Then why does he keep looking over here?”

  Elspeth shot a fleeting glance toward Brody, who did indeed look spectacular tonight. All the gentlemen sported kilts, and she couldn’t help thinking Brody wore his clan’s green and blue plaid with particular distinction. In standard evening dress, he was dangerously attractive but still connected to civilization. In traditional Highland garb, he looked untamed and elemental, at home in this ancient castle with its history of warfare and romance. Even for a girl who was a mere family friend, the sight was enough to steal every ounce of her breath.

  He caught her eye upon him and tilted an enquiring black brow. She thought her blush couldn’t get any hotter. It turned out it could. Flustered, she turned back to find Marina watching the interplay with a knowing expression Elspeth didn’t like.

  “He must be looking at you, Marina.” Not that Elspeth could blame him. Marina was so dark and dramatic. She doubted Brody had serious designs on his cousin’s wife—the gossip she’d heard kept him just a whisker on the right side of honor—but nobody could fault a man for admiring a pretty woman.

  “Oh, my dear,” Marina said in a wondering tone. Elspeth braced to hear more nonsense about him noticing her at last, but Marina fell silent.

  Elspeth looked down at the book clasped between her hands, then chanced another glance at Brody. He’d gone back to gazing out the window, and the slump of his shoulders hinted at discontentment.

  That struck her as curious. Whenever they met, he brimmed with animal good spirits. It seemed odd he hadn’t joined in the cards either, or invited the other gentlemen to play billiards.

  Perhaps this intimate Christmas gathering left him at a loose end. When Hamish hosted the party, the entire Douglas family descended on Glen Lyon, and for a few days life turned into a rabble of aged relatives and boisterous children and puppies. Now the only dogs were Fergus’s collies Brecon and Macushla, and the ranks of visiting children had thinned to four of her nieces and nephews.

  Perhaps Brody still suffered from last night’s excesses.

  And perhaps it was time for someone who no longer pined for his affections to think of something else.

  Elspeth met Marina’s perceptive gaze. She prepared for some sly comment about her interest in Brody, but Fergus’s wife just inspected her as if she was a landscape suitable for painting.

  “You know, you have great potential. You have good skin and lovely eyes, but the colors you choose don’t do anything for you.” She paused, giving Elspeth a chance to bask in surprised pleasure at hearing that she had “lovely” eyes. “And if you don’t mind me saying this, you dress far too young. You’re a bella ragazza, but nobody would know it under the schoolgirl frocks.”

  Elspeth bit her lip in chagrin. “I never spend much time thinking about what I wear.”

  Marina gave a huff of impatience. “Then it’s high time you did. How can you hope to catch the eye of a handsome laird, if you look like you’re still doing your Latin homework and holding your governess’s hand to cross the road?”

  She shifted uncomfortably and began to wish she’d stuck to her book instead of invited this conversation. “I told you—Brody is my brother’s friend.”

  Marina arched her eyebrows. “I didn’t say the laird had to be Brody.”

  As if he heard his name mentioned, he turned his head in their direction once more. Elspeth lowered her voice to a mutter. “I’m not the sort of girl he finds appealing. He likes loose women.”

  Marina’s smile was worldly. “Of course he does, but perhaps if you venture out from behind the pages of your book, he might like you even better.”

  “I like to read.”

  “So do I. But you’re hiding your light under a bushel, bella. Or under Walter Scott’s newest romance, anyway. It’s time you stepped out to shine.”

  Blindly Elspeth stared into space, for once too churned up to notice Brody Girvan. Could she shine? Over the years, her mother and sisters had made half-hearted attempts to bring her out of her shell, but it had always been easier to retreat and go back to being a turtle.

  Last night, something in her had changed. She’d relinquished futile childhood dreams and decided to grow up. Perhaps part of growing up meant making the best of her meager attractions.

  “I’ve upset you.” Marina’s lips flattened in distress. “I’m sorry.”

  Startled, Elspeth looked at this striking woman who was so frank—and so helpful. “Not at all. It’s embarrassing how right you are. I appreciate that you’re brave enough to tell me.”

  Marina’s eyes brightened. “Brava, ragazza. If you’re serious about wanting to change your style, come upstairs with me tomorrow after breakfast, and we’ll see what we can do.”

  Excitement filled Elspeth. With Marina’s help, perhaps she was on the way to a new version of herself. She’d long been unhappy with the original edition. “I’d love that. Thank you.”

  Chapter 3

  “Why the deuce are ye brooding over here on your own, laddie?” Diarmid asked, jolting Brody out of his weighty reverie. “Has some wench in Edinburgh turned you down? You’re like a damned lost dog this week.”

  In truth, he wasn’t quite as moody as he’d been first thing this morning. Or at any time in the last year or so. Standing at the window, he could watch his sparrow girl without making her unduly uncomfortable. She always pokered up when she knew he was looking at her.

  How on earth had he missed that Elspeth Douglas was so bonny? She dressed like a frump, and she was reluctant to put herself forward, but he was considered a
connoisseur of feminine beauty. He should have noticed her before this.

  Nor was she in his usual style. But the sweetness in her expression drew him more powerfully than his previous lovers’ overt attractions ever had. In fact, he was becoming deuced sick of overt attractions. Perhaps it was time he sought something a little more subtle.

  “Brody? Good God, man. It’s worse than I thought. You’re lost in your own world.”

  “Very amusing.” Without any great interest, he turned to Diarmid. “I haven’t exactly noticed ye being the life of the party either.”

  Diarmid shrugged, unoffended. Despite his dark, romantic looks, he was the most even-tempered man Brody knew. They’d been friends for years, since not long after Fergus, Diarmid and Hamish met as boys. But Hamish’s cousin remained in many ways a mystery. “Nobody expects me to dazzle the company. You, however, have a reputation as an unregenerate rascal to uphold.”

  Brody bit back a grumpy reply. It was true. He was accounted a man with an eye for the ladies. Did that mean he was nothing more? Not long ago, he might have relished the idea that the world considered him a rakish fellow. Now he wondered if this meant he was too shallow to enjoy the long-term happiness his cousin had found with Marina.

  “Oh, stow it, Diarmid. Can’t a laddie spend a wee bit of time in thought, without his friends making fun of him?”

  Diarmid’s black brows arched in mockery. “Thought, is it? And here was I mistaken in believing that ye set your sights on Hamish’s sister.”

  Damn, he’d hoped his sudden and uncharacteristic interest in Elspeth Douglas had gone unnoticed. That was the thing about Diarmid—you could never guess what the bastard was thinking. And the worst of it was he was always thinking.

  “They’re both married,” he said, hoping to deflect attention from his sparrow.

  Diarmid’s smile scorned the weak evasion. “Elspeth’s not, and you’ve been eyeing her off all night.”

  He shrugged. “At least she’s no’ committed elsewhere.”