The Laird's Christmas Kiss Page 5

  “Nobody from the south of France asked me, Papa,” Marina said, stepping up to hug her father. “You didn’t tell us you were coming.”

  Ugolino shrugged with his usual careless charm. He’d spent years crisscrossing Italy, acting as his daughter’s chaperone while she established her artistic career. Since her marriage, he’d become her agent in Florence, where he had great success selling his daughter’s paintings to rich young men doing the Grand Tour. “Per pietà, I was sitting at home by my fireside missing you, so I decided to give you a surprise.”

  “You’ve certainly done that,” Fergus said on a grim note, coming forward to shake his father-in-law’s hand. “Not least that you didnae arrive alone.”

  Ugolino looked sheepish and reached for the hand of the lady at his side. With the theatrical instinct natural to him, he waited until he had everyone’s attention. “Friends and family, may I present my bride, Giulia?”

  Marina’s face went so still that she looked like one of her painted portraits. “Your wife?”

  As Fergus caught Marina’s hand, Ugolino brought Giulia forward. “I was going to write, dolcissima, but then it seemed a better idea to bring Giulia to Scotland to meet you. She’s heard all about you.”

  “Then she has the advantage over us,” Fergus muttered. Following Ugolino’s announcement, a thorny silence had descended.

  “Giulia is the widow of the Conte de Massona, a nobleman from Verona. I made her acquaintance two months ago, when she and her son, the current count, called to buy one of your Highland landscapes. For both of us, it was the coup de foudre. We married three weeks ago. Per carità, at our age, there’s no point waiting.”

  “I told you that this was no way to inform your family of our wedding, caro.” Giulia sent her new husband a wry glance that expressed a mixture of affection and exasperation. “Before we saw the priest, we should have written to your daughter, or perhaps even waited until after she met me.”

  Ugolino raised Giulia’s fingers to his lips and regarded her with glowing dark eyes. “But, carissima, I couldn’t wait that long to make you mine.”

  With a surprise, Brody realized that the old charlatan was genuinely in love with his new wife. When he first heard the news, he’d wondered if the contessa’s fortune and noble rank might explain her appeal.

  Marina’s shock faded, and she sounded almost like herself when she spoke. “Contessa, your English is excellent.”

  It was true. While she spoke with a charming accent, her English was fluent and colloquial.

  “Grazie. I had a Scottish governess when I grew up, and now with all the English milords traveling through Italy, I get lots of practice. With the hope of making a good impression on Ugolino’s daughter, I’ve been working on my English during the journey, too.”

  “Have I done wrong?” Ugolino asked, eyeing his daughter with a humility that Brody suspected was at least partly manufactured.

  “Cielo, of course not, Papa, but you’re always full of surprises.” Marina managed a smile, but Brody saw that she still reeled under the news. Nonetheless, she was a gallant creature, and she tried to make the best of the situation. She stepped forward and kissed her new stepmother on the cheek. “Welcome to the family, contessa. I hope you and my father will be very happy together.”

  The new Signora Lucchetti subjected Marina to a searching gaze, but what she saw must have reassured her. The warmth in her smile made her look years younger. “You’re too kind. I hope that we’ll be friends.”

  “I do, too,” Marina said, and she sounded as if she meant it.

  Ugolino smiled at his daughter with visible relief. “I want us all to have Christmas together like una famiglia.”

  “Let me introduce you to everyone.” Marina gestured toward Fergus, who looked unhappy with the situation. He was always fiercely protective of his wife. He’d be furious if her father’s impulsive actions injuring her feelings.

  While everyone else paid their respects to Giulia, Brody wondered about the whereabouts of his wee wren. It seemed odd she wasn’t down here. He hoped she wasn’t ill. She’d seemed perfectly fine that morning.

  The atmosphere in the room had turned convivial by the time Ugolino signaled to the servants to bring in a large crate. Fergus had ordered champagne to be served and seemed reconciled to Giulia’s arrival. Marina and the contessa sat together on a sofa and conversed in Italian with every sign of amity. The rest of the party appeared to have recovered from their surprise at the newcomers’ unheralded arrival.

  Yet still no Elspeth.

  Brody leaned on the mantelpiece above the blazing fire and leveled a disgruntled eye on the cheerful crowd. Most years, he was happy to see everyone at Christmas. This year, he could muster no interest in anyone except Hamish’s sister.

  Hamish sauntered over to join him. “You’re in the doldrums tonight, laddie.”

  While Hamish was Scottish, he’d been brought up in London and educated at Eton and Cambridge. As a result, he was almost aggressively nationalist and determined to prove his credentials as a Highlander. Even if he spoke in a crisp English accent that put Brody more in mind of Mayfair than Inverness.

  “I’m feeling cooped up,” Brody said, although that was the least of what troubled him.

  “Aye. The weather hasn’t been kind. Ugolino and his countess are lucky they made it through. They must have been desperate to get to Achnasheen before Christmas.”

  Desperate to present Marina and Fergus with a fait accompli at a time of year that encouraged good will to all, Brody guessed. “Where’s your sister?”

  Hamish cast him a curious look. “Elspeth?”

  Irritation made Brody exhale in a hiss through his teeth. “Of course bloody Elspeth.”

  “How the devil would I know? She and Marina have been shut up together most of the day.”

  That at least explained his failure to find her. Hamish stared at him in dawning comprehension. “Don’t tell me you’re harboring wicked intentions toward Elspeth. I’d be sorry to have to shoot one of my best friends on the field of honor.”

  “I wouldn’t seduce a chum’s sister.” Brody shifted in discomfort, because given the opportunity, he feared that was just what he might do. “I have some integrity.”

  “See that you keep your hands to yourself.” Hamish paused. “Not that Elspeth is likely to do anything silly for the sake of you asking. She might act like a wee mouse, but she’s a strong-minded lassie and no fool.”

  Brody cast his friend a look of dislike. “She’s far from a mouse. You and your family underestimate her. Ye always have.”

  “Always, is it?” Mocking amazement lifted Hamish’s dark blond eyebrows. “Just when did you start to take note of my sister’s finer qualities? I’d wager half Glen Lyon that a month ago, you didn’t even know her name.”

  “Then you’d lose,” Brody said shortly.

  “Good God, you’re serious about this nonsense.” The astonishment widening Hamish’s bright blue eyes turned genuine. “You’ve set your sights on quiet wee Elspeth.”

  Had he? Something had changed in the last few days. He found himself thinking of Elspeth in ways that he’d never thought of another woman. Her subtle beauty drew him under her spell. More than that, he liked her. Her sweetness offered welcome rest to his turbulent soul.

  He met his friend’s steady gaze and spoke with a conviction that surprised him. “If I did, would ye have any objection?”

  Hamish frowned into his champagne glass and didn’t come up with the ready answer Brody wanted. By the time he responded, Brody felt ready to explode.

  “Brody, I like you,” he said slowly. “You know I do. We’ve been friends for years. In our time, we’ve spent many a wild evening carousing together.”

  His gut knotting with resentment and hurt, Brody scowled at the man he hoped would become his brother-in-law. “If I marry your sister, I’ll put all that behind me.”

  “An easy promise to make.” Hamish still looked troubled. “A harder promi
se to keep.”

  Brody sighed. He supposed he deserved this. But it was lowering to discover that neither Diarmid nor Hamish, men he’d always considered his friends, thought him a worthy suitor for Elspeth.

  “I’ve kicked up my heels like any young man, but you must agree there’s no real vice in me. I’ll make Elspeth a good husband, I swear. If I don’t, I’ll let ye bloody well shoot me.”

  This extravagant offer didn’t lighten Hamish’s somber demeanor. “It’s very sudden.”

  “That doesnae make it wrong. Look at Ugolino and Giulia. Anyway I’ve known the lassie for years.”

  “Which is why I wonder what’s changed.”

  Brody shrugged and admitted the unpalatable truth. “Perhaps it’s time for me to grow up.”

  Hamish sighed. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t some passing fancy. You’ve been in a devilish odd humor this last year or so.”

  Brody was surprised his friend had noticed. He thought he’d hidden his gnawing discontentment. “Are ye saying you dinnae give me permission to court your sister?”

  “It’s up to Elspeth whether she’ll have you.” For the first time, a hint of amusement entered Hamish’s bright blue eyes. “If you can persuade her that you’re the one for her, I won’t stand in your way.”

  Relief made Brody sag, relief so powerful that he was glad that the mantelpiece was close enough to offer him its support. “That’s dashed sporting of ye.” His eyes narrowed on his friend’s face. “Except you dinnae think she will take me, do ye?”

  Hamish shrugged, unperturbed by Brody’s accusation. “If she does, it’s because she sees more in you than I ever have. She’s a level-headed lassie, my sister. Bonny words and a bonny face alone won’t convince her to trust herself to a laddie.”

  “I know,” Brody said, then he couldn’t help voicing his chagrin. “I didnae ken ye harbored such a low opinion of me.”

  Hamish’s expression was uncharacteristically austere. “You’re a braw companion for a night in the stews. But now you’re talking about marrying my sister.”

  “I am,” he said, and despite Hamish’s unexpected objections, something inside him firmed and settled. At last he had his hand on the tiller, and he set sail in the right direction.

  Brody looked around at that moment and felt no surprise when he saw Elspeth standing in the doorway. She was his destination, his harbor, his sanctuary. The woman who would make sense of his chaotic, purposeless life.

  Then he looked at her properly, and his heart took a sickening dive into his boots. Bloody Marina. He could strangle the sloe-eyed besom. With her help and within the space of a day, his wee wren had transformed into someone new, and all Brody’s happy certainties crashed around him in ruins.

  Chapter 7

  In front of the mirror upstairs, Elspeth had been delighted with the transformation Marina and Sandra had worked on her. She’d stared at the pretty girl reflected back and decided there would be no more slinking around in the shadows for her.

  But as dinner approached, her courage ebbed, and she’d needed to summon every last scrap of willpower to force herself to go downstairs. What if everyone hated the changes in her appearance?

  What if everyone liked them?

  Somehow that seemed worse, an indictment of the person she’d been all her life.

  She made it downstairs at the last minute and steeled herself to enter the drawing room, only to discover nobody paid her any attention at all. Marina’s father, a man she’d met once before, had arrived with a lady she didn’t know, and the air was alive with celebration.

  “Elspeth, you missed the news,” Prudence said, coming up and passing her a glass of champagne. “Ugolino has brought his new wife to us for Christmas, without giving anyone the least warning.”

  The Italian lady across the room was small and round, and dressed in expensive, stylish clothes. At her side, Ugolino was unmistakably enamored.

  “How nice for him,” she said, both relieved and disappointed that she’d managed to sneak into the room unnoticed. “How did Marina take the news?”

  “She was surprised, like all of us. But now she and Giulia seem to be getting on famously.” Prudence lowered her voice. “I did worry that Fergus might knock Ugolino down, when he wandered in as cool as a cucumber and announced the marriage. It was pretty clear that Marina was trying to hide her shock at having a new stepmother.”

  Near the windows, Marina stood with her husband, her father, and her father’s bride. If she was still upset, she did a good job of hiding it.

  Prudence cast Elspeth a quick glance, then another more comprehensive one. “You look nice. Have you changed your hair?”

  Elspeth choked back a disbelieving laugh. A whole day of primping and preening, and that was the best Prudence could do? “I wanted to try something a little different.”

  “It suits you. You should wear it like that all the time.”

  Prudence drifted off to find Charles. The crowd shifted. Elspeth found herself looking straight at Brody Girvan, who regarded her with an unreadable expression on his hawkish face. She raised an unsteady hand to the tumble of loose curls Sandra had spent an hour arranging. Upstairs she’d loved the effect, thinking it made her look poised and sophisticated. Perhaps she was wrong about that. Perhaps she just looked absurd.

  Brody strode across the room to her. “You look splendid, Elspeth,” he said, raising his glass in her direction.

  She frowned. His tone contained an edge that she didn’t quite understand. “Marina has been giving me some advice.”

  “God bless Marina,” he said and emptied his glass.

  “Don’t…don’t you like it?” Then cursed herself for sounding so lily-livered. What did it matter if Brody approved or not? She hadn’t gone to this trouble for his sake, but for her own.

  “Devil take me, of course I damn well do.” The detailed survey he made of her burned, and she hid a shiver of feminine awareness. Those assessing eyes didn’t miss a single inch of the newly transformed Elspeth Douglas. “But you can’t blame a man for regretting that you’re no longer his secret treasure.”

  Her eyes rounded, as she struggled to make sense of that astonishing remark. Brody developed a habit of leaving her speechless. Marina had said she looked pretty, and something in Brody’s unwavering attention told her he agreed. The confidence that had faltered as she faced an audience began to revive.

  “What do you—”

  The rest of the question was lost as Ugolino clapped his hands to gain the crowd’s attention. “Grazie tante. Grazie a tutti. Troppo gentile. Grazie mille. Thank you for the warm welcome you have given to my beautiful bride Giulia and to me on this cold Scottish night.”

  Elspeth hid a smile. Given what Prudence had said, Ugolino was putting a gloss on his reception when he arrived. Fergus must have been livid at the tactless way his father-in-law introduced the newest member of the family.

  Ugolino continued. “Many years ago, Marina’s mamma introduced me to a charming English Christmas custom that I’d like to bring north of the border.” He nodded at the liveried Italian footmen—presumably the contessa’s servants—standing beside a large crate in the corner. Elspeth hadn’t noticed it before. “With much difficulty and copious correspondence, I arranged for this to be waiting in Glasgow when we arrived.”

  She craned her head to see as the servants opened the crate to reveal white sheeting. When Ugolino stepped forward and flung aside the material, he uncovered nests of green leaves and white berries.

  “Mistletoe…” Elspeth said at the same time as Marina spoke.

  “Papa, what a wonderful gift.” Marina turned to Fergus. “It was a seasonal tradition in Mamma’s family home in England when she grew up. You hang it about the house, and if anyone is standing under it, they get a kiss. It makes for a lot of fun and silliness over Christmas.”

  Fergus looked puzzled and not unduly impressed. “It sounds like a mad Sassenach notion to me.”

  She darted forward
to pluck a sprig and hold it above her head. She fluttered her eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion. “Pray, won’t you kiss me, kind sir?”

  Fergus laughed and grabbed her by the waist. “Aye, I’ll kiss ye, lassie, but I dinnae need permission first from someone waving an English weed in the air.”

  He pressed his lips to hers, then smiled at his father-in-law with no trace of any earlier hostility. “My wife is in favor of your offering.”

  Ugolino smiled back and snatched up a sprig of his own. “Tomorrow we’ll hang the mistletoe around the house, and the kissing can begin. But first, let me kiss my bride.”

  Giulia looked charmingly ruffled when he released her, and Elspeth was surprised to catch an approving smile on Brody’s face. She would have thought all this nonsense was too rustic and unsophisticated to divert a rake of his reputation. “Did you already know about this tradition?”

  He shook his dark head. “No. It’s no’ a plant that grows hereabouts. If it gives me an excuse to kiss ye, I’m all in favor.”

  “I’d better be careful where I stand, then,” she retorted, struggling with further amazement at the idea that he wanted to kiss her, mistletoe or not.

  “Aye, make sure it’s right under the mistletoe.”

  She ignored that, although the prospect of Brody’s kisses made her breathless with excitement. Of course they did. She’d never been kissed, and after his adventures with all those loose women, he should be good at it. Her kissing career would start with a master of the art. When she fell in love for real, she’d have grounds for comparison. “We always hang it in our London house if we’re down there for Christmas.”

  He arched a sleek eyebrow at her, and the glint of mischief in his eyes made her heart stutter. “Are ye saying you’re an old hand at this kissing game?”

  Once, yesterday even, she might have found herself blushing and stammering, but the admiration in his eyes gave her the nerve to tease him back. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

  “You’ve kissed hundreds of men, I’m sure.”