The Laird's Christmas Kiss Read online

  “I look forward to marrying Elspeth and proving to you and Hamish that I can be an exemplary husband,” he responded huffily.

  “See that ye do,” his cousin said and urged his horse into a canter.

  Brody stared unseeing after Fergus. Damn it, since marrying Marina, his cousin had love on the brain. And a few other body parts, too, he’d wager. Marina and Fergus had trouble keeping their hands off one another, even after more than a year together.

  If desire equaled love, he definitely loved Elspeth. But he had a grim inkling that his cousin was talking about something more profound than mere physical pleasure. God knew what. Until now, Brody had been content to dabble at the safe edges of intense emotion. Hamish had accused him of being shallow. If there wasn’t an element of truth in that, it wouldn’t have hurt quite so much.

  Did Brody love Elspeth? Devil if he knew.

  He certainly cared enough to find her absence with Diarmid increasingly infuriating.

  In which case, he should have been relieved to see her trot back into view. However she and Diarmid rode a little too close, and the amity between them was too apparent for Brody to find much comfort in her reappearance. He dug his heels into his horse’s sides and galloped across to where the cousins were laughing together.

  “See anything interesting?” He wanted to sound nonchalant, but the question emerged with a snide tinge that made Elspeth direct a curious gaze his way. She looked lovely. Pink-cheeked with the cold, and the rich colors of the paisley shawl draped around her head set off her brilliant dark eyes and creamy skin.

  Diarmid fixed a sardonic eye upon him, as if he guessed the lurid suspicions running through Brody’s mind. “Aye, we enjoyed a delightful interlude,” he said in a silken voice. “I rarely get Elspeth to myself.”

  To think, Brody had once considered this slimy toad his friend. His hands jerked on the reins, making Perseus sidle across the firm snow in equine protest. Elspeth’s expression remained puzzled. To his relief, she didn’t look like a woman who’d just been kissed.

  “Diarmid was showing me the view across to Skye. You can see the Cuillins from where we were.”

  Bugger the Cuillins. “Indeed.” Brody wished he didn’t sound like a sulky schoolboy.

  The three of them settled into an ambling walk, while the cousins fell into reminiscences about childhood holidays. Brody suspected that Diarmid chose the subject specifically to exclude him. After Elspeth made a few unsuccessful attempts to draw him into the conversation, she left him alone.

  At the top of the brae, they caught up with the rest of the party. This was one of Brody’s favorite places on his cousin’s estate. The land swept down to the turrets and battlements of the castle, with the sea and the Isle of Skye in the distance.

  “I did my first Achnasheen painting here,” Marina said with a nostalgic smile.

  “Aye, ye took my advice about that, but no’ much else,” Fergus said drily, reaching across to squeeze her hand where it lay loose on the reins.

  “At that stage, I was yet to discover that you’re always right about everything, caro.”

  His eyes narrowed on her. “You dinnae mean that.”

  She batted her eyelashes theatrically. “Don’t I?”

  He laughed. “Ye wee besom.” He turned to the rest of the group. “Anyone interested in a race? It’s flat as far as the cliff, so we’ll have a braw run.” He raised his voice for the children to hear. “Ye bairns go first.”

  The suggestion received an enthusiastic response. As the youngest members of the party galloped away, Diarmid edged his horse toward the front, ready for the next round.

  “Do you want to race?” Elspeth asked Brody, when he didn’t move.

  “Och, no.” He shook his head. “I want to be alone with ye.”

  She frowned in disapproval. “It doesn’t feel like it. You seem out of sorts.”

  Since Diarmid had shifted out of earshot, Brody wasn’t nearly as grumpy as he had been. Usually he was accounted an easygoing companion. These recent mood swings left him bewildered and edgy. “I dinnae like ye going off with Diarmid,” he muttered.

  “He’s my cousin.”

  “I ken that. But he’s got a way with the ladies. Cannae imagine why. He’s a damned dull dog. Always doing the right thing.”

  “I thought you were friends.”

  “If he keeps making sheep’s eyes at ye, I’ll friend him into a bloody nose.”

  Her eyes rounded, and she turned in the sidesaddle to study him. “My goodness, Brody. Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

  Brody never blushed, so that couldn’t possibly be a blush heating his cheeks. “Did he try and kiss ye?”

  She still regarded him as though he’d lost his mind. Perhaps he had. If love meant a lad’s sanity disintegrated, he could now tell Fergus that he was in love.

  “That’s none of your business,” she said coolly, in a tone that as recently as two days ago, he’d never have imagined hearing from retiring Miss Elspeth Douglas.

  He caught her bridle. “Show me the view across to Skye.”

  “You can see Skye from here,” she said with a dismissive sniff.

  His jaw set in stubborn lines. “I want to see the view Diarmid showed ye.”

  “Rocks tell no tales,” she snapped, although she kept her voice down to avoid attracting notice. “You’ll find no evidence of a flirtation there.”

  Not that their companions paid them any attention. They were too busy urging on the shrieking children who streamed across the ridge.

  “No, but I’ll find a girl who needs a good kissing.”

  She hunched one disdainful shoulder. “I’m not sure I want to kiss you, when you’re in this outlandish humor.”

  “Are ye challenging me, Elspeth?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

  She arched her eyebrows. “No, I’m trying to put you in your place.”

  He grinned at her, suddenly, illogically happy. “Och, lassie, my place is in your arms.”

  “Not if you’re going to stomp around like an angry bear, it’s not.”

  He tightened his hold on her horse’s bridle. “I promise no more stomping.”

  She focused a searching gaze on him. Something in his face must have persuaded her to relent, because a faint smile curved those lush, pink lips. “In that case, Brody, you may show me the view. I think it will be unforgettable.”

  He laughed aloud with elation—and a measure of relief he refused to admit—and steered their horses toward the frosty trees. “I’ll make sure it is, my bonny lass.”

  Chapter 11

  Elspeth struggled to hide a smug smile as Brody hauled her horse through a grove of Scotch pines and out onto the hillside, where hoofprints in the snow showed where she and Diarmid had followed separate paths. If Brody caught her looking too pleased with herself, he might guess just how much she relished his astonishing jealousy.

  Jealousy over her. Plain, mousy Elspeth Douglas, the family afterthought.

  Last night, she’d decided that Brody’s kisses were the most delicious thing that had ever happened to her. Right now, his fuming reaction to her going off with Diarmid gave those kisses some competition.

  How lunatic was he to worry about Diarmid? He was protective of her because he was her cousin, not because he was interested in her in any romantic sense.

  Brody’s nettled response put paid to her mother’s theory that he only pursued her because nobody more attractive was available. When he asked what she’d been up to with her cousin, the temper had all but steamed off him.

  It was unworthy to gloat, but Elspeth wouldn’t be human if she failed to enjoy his confusion. The irony was that if she’d remained that lovelorn ninnyhammer, he still wouldn’t care a whit where she bestowed her kisses.

  This flirtatious game with Brody became more intriguing by the minute.

  He drew the horses up in a hollow and dismounted with the easy grace that had always left her younger self swooning in delight. The smooth, controll
ed power of his descent had a similar effect on the newly self-possessed Elspeth. Although she refused to swoon, because it meant she might miss what came next.

  “I can’t see the Cuillins,” she complained, just to torment him a little more. What a little cat she was turning into.

  A cat was better than a mouse, by heaven.

  “Och, you’ve seen the Cuillins a hundred times before,” he growled, stalking across to seize her by the waist. His ruthless grip turned her blood to hot syrup.

  “You said you’d show me.” She rested gloved hands on his broad shoulders.

  He stared up into her face. Under the curling brim of his hat, the blaze in his green eyes threatened to melt every patch of snow on this mountainside. “You dinnae need to see the Cuillins, when I intend to show ye paradise.”

  “Brave words,” she scoffed, but the tremor in her voice betrayed the desire rushing through her. “Do you have your mistletoe?”

  “To hell with mistletoe.” He lifted her from the saddle to set her on the snowy ground. “Kiss me, Elspeth. You’re all I’ve thought about since last night.”

  Oh, dear heaven. Not even newly self-possessed Elspeth was proof against that impassioned declaration. With a sigh of surrender, she curved her body into his and tangled her fingers in his wild mop of dark curls. The air was cold, and he was so irresistibly warm.

  She brought his head down until his lips met hers. This time there was no preliminary coaxing. His mouth opened over hers, and her gasp of immediate pleasure invited his tongue into her mouth. She felt like he tried to absorb her into himself. With a choked moan, she curled closer.

  He lifted his head. “Kiss me back, Elspeth.”

  She licked her lips. After last night she recognized the tang as the taste of Brody. He groaned and shut his eyes for a moment. Then he gathered her up and began to nip and play at her lips, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and using his teeth to set her tingling. By the time she mustered the courage to copy what he was doing, she trembled, and her legs proved as unreliable as usual.

  “Oh, aye,” he muttered. “Aye, that’s it, lassie.”

  The kisses turned into a teasing contest that set her heart racing with excitement. Every glancing touch stoked the heat between them, until he dragged her up onto her toes and took her mouth with his. This time, she met the sweep of his tongue with a flicker of her own. The thrill left her shocked, and excited and eager for more.

  More…

  More led her onto forbidden paths. Even through the fog of carnal sensation, Elspeth retained just enough connection with reality to know that this passionate kiss swept her over the edge of safety and into perilous territory indeed. Which didn’t stop her from giving a faint whimper of disappointment, when she pulled back from the radiant darkness of his kiss.

  His hands tightened, then she was free. But her knees threatened to fold beneath her, and she staggered. The cold of the snow seeped up through her half-boots as she slipped on the icy ground.

  “God help me,” he muttered. He caught her by the waist, saving her from a fall. When she met his fierce green eyes, she knew he meant to kiss her again.

  “No, Brody,” Elspeth said shakily and placed an equally shaky hand on his powerful chest.

  He was wearing English riding clothes, instead of his kilt. Through black superfine, the heat of his body radiated out to warm her gloved palm. On this freezing day, the temptation to snuggle up against him and bask like a cat in front of a fire was near overwhelming.

  But she wasn’t quite as innocent as she’d been last night when he kissed her. To her regret, she knew that any basking promised more trouble than she was capable of handling.

  “I know. We’re in the middle of a snowy hillside, and most of your family is just over the brae.” Brody looked sheepish and disappointed, and devilishly charming, with a lock of black hair tumbling over his forehead. Some reckless part of her wanted to beg him to kiss her again. To Hades with consequences. “I took things too far. Next time we do this, we should be inside.”

  She released a choked laugh. “It would be altogether wiser if we don’t do this again.”

  His expressive black brows contracted, and he surveyed her down that lordly nose. “You dinnae mean that.”

  “I should.” She’d hoped he understood that their flirtation was a mere diversion, but the passion brimming in that kiss made her wonder if she needed to set out some rules. “Brody, I’m not…”

  The fond smile that twisted his lips only made him more charming. She fought against the premonition that she was doomed to fall under his spell again.

  No, never. What on earth was she saying? Elspeth refused to confuse a few kisses with lifelong devotion. She shuddered at the thought of changing back into that soggy creature who sighed at the merest sight of him. This Christmas, flirting with Brody was fun and a sop to vanity bruised too often and too hard. It wasn’t a gateway to anything permanent.

  “You’re saying that you’re no’ setting up to become my mistress.”

  Flooding relief set her knees wobbling again. He did understand. “That is what I’m saying.”

  “I have some principles.” He gave a grunt of wry amusement. “Anyway, Hamish would have my guts for garters if I seduced his sister.”

  “He would.” She paused. “Not to mention that the sister might have a few objections of her own.”

  That statement was pure bravado. This far, he’d treated the attraction between them lightly. She had a grim feeling that if ever Brody went after her with real intent, she’d melt like butter in the sun. Her virtue, hitherto an unthinking pillar of her existence, wouldn’t survive past the first five minutes.

  He paused, as if bracing himself to say something momentous. Although she couldn’t imagine what that might be. Brody Girvan didn’t deal in momentous statements. Yet another reason why her daydreams of declarations of undying love had been fatuous. Brody liked to skate across the surface of life. Which made him an ideal candidate for a girl testing her wings with a man for the first time.

  Or at least so Elspeth had believed, until today’s kiss flared into a hunger that both frightened and intrigued her.

  “There you are. Why are you two hiding over here?”

  Hamish’s cheerful voice sliced through the portentous atmosphere building between Elspeth and Brody the way a knife cut through rope. Brody stepped away from her and turned to face her brother. “Elspeth wanted to see the Cuillins.”

  Hamish cantered up to them on a fine chestnut gelding. “You can’t see the Cuillins from here. You need to go up the next hill.”

  Elspeth plastered a smile to her face and prayed she didn’t look as disheveled as she felt. “I thought my horse was lame, so we stopped to check. It turns out she’s fine.”

  Had she ever lied to Hamish before? She didn’t think so. Already Brody had a deleterious effect on her morals.

  Hamish shot a meaningful and not entirely friendly glance at Brody. Oh, dear, perhaps she did look as rumpled as she feared. How embarrassing.

  “Is that so?” Hamish didn’t wait for a response. “Everyone’s going back to the castle for mulled wine and carols from the crofters. Are you coming?”

  “Of course,” Brody responded with an ease that she resented, however unreasonable that might be. His smooth manner was an unpleasant reminder that romantic intrigues were bread and butter to him. Elspeth Douglas was just one more lady on a long list. There would be plenty of conquests to follow her.

  When he caught her waist, she couldn’t help stiffening.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

  “Nothing,” she replied in a low voice, knowing she was being absurd. He didn’t owe her anything, let alone eternal fidelity.

  Those green eyes were searching. “Are ye sure?”

  “Hamish is watching.”

  “Ah.” He spoke more loudly. “Let me help ye onto your mount, Elspeth.”

  With easy strength, he tossed her into the saddle and passed her the reins
. “Meet me in the library tonight,” he murmured as he checked her stirrups.

  Her hands curled hard on the reins. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “No, it’s not a good idea.” The brilliant smile he flashed her had her foolish heart turning cartwheels, and that annoyed her, too. “It’s an excellent idea.”

  “Brody…”

  He caught her gloved hand and pressed it. Those glittering eyes sought and held hers. The breath jammed in her throat, and her head swam with a thousand brazen possibilities. For an instant, he didn’t look like a man who took life’s finer things for granted. He looked like a man stretched to the point of agony on the rack of desire. “Please.”

  Her lips flattened, as she struggled to keep a grip on reality. She was reluctant to trust her instincts about Brody. After all, only a few days ago, she hadn’t been sure he even knew her name. “Perhaps.”

  “Hurry up, you two,” Hamish snapped. “It’s cold as a witch’s tit out here.”

  Elspeth at last had something other than kisses to blame for her blushes. “Hamish!”

  He shrugged, unaffected by her scolding. “You’ve heard me say worse.”

  “To my regret, I have. And that’s nothing for you to be proud of.”

  Brody bent to pick up his flat-crowned beaver hat. Oh, dear. She must have knocked it off when she kissed him. How she hoped that her fiendishly intelligent brother didn’t wonder what necessitated the removal of Brody’s hat. Or resulted in Brody’s hair falling about his face in untidy ebony waves.

  She cast a quick glance at her brother’s set face and saw that her hopes were in vain. Heat stung her cheeks, as she made a great show of patting her horse.

  “Let’s go.” Hamish’s voice turned as cold as the snow that stretched all around them. Without waiting for Brody to mount, he wheeled around and cantered away. To preserve appearances, however futile the gesture, Elspeth urged her mare to follow.

  Chapter 12