The Laird’s Christmas Kiss (The Lairds Most Likely 2)

“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.