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

This onslaught of masculine interes

t was all too heady for her. And unfair. Not to mention a little cruel. Because while Elspeth might have banished her ludicrous adolescent tendre for him, she wasn’t immune to his appeal. While every minute proved that she’d aimed way above her touch when she’d set her sights on him.

Resentment sneaked out to color her response. “Does it matter what I think, when you’re so convinced yourself?”

He looked startled and for a moment, she caught a hint of what might be injured feelings. Then his eyes sharpened in a way that sent a chill of disquiet rushing down her spine. “There’s more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there, Elspeth?”

“I hope so,” she retorted.

“I look forward to unwrapping the layers.”

It seemed she possessed a wanton imagination. Who would have guessed? While she knew he couldn’t mean those words in a literal sense, she couldn’t help picturing him removing her clothes, and…

Elspeth stumbled, and his grip on her waist tightened. She hoped to heaven she wasn’t blushing, but when she met knowing dark eyes, she was sure she was.

“Watch your step,” he murmured.

“Oh, I will,” she said, finding her balance again.

She waited for another mocking response, but instead he led her through a series of dizzying turns that set her heart racing. It was almost worse when he didn’t talk. The silence left her too conscious of that tall, elegant body moving close to hers. He looked marvelous in the kilt, as rugged and untamed as this beautiful land where he belonged.

Because the dance was informal, they weren’t wearing gloves as they would at a society ball. With her hand resting in his, she couldn’t ignore his warmth and strength. The very air conspired against her. Every breath she took was tinged with the tangy essence of Brody. It was a good thing she’d decided to outgrow her love for him, because if she hadn’t, she’d soon go quite daft.

“What are ye thinking about?” he asked softly.

“The scenery,” she said, which was true, if not the whole truth.

A brief huff of amusement escaped him. “That’s a shame. When we dance, I want you to think of me.”

She shot him a critical stare. “You’re flirting again.”

He shrugged and swept her into another turn. “I can’t help myself. Every time I do, ye look like a startled deer.”

It was her turn to laugh, although with a hint of chagrin. “Given you couldn’t remember my name this morning, you can’t blame me for finding your behavior a little puzzling.”

He didn’t smile but subjected her to an assessing stare that had her blushing again, although she wasn’t sure why. “Of course I remembered your name.” He paused. “And if I’ve been guilty of overlooking you in the past, that’s because you set out to be overlooked.”

His perception surprised her. She’d always been in awe of his spectacular looks. Now she wondered if she’d misjudged the brain behind those cool green eyes. Fergus was clever. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that Brody was, too.

Was there a chance that she’d underestimated him, just as he’d underestimated her?

The waltz came to an end and saved her from having to respond to his last uncomfortable remark. Charles was closing the music and standing up from the piano. Marina and Fergus devoured one another with their eyes. The others stood around, talking and laughing.

Elspeth waited for Brody to lead her off the dance floor, but he kept his hand on her waist, anchoring her to the spot. “I suppose I should let ye go.”

Drat. This time, she was sure she looked like a startled deer, much as she disliked the description. “It’s bedtime.”

He gave a mock groan. “I know.”

She frowned. “You’re being wicked again.”

“Aye, I am.” His smile was unrepentant. “Can I see ye tomorrow?”

She should move away, return to her mother, but some weak, female part of her liked the possessive weight of his hand on her waist. “Of course you’ll see me tomorrow. It’s not as if I’ll get lost in the crowd. There are only eleven people in the party, if you don’t count the children.”

He was staring at her as if he’d like to eat her up. Almost like Fergus stared at his wife.

She shivered. Her romantic interest in Brody had been a young girl’s ardent passion for an unattainable prince, essentially innocent. But today, something had changed between them. The attraction she felt—that any woman would feel, she assured herself—was much more adult.