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

“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.”