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

Brody stared down at his roast beef and thought about what Elspeth had said. She was right. Why the devil was he ready to exile himself from his home and waste his youth in tawdry pursuits? Not that the pursuits had felt tawdry at the time. He’d thoroughly enjoyed his libertine days, but he was well overdue to move on to more mature activities.

After his father’s death, Invermackie had seemed lonely and empty, and Brody had left it to escape his grief. He’d also felt like an imposter whenever anyone addressed him as the laird. As far as he was concerned, the laird was his father, even if he lay buried in the churchyard.

But for the last two years, the house had waited in its hidden glen for him to return and fill it with family and laughter and joy. At last, now he’d settled his interest on Elspeth, he saw a chance for that to happen.

As he started to eat, he prayed his wee wren would marry him, and live on his estate, and turn the sad, empty shell of Invermackie House into a home once more.

***

The party went late, as the guests lingered downstairs to celebrate Ugolino and Giulia’s nuptials. By the time Elspeth had danced her last reel and sung her last Christmas carol, she was weary. Not to mention a little unsteady on her feet. She wasn’t used to strong spirits, and Fergus had encouraged her to toast the happy couple with a dram or two of whisky.

She remained keyed up. It had been a long day, brimming with excitement and nerves. And compliments on her appearance, although the admiration in Brody’s eyes had done the most to convince her that the change was to her advantage.

How she’d enjoyed their talk at dinner. What an interesting man he was, once he sloughed off the rakish shell. She mightn’t pine after him anymore, but she appreciated a chance to know him better. The longing in his voice as he spoke of Invermackie had made her ache to race over those golden sands with him at her side.

He said he headed home after Hogmanay. She hoped when he did, he found the peace he sought. Because somewhere in the last few days, she’d come to see that despite his carefully cultivated air of insouciance, he was unhappy. She wished she could do something to ease his care—purely as a friend. Despite his teasing remarks

about kissing, she’d relinquished all ambitions to become his lover.

Perhaps they inched toward a genuine friendship now because she’d given up her romantic dreams. Before this, she’d been too shy and adoring to engage him in anything approaching a real conversation.

As the guests drifted through the holly-bedecked hall in search of their beds, Elspeth looked for him. She’d love to hear more about Invermackie and what it had been like to grow up there. But he must have already gone upstairs. Or more likely he’d sneaked away to smoke a cigar and escape the endless seasonal cheer. He wasn’t a man who liked an early night, she’d noticed.

Still, it was disappointing not to wish him good night and bask in his presence. Some female element inside her couldn’t help responding to the seductive charm in those green eyes, so striking with his ruffled dark hair.

Feeling a little out of sorts, which was odd when she’d spent the rest of the evening on top of the world, she trudged toward the stairs. Then she started as a strong hand curled around her arm.

“Come away with me, lassie,” a husky voice murmured in her ear. “The evening’s no’ over for ye yet, wee Elspeth. Not by a long shot.”

Chapter 9

“Brody,” Elspeth squeaked, doing nothing to stop him from hauling her into the morning room to the left of the magnificent carved oak staircase. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Whisht, lassie,” he whispered. “We’ve only got a minute. If you’re late upstairs, people will want to ken why.”

When she shivered, she wasn’t sure whether it was from cold or excitement. Through the fine silk of her dress, his grip on her waist was warm and possessive. The morning room, on the other hand, wasn’t. The fire was only lit in here during the day.

“I want to know why, too,” she said, although she kept her voice to a murmur.

He held up a sprig of something green and waved it in front of her nose. “I want to test out Ugolino’s magic plant.”

This time the shiver was definitely a thrill. A handsome laird bustled her away to steal a kiss. What a perfect end to an evening where nobody had even thought to call her a mouse. “You want to kiss me?”

“I do indeed.” She caught the flash of a reckless smile, before he pushed the door shut and trapped her in darkness vibrant with anticipation. In the closed room, the scent of pine from the Christmas greenery around the walls was heady enough to make her dizzy.

Or perhaps the pine branches had nothing at all to do with her giddiness.

“I’ve never been kissed,” she said softly.

His groan came from somewhere above her. He’d moved closer. Her eyes slowly adjusted, and she made out the shape of his tall, lean body against the black. “Dinnae say things like that. What about all those kisses under the mistletoe ye told me about?”

“I was about six. I don’t think they count.” She paused. “I suppose you think it’s shocking that I’ve never kissed a man the way a woman does.”

“No, not shocking, arousing.” When he shaped his hands around her face, the air jammed in her throat. “And cruel when I only have ye to myself for a minute or two.”

The hands cradling her face were unsteady, and he was close enough for her to hear the erratic rhythm of his breath. In her wildest dreams, she’d never imagined Brody Girvan saying such things or shaking with need for her.

The Brody of her girlish fantasies had been a poor-spirited creature, who spouted bad poetry and begged for the privilege of holding her hand. The real version was much more dynamic and enthralling. It was a good thing she didn’t love him anymore, or she’d be quite beside herself and likely to do something stupid.