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

“Mamma thinks it was.”

He sat down opposite her. “If you dinnae mind my saying so, Lady Glen Lyon seemed to enjoy the theatrics of it all.”

To his surprise, the corners of her lips deepened in a ghost of a smile. He’d wondered if she’d ever smile at him again. “I don’t mind you saying so at all. It’s true. I’m hoping this morning, that she’s thought better of banishing me from the Douglas fold. I suspect she’ll sulk for a couple of days and cast a pall over everyone’s Christmas, before she decides that things aren’t as dire as she thought.”

“She sounded pretty convincing when she disowned ye.”

“Yes. But as you say, our crime wasn’t so heinous. Given any scandal will stay within the family and only Marina saw the worst of it, I’m sure Mamma will come to terms with a scarlet woman for a daughter.”

He gave a grunt of disagreement. “You’re no’ a scarlet woman.”

“No, I’m not. I’m a fool.”

The bitter little admission revived his scowl. “What in Hades does that mean?”

She slid the fresh cup of coffee in front of her and stared down at it with the same discontentment she’d directed at her tea. “It means I should have known better than to think I could have a brief and harmless flirtation with a handsome man, without suffering any nasty consequences.”

Brody inhaled through his teeth, as the sting in her comment found its target. “Are ye saying marrying me counts as a nasty consequence?”

Slowly she raised her eyes to study him. “Aren’t you?”

“No, by heaven, I’m not. I want to marry ye.”

The smile that twisted her lips astonished him, and made him feel sick to the stomach. It was calm and jaded and utterly joyless. “That’s gallant of you, Brody.”

“For God’s sake, lassie, I’m nae being gallant. I mean it.”

Her eyebrows rose at his fervor. “Then you’re not thinking straight. We’d be terrible together.”

“We weren’t terrible when we kissed.”

“That’s because you’re very good at kissing.” She’d been pale when he came in, but now a faint pink tinged her cheeks, reminding him of the rosy, passionate creature in his arms last night. “It’s not because of anything I did.”

“You show great promise for a beginner.” More than promise. Her burgeoning passion had sent him up in flames. God help him when she got a bit of expertise under her belt.

“Thank you, but a few kisses are no basis for a lifetime together.”

Despite the fraught moment, her prim response made him smile. “Och, we have more than that.”

“No, we don’t,” Elspeth said, with a bleak finality that made his heart shrivel to the size of a pebble.

“I like ye.” He knew the moment called for a stronger declaration, but under that steady brown gaze, his courage failed him.

“I like you, too. But I don’t want to be the woman you’re forced to marry.”

“I’d planned to ask ye to marry me before last night.”

For a moment, Brody wondered if his confession might sway her. The brief spark in her eyes faded, and she shook her head with a weary tolerance that made him want to smash his cousin’s expensive porcelain breakfast service to dust. “You’re being kind again.”

“No, I’m not. It’s true.”

How the hell was he making such a mull of this? He’d always thought he had a way with the lassies. Elspeth had liked him enough to kiss him. Why the deuce didn’t she like him enough to marry him?

“Then thank you,” she murmured.

“Does that mean you’ll say yes?” he asked without much hope.

“No, it doesn’t. We have nothing in common. I’m a quiet little mouse, and you’re a sophisticated man of the world. I’d bore you to tears before the ink dried on the marriage lines. Don’t be fooled by Marina and Sandra’s handiwork. I’m still Hamish’s dull little sister.”