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

“Is that…is that it?” she asked unsteadily from behind him. “‘I love you, Elspeth,’ then it’s back to life as usual?”

He didn’t turn around. An acrid brew of desire, misery, and futile yearning churned in his belly. If he looked into her eyes, he didn’t trust himself not to grab her, even though he knew she didn’t return his love.

“There is no life as usual since ye turned my world upside down.” He shifted to unbuckle the bridle, patting Perseus when he’d finished. The horse whickered and bumped his noble head against Brody’s shoulder. “Good boy. I’ll wager you’re delighted we’re no’ going anywhere.”

“So am I,” Elspeth said in a small voice.

Because Brody couldn’t imagine she meant that, he didn’t answer as he pushed past her to fetch a bin of oats. He took his time. He hoped that when he came back, she’d be gone. Having her close, yet out of reach was agony.

Elspeth was waiting for him. Along with a revival of her militant mood. Her arms crossed over her lush bosom, and her eyebrows lowered in reproof. “Brody, I know looking after your horse is important, but do you think you could stand still long enough to talk to me?”

“We’ve been talking. Last night. This morning. Now.” He filled Perseus’s manger and patted the glossy bay neck again as the horse buried his nose in the oats. “It hasnae done me a wee ounce of good.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said softly.

This time, something in her tone pierced his thick veil of unhappiness, and he did at last give her his full attention. By God, looking at her hurt. It hurt like hell. It was a bitter reminder of everything he wanted but would never have.

“I told ye I loved you.” He cursed the hint of surliness in his voice.

“Yes, you did.” He couldn’t read her expression, but her stance hinted that she was torn between running, or staying to battle it out. At least she wasn’t looking quite so much like William Wallace addressing his troops before they mounted a raid on the invading Sassenachs.

One thing was certain. She didn’t look like a girl who had discovered that her love was returned.

She bit her lip. “Did you mean it?”

Brody stifled an angry response. After all, his bad reputation with the lassies was nobody’s fault but his own. She had no particular reason to trust him, even if he wished to Hades she did. “Aye.”

Something changed in her brown eyes, although her expression remained wary. So he was surprised when she reached out to take his hand. Wee Elspeth never initiated contact, although when he held her in his arms, she followed his lead with breathtaking alacrity.

Her touch shuddered through him like a gunshot, jolting his aching heart into an unsteady jog. Being with her when she didn’t love him was excruciating. He began to wish he’d ignored her and headed out into the snow when he had the chance.

“Come over here and talk to me,” she murmured. “I’m sick of fighting Perseus for your attention.”

“You’re playing with fire, lassie.” His lips flattened, although he didn’t try to pull away. Pride told him to send her to the devil, but he didn’t listen to it. This might be the last time Elspeth held his hand. He’d be damned if he cut the contact short. “I’m an inch away from flinging ye over my saddle and kidnapping you away to Invermackie.”

He’d expected that to spark outrage, but to his surprise, she laughed. At the sweet sound, the turmoil in his soul eased to a mere storm, instead of a hurricane that promised to devastate everything within reach. “I might like that.”

What on earth? That almost sounded promising. “Would ye?” he asked on a skeptical note.

She squeezed his fingers. “Perhaps you can try it, after I’ve talked to you.”

The last twenty-four hours had left Brody too battered for optimism, but nonetheless, a cautious hope began to sprout inside him. That tentative hope and his curiosity kept him cooperative as she led him across to a bale of hay in an alcove near the tack room.

Elspeth sat and drew him down beside her. He hardly dared speak for fear that this fragile truce might shatter.

How the mighty had fallen. Before he fell in love with Elspeth, he’d never been uncertain with the lassies. But then, no other woman had mattered to him the way his wee wren did. One false move, and she’d flutter away forever.

For the first time since that fraught scene in the library, he started to wonder if the situation was as irreparable as he’d believed. By now, he’d expected to be well on the way across the hills, cold outside and in. A broken heart chilled a man’s blood. Yet he was still here, because she’d asked him not to go. Now she held his hand in her lap and idly played with it as if she had every right to touch him.

At the other end of the stables, Jock whistled as he worked, while this hidden corner offered a haven of privacy. On most days, the stables bustled with activity, but on this snowy Christmas Eve, his cousin had given the grooms a holiday.

Brody waited for her to make good on her promise to talk to him, but she seemed content to sit near him and hold his hand. The suspense reached such a pitch, he could no longer stay silent. “Elspeth lassie, if you’ve brought me here just to let me down again, I’d rather be out in the snow with only the wind for company.”

She stared down at his hand in hers, her expression pensive. With painful longing, his gaze fixed on her delicate profile. How bonny she was. The bonniest girl he’d ever seen. He must have been blind not to see that Hamish’s quiet wee sister was a jewel awaiting discovery.

“I need to make a confession,” she said softly.

“Oh?”