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

He surveyed her with incredulous disfavor. “Because I can’t resist my habit of flirting, even for a couple of days, and ye were the only candidate? Although you dinnae meet my usual standards, I was so desperate, I’d have to make do?”

She winced at his sarcasm, and a pretty flush colored her cheeks. “It sounds absurd when you say it like that.”

“Aye, it sounds absurd, because it is.” He sighed and stretched his legs out across the wooden floor. “And to think everyone tells me you’re clever.”

Her gaze dug down into his soul. Before he fell in love with Elspeth, he’d never given his soul much thought. Now he hoped to hell that she didn’t find it as wanting as he feared.

“Brody, I’m not clever about you,” she said in a muted voice. “I never have been. I’m sorry I was so mean to you at breakfast.”

He hid a shudder. “You werenae too bad—if ye wanted a man to leave you in a rush to cut his throat.”

She grimaced and took a step closer. “I didn’t know you cared then.”

“I care,” he said in a low voice. “More than I’ve ever cared for anything in my worthless, self-indulgent life.”

She studied him, as if she discerned hidden depths in him nobody else ever had. “Hamish says you cared before Marina made me look pretty.”

“Good God, Elspeth, is that what all this is about? I told you—you were bonny, even before ye spruced yourself up.”

She touched her severe hair. “Didn’t you like it?”

An unamused huff of laughter escaped him. “Only because the rest of the world saw you, too. I didn’t need the competition.”

The tension leached from her expression, and warmth softened her brown eyes. She sat beside him again and took his hand. “Oh, Brody, that’s lovely.”

He stared at her in frustration. She’d held him off long enough. Especially now he was sure—or almost—that she loved him. “It would be even lovelier if you put me out of my misery and tell me you love me.”

She looked startled. “But I did.”

“Only in passing, and only in terms that made you sound ashamed of how you feel.”

She raised his hand and kissed his knuckles. The brief touch of her lips shuddered through him and made his heart crash against his ribs in a tempest of longing. “I love you, Brody.”

He’d pretty much bullied her into saying it, but the words he’d ached to hear carved an Elspeth-shaped hole inside him. “You do?”

“I’ve always loved you.” Her smile was shaky, and she stared into his eyes with a shy sincerity that reminded him of the girl he’d first met. “The miracle is that I think you might just love me back.”

The weight of failure and misery that had dogged him all day began to lift. He stood and drew her up to face him. “If ye think anything else, you’re not the canny lassie I credit you to be.”

Those large, glowing eyes examined his face, and for the first time, he read the light as love. At last, invincible hope unfurled inside him like a banner of victory. “I haven’t felt too canny over the last few days.”

Brody tightened his grip on her hand and angled in to kiss her. When her lips fluttered against his, he

restrained the urge to deepen the kiss. They’d always had desire, but right now, words alone had the power to bring them together. As he drew away, she made a faint sound of complaint.

“I love you, lassie,” he murmured.

The first time he’d told her, she hadn’t believed him, not really. With every repetition, he saw acceptance seep into her skin, settle in her bones, claim a place in her valiant heart. By the time they’d spent fifty years together and he’d told her ten thousand times, his love would be an indelible part of her.

“I love you, Brody,” she replied, with a tender fervor that banished the last of his unhappiness. Not just over the last few days, but the difficult months before. He knew now he’d been restless for a good reason. He’d outgrown the pursuits of his youth, and had started to seek a lifelong purpose.

In Elspeth, he’d found that purpose. Gratitude turned his tone reverent. “How I’ve longed to hear ye say that.”

A faint frown crossed her face. “Why didn’t you tell me you loved me last night?”

He grimaced. “In front of that crowd—and with ye looking like your world had ended?”

“My world had ended.” Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I’d just realized that I was still in love with a man who would never care for me, yet who felt honor-bound to shackle us together for life. I couldn’t imagine a surer recipe for a wretched future.”