The Highlander's Christmas Quest (The Lairds Most Likely 5)

She’d almost reeked of competence, not to mention offering a man the sweetest little armful he was likely to meet south of Cape Wrath.

He suspected Miss Macbain could do most things as well as a man. She’d never need rescuing, by God. If her father was lunatic enough to stick her in a tower, she’d dismantle the building stone by stone to get out.

"I’m impressed," he said neutrally. And he was.

Miss Macbain was altogether an impressive creature. She’d never cling to a man and rely on his strength to protect her from a dangerous world.

"My Kirsty will take ye around and help you find what you need."

"I couldnae trouble her more than I have already."

Dougal didn’t want to spend the day with Miss Macbain. In fact, some powerful instinct told him that the less time he passed in her company, the better.

Since he’d decided to rescue Fair Ellen, his mind had been fixed and pure. Now he only had to glance across the table to meet Kirsty Macbain’s bright eyes and that glorious purpose shivered and threatened to crack in two, just like his mast last night.

No, the sooner he abandoned the charms of Askaval, the better. If he could swim to bloody Innish from here, by the devil, he would. Perhaps a couple of hours up to his neck in cold water would do him good.

"It’s nae trouble," she said, as he’d known she would.

"And perhaps in return, you’ll stay long enough to help us decorate the house for the Christmas party," Gus said. "It’s the tradition here for everyone to come together for a ceilidh on Christmas night to celebrate the Savior’s birth. It’s a sad thought that you’ll miss it."

And just out of blind obstinacy, too. His host didn’t need to speak the words aloud.

Dougal knew when he was beaten. He’d already taken such advantage of Askaval’s hospitality, not even a man embarked on a sacred quest could refuse to offer his aid when his host specifically asked for it.

"Aye, I’d be glad to." He didn’t mean a word of it.

"And you’ll stay with us tonight? It’s too dangerous to set out with the seas as high as they are."

"Aye, I’ll stay tonight." He winced when he heard how grudging he sounded. He mustered a smile. "Helping with your Christmas preparations is the least I can do to repay your generosity. But if I can fix the damage to the boat today, I must be away tomorrow."

He waited for a protest, but Gus nodded. "Och, that’s braw. We’ll see what tomorrow brings, laddie. As ye discovered last night, there’s no predicting what happens in the Hebrides."

Chapter 4

Dougal stood back from the nail he’d just hammered into the gunwale and felt a weary satisfaction at a job well done. He’d avoided the call of the comfortable bed in his luxurious bedroom, although he was feeling stupid with tiredness. Instead, he and Miss Macbain had worked on the Kestrel all morning and into the afternoon. The little vessel returned to her bonny self. Even her mast was back in place. Och, that had been a big job, and he’d appreciated Miss Macbain’s assistance.

"I think that’s the lot."

Miss Macbain looked up from where she patched a sail she’d brought from Tigh na Mara. "You’ll be able to go tomorrow after all."

He watched the way her capable hands wielded the big sailor’s needle. As the day proceeded, he’d found it harder and harder to meet her gaze. Something about those shining silver eyes made his heart behave in the oddest way. Leaping. Skipping beats. Rolling over like a seal pup playing in the waves.

It wasn’t exactly an unpleasant sensation, but nor was it conducive to keeping a man’s mind on his ultimate goals. For quite a bit of the afternoon, he hadn’t thought of Fair Ellen and her plight at all. Instead earthly concerns had distracted him. The drape of blue skirts over a sweet female rump. The way a bodice tightened over the sweetest, roundest bosom it had ever been his privilege to see when a pretty girl stretched to hammer in a tack.

Once a man dedicated himself to a great cause, no lassie’s charms should divert him. But diverted he’d been, to the point where a couple of hours’ work had taken much longer than it should have.

"Aye, with luck the sea will be calm enough for sailing. Thank ye for your help. I couldnae have finished so quickly without you."

Her father hadn’t exaggerated her skills as a shipwright. And she, unlike Dougal, had managed to keep her mind on the job. She’d been good company, too. Too good, in fact. It seemed yet another subtle betrayal of his quest to relish another girl’s quick wit and interesting conversation.

"I’m happy to give what aid I can." She cut the coarse thread with a pair of scissors and held up the last of her mending to check it.

"Even though you’re convinced I’m on a fool’s errand?" he asked dryly, despite having sworn never to bring up the subject again.

She shrugged and set the sail aside as she stood. "It’s no’ my errand, though, is it?"

Dougal smiled, even as he wished his boat was as big as a galleon. That had been another of the day’s difficulties. No place in the hull offered him sanctuary from the lassie’s alluring scent. Worse, as they moved about the boat, he couldn’t avoid brushing against her. Each time, heat blasted him and threatened to incinerate all thought of Fair Ellen. He’d be damned glad when he set sail tomorrow and he could go back to thinking about how to rescue his lady.