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

“I came to warn you that Hamish is looking for both of you.” Marina stretched out her hand. “I’ll take you upstairs, Elspeth. A few minutes with a brush and comb, and Sandra and I will soon have you looking the thing again.”

“I’m sorry, Marina.” The misery in her voice made Brody want to punch the wall. He hated to see her shame as she went back to fiddling—without much effect—at her sagging bodice. “You must be disgusted.”

Tolerant affection warmed Marina’s laugh. “Don’t be a goose, cara. I know how mutual attraction makes the rest of the world disappear. None better. Per Dio, Fergus and I can’t keep our hands off one another either.”

“But that’s all right. You’re in love,” Elspeth mumbled, and Brody cast her a sharp glance. What the deuce was going through that canny head? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

“Well, yes,” Marina said slowly, looking from Brody to Elspeth and back again.

Elspeth took an unsteady step nearer to Brody. She’d managed to cover her bosom at last. “Take your coat back, or people will wonder what’s been going on.”

“Aye, I suppose so,” he muttered, still puzzling over what she’d said.

“I’m sorry, Brody.” She shrugged out of the coat and extended it toward him with a trembling hand. “I encouraged you.”

“Dinnae be a wee fool, Elspeth.” He scowled at her, although what he most wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms and tell her that everything would be all right. “We were both caught up in the magic.”

“You’re too kind,” she said, and he loathed how she shrank from him as he accepted the coat.

Devil take it. This wasn’t what he wanted. Elspeth was acting as if they’d killed someone.

Although thank God Marina had come in. If she hadn’t, Elspeth would be compromised by now. With the woman he wanted stretched out beneath him and her breast in his hand, he’d been ready to send good intentions to Hades.

“I’m not bloody kind,” Brody snapped.

“Smetti subito. We don’t have time to quarrel.” Marina put her arm around Elspeth’s shoulders and steered her toward the door. “We’ll get you tidied up, cara, and nobody need be any the wiser that you and Brody shared a couple of kisses.”

Hell’s bells, she spoke too soon. Before Marina could open the door, it swung wide to reveal Hamish. Brody’s gut knotted with guilt and exasperation. One minute more, and they would have been safe.

Bright blue eyes conducted a quick survey of the room’s occupants, before they slowed to take a more comprehensive look. “What on earth is going on here, Brody?”

“We all wanted a chat away from the crowd,” Marina said, but it was too late to hide what had happened. Brody hadn’t yet put his coat on, and he was sure his hair must reveal how Elspeth had combed her fingers through it. Worse, Elspeth shrank away from Marina, like a thief caught in the act. While her bosom was now covered, her kiss-swollen lips, tumbling mass of hair, and crushed silk gown made her appear well and truly seduced.

“Hamish, it’s nothing,” she stam

mered, wringing her hands.

Ignoring her unconvincing intervention, her brother strode into the library. Without looking, he shoved Elspeth and Marina out of the way, so he could confront Brody face to face. He bristled with outrage.

“What the hell have you done to her, you bastard?” Hamish’s fists clenched at his sides. “You couldn’t damn well help yourself, could you?”

Brody stared into his friend’s face, and wished he could claim the moral high ground. Instead shame coiled acrid and cold in his belly. Hamish had every right to be angry. By heaven, if Marina had interrupted them half an hour later, Elspeth’s virtue would be in tatters.

“Control yourself, Hamish,” Brody said.

“Control myself?” Hamish asked on a rising note. “What in hell gives you the right to say that to me?”

“Devil take ye, do what you like to me, but let your sister go to her room first.” Brody shifted across to put his arm around Elspeth, who looked close to collapse. “Don’t be afraid, lassie.”

To his dismay, she wriggled out from underneath his arm, and her response was tart. “You’re not helping.”

“Elspeth…” He sent her a confused glance, then turned to Hamish, spreading his hands. “I’m sorry, old man. I got carried away.”

“I’d like to carry you away to a good hiding.” As he caught Brody’s shoulder and forced him further apart from Elspeth, Hamish’s voice deepened to a caustic bass that bounced off the walls.

“Hamish, stop it.” Elspeth squeezed between the two men. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

“No, you’re the one who’s made a fool of yourself,” he snapped.