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

“No, I need to talk to Elspeth on my own,” Brody said, his tone dogged.

Diarmid shoved his way through the crowd in the doorway, his impressive jaw stuck in a belligerent jut. “By God, that’s the last thing we want.”

This far, Brody had kept control of his temper, so Elspeth was surprised at his flaring anger as he turned on her cousin. “You stay out of this, ye interfering bastard.”

“I wish to hell you’d kept out of this and far away from her.”

“What Elspeth and I do is no concern of yours.”

Two large, powerful males faced up to one another. Fear joined the wild turmoil of emotions already churning in Elspeth’s stomach. If anyone she loved was hurt as a result of her misbehavior, she’d never forgive herself.

“She’s my cousin, and I willnae stand by and watch a rake debauch her,” her cousin growled.

“Diarmid!” Elspeth protested. “Will you listen to me? Nobody has debauched anyone. You’re letting your imagination run away with you.”

“And your bloody mouth as well,” Brody said, still squaring up as if preparing to throw a punch.

“Stop it, both of ye.” Fergus stepped in between the two men. “All this huffing and puffing isn’t helping.”

“You’re wrong there,” Diarmid said stiffly. “Pounding this bugger into the ground would help me a lot.”

Brody’s lip curled in a sneer. “I’d like to see ye try.”

“I wouldn’t,” Marina insisted.

“Nor would I,” Elspeth said.

“Elspeth you’re too young to realize what this lout is capable of,” Diarmid said, without looking at her.

“Diarmid, stop it. Brody’s your friend, and he deserves better from you. You’ve said quite enough, even though I appreciate your defense of my virtue.” Which wasn’t entirely true. She was biting back the impulse to clout her cousin. Not only was he making a bad situation worse, but he hovered close to calling her a mouse. She’d rather be seen as a loose woman than the nonentity she used to be.

“Elspeth—” he began, but she spoke over him, tired of the battle of male egos, tired of the accusing looks, just…tired.

“I think you’ve all said quite enough.” To her surprise, she didn’t sound like she was about to scream.

“You cannae—” Brody wasn’t giving up.

Nor was she. “Right now, I’d like all of you to leave me alone. I’ve said I won’t marry Brody. No harm’s been done.” Except to her heart, and she just had to live with that. “The matter’s at an end.”

“Far from it,” Hamish objected. “You mightn’t care for your good name, but I do.”

“Then stop acting like a buffle-headed idiot and making such a ridiculous scene,” Elspeth snapped back.

Her hard-won composure was disintegrating. She couldn’t take much more of this—she’d spent her life avoiding conflict; shouting always made her feel sick—but if she showed the slightest sign of weakness, the family would fall on her like jackals attacking a wounded antelope. They’d insist that she accept Brody as her husband and as she weakened under the pressure, she might fall in with their plans. That meant disaster.

“Unless you marry Brody, you’ll be a pariah,” her mother said, in a portentous voice that sent foreboding oozing down her backbone.

“But, Mamma, nothing happened,” she said, knowing that her mother had gone past the point of listening. “You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting, am I?” Her mother’s lips tightened in self-righteous anger. “See if you feel the same when you no longer have a home to come to.”

The buzz of whispers in the room faded to nothing, and everyone turned in shock to Lady Glen Lyon. Elspeth’s mother’s face was set like stone and indicated that cannons wouldn’t shift her on this issue.

“Are you threatening to disown me, Mamma?” Elspeth asked, appalled and incredulous. How on earth had everything come to this?

“I don’t see why you should take things that far, Lady Glen Lyon.” Marina once more put an arm around Elspeth’s shoulders. “I promise you that when I came in, I saw nothing beyond a little harmless flirtation.”

“Then why was Hamish so exercised about what he discovered?”