The Laird’s Christmas Kiss (The Lairds Most Likely 2)
Right now, the night’s events didn’t feel like that. Brody’s proposal, when he spoke the words she’d longed to hear for so many years, still felt like the worst moment in her life.
“If she doesn’t forgive you, remember you have friends.”
Elspeth mustered a shaky smile for this woman, who was generous enough to champion her. “Thank you.”
“Now I think you want to be alone to have a good cry.” Marina’s voice developed a practical note. “Time for bed.”
“You’ve been too good to me.”
Another Continental sound expressing dismissal. “I like you.”
“I like you, too,” she said huskily.
“I’m glad, bambina.” Marina kissed her cheek and squeezed her shoulder in reassurance. “Now try and sleep. There’s nothing more to be done tonight. Fretting never did anyone any good.”
Elspeth felt as wrung out as an old dishcloth, but despite her exhaustion, she knew a night of fretting was inevitable. She summoned another smile, even shakier than the last. “Who would have thought the family would throw me out on my ear for my licentious behavior?”
“Si, who knew?” Marina released a soft huff of laughter. “I suspect you still have the capacity to surprise all of us.”
“I surprised everyone tonight,” she said, in a voice thick with unshed tears. She couldn’t help remembering her mother’s coldness, and Hamish’s rage, and Brody’s brave attempt to save her from scandal. That had been the most difficult of all to bear.
“That’s not necessarily such a terrible thing, cara. Now, go to bed. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. A day of transformation and hope.”
“I don’t feel very Christmassy,” she admitted.
If she could, she’d run away from her family and her duty and every mistake she’d made. She’d escape from the horrid memory of Brody’s unconvincing proposal, and even worse his unconcealed astonishment when she said no. His astonishment and more upsetting, his hurt.
Most of all, she wanted to escape the knowledge that everything she’d done and said during the last few days turned out to be a pack of pathetic lies. She’d decided she would no longer love Brody Girvan. She’d believed that she could dabble in a flirtation, without risking her heart or her honor.
Tonight’s fiasco proved both predictions tragically false.
“Let’s see what the morning brings.” Marina watched her, still with that understanding expression softening her dark eyes. “I’ll walk you to your room and fight off anyone who might lie in wait.”
Elspeth’s response was closer to a sob than a laugh. “I couldn’t bear another scolding.”
“No scoldings, ragazza. Not tonight. My word as a Scotswoman. Even if I’m a Scotswoman only by adoption.”
Chapter 14
After that turbulent scene in the library, Brody didn’t sleep a wink. He hadn’t suffered a restless night over a female since those adolescent days when he’d been head over heels in love with Polly Macrae. If a week ago, someone had told him that the next woman to torment his nights would be Hamish’s mousy sister, he’d have laughed in their face.
By God, he wasn’t laughing now.
In fact, as he came downstairs in the dark, with the hope of catching Elspeth at breakfast, he had the strangest conviction that his sole chance of happiness depended on persuading this stubborn, unusual, gorgeous girl that she must marry him. Even more lowering for a man credited as a devil with the ladies, he was far from convinced that he would prevail.
As he’d expected and despite the early hour, Elspeth sat alone in the morning room, staring into a cup of tea with a disconsolate expression. A slice of toast sat untouched on a plate near her elbow. Brody paused in the doorway and took stock of what he saw, struggling to work out the best approach.
The lassie looked deathly sad. How else would she look? Because he’d been a selfish blockhead all his life, he’d lured her to take risks with her good name. Now she was exiled from her family and reviled as a light skirt. Last night, he’d burned to protect her from every attack. She’d rejected his every effort as too little, too late.
Devil take her, it was worse than that. She’d rejected him.
Her terse denial still stung like acid. He’d never asked a woman to marry him before. When he did, he’d never imagined his choice would have the temerity to say no. While he’d been angry last night, beneath his anger, he’d been hurt. And shocked—which said far too much about his conceit.
The unbelievable had happened. Elspeth had refused to marry him. Not all the haranguing and blandishments in the world had shifted her from that decision. He’d spent all night, not just regretting her response, but examining his soul. And finding it sadly wanting.
Until these last months, he hadn’t been much in the habit of self-reflection. Like most young men of acceptable manners and appearance, not to mention large fortune, he received a warm welcome wherever he went. He’d never found any particular reason to question the general opinion that Brody Girvan was a fine fellow.
But he’d had an unhappy year. Finding the woman he wanted had made him hope that his life might start heading in the right direction. But it turned out that woman didn’t want him.