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

Was she afraid that he meant to flirt with her? That wasn’t his impression. Instead he felt like she considered him a damned nuisance, and she’d rather he went away.

The surprise was that he was in no mood to cooperate. The world was full of pliable-minded lassies. Why on earth was he so curious about this wee tabby kitten all of a sudden?

She took her time examining his question for hidden meanings, then responded warily. “Yes, I ride.”

He smiled again. Again she didn’t smile back. “Perhaps we can ride together.”

And wondered why the image flooding his mind depicted riding of a very different sort. She wasn’t at all his style, if one disregarded that voluptuous, yet too modestly covered figure. He tended to chase much more obvious—and obviously available—quarry.

Which is why you’re bored stiff with your conquests, said the horrid, persistent voice.

Go away, he said back, without any hope that it would listen.

Another small delay, then the girl said, “Perhaps.”

He was gearing up to push for something more definite—and enthusiastic—when a maid came in with fresh coffee. He bent his head and began to eat, surprised at how famished he was.

By the time they were alone again, he had another cup of coffee on the table before him, while Elspeth sipped her tea. “How long are ye staying at Achnasheen?” he asked, not sure why he persevered, but persevering anyway.

“Until after New Year,” she said.

He’d intended to leave after Boxing Day, but now he changed his mind. “Me, too.”

“That’s longer than usual,” she said in a neutral voice.

This was the first indication that she’d paid him any attention over the years. Pleased, he said, “I’m looking forward to seeing more of Marina and Fergus, given this is the first Christmas they’re hosting here.”

“Yes, it’s meant a change, hasn’t it?” At last, she sounded almost friendly.

He was about to follow up on the thaw, when Diarmid, blast him, came bouncing in. His friend was awash in good spirits, which seemed dashed unfair, given the amount of bad spirits he’d imbibed in Brody’s company last night.

“Elspeth, I should have known you’d beat me to breakfast. How did ye sleep? I slept like a baby.” The tall, handsome, charming bastard came forward and kissed the girl’s cheek with a familiarity Brody couldn’t lay claim to. After all, the two were cousins, whereas he was a mere family friend. “Hope this snow stops before too long. The plan is to go riding later.”

For the first time that morning, she smiled. “Good morning, Diarmid.”

Her face expressed fondness, with a touch of the humor she’d signally failed to share with Brody. Diarmid beamed back, then turned to Brody. “Good morning, my lad. Thought you’d be nursing a headache.”

“Not at all,” Brody said coldly, wishing his friend to Hades.

“I suppose that’s one benefit of all that licentious living,” Diarmid said, before he toddled off to pile a plate high with food.

Brody wanted to tell his friend to shut his blasted mouth. A man’s entertainments were his own business. More, he cursed Diarmid for interrupting an encounter that showed signs of heating up from near freezing.

The moment Elspeth had smiled—not at him, damn it—he recognized why he’d decided to put off his departure. The next few days offered intriguing possibilities, and he was just the man to take advantage of them.

Chapter 2

The weather soured as the day progressed, preventing the promised riding expedition. Elspeth was grateful. Now she’d decided to abandon her foolish penchant for Brody Girvan, it seemed cruel to be thrust into his company. Not that she believed he’d meant a word of what he said about riding with her if they went out.

She’d had years of observing him as closely as only an adolescent girl observed the object of her affections. He liked to flirt with any pretty woman in his vicinity. This morning at breakfast, pretty women had been thin on the ground, so he’d made do with her.

She didn’t mind. Or not too much. After all, a girl who was the afterthought in her own family had no delusions about her ability to hold a raffish young man’s attention.

Thank goodness, Diarmid had come in and put a stop to the awkwardness. Nor had Brody’s sudden interest turned her head. Once she might have taken his invitation as a sign of awakening attraction. But after last night’s bracing conversation with herself, she accepted that he’d never pursue her in any serious way.

Now, after dinner, the guests relaxed in the greenery-bedecked great hall. Huge fires burned in the two hearths, warming the air, despite the inhospitable conditions outside.

From where she sat on a sofa, Elspeth surveyed the gathering. Hamish, Fergus, her mother, and her sister Charity played cards in one corner. Prudence thumped out Christmas carols on the piano, her husband Charles standing behind her and turning the pages. Charity’s husband Donald read a book near the fire. Diarmid sat at a desk under the windows, writing letters. After a day of running around the castle, shrieking with excitement, Fergus’s nieces and nephews were asleep upstairs.