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

Once he’d left Fergus, he’d stood at his bedroom window, staring out over the snowy hills of Achnasheen, and facing up to the unwelcome truth that Brody Girvan wasn’t such a fine fellow after all.

He was selfish, and self-indulgent, and inclined to believe the world was ordered purely for his pleasure. Most people who met him never probed far enough beneath his debonair shell to discover the darker elements. Yet now he knew that his three closest friends harbored doubts about his character. Hamish, Diarmid and Fergus believed that while he might make a braw companion for a night’s carousing, he wasn’t worthy of Elspeth’s hand.

That had hurt, but not as much as Elspeth Douglas had hurt him, when those assessing brown eyes had penetrated through to the vacuum in his soul. She’d been adamant that she wouldn’t have him as her husband, even if the marriage restored her good name and her place in her family.

Yet while he knew that she was better off without him, Brody couldn’t stop wanting her. He’d never longed for anyone the way he longed for Elspeth, while she’d decided he didn’t deserve her time or affection.

Desolation and self-hatred left a cold, rusty taste on his tongue, as he now surveyed the woman who had brought him to his knees. The view wasn’t encouraging.

She’d dragged her hair back from her face in the familiar, severe style—no seductive tumble of mahogany curls today. She wore an old brown dress that Marina mustn’t have thought worth altering. It was plain that his wee wren had decided that she wanted to sink back into the shadows where she was safe.

But it was too late for her to hide away. Brody had seen her flaring beauty. He’d seen it, even before she decided to share it with the world. Elspeth Douglas would never again fade into the background, no matter how she tortured her hair or buttoned her collars up to her stubborn chin.

He sucked in a broken breath, nervous as a schoolboy approaching his first love, and stepped through the door. When she raised heavy eyes to observe him, the lack of welcome in her expression might daunt a laddie less determined.

The lamplight revealed sig

ns of crying. Her pink eyelids and woebegone features made him sick with guilt. He’d set out to make this bonny girl happy, and all he’d done was cause her grief.

“Good morning, Elspeth,” he said in a somber voice.

“Good morning, Brody,” she said no more brightly. Looking hunted, she stood up when he dared to venture closer. “You’re early this morning.”

“No’ as early as you.”

“I had trouble sleeping.”

He already knew that because of the purple shadows under her eyes. “So did I.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, edging out from behind the table. “Enjoy your breakfast. I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t shift to let her past. “I need to talk to ye.”

Her slender white hands performed a nervous dance in the air. “I’d rather leave you to eat in peace.”

“Thanks to you, I haven’t known a moment’s peace since I got to Achnasheen,” he said grimly. “I’m here because I knew this was the one chance I’ll have to get ye alone.”

Something that looked like panic crossed Elspeth’s face, and she retreated a shaky step. “This is an ambush.”

He frowned, not sure what he could do to make her listen. “Aye, if ye like.”

She squared her shoulders and took up a belligerent stance familiar from last night, when she’d been intransigent about not wanting to marry him. He was in such a low state that this felt like an improvement. Her defiance was preferable to her fear. “I don’t like.”

“Too bad.” He gestured for her to sit down again. “I willnae take much of your time. Ye owe me that much.”

She leveled a hostile glare at him from under lowered eyebrows a darker brown than her luxuriant hair. He wondered whether she would insist on going. If she did, what could he do? Tying her to the chair was unlikely to promote his cause.

To his relief, she released an annoyed sigh and sank back into her chair.

“Thank you.” Brody crossed to the sideboard. “Would ye like some coffee?”

Her hands curled around the arms of her chair, and her answer was snappish. “I’d like you to say whatever you feel you need to, so that I can go back to my bedroom.”

“And hide?”

“Don’t I have reason?”

“I dinnae think so.” He brought two cups back to the table, although she hadn’t said she wanted one. “What we did wasnae that bad.”