The Laird’s Christmas Kiss (The Lairds Most Likely 2)
“I never thought of ye that way.”
More bitterness twisted her lips. “You never thought of me at all.”
Perhaps there was some truth in that. But couldn’t she see that he’d changed? Only now as he noted her closed expression did he truly accept that he’d failed. She wasn’t going to be his.
And he’d never wanted anything more.
His large hands closed into fists on the polished mahogany table. “Are you trying to say I’m no’ good enough for ye?”
Her eyes widened. “Brody…”
He could no longer bear to sit still and pretend this was a polite discussion and not the end of every dream he’d built around her during the last days. When he surged to his feet, he shoved the chair back hard enough to send it toppling over with a thud.
“You’re right. I’m not good enough.” His voice was rough with the force of his emotion. “But if ye marry me, I swear I’ll do my damnedest to make myself worthy of you.”
She looked startled. “I’m…I’m flattered.”
He made a sweeping gesture of dismissal. “I dinnae want you to be bloody flattered. I want ye to say you’ll marry me.”
That stubborn line returned to her chin, although he could swear he saw genuine distress in her eyes. He supposed she wouldn’t like hurting him. “I can’t say that.”
“Aye, you can.”
“In that case, I won’t.” With a shaking hand, she refolded the white linen napkin she’d laid beside her plate and stood up. “Please…” Her audible inhalation was the first real sign of vulnerability she’d betrayed. “Please leave it at that, Brody.”
A thousand furious, passionate arguments massed in his throat, but he swallowed them back. They tasted like poison. Last night, he’d accused her family of bullying her, yet now he came close to doing the same. Every second confirmed that he wasn’t worthy of her, and the knowledge threatened to tear his heart to ragged shreds.
“Aye, very well,” he said stiffly, stepping back. He offered her a formal bow, as though they were strangers, and he’d never kissed her, or laughed with her, or nurtured the hope that she might be the woman to lend his ramshackle existence weight and purpose. “Under the circumstances, I wish ye farewell, Miss Douglas.”
Brody didn’t wait for Elspeth to respond. Instead, he turned on his heel and marched out the door, wondering what the hell he was going to do with the rest of his useless life.
Chapter 15
“Here you are. I’ve had a devil of a time finding you.”
At Hamish’s impatient exclamation, Elspeth looked up from where she huddled on the window seat in the library. Given this was the scene of her humiliation last night, she supposed it was a strange place to seek refuge after that excruciating encounter with Brody at breakfast. But from the moment she’d discovered what books were, she’d found comfort and pleasure—and, yes, sanctuary—in their company.
“That was the idea.” Despite her best efforts, her voice was scratchy with the tears she’d shed in the last couple of hours, since Brody had given her that chilly bow and stalked off in a huff. Refusing him was the right thing to do. She knew it in her bones. If only that made her feel better. “What do you want, Hamish?”
“I’ve come to apologize.” He had the grace to look a little shamefaced. “I flew off the handle last night.”
“You did. If you’d managed to keep your mouth shut, we could have avoided all the drama.” She bent her head and brushed shaking hands over her wet cheeks. “How is Mamma?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t come downstairs yet.”
Given her mother’s love of an audience, that spoke volumes about the scale of her current sulk. “So she hasn’t forgiven me.”
Soon the reality of Elspeth’s banishment from the family would sink its claws into her heart. Right now, she was still struggling to cope w
ith making such a mess of everything with Brody. The wider consequences of her ruin hadn’t yet impinged on her wretchedness.
“You know how important her political influence is to her.”
“More important than her daughter’s happiness,” Elspeth said, before she could help herself.
She waited for Hamish to accuse her of disloyalty and lose his temper again. Her brother’s emotions tended toward the volcanic, although given time, he’d always calm down enough to see reason. Look at his apology now for blundering in on her last night.
Hamish didn’t respond with his usual heat. Instead he studied her with the sharp perception that somehow muddled along beside his mercurial temper. He was intimidatingly clever—people in scientific circles spoke of him as the next Astronomer Royal. But he didn’t always choose to focus that titanic brain on petty earthly concerns, instead of on the vast universe over his head. “Perhaps she thought a match with Brody Girvan would promote her daughter’s happiness.”