The Highlander's Lost Lady (The Lairds Most Likely 3)

“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.