The Highlander's Christmas Quest (The Lairds Most Likely 5)

She looked surprised. "He’s seen Fair Ellen?"

Dougal shifted uncomfortably in his seat. In his mind, his duty to the captive maiden was so clear, but whenever he voiced his intentions, his grand purpose sounded flimsy and ill-advised. "He met one of the men who built her prison."

"So he said."

"My cousin is nae liar, mistress."

His brief flare of irritation did nothing to banish the skepticism from Miss Macbain’s clever eyes. "I’m sure he’s no’. But can ye speak for the man who told your cousin this tale?"

If Dougal’s boat had been seaworthy, he’d have risen at that minute and said his farewells and sailed away. When he’d left home, he’d been so convinced of the rightness of his cause, despite his family’s opposition. Miss Macbain wasn’t saying anything his mother and father and brothers hadn’t. But somehow the doubt cut deeper when it came from a bonny lassie.

"The story of Fair Ellen is all over the Highlands. It’s even reached Askaval – and as ye say, you rarely have visitors. There must be some truth in the rumors."

Augustus watched the interplay between his guest and his daughter with an arrested expression. "Nae doubt, laddie. But how much truth? Is the lassie fair at all? She might be a wizened old besom with a temper like a rabid dog."

"Even if she is, she still needs rescuing," Dougal said stubbornly, although he’d never pictured himself saving an old lady but a young, pretty one.

"Very commendable." Miss Macbain’s expression indicated she guessed his thoughts, and they didn’t impress her. "I suspect the legend has spread so far so fast because the lady is Fair Ellen, not fat, middle-aged Ellen."

"And ye ken how Scotsmen like to embroider a good story," Gus pointed out.

Unfortunately Dougal did. "I’m determined to find her, whoever she is."

"But will ye no’ pause to spend Christmas with us first, laddie? We’d love to have you." Gus’s sounded wistful. "It’s only a few days’ delay. Even if all is as ye expect, with the girl on Innish, and a beauty, and ripe for falling in love with you, she’s already been there so long, another week will make little difference."

Dougal squirmed as his cheeks heated once more. It was the curse of the fair-skinned. "I never said anything about love."

Although of course, in his fantasies, Fair Ellen took one look at her gallant knight and tumbled helplessly in love. He’d sweep her up onto his white charger – in this case a fine wee boat built by Achnasheen’s best shipwright – and carry her away to be his bride.

Perhaps Mr. Macbain wasn’t too far wrong when he accused Dougal of believing in fairy tales.

No, he refused to let anyone sway him from his aims. Fair Ellen was real, and she suffered a great wrong. He meant to save her, whatever else happened. If all worked out as he imagined, well and good, but none of that could mar the worthiness of his purpose.

"But that’s what ye expect to find," Gus said in a rueful tone.

"Thank ye for your kindness, Mr. Macbain. And for your invitation." He needed to change the subject before he made an even bigger fool of himself. "But once my boat is repaired, I’ll be on my way."

Gus shook his head, as if in despair at the impetuosity of youth. "I can see you’re determined."

"I am."

Dougal avoided Miss Macbain’s eyes. She, too, must think he was a fool to pass up a few days of celebration and comfort in favor of a rough ocean voyage with an uncertain outcome.

"In that case, you’re welcome to use anything on the estate to help ye fix your boat. And we’ll enjoy your company for as long as ye care to share it."

Dougal’s mother would call him an unmannerly lout, taking advantage of the Macbains’ bounty, then leaving at the first opportunity. "I am most grateful, Gus."

"Och, save your breath to cool your porridge, laddie. I was young once. I ken how a notion can set up a fever in a man’s brain – especially when the notion involves a pretty girl."

Dougal wanted to protest. Gus’s description of his journey made it sound trivial and whimsical, whereas it was a grand quest worthy of a knight of old. But he possessed just enough self-awareness to know he’d sound hopelessly callow if he did. He’d embarrassed himself quite enough already in front of his new friends.

"I’ll help ye with the boat," Miss Macbain said unexpectedly.

"Thank ye, but there’s nae need, Miss Macbain."

He caught the twitch of her lips as her father spoke. "She’s a marvel with woodwork, my girl."

Of course she was. Dougal had a sudden and unwelcome memory of how she’d looked in boy’s clothes.