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

"Aye, nice to see ye in a dress, Kirsty," Bill – or Jock – said. "You’re such a bonny lassie. It’s a pity there’s nae young men on the island to appreciate how bonny."

Kirsty’s cheeks were as red as ripe apples. At first Dougal had appreciated having the old men’s attentions diverted from him and his purposes. But he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the girl who endured this scolding under a stranger’s gaze. "She is bonny, whatever she wears. Ye should be grateful to have a laird’s daughter who works so hard for your welfare, instead of sitting around in silks and satins, embroidering and eating bonbons."

Three sets of speculative glances settled on Dougal, and he found himself blushing fit to match Kirsty.

"Is that so?" Johnny asked in a deliberately neutral voice.

"You seem to have noticed a lot about Askaval since ye arrived, Mr. Drummond," Bill – Jock said.

"Och, he’s clearly a noticing sort of a man," said the other one.

"The most noticing man," the first one piped up. "Are ye married, Mr. Drummond?"

"Bill, that’s enough," Kirsty said sharply. "Ye had your fun teasing me. Are you going to come to the woods and help?"

"Whisht, lassie." Bill – thanks to Kirsty’s reprimand, Dougal could now tell the two apart – smiled without resentment, revealing an almost toothless mouth. "Ye willnae let us ask about where Mr. Drummond is going. So ye should let us ask about where he’s come from."

"Aye, Mr. Drummond, it would be rude no’ to." Jock’s black eyes disappeared in a nest of wrinkles as he chuckled. "Rude. And inhospitable, when you’ve already told us how ye appreciated your welcome here on the island."

"So are ye married, Mr. Drummond?" Johnny asked with an innocent air Dougal already knew not to trust.

"No, I’m no’ married." Dougal had been a target of matchmaking mammas often enough. The best way to handle this was to pretend the questions held no agenda.

Beside him, Kirsty shifted from foot to foot in discomfort. It couldn’t be pleasant for her if the islanders regarded any single man who set foot on Askaval as a potential husband. No wonder her cheeks were on fire.

"Och, that’s too bad," Bill said.

"It is?" he said, caught by surprise.

Johnny snickered. "Aye, a man needs a sweet wee wife to make his life comfortable and give him bairns. You’re no’ set against the idea, are ye?"

Despite himself, Dougal admired the old men’s effrontery. They had no shame, by God. "No’ at all."

If Fair Ellen chose to reward his gallantry with her hand in marriage, he was ready to step up and take his place as her husband. When a valiant knight rescued a captive lady, wasn’t that how the tale always ended?

"And I assume at this Bruard, you’re a man of some substance?" Jock asked slowly.

"Jock, stop it," Kirsty said, sounding like she suffocated.

"Aye, that’s a bonny boat tied up over there on the quay. It must have cost a pretty penny, and it doesnae look like a working craft. That’s a rich man’s toy, that is," Johnny said.

Dougal answered. After all, he should have already given Kirsty and her father some accounting of the man they sheltered and fed. "My father is John Drummond, the laird there."

"And it’s a fine estate, ye say?" Bill said.

He couldn’t help grinning. "Fine enough."

Jock studied him with unabashed interest. "And I suppose ye have half a dozen brothers older than you?"

"No, I’m the oldest. I have four brothers and two sisters younger than me."

"That’s a goodly sized family. Ye must come from virile stock."

Kirsty’s strangled sound of horror made Dougal burst out laughing. He hoped she saw that there was no mischief in this probing. The old men were doing their best to make sure that Dougal was a suitable suitor for their beloved lady.

The girl must know that she was safe from any unwelcome attentions. Dougal couldn’t have made it clearer that he was away tomorrow. It was highly unlikely he’d meet Miss Macbain ever again.

To his surprise, that provoked a sharper regret than a day’s acquaintance should. The girl was bright and interesting and good company – not to mention a prodigy with a hammer and drill when a laddie wanted help fixing his boat. She was also fascinating to look at. That unusual face grew prettier by the moment. He’d found himself pausing as he made his repairs to watch the expressions crossing her features. Expressions as changeable as the mercurial Highland weather.