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

, he’d seen her in skin-tight breeches that left very little to the imagination.

It was his imagination he wished to Hades. Even when he wasn’t with Kirsty, his imagination nagged him with pictures of what she might look like wearing nothing at all, with that magnificent black hair drifting over her bare skin. He couldn’t even escape this torture when he slept. During the past nights, heated, restless dreams of Kirsty sharing his bed tormented him. Each time he poised to take her, she disappeared, leaving him with empty arms and a cock stand of painful proportions.

Dougal needed to leave Askaval, but as long as his boat was damaged, he was caught here. And with every day, the charms of this place wrapped themselves tighter around him, until they smothered his grand purpose.

When he’d arrived, the island had seemed an unpromising landfall. Small, dull, isolated, if undoubtedly prosperous. But after spending most of a week here, he thought it was one of the bonniest places he’d ever seen. The beaches and headlands were breathtakingly lovely. The gentle hills and rich green fields soothed an eye accustomed to the wild and rugged northern Highlands.

It was the same for the people. His host, Gus, was affable and charming and full of entertaining stories. The islanders he’d met were proud and forthright and offered him a warm welcome. His daily interactions with Johnny, Jock and Bill never failed to make him laugh.

And then, there was the laird’s daughter.

Like the island, her charms had worked on him slowly. He hadn’t even thought her particularly pretty when he first met her. Now his day didn’t start until he saw that vivid, expressive face and heard her low, husky voice wishing him good morrow.

He started to think she was the loveliest girl he’d ever seen. Which made him feel like he was cheating Fair Ellen.

But Fair Ellen wasn’t sharing the cramped space of a boat hull with him. Fair Ellen wasn’t driving him mad with the scent of crushed wildflowers. Fair Ellen wasn’t bumping up against him every time she had to reach for a rag or a tool.

Even worse, low tide meant that the boat was well below the level of the quay, so they were completely unobserved here as the afternoon verged toward evening. Right now, Dougal would give a hundred guineas to have half a dozen pairs of curious eyes fixed on the Kestrel, to keep him on the straight and narrow. He and Kirsty had far too much privacy for his peace of mind.

"Are ye all right, Dougal?" Kirsty asked from behind him.

"Of course I’m bloody all right," he growled, turning to face her.

"You dinnae sound it." Those damnably perceptive eyes like silver mirrors studied him. "And ye keep making snarling sounds under your breath."

He felt his color rise. Nobody in creation made him blush like this wee lassie. "Och, I’m sorry."

She looked unhappy. "I ken how difficult it must be for ye, stuck here when you have other places you want to be."

Dougal couldn’t bear to see Kirsty’s bright spirit oppressed. She was born for smiles and joy. He burned to dedicate his life to ensuring that she was never sad, when the agonizing truth was that he’d already dedicated himself elsewhere. Once he left Askaval, it was highly likely he’d never see her again.

Which carved a strip off his heart and made him want to howl into the wind.

God help him. He was in real trouble here. What in blazes was wrong with him?

Dougal only just stopped himself from taking the girl into his arms and telling her everything would be all right, because he would make it so. The sorrow deepening those translucent gray eyes made him want to smash something with the hammer he still held in his hand.

"Dougal?" she asked uncertainly, and he realized he was staring at her like a lunatic. He gave himself a mental shake and reminded himself he had great deeds to perform and great renown to win. He could achieve neither on tiny, charming Askaval.

"I have nae right to take my temper out on ye, lass," he said huskily. "Have ye nearly finished there?"

She glanced down at the sail in her hands and nodded. She still seemed strangely downhearted. Since the day he’d met her, the air around her had vibrated with life. But this afternoon, that vitality seemed muffled.

He didn’t like it.

"Aye, it’s ready for your voyage tomorrow."

He frowned. "I’m grateful for all your hard work, especially as it’s turned into a major project, instead of an afternoon’s repair. Without your help, I doubt I’d be ready to go even now."

That didn’t appear to lift her spirits. "I’ve enjoyed it."

"So have I," he said, not altogether pleased to realize it was the truth.

Kirsty had been wonderful company. Cheerful. Intelligent. Interesting. Just talkative enough. If he’d spent all this time with his sisters, his ears would be ringing. They never shut up, and they generally chattered about things he couldn’t give a rat’s arse about, much as he loved them. Kirsty hit the right balance. The man she eventually married was a lucky sod.

Now Dougal wasn’t feeling too happy himself. Of course, the girl would marry. Even if she wasn’t so bright and pretty, she was the heiress to Askaval. Some rotten fortune-hunting bastard would woo her and win both the island and the lass.

"I’ll miss ye," he said, even as he told himself to button his lip. What was the point of harping on his regrets, when he had every intention of leaving in the morning?