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

Despite the elation beating around Kirsty like a host of butterflies, she frowned. "As easy as that?"

"As easy as that." He shrugged. "Even if I cannae say that when I left, I wasnae angry with ye."

She couldn’t hide a shudder as she recalled his fury. "Ye really were."

"But unless you’d kept me on Askaval, I’d have sailed on to chase a myth and left behind the best thing I was ever likely to find."

The best thing? Did he mean her? Surely he must.

"I found I couldnae stay away, lassie. The further I got from Askaval, the worse my heart ached, until the pain of being apart from ye became unbearable."

Wondering, she took an unsteady step downward. "Dougal…"

"I’m grateful for what ye did, Kirsty." His deep voice vibrated with sincerity. "Because if ye had played by the rules, I wouldnae be standing here now. And if I missed this, my life would be a barren place indeed."

For a few more seconds, she studied him, seeking some sign that he clung to the shreds of his earlier anger. But his expression held nothing but eagerness. Eagerness, and what she thought might be barely restrained desire.

She took another step toward him. "Dougal…"

"Aye, Kirsty?" His eyes changed, turned dark with hunger as he climbed the bottom two steps. Only half a dozen steps separated them now. He looked like he wanted to kiss her. And she had a notion she just might let him.

"What’s all this hullabaloo? Dinnae ye ken it’s a holy day, and cold besides. A man of my age needs his sleep. Kirsty, my wee squirrel, and…" Her father bustled along the landing, before he stopped at the top of the stairs, his face a picture of disbelief. He wore a shabby plaid dressing gown over a long white nightshirt and a white nightcap drooped from his head. "Why, call me an Englishman and fry me in butter, it’s Dougal Drummond. What the devil are ye doing back here, lad?"

"Merry Christmas, Gus," Dougal said, regarding her father with amusement brightening his blue eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Dougal," Gus replied. "Which is neither here nor there when ye left yesterday, swearing you’d never darken my doorstep again."

"Och, it wasnae that bad," he said, looking abashed.

Gus nodded. "Aye, it was. But it’s Christmas so I’ll overlook your rush to get away from us."

Dougal’s mouth twitched. "If all goes as I hope, Gus, I’ll be darkening your doorstep for a long time to come."

Her father glanced at Dougal, then he glanced at Kirsty. The surprise was the lack of surprise in his expression. "So you’ve woken up to yourself, have ye, laddie?"

Dougal blushed. "Aye."

"Took ye long enough."

The wry humor Kirsty loved turned down Dougal’s lips. "Aye, that, too."

"And now I suppose ye want a word with me in private."

"Aye, if it’s convenient."

"At the crack of dawn on Christmas Day, it’s no’ convenient at all."

"I’m sorry. I should have waited."

Her father shot Kirsty a knowing glance. "Och, I dinnae think ye should, at that."

Dougal’s smile widened. "It is a matter of life and death."

"I’m sure it is. And once you’ve had a word with me, I’ll wager you’ll be wanting a word with my daughter in private."

"Aye."

Kirsty’s heart was leaping about so hard, she feared it might crash right out of her chest. Anticipation tightened her empty stomach until she felt giddy. Was this really happening?