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

"What in heaven’s name…" Kirsty managed to free one arm to push the heavy folds of black wool away from her face. She tilted her head so she could see him. Although from this angle, only the determined thrust of that manly chin filled her vision.

"In my family, it’s a tried-and-true strategy for winning a bride. Worked a treat for my cousin Callum."

"You’ve already won this bride. No need to go to any extraordinary lengths."

"Aye, but I’d like a private moment to enjoy my victory. Since ye were rash enough to say you’d take me, we havenae had a second alone. We had more privacy when we were fixing the boat."

It was sadly true. The islanders’ pleasure in hearing the news had meant an endless stream of congratulations and good wishes. The happy couple had remained the center of attention all night. They hadn’t had a single chance to sneak away to enjoy a more intimate celebration to mark their engagement.

"Ye could kiss me here," she suggested, turning to face him.

Dougal arched his eyebrows in exaggerated horror. "For shame, Miss Macbain, it’s a church."

"God willnae mind."

"In that case…"

His embrace firmed, and his lips met hers. She kissed him back with all the love overflowing from her heart, but soon the moment came when she wanted to touch him. To her displeasure, when she wriggled to loosen the cape, he lifted his head.

"It’s too cold to do this here. Hold tight to the rigging." Before she could muster a word of protest, he slung her up in his arms and strode out into the open.

"Someone might see," she said, even as she cuddled closer. On this freezing winter day, he was as warm as a furnace.

"At this hour on Boxing Day, my love, the only creatures stirring on all of Askaval are ye and me, and perhaps that fine pony of yours. Everyone else will be sound asleep or nursing a sore head."

"Put me down. I can walk." Although there was something breathtakingly thrilling about a big, powerful man hoisting her around as if she weighed no more than a kitten.

"Och, what sort of a kidnapping would that be?"

She snuggled closer, inhaling lungfuls of his delicious scent. As she told him, she knew that scent better than her own name. Salt and lemon soap, and the warm essence of Dougal himself. It was the fragrance of paradise to her, and it proved that the impossible had happened. He’d come back to her, and they were to be married in a couple of weeks.

"Nice to see you’re in your breeches. I feared now you’re a respectable betrothed woman, ye might decide it was skirts all the way."

"Well, some saucy laddie asked me if I’d wear them. And I hate to disappoint a saucy laddie. Are ye taking me back to Tigh na Mara?"

He gave a dismissive grunt. "Kirsty, my bonny, you’re no’ listening to me. Returning ye safely to your father isnae much of a kidnapping either."

She untangled one hand from beneath the cloak and curled it around his neck. Now that her surprise, if not her desperate curiosity receded, she started to take in a few more physical details. He was wearing a black greatcoat and a tricorn hat that he must have borrowed from her father. His thick hair was tied back in a tidy queue that she itched to muss. She loved seeing him with his rich auburn hair flowing down his back.

"Dougal, ye dinnae have to kidnap me. I’ll go wherever you wish."

For the first time, she met his eyes. The heat in that glittering blue sizzled along her veins and made her toes curl in her shiny black boots. Dear heaven, he didn’t look like an angel. Instead he looked like a pirate. "That sounds gey wifely, mo chridhe."

They’d left the church behind now, and Dougal’s booted feet crunched over the dead leaves littering the ground. She glanced around the windswept woods.

"We arenae heading toward home." Except the truth was that from the moment she first saw him, home for her was with Dougal.

"I told ye we’re no’ going to Tigh na Mara."

"So where are we going?"

Even from below, she saw that jaw firm. "Somewhere I can be sure nae loving parents or nosy islanders are likely to interrupt us. Are ye afraid?"

"Terrified," she said. "Will ye kiss me when we get there?"

"Would I be a kidnapper worth my salt if I didnae?"

She stroked the back of his neck. "You’ve always been a knight in shining armor. This new marauder personality isnae too convincing."