The Highlander's Christmas Countess (The Lairds Most Likely 8)

“I feared the disguise might not deceive anyone who looked too closely,” Emily said soberly. “I’m surprised it’s succeeded as long as it has.”

“To me, she’s always looked like a pretty girl pretending to be a boy. I must have seen this particular plot a hundred times in the theater.”

“Perhaps people up here haven’t been to the theater as often as you have,” Kit said.

Emily gave an appreciative huff of laughter. “I’m sure that’s true, but that doesn’t change the fact that if Quentin has noticed you’re a female, someone else might.”

“Quentin is cleverer than most people,” Kit said, earning a smile from him and a thoughtful stare from Emily.

“Nonetheless, I’d rather the world didn’t know that Scotland’s richest heiress is grooming my horses from dawn to dusk every day.”

Kit had been nervous since the summons had arrived. Now genuine fear iced her blood, as she rose on unsteady legs. “Are you…are you sending me away?”

Beneath her fear lurked other unpleasant emotions. She’d found a home at Glen Lyon, a home she’d lost at Appin when her father remarried. She might be engaged in humble work, but she enjoyed it. She liked being useful.

More than Glen Lyon the place, though, she’d miss the people. Stoic, taciturn Laing. The other grooms. The laird’s lively children. Emily and Hamish. The cheerful household staff.

The prospect of leaving Quentin MacNab cut deepest of all. Although Kit knew she risked betraying her penchant for him, her gaze settled on him. She’d never spoken to anyone as honestly as she had to him last night. She’d never felt anyone understood her so well. And sleeping in his arms had been a pleasure she’d love to experience again.

Of course, that could never be. The Countess of Appin was prey to all the strictures of society, strictures that didn’t apply to Kit the stableboy.

Even now, Quentin leaped to her defense. And to his feet. “Emily, you can’t throw the girl to the wolves. You know what her stepbrother will do if he gets his hands on her. If you don’t want to offer her shelter any longer, I’ll take her to Mother. Kit will be safe at Cannich House and by the time Neil thinks to look for her there, she’ll be of age and free of his filthy clutches.”

A private joke seemed to amuse Emily as she surveyed Kit and Quentin. “I feel like I’m back in the theater, and the hero has just marched onstage to vanquish the villains. Sit down, both of you. I have no intention of sending Kit away. Hamish and I offered her ladyship our help when she arrived and that hasn’t changed. Especially as it’s only a few days until she comes into her majority.”

Something in Emily’s calm certainty blunted the edge of Kit’s panic. She drew a shaky breath and told herself to stop being so jumpy.

“Thank you, Emily.” She sent Quentin a grateful smile. Emily might mock his immediate defense of her, but Kit hadn’t had enough champions in her life to scorn his gallantry. “And thank you, Quentin. You’re too good.”

To her delight, he turned pink again. “Not at all.”

Her heartbeat slowing, Kit subsided onto the window seat. “So what are you suggesting, Emily?”

The humor drained from Emily’s fine eyes and compassion took its place. “Now don’t go flying up into the boughs again. But I believe the time has come to retire Kit the stableboy and introduce Christabel, Lady Appin, to the audience.”

“But I remain under Neil’s legal control.” Kit stiffened, while every atom in her body shouted denial. “What if he learns I’m here?”

Emily’s smile remained reassuring. “Have a little faith, Kit. Neither Hamish nor I will hand you over, even if he turns up with every constable in Scotland. I can see that Quentin has declared himself your protector, too. We only need to keep you until Christmas, then you’re free. A bunch of Douglases are canny enough to outwit any Maxwell.”

Disquiet churned in Kit’s stomach. “But everyone on the estate will know that I’ve been here in disguise. Putting me into a dress won’t convince people that they’ve never seen me before.”

“That’s true. Hamish and I think we should tell the clan something of your story.”

Quentin was frowning. He, like Kit, must be working through the implications of this new plan. “So we enlist the locals in the scheme to keep Kit safe?”

“Yes. They’re all loyal to Hamish and if he asks them to help, they will. Not to mention that you’ve found a place in their hearts, Kit.”

“But that was before they knew I lied to them,” she said grimly, already disliking the prospect of playing the fine lady again. She might have spent the weeks at Glen Lyon being afraid, but she was used to that. Frightened or not, Kit had been free in a way Christabel could never be.

“They’ll understand. They might even like it,” Quentin said, leaning one elbow on the mantel and looking thoughtful. “As Emily said, this is like a play or a fairy tale.”

“Exactly.” Emily caught Kit’s trembling hand in hers. “It will all work out, Kit. We brought you this far. We’ll get you safely to the end.”

Kit summoned a shaky smile. “You’ve been so kind. And you’ve taken such risks. You broke the law the moment you offered me your help, and with every day since, you’ve embroiled yourself deeper in my troubles. How can I ever repay you and Hamish?”

“Pish.” Emily might have lived in the Highlands for the last six years, but she still sounded as English as a Melton Mowbray pork pie. “This is the kind of tale we’ll tell our grandchildren. How we sheltered a princess in disguise from the ogres bent on her destruction.”

Kit gave a snort that would have made pe