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

“It was a bonny way to celebrate our wedding,” he said as, keeping hold of her hand, he led her up the main staircase.

Now there was nobody to see them pretend to be joyful newlyweds, Kit supposed she should release his hand. But he didn’t seem to have noticed, and she wasn’t going to point it out. “It was. These are good people.”

“Aye, they are. And it’s clear they’re fond of you.”

“So they should be. I was an excellent stableboy,” she said smartly.

Quentin stopped on the first landing and tugged her close for a quick kiss. The contact was over almost before it started. She had a dizzying impression of heat and firm lips before he shifted away.

Kit snatched her hand free and raised it to lips that tingled. “What did you do that for?” she stammered, as her heart performed wild acrobatics in her chest.

He smiled at her as if they remained under observation, even though they were alone here. “Sheer impulse.”

“I’ve never been kissed before.”

“Yes, you have. I kissed you when the minister pronounced us man and wife.”

He had. A brief brush of his lips across her cheek. It had been even more fleeting than his kiss tonight. But still powerful enough to set her knees wobbling.

“But that wasn’t…”

“On the lips?”

“No.”

He watched her with a friendly curiosity, as if they discussed something mundane, like whether he took coffee or tea in the morning. “Did you like what I just did?”

Too much.

She raised her chin, scorning the idea of playing coy. “Yes, I did.”

When his smile expressed unfettered appreciation, her wayward heart flipped over in her chest. It was doing that a lot tonight. “Well, that’s good, then.”

“I suppose so,” she said in a reedy voice.

Her tone made him bestow a considering look upon her, but to her relief, he didn’t keep talking about kisses. He reached out to take her hand again. It was terrifying quite how reassuring she found his touch. Reassuring and disturbing. Because he didn’t just touch her now as her defender, but as her husband.

“Actually it’s not quite true that I’ve never been kissed before. Neil’s horrid friend tried to kiss me, but I fought him off. I’m stronger than I look.”

Quentin frowned. “I hate that those bastards treated you so badly.”

“I’m almost free of them.”

“Aye, you are. I hope my kisses are nicer than his.”

Oh, my… “Definitely.”

“I also hope you like my rooms. Hamish and Emily offered us a cottage on the estate, but I thought you might feel safer in the house, at least until your birthday.”

“I’m sure I’ll love them. Apart from last night, I’ve been sleeping in a back room in the stables since I arrived. I hardly knew what to do with all the space in the guest bedroom.”

He kept hold of her hand as he headed up to the next landing and down a corridor. “How did it feel to be back where you belong?”

“Rather odd. And I’ve decided skirts are a cursed nuisance.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you can wear breeches any time you like.”

A short laugh escaped her. “That would shock the tenants at Appin, not to mention the good burghers of Edinburgh.”