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

“I’m sure. But I’d much rather you stayed here with me.”

She had a point, he supposed. He watched Neil limp away, trailed by his henchmen. Further down the drive Quentin could make out the shadowy forms of the horses that the unwelcome visitors must have ridden up to Lyon House. Neil and his cohorts would have an uncomfortable journey to wherever they managed to find shelter now. He hoped they froze their bloody arses off.

Emily appeared at Kit’s side. “Are you all right, Kit?”

Kit turned to her with a relieved smile. “I feel like I’ve reached the end of a nightmare. It’s thanks to you and Hamish and Quentin that I’ve managed to come through.”

With the physical ease that always made Quentin envious, Hamish put his arm around his wife. How he hoped that one day he and Kit might share the same closeness. “We helped, Kit, but it was your courage and resourcefulness that won the day. I’m proud to have you in the family.”

Quentin watched Kit’s expression change. For the first time, he saw her free of fear. She’d been lovely before. In the light reflected from the open doors behind her, his bride was so beautiful, she stole his breath away.

“I’m privileged to call you my kin,” she said in a voice thick with emotion.

“Och, and now it’s Christmas Day and time to celebrate,” Fergus said from behind Hamish. The tall red-headed man had his arms around his gorgeous wife Marina.

Quentin turned to Kit. “Not just Christmas, but Kit’s birthday, too. Happy birthday, my lovely wife.”

As Kit stared up at him, the radiance in her eyes made his heart swell. “Thank you, Quentin. For the first time in years, it really is going to be a happy birthday. I’ve come into my inheritance. Appin will soon be free of the Maxwells. And I’ve just married the most wonderful man in the world.”

“Oh, Kit…” Ignoring their audience, he swept her up for a passionate kiss. By the time he raised his head, they were both gasping. “Now let’s get inside before you turn into an icicle. You and I have some dancing to do.”

Chapter 15

It was after two before Kit and Quentin managed to slip away from the ball. Everyone present was so eager to congratulate her on defeating Neil and wish her a happy birthday. Everyone wanted to hear more of her adventures.

She wasn’t optimistic enough to imagine that the wider world would offer such unqualified approval, once the story of the stableboy countess leaked out, as it inevitably would. But to the people at Glen Lyon tonight, she was a heroine.

All the time, Quentin remained at her side with his arm around her waist, smiling at her as if she was the most glorious creature he’d ever beheld. Every time she looked into his brilliant hazel eyes, a shiver of excitement rippled through her. Because while it was lovely to be welcomed into Hamish and Emily’s circle with such enthusiasm, she’d spent last night exploring a new and dazzling world. As ti

me went on, she ached to be alone with her husband and have his hands on her, without several hundred pairs of eyes observing them.

Constant physical contact heated the blood in her veins. So she was trembling when they finally managed to break free and climb the stairs to their rooms.

“You were so brave when Neil threatened you,” she said, tightening her grip on his hand. “I was afraid he really was going to kill you.”

“Och, there were a hundred brawny Highlanders in that room ready to come to my defense if that weasel tried anything.”

That wasn’t how she remembered it. When Neil had brandished his sword before Quentin, alarm had clawed a rift across her heart. She knew her stepbrother’s temper well enough to recognize that facing defeat, he could well have chosen the reckless option.

As they turned down the corridor, Quentin went on. “You’re braver by far than I ever was. You’ve had to be brave for years. I honor you, Christabel.”

He stopped outside their room, but instead of pushing the door open, he drew her into his arms for a lingering kiss that left her shaking.

“I can hardly believe I’m free,” she murmured, staring up into Quentin’s eyes and reading a steadfast affection there that she prayed would one day turn to love.

So many of her hopes had come to fruition tonight. Was it greedy to ask for one more miracle?

Quentin’s smile faded, and his expression turned serious. “Except you’re married to me, when you were so close to making it on your own.”

A tender smile curved her lips, as she laid her hand on his cheek. He’d shaved before the ball, but that was hours ago now. Whiskers prickled against her palm. She found these physical details of the man she loved endlessly fascinating. Like all young girls, she’d dreamed of the gentleman she’d marry. But those dreams had been insipid, compared to her husband’s vital reality.

“I’ve been on my own too much. Now I have a family. Now I have a gallant laddie to call husband. Now I have a chance to create a family of my own. This has been the most perfect Christmas I’ve ever known. Despite Neil doing his best to spoil it.” Her tone turned gloating. “Although watching Hamish toss him out into the snow was a nice moment.”

Quentin’s eyes lit, and he placed his hand over hers. “By God, I love you, Kit. You’re a braw wife for a Highlander.”

All the breath whooshed out of her lungs. Shocked, she stared at him. “What…what did you say?”

He kept hold of her hand. “You’re a braw wife.”