Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1)

by Anna Campbell

  This kiss told him that she’d never forgotten him either.

  “I wasn’t so faithful,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  Appalled, Malcolm pulled away to stare into her tear-filled eyes. “Never apologize for marrying Samuel. I can’t deny that I was jealous at first. I still envy him the chance he had to see you blossom into this superb woman. I only saw the rose when she was a beautiful bud. Samuel saw you flower into your full promise. But he kept you safe. He kept Patrick safe. If he hadn’t, I would never have found you. I’d gladly live through the last eighteen years again, if I had the promise of finding you at the end.”

  “Oh, Malcolm…” she said in a husky murmur and gave him another of those devastating kisses that spoke of the love he knew she was still a long way from confessing in words. “I’m not worthy of you.”

  He smiled and spoke the truth that lived in his heart. “Of course you are, mo chridhe.”

  She shook her head. “You’re deluded, but I won’t argue if you’re so determined to see me as a paragon.”

  He gave a brief laugh. He’d laughed more in these short hours with her than he had in years. Only now from the cozy sanctuary of Rhona’s bed did he realize quite how grim and joyless his years of searching had been. He hoped to Hades that this warmth was more than a temporary reprieve. It would be unbearable if he caught a whiff of hope for something better and fate ripped everything away from him again.

  “Very wise.”

  She sobered. “But I wasn’t talking about what I did with Samuel when I said I was unfaithful to you. There was a greater betrayal.”

  “That you didn’t trust me enough to know I’d never scheme to send you away.”

  That had hurt. By heaven, that had felt like someone ripping out his guts with red-hot pincers.

  “Yes.” Guilt and regret weighted her peridot gaze. “I hope you can forgive me.”

  He frowned as he thought about what she said. “Of course I forgive you. You recognized the truth fast enough when I presented it to you.”

  Relief eased her frown. She picked up his hand and brought it to her lips. More of that dangerous tenderness that had his heart turning somersaults.

  “I still should have kept faith.”

  She lowered his hand but kept hold of it. After what they’d just done, the contact should feel casual. Instead, it felt like she captured him in an eternal spell.

  Except she’d already done that years ago, and he’d never tried to break free. He was content to be in her thrall.

  She went on in a low voice. “But even when I cursed you for rejecting me, I still felt unfaithful every time Samuel used my body. So something inside me was always yours, no matter how often I told myself that I hated you.”

  He didn’t mistake the magnitude of her admission. “Rhona…” he forced out and swept her into his arms for a kiss that spoke all the vows he wouldn’t yet let himself say aloud.

  They were both gasping when they drew apart, and her eyes were smoky with desire. He smiled with all the delight he took in her. “Will the goose wait?”

  She smiled back. “Devil take the goose. When I’ve got a fine Scottish laddie in my bed, I’ve got better things to worry about than cooking.”

  Malcolm laughed with an unfettered joy he hadn’t felt in too long. What a woman she was. He’d loved the bonny lass. He came to adore the strong, passionate woman the lass had turned into.

  “Well, don’t let me talk you out of that opinion.” He dragged her down into the bed and began to explore the luscious curves he hadn’t paid nearly enough attention to in the wild rush of their first encounter. Her soft murmurs of encouragement were the sweetest music he’d ever heard.

  Chapter 10

  It was late, after midnight, and Rhona was back in her favorite place in the house, the armchair in front of the kitchen fire. She was sipping fragrant mulled wine, the drink’s warmth only mirroring the warmth glowing inside her.

  It had been a marvelous Christmas, the best she’d ever known. Patrick had come back from his duties as a chorister in the early afternoon to discover his parents respectably dressed and conversing in obvious amity in the greenery-bedecked parlor. She hid a smile now as she recalled the panicked scramble she and Malcolm had made to be clothed and ready. She’d hurried away to finish preparations for their meal, and Malcolm had looked after the animals without a word of complaint, so that Patrick would arrive back to a home in good order for Christmas dinner.

  Malcolm’s willingness to pitch in and help reminded her of something she’d always liked about the heir to Dun Carron. He had no airs and graces and didn’t ever think that as the laird’s son, he was above manual labor. That hadn’t changed now he was the laird, she was pleased to see.

  Actually it turned out that a lot of the things she’d liked about his younger self still appealed to her. He was kind, he was good-natured, and his sense of humor might be rusty with disuse, but he could still make her laugh.

  Throughout lunch, her heart kept catching on special moments as Patrick and Malcolm eased their way into an understanding. It had been so moving to watch as the two most significant men in her life established what promised to become a strong rapport. At last, she let herself acknowledge how much her son owed to his father. The essential sweetness. The perceptiveness. The natural consideration for others.

  Her thoughts turned, as was inevitable, to those sublime hours she and Malcolm had spent alone together this morning. It turned out that he could still summon responses from her that transformed the world to starlight. At the first touch of those thin, elegant hands, she’d melted into a puddle of desire, and she still quivered with a need she hadn’t felt since she was a girl. A need stronger than she remembered, however heady their youthful passion had been.

  Now she wanted Malcolm with a woman’s desire and that proved to be a thousand times more heated than an inexperienced girl’s craving. A flush rose in her cheeks as she remembered shuddering through each explosive climax.

  The first time they came together, she’d imagined nothing could compare with the pleasure. Then Malcolm set out to please her again, using his hands and his mouth to fling her high into a fiery sky. The slow seduction culminated in a last joining that exploded all her previous experience of bliss into a conflagration that left her shaking and crying and feeling made anew.

  It was lucky the Christmas dinner hadn’t emerged from the oven as charred remains. The goose had been a little dry, but delicious for all that.

  Now she closed her eyes and rested her head back on the chair as she relived that sizzling interval in Malcolm’s arms. She’d forgotten the delights of a young, vigorous lover. Samuel had been tender and kind, but with him, she’d never scaled the heights of pleasure that she had with Malcolm at Dun Carron. She’d come to believe she never would again.

  It turned out she was wrong about that. A morning in bed with Malcolm demonstrated that her desire had merely been banked, not extinguished. One touch from the right man’s hand, and the flames inside her had roared into an uncontrollable blaze.

  Rhona wanted to do it all again. And soon. It turned out that the respectable widow wasn’t so respectable after all.

  “You’re smiling,” a soft baritone said.

  She lifted heavy eyelids to see Malcolm standing in front of her, his back to the fire. He could move like a cat when he wanted to. Or perhaps she’d been too lost in steamy reminiscences to notice that she was no longer alone.

  “Good evening,” she murmured, her gaze eating him up with unabashed enjoyment.

  He was dressed in the shirt and breeches he’d worn during the day, but he’d removed his neck cloth and dark blue coat. She caught a glimpse of his strong throat and the dusky curls on his chest. Curls that had provided stimulating friction under her palms when they’d lain naked together.

  “Good evening to you,” he returned, black eyes devouring her as if she was a piece of the buttery shortbread they’d all made such pigs of themselves on at supper.r />
  A fresh tide of arousal flowed through her, and she shifted on her chair as something inside her loosened and melted in longing. Heaven help her. Five years without a man, and now all she could think of was bed sport.

  And Malcolm hadn’t even touched her. One glance from those hot dark eyes, and she went up in smoke.

  “Right now, I’m wishing Patrick to Hades, even if I love every hair on his handsome head,” she admitted.

  Malcolm gave a grunt of laughter. His smile was no longer a grim twist of his lips. He looked younger. If meeting him again had revived the willful girl she’d once been, he, too, bore a much closer resemblance to the dashing young lad she’d loved with such desperation.

  “You’re most welcome to come and lie in my arms again, the way we did last night.”

  She sent him a direct look. “Will that be enough for you?”

  He shrugged. “Having rediscovered how it feels to make love to you, no. But on the other hand, I don’t want to be apart from you, and if that’s the best we can manage, it’s something.”

  Her heart performed a dizzying leap. He lowered all his defences against her. She wanted to warn him to be careful. He made it too clear that she wielded enormous power over him. She feared where they were heading. She feared hurting him when he’d already suffered so much. But it was mad to think about forever. They’d only reunited a little over a day ago.

  Her good sense insisted on self-protection, on retreating from this encroaching closeness. Nonetheless, she found herself giving him a candid reply. “I don’t want to be apart from you either, but I don’t like my son knowing that I can’t keep my hands off you.”

  Malcolm’s glance was mocking. “He’s a clever boy. I suspect he may have already guessed.”

  Rhona sighed and set her half-empty mug on the small table near her chair. “You could be right.”

  “I don’t want to make things difficult for you.”

  As if she believed that. His arrival made her life infinitely more complicated, and from what she could see, he had no qualms about that at all. She rose to her feet. “Would you like some mulled wine?”

  He stepped closer, looming over her in a way that did nothing to bolster her self-control. Mixed with the fresh fragrance of the Christmas greenery and the spices in the wine, she caught the drift of Malcolm’s clean male scent. Desire tugged against common sense, and looked sure to win the battle.

  “Aye, please. But first, there’s something I must do.”

  Puzzled, she looked up at him. “Oh?”

  “Aye. This.” His lips curved in a devilish smile, warning her of his intentions. He didn’t catch her unawares when he drew her into his arms for a leisurely kiss that left her staggering by the time he finished.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered, clinging to his shoulders so she didn’t collapse into a heap at his feet.

  He smiled and kissed her once more, before stepping away and leaning his hips against the bench. “How do you think Patrick is coping with everything?”

  Before she could answer, Rhona needed a few seconds to banish the haze that blanketed her brain after that kiss. “On the surface, he’s taken it all in his stride. But it’s been a day and a half of dramatic, life-changing revelations, and he’ll need time to come to terms with what has happened. At least he likes you.”

  To her surprise, Christmas dinner had been lighthearted fun, but once they returned to the warmth of the kitchen in the afternoon, Malcolm and Rhona had at last told Patrick about the events leading up to his birth. He’d listened in uncharacteristic stillness, and she could see that the story left a deep impression on him. He remained more pensive than usual when he went to bed.

  She wasn’t surprised. It was a lot for a young man to take in. For anyone, really.

  All three of them had sat talking until nearly eleven, and Rhona had the strangest feeling that the long, intense discussion had forged bonds that could never break.

  The faint smile that lightened Malcolm’s face turned him into the image of her son. At least after this Christmas, that resemblance would no longer set her heart cramping with agony.

  “I like him, too.” He ran his hand through his rumpled, silver-streaked hair and his voice deepened with emotion. “By God, I love him. I always knew I would, but that doesn’t change the shock or the power of the feeling when it hit me. He’s an impressive young man. I’m proud to call him my son. You did a wonderful job bringing him up.”

  She made a dismissive gesture. “I take no credit for that. Patrick was born good. You’ve never seen such a beautiful baby, and he never cried or caused trouble.”

  Rhona regretted that she’d spoken when sadness darkened Malcolm’s eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t see that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see him grow up.”

  As pity made her eyes mist, she took his arm. “I wish I could make up for everything that you’ve missed.”

  It was startling how natural it felt to touch him. In fact, she’d reached a stage where it felt unnatural not to touch him. Goodness knew what state she’d be in if he stayed much longer. Already she fell back into the intimacy they’d once shared.

  She struggled to remind herself that after all this time apart, Malcolm was a stranger. But he felt even less like a stranger than he had last night. And he hadn’t felt much like a stranger then.

  When he laid his hand over hers, warmth surged up her arm and settled in her troubled heart. “At least I’ve found you both. And after today, Patrick knows about his heritage and his inheritance.”

  Rhona struggled to lighten the portentous atmosphere building between them. It had been a long day, crammed with emotional strain. She wasn’t sure she was up to facing any more demands right now. She forced herself to smile, although she wouldn’t wager a groat on how convincing it was. “He rather fancies himself as king of the castle.”

  To her relief, Malcolm responded with a short laugh. “Let’s hope he still feels like that when he sees it.”

  They’d made no arrangements for a visit, but she assumed Malcolm wanted Patrick to come to Dun Carron as soon as possible. She suspected he’d want their son to live there, too, at least some of the time, so he could make a place for himself as the heir.

  Rhona hoped to heaven the clan accepted him. His obvious resemblance to his father should help.

  Today had been very much focused on the past. She had an inkling that tomorrow might mark the start of plans for the future.

  Malcolm must have had a similar thought because he lifted her hand from his arm and drew her toward the center of the floor. “What about you, Rhona? Are you going to come back to Dun Carron?”

  Her heart did another of those disconcerting cartwheels. She tugged her hand free and buried it in her skirts to hide its shaking. She wasn’t sure she was ready to have this conversation. “How can I? Everybody knows about the old scandal.”

  His dark eyes were somber and unwavering. “How can you not? It’s your home.”

  “It hasn’t been my home since I was a silly girl, carrying your bastard in my belly.”

  He flinched. “Don’t call Patrick that. In my mind, he’s my legitimate son.”

  Old cynicism twisted her lips. “That’s all well and good, but in everyone else’s mind, I’m a slut and he’s your by-blow. I have a good life and an unblemished reputation here in Muirburgh. Why should I give those up?”

  Malcolm remained composed under her attack. She should be used to that by now. “You have a place at Dun Carron as my wife, Rhona. In my heart, you’ve always been my wife. If we make it official and you become the glen’s lady, who will care about what we did twenty years ago?”

  She frowned, even as her asinine heart told her to throw herself into his arms and tell him she was happy to spend the rest of her life with him. “Malcolm, this isn’t fair. You only turned up last night. It’s too soon.”

  The stubbornness that had appeared so often since he’d arrived hardened his features. “I came here last night after a lifetime of lovi
ng you. I still love you. Nothing that has happened since then has changed that. The question now is how do you feel about me.”

  He still loved her. He told her so.

  She’d been right to fear that emotional honesty. I still love you. Those four words contained such power. Her heart swelled with dangerous pleasure, even as fear prickled across her skin.

  “I… I don’t know,” she said and cursed herself as a coward.

  Because she had an inexorable suspicion that she still loved him, too. She had a horrible feeling that she’d never stopped loving him.

  When he growled his dissatisfaction with that answer, she couldn’t blame him. “You can do better than that.”

  She bit her lip and spread her hands in bewilderment. “I want you.”

  “Aye.”

  She gulped for more breath to feed her starved lungs and battled to answer him in a way that kept her vulnerable heart safe. He was asking her to risk so much on what she’d felt as a girl. “I like you. A lot. I like how you are with Patrick. I’m overjoyed that you two are likely to grow closer. You’re so similar.”

  He sliced the air with a decisive hand. “This isn’t about Patrick. This is about you and me.”

  She backed away, shaking her head. Butterflies the size of elephants danced a jig in her stomach. “I’m afraid.”

  His expression softened. “I know you are.”

  Her lips flattened in annoyance. “So why are you forcing this issue tonight?”

  He sighed and once more, ran one hand through his hair, leaving it charmingly ruffled. “You’re right. It’s not fair to push for a commitment so fast. I promised to court you, and I meant it.” His voice was low and vibrating with intensity. “But that was before you came to my bed. That was before I spent Christmas with you and my son. Everything has changed. Yet nothing has changed.”

  “Malcolm…” she stammered, both dreading and longing to hear what he said next.

  His eyes burned into hers. “Rhona, my heart has never wavered from loving you. It never will. I hoped…I think you might still love me, even if you’re not ready to admit it. I’ll woo you until doomsday if you want, but we’ve already lost so much time when we could have been happy together. Must we waste even more time, when you have to see that you and I belong together? We always have.”