The Highlander’s Christmas Quest: The Lairds Most Likely Book 5

by Anna Campbell

  "Aye, you." A hint of uncertainty crept into his expression, dimmed the bright smile. "That is if you’re willing to give me a fair hearing after the things I said to ye last time we were alone."

  Kirsty tried to swallow to shift the jagged lump of emotion clogging her throat, but every drop of moisture had dried from her mouth. She blinked to bring Dougal back into focus and realized she’d forgotten to breathe.

  She gulped in a mouthful of air, swallowed again, and managed a few raspy words. "I’ll hear ye." Then she realized that Betsy was still standing in the hall, watching with wide eyes – and no doubt listening with flapping ears. "Betsy, I think your mother needs your help in the kitchen."

  "Aye, Kirsty." She cast another look between Dougal and her mistress before she turned with visible reluctance to go. "Merry Christmas."

  Kirsty frowned. She’d forgotten what day it was. "And merry Christmas to ye, Betsy."

  Dougal’s gaze remained unwavering on Kirsty as Betsy left them alone. "Merry Christmas, my love."

  Another fusillade of shock and disbelief crashed through her. Dougal called her his love? Had the world turned topsy-turvy overnight? She must be still dreaming. "But what are ye doing here?"

  His eyes were telling her impossible things, things like he loved her, and he meant to stay, and he wanted her, and he was sorry for breaking her heart. She licked her lips and told herself to settle down. The rising bubble of happiness inside her could so easily burst and leave her even more devastated than she’d been yesterday. She’d already made enough of a fool of herself over this man.

  He leaned one elbow on the base of the banister. "I’ve come to talk to your father."

  "My father?" Kirsty frowned, wondering if she had indeed got everything wrong. Again. "What has my father got to do with anything?"

  When a soft laugh escaped Dougal, was she insane to hear fondness in the sound? Last time he’d spoken to her, he hadn’t been fond of her at all. He’d treated her as if she was lower than a worm. "Och, Kirsty, you’re usually quicker than this. Why else would a young man want to talk to a lassie’s father, except to ask permission to court his daughter?"

  "C-court?"

  He laughed again, and despite everything a ripple of pleasure ran through her. She’d always loved the sound of his laugh. "Lassie, I never thought to see ye lost for words. Aye, that’s what a laddie does when he’s desperately in love with a girl. He asks her to marry him."

  "But ye dinnae want me."

  His jaw firmed with familiar stubbornness. "Aye, I do."

  "Ye didnae want me yesterday." Why on earth was she arguing and not falling to her knees in gratitude that he was here?

  "I did."

  "Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it," she said sharply.

  "That’s because ye fell in love with a beef-witted looby, mo chridhe. But I’m no’ a beef-witted looby anymore. I think I fell in love with ye at first sight, but my attention was fixed on a will-o’-the-wisp across the distant horizon. Nae wonder I stumbled when it came to navigating my way around what was right in front of me."

  Love at first sight? Did Dougal just say he loved her? Her knees turned to porridge, and all the breath left her body in a whoosh. Her grip on the banister tightened to save her from crumpling to the ground.

  "Ye were so sure you didnae love me." Her voice lowered to a guilty mutter, because he’d been right to despise her. "And I did ye such wrong."

  He regarded her as if he’d lived in darkness all his life and she gave him his first sunrise. In all her dreams – and there had been so many – she’d never imagined Dougal Drummond looking at her like that. Her mind counseled caution. Her heart ignored the warning and began to expand with hope. Could it be that everything might work out? When she first saw him, she’d suffered the foolish conviction that he was the only man for her. Was it possible that conviction wasn’t so foolish at all?

  "No, ye did me such right." His certainty started to convince her that he meant what he said, astonishing as that was.

  Kirsty shook her head, not because she wanted to deny what he said, but because what he said tested her credulity. "But ye were so angry with me. What changed? What brought ye back to me? I spent the night crying into my pillow, because I was sure you’d left hating me and that I’d never see ye again."

  "I’m sorry."

  "I lied to ye over and over."

  "Och, my dear, I’ve forgiven ye. I forgave ye before I sailed a mile away from Askaval."

  Despite the elation beating around Kirsty like a host of butterflies, she frowned. "As easy as that?"

  "As easy as that." He shrugged. "Even if I cannae say that when I left, I wasnae angry with ye."

  She couldn’t hide a shudder as she recalled his fury. "Ye really were."

  "But unless you’d kept me on Askaval, I’d have sailed on to chase a myth and left behind the best thing I was ever likely to find."

  The best thing? Did he mean her? Surely he must.

  "I found I couldnae stay away, lassie. The further I got from Askaval, the worse my heart ached, until the pain of being apart from ye became unbearable."

  Wondering, she took an unsteady step downward. "Dougal…"

  "I’m grateful for what ye did, Kirsty." His deep voice vibrated with sincerity. "Because if ye had played by the rules, I wouldnae be standing here now. And if I missed this, my life would be a barren place indeed."

  For a few more seconds, she studied him, seeking some sign that he clung to the shreds of his earlier anger. But his expression held nothing but eagerness. Eagerness, and what she thought might be barely restrained desire.

  She took another step toward him. "Dougal…"

  "Aye, Kirsty?" His eyes changed, turned dark with hunger as he climbed the bottom two steps. Only half a dozen steps separated them now. He looked like he wanted to kiss her. And she had a notion she just might let him.

  "What’s all this hullabaloo? Dinnae ye ken it’s a holy day, and cold besides. A man of my age needs his sleep. Kirsty, my wee squirrel, and…" Her father bustled along the landing, before he stopped at the top of the stairs, his face a picture of disbelief. He wore a shabby plaid dressing gown over a long white nightshirt and a white nightcap drooped from his head. "Why, call me an Englishman and fry me in butter, it’s Dougal Drummond. What the devil are ye doing back here, lad?"

  "Merry Christmas, Gus," Dougal said, regarding her father with amusement brightening his blue eyes.

  "Merry Christmas, Dougal," Gus replied. "Which is neither here nor there when ye left yesterday, swearing you’d never darken my doorstep again."

  "Och, it wasnae that bad," he said, looking abashed.

  Gus nodded. "Aye, it was. But it’s Christmas so I’ll overlook your rush to get away from us."

  Dougal’s mouth twitched. "If all goes as I hope, Gus, I’ll be darkening your doorstep for a long time to come."

  Her father glanced at Dougal, then he glanced at Kirsty. The surprise was the lack of surprise in his expression. "So you’ve woken up to yourself, have ye, laddie?"

  Dougal blushed. "Aye."

  "Took ye long enough."

  The wry humor Kirsty loved turned down Dougal’s lips. "Aye, that, too."

  "And now I suppose ye want a word with me in private."

  "Aye, if it’s convenient."

  "At the crack of dawn on Christmas Day, it’s no’ convenient at all."

  "I’m sorry. I should have waited."

  Her father shot Kirsty a knowing glance. "Och, I dinnae think ye should, at that."

  Dougal’s smile widened. "It is a matter of life and death."

  "I’m sure it is. And once you’ve had a word with me, I’ll wager you’ll be wanting a word with my daughter in private."

  "Aye."

  Kirsty’s heart was leaping about so hard, she feared it might crash right out of her chest. Anticipation tightened her empty stomach until she felt giddy. Was this really happening?

  Her father raised his eyebrows. "Ver
y agreeable you’ve become all of a sudden, Mr. Drummond." He walked down to stand beside her and fling his brawny arm over her shoulders. "So what do ye think? Shall I give this ruffian a hearing?"

  Kirsty blinked away the mist in front of her eyes, while her heart stopped jumping and instead danced a graceful minuet of joy. It gradually sank in that she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life alone and yearning for Dougal Drummond. Instead, a Christmas miracle had come to pass and he’d returned to her. Even better, he’d returned to her, proclaiming his love. That still struck her as unlikely, but unlikely things happened at this time of year, didn’t they?

  "Yes, please, Papa," she said in a choked voice.

  "Then let’s get this nonsense out of the way. We have a ceilidh to prepare for."

  "My wedding hardly counts in comparison," she said, attempting to match her father’s dry tone, but she was too flustered to manage it.

  Her father smiled at her. "Och, I’m no’ sure I’d say that and mean it." He glanced over to where Dougal watched them. "I’m going to go upstairs and get dressed like the gentleman I am. I balk at giving away my daughter’s hand in marriage while I’m in my nightshirt." He paused and glanced down at Kirsty. "And I think ye might prefer no’ to accept this young man’s proposal while you’re wearing nothing but your nightie either, Kirsty girl."

  She blushed almost as red as Dougal did when she glanced down at her deshabille. In all the excitement, she’d forgotten that she wasn’t dressed to receive visitors. "Oh."

  "I dinnae mind," Dougal said.

  Gus gave a grunt of amusement. "I’m gey sure ye dinnae, laddie. But ye can cool your heels in the library for a few minutes, and I’ll meet you when I’m fit to be seen for the Lord’s birthday."

  "I can indeed." Dougal smiled at both of them. "I’ll see ye soon, Gus. And, Kirsty, I’ll see you…later."

  She couldn’t wait. With happiness flooding her veins and turning the world to sunlight, she whirled around and ran up the stairs to her bedroom to drag out her prettiest gown and make herself presentable to receive an offer of marriage from the man she adored. Christmas was the day of gifts indeed.

  Chapter 10

  Kirsty waited in the drawing room in a fit of nerves, although she’d longed for this moment to arrive ever since she’d met Dougal Drummond. That was only a week ago. Since that day, she felt like she’d lived through a lifetime.

  When she first came downstairs, she stood by the window, wanting to appear winsome and memorable when he came in. Then that started to seem a little artificial, so she moved to sit in one of the chairs near the blazing fire. Soon her skin flushed with heat. She didn’t want to greet Dougal looking like a tomato. She shifted across to stand in front of a cabinet full of Meissen china. But again, the position felt too staged.

  She plopped onto the window seat where she folded pleats in her yellow silk skirts for what felt like hours, although when she checked the clock on the mantel, she’d only been in the room for about twenty minutes.

  Finally there was a soft knock on the door and Dougal strode in. She lurched to her feet before the idea to rise had entered her mind. All thoughts of posing flew out the window. "What did he say?"

  Dougal gave a low laugh and crossed the room to take her shaking hands in his. "That I’m a blockhead for no’ seeing immediately that you’re the girl for me and that, even worse, I’m a selfish swine for hurting your feelings."

  Her fingers tightened around his as she stared up into his eyes in dismay. "Oh, dear, that doesnae sound good."

  "He’s right. I was horrible to ye." He sounded so contrite, and it really wasn’t his fault.

  "I deserved it."

  "No, ye didnae. And I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart that I made ye unhappy."

  She struggled to summon a smile. "I’ll forgive ye if you do your best to make me happy from now on."

  Dougal brought her hands to his lips and kissed them with a fervor that made her heart flutter around inside her chest like a jackdaw trapped in a cellar. "I promise I will." He paused. "And I promised your father I will."

  Her smile became a little more secure. "Did that change his mind about permitting ye to pay your addresses?"

  "Och, he didnae need convincing on that subject. He told me straight out that if I didnae ask ye to marry me today, I was the biggest dunderhead in Christendom. The scolding came after." His eyes shone with triumph. "He’s ready to call the banns, my darling."

  His darling? She still couldn’t get used to these endearments. Every time he called her his darling or his love, she felt like she dissolved into a puddle of syrup. "I’m so glad."

  "So am I."

  Wide-eyed, she watched him fall to his knees. He was so tall that even kneeling, he wasn’t much shorter than she was. "Dougal…"

  "Whisht, lassie. Let me do this right." He still held her hands and he kissed them again, shooting a wave of heat along her arm and straight down to her pounding heart. "My darling Miss Macbain…"

  "Kirsty. We dinnae stand on ceremony…"

  "…here on Askaval." He finished the sentence together with her, and they both laughed. She started to feel a wee bit less on edge.

  "Kirsty, I love ye madly, and I want to spend the rest of my life at your side." His deep voice vibrated with intense feeling. "Would ye do me the inestimable honor of consenting to be my wife?"

  How could anyone survive such joy? "Dougal, that’s lovely."

  He stared at her with such a glow in his eyes that she felt the last of her doubts vanish like Highland mist in the sun. "It would be even lovelier if ye said yes, mo chridhe."

  She gave a splutter of choked laughter and blinked tears away from her eyes. "Ye must know I love you. I was yours from the moment I first saw ye." The last time she’d confessed her love, she’d felt guilty and ashamed. Not now. "I’d be proud to call myself your wife. So, aye, Dougal, aye forever more. I’ll marry ye as soon as ye like."

  "Kirsty, ye make me the happiest man in the world…" His voice cracked, and he stumbled to his feet to seize her in his arms. She was startled to realize that he hadn’t been as sure of her as he should have been. That uncertainty even more than his beautiful words convinced her that this really was a matter of life and death to him. He hadn’t exaggerated when he arrived this morning.

  "Oh, Dougal…" she sighed, leaning forward. His arms wrapped tighter around her, and his lips met hers. For an endless interval, she basked in his passion. She’d thought his first kiss was thrilling beyond measure, but this one, now that they’d both exchanged vows of love, expressed such poignant emotion, it made her want to cry.

  When he raised his head, she saw her profound reaction to their kiss reflected in his shaken expression. "Och, my love…"

  But she had more to say before she yielded to the desire rising between them. She shifted away just far enough to speak. "I will never, never lie to ye again. Ye must believe me, Dougal."

  "Leave that, my bonny. I told ye – I’m glad ye did."

  "That’s a wee bit hard to believe."

  "But true, I swear. When I think I could have sailed away a week ago, having known ye a mere few hours…"

  "And now we’re going to be married. I can hardly believe it."

  "Aye, believe it, sweetheart." He stared down at her with dazzled pleasure. "This promises to be a very happy Christmas. And even better, we have a lifetime of happy Christmases ahead of us."

  She rose on her toes to place a kiss on his lips. "Aye, so we do, my braw Highland laddie. But till the day I die, you’ll be the best present I ever receive."

  ***

  Not long after sunrise the next morning, Kirsty pushed open the heavy oak door to the chapel in the woods, near where she and Dougal had spent the afternoon cutting greenery. A smile lifted her lips as she recalled the laughter of those hours. Dougal had been a stranger then, only newly arrived on Askaval, but he’d already felt like the other half of her soul. He’d always felt like that, even when he was furious with her f
or scheming against him.

  She hadn’t had much sleep. At the ceilidh, she and Dougal had danced most of the night away, and she was strung tight with happiness and lack of sleep. The islanders had greeted her betrothal to the heir to Bruard with acclaim. The Christmas ceilidh was always a convivial affair. This year, the celebration had threatened to lift the roof off Tigh na Mara.

  The only warning that another person was lurking in the shadows was a rustle from the dark corner behind her. Something thick and suffocating dropped down to cover her head and block off all vision.

  She gasped, then opened her mouth wide to scream. The minister lived close by and with luck he’d hear her and come to her aid.

  The scream died on her lips. Her body, which had tautened for a struggle, slumped against the tall form behind her.

  "Dinnae call out," a deep voice said, as strong arms wrapped around her.

  "Ye dinnae need to cover my head, Dougal," she said, breathless not so much because of the heavy cloak over her face, as because her heart soared with wild excitement.

  "Ye knew it was me." He sounded a little disappointed.

  "The cloak smells like ye."

  "Ye recognize that?"

  "Of course I do." She shifted in his grasp. "And anyway, ye sent me a note saying you wanted to meet me here before breakfast. What on earth are ye doing?"

  "I’m kidnapping ye."

  "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.