"What manner of idiot discharges a firearm with no regard for anyone else?" Edith said.
"I canna climb a tree, so what did you expect me to do?"
"I expected you to leave Gracie out of your foolishness, you blasted oaf."
"Stop yer caterwauling, Mistress Gallagher. I dinna answer to you or any wench."
Sebastian hissed. "Och, I dinna think I can rescue him now, lass." His impersonation of Helena's dear Scottish servant was very good. Helena had never mastered the brogue herself, but Sebastian even had Fergus's forbidding glower perfected.
Helena's ten-year-old sister entered the library and retrieved a book from the shelf as if she hadn't noticed the two adults in the foyer screaming at each other. How anyone within a two-mile radius could be oblivious to the commotion was a mystery. Gracie rolled her eyes and plopped into the seat Sebastian had vacated. "They are quarrelling again."
"We heard," Sebastian said. "What has Edith in the boughs today?"
"Fergus and I went hunting mistletoe. Ismay said it isn't Christmas until the mistletoe is hung."
Gracie followed Helena's lady's maid around like a pup ever since their arrival at Aldmist Fell. Since Ismay had been born and raised at the estate, she knew all the best places to explore, which made her an expert on everything in Gracie's estimation.
"Mistletoe?" Sebastian raised a dark brow. "This just became interesting. Shall we?"
He entwined his fingers with Helena's and led her toward the ruckus. Gracie tossed her book aside and hurried to catch up, giggling in anticipation of what Sebastian had up his sleeve this time. Helena's husband was full of mischief and usually provided ample entertainment for the household.
They found Edith and Fergus locked in a death stare in the drawing room threshold opposite the library.
"At least they are quiet now," Helena murmured.
Fergus's hand rested casually on an upper rung of the ladder he'd used to hang the mistletoe, but his ruddy complexion hinted he was anything but casual. Even the tips of his ears poking through his mop of brown hair glowed pink.
Edith, for her part, didn't appear intimidated by the hulking Scot or his fierce temper. With fists punched to her ample hips, she faced him with fire burning in her blue gaze. Her spectacles had slipped forward on her slim nose and she peered at him over the wire rims. If she shook her finger in his face, Helena wouldn't be able to maintain composure. What a picture they presented!
Sebastian cleared his throat loudly, and they swung their heads toward the interruption. As soon as Edith saw she had Sebastian's ear, she threw her hands in the air. "This addlepate took Gracie into the woods and him carrying a firearm. What sane man does such a thing?"
"The lass was perfectly safe," Fergus grumbled. His fingers curled around the ladder rung as if tightening the reins on his temper.
"I am fine," Gracie said. "Fergus is a capable marksman."
A corner of Fergus's mouth slanted up. "Thank you, Miss Gracie."
It was silly for Fergus and Edith to argue over the girl. Both were very fond of her. Edith—having lived with Gracie and Helena's sister Lavinia prior to Helena finding and reuniting with her four sisters—might have known Gracie longer, but Fergus was fully wrapped around the girl's finger. If Helena's sister had insisted on hunting mistletoe with him, he would have been hard pressed to deny her. He had always been as helpless to say no to Helena.
Sebastian released Helena's hand and crossed his arms. He tilted his head as if assessing the problem and nodded slowly. "Yes, I see your point, Edith. The man is clearly an idiot of the first order."
Helena gasped. "Sebastian."
He shrugged one shoulder. "See for yourself, love. He has an attractive woman standing directly under the mistletoe, and he'd rather quarrel with her than kiss her."
Edith's mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out. Fergus's gaze lifted to the mistletoe he'd fixed in the doorway, and his face flushed a dark red.
Gracie rushed forward, clapping her hands in approval. "You must kiss her, Fergus. She is under the mistletoe. Kiss her! Kiss her!"
Fergus aimed a glare at Sebastian before addressing Helena's sister. "I am certain Mistress Gallagher would prefer I not impose on her."
Edith sniffed. "Don't be daft, Mr. McTaggart. It is tradition. Just kiss me and put this ridiculous matter behind us."
"That is the spirit, old girl," Sebastian said with a laugh.
Not that Edith was truly old. Perhaps no more than thirty. She had smooth skin and a voluptuous figure. The only feature that made her appear older was her nearly white hair she wore in a tight knot, and to hear Edith tell it, her lovely curls had begun to lose their color when she was a girl of eighteen.
Fergus simply grunted.
Edith's thin brows rose in challenge.
The muscles in Fergus's jaw bulged as he flexed his fingers on the ladder rung. "Crivvens!" At last, he grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her against him for a loud smacking kiss on the mouth. When he thrust her away, Edith stumbled. He held on until she regained her balance then snatched his hands back as if contact scorched his skin.
She gaped at him, her eyes round and large behind her spectacles.
Gracie cheered and turned toward Helena and Sebastian. "Now it is your turn. Go stand under the mistletoe, Helena."
Sebastian gave Helena a gentle nudge. "You heard your sister, and we have memories to make, remember?"
Helena chuckled as she complied with their wishes. She hadn't celebrated Christmas with her family in nine years, and Gracie had been a baby when Helena was taken to Scotland to marry. Sebastian was correct; they had many memories to make together.
Edith shuffled to the side while Fergus toted the ladder further into the foyer and out of the way. Helena centered herself below the mistletoe. One come hither glance had her husband crossing to her in three long strides. His hands circled her waist and the smile he bestowed nearly made her swoon. Sebastian Thorne was the most handsome man she had ever seen, and with every kindness he showed to her and her family, he became even more irresistible.
He sent a teasing smile in Fergus's direction. "This is how you kiss a woman."
Helena gasped when he dipped her backwards and planted a sweet kiss on her lips. The kiss wasn't one of his all-consuming ones, the kind that made her forget her name. They had an audience, after all. But it filled her heart and satisfied at least one onlooker.
"Bravo!" Gracie cried. "I want a turn."
She hurried to the threshold and wiggled between Helena and Sebastian. They placed kisses on her cheeks then hugged her.
The Christmas season was upon them, and Helena couldn't wait to make it the best one ever for those she loved.
EDITH SLUMPED AGAINST THE foyer wall for fear her knees would buckle and drop her to the stone floor. Her breath escaped on shallow little puffs as she struggled to mask her reaction to Mr. McTaggart's kiss. She didn't know what had possessed her to challenge him. Perhaps the restlessness plaguing her since their arrival in Scotland was to blame. Having never stepped a foot outside of London before three months ago, she found the sedate pace of life at Aldmist Fell a trifle dreary.
Or perhaps her cheekiness had nothing to do with boredom, but simply resulted from being sick to death of Mr. McTaggart snubbing her. The next time he spotted her in the castle and stalked off in the other direction, she had a mind to chase after him until he had no choice except to acknowledge her.
The Scottish brute had disliked her from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. Instead of engaging in pleasantries as one might expect when meeting someone for the first time, Mr. McTaggart had grunted at her. Grunted, for heaven's sake! Even now, he barely spoke a word to her unless they were bellowing at one another. Therefore, she hadn't expected him to kiss her under the mistletoe.
Her trembling fingers brushed over her lips. They still tingled. Mr. McTaggart's kiss, however brief and rough, rattled her belief that passion was something one feigned out of necessity.
The girls at Madam Montgomery's brothel cared nothing for their gentlemen callers, but one would never know it. Their performances could rival any actress on stage. Edith's pounding heart was all too real, however, and she didn't know how to make sense of it. Her gaze flickered up at him.
Mr. McTaggart's unwavering frown was like a dagger plunged into her chest. She knew all too well the meaning behind his glowers. He disapproved of her presence, her sordid past, and her influence over her darling young charge, Gracie. Nevertheless, his opinion wouldn't bar her from honoring a promise to her best friend. Lavinia sent Edith to Lord and Lady Thorne's to watch over Gracie, and she would never let down the woman who had saved her life.
Gracie tugged on Edith's sleeve and pulled her from her stupor. "Where is my Christmas list? I need to cross off mistletoe."
Edith retrieved a folded piece of foolscap from the pocket sewn into her skirts and held it out to the young lady. Edith should have looked at the list before tucking it away. No telling what mischief Gracie had planned over the next two weeks, and Mr. McTaggart couldn't be trusted to discourage her.
"Thank you, Edith." Gracie took the paper and placed a quick peck on her cheek before practically skipping back toward the library.
Lord Thorne held out his arm to his wife, his dark eyes alight. "We should see what activities she has planned. If she is short on ideas, I might have a few."
Lady Thorne beamed at him. "With the two of you in charge of festivities, I am certain this will be a most memorable Christmas." She linked arms with him and they trailed in Gracie's wake. "I cannot wait for my sisters to arrive so our celebration can truly begin." The lady's happy chatter grew muffled as they entered the library and the heavy oak door swung closed.
A dull ache swelled beneath Edith's breastbone. Although the Thornes had accepted her into their home and treated her as kin, the truth was she had no family to call her own. The longing never seemed to go away, no matter how many times she reminded herself marriage and children were not meant for her future. Only the reminder that Lavinia would be at Aldmist Fell soon lifted her spirits. Edith missed her dear friend.
Mr. McTaggart cleared his throat and she tensed. She didn't have the wherewithal to quarrel now, not when she was feeling vulnerable.
"I need ta return the ladder."
Was he asking permission to take his leave? It seemed unlikely the stubborn Scot would employ any manners with her.
"The lassie—" He cleared his throat again, although it sounded very similar to one of his ubiquitous grunts. "Miss Gracie noticed the pond is frozen and has her mind set on ice skating. The ice is thick enough this year, so there's no danger to the lass."
Edith could feel her eyes widening. He was being solicitous of her. Moments before, he'd accused her of being a worrywart and coddling the young girl. Surely one kiss—given begrudgingly—could not account for his change in demeanor.
"Mistress Gallagher, we cannae continue quarreling like we have been. Helena—" A red blush climbed his face as he caught himself using Lady Thorne's given name. The Scot was very close with the baroness and had known her since she came to Aldmist Fell at age sixteen to marry Mr. McTaggart's former employer. "This Christmas means a lot to Lady Thorne. I dinna want to ruin it by acting like a curmudgeon. Can we call a truce, just for the holidays?"
She couldn't stop the downturn of her mouth when he added the part about their truce having an expiration date, but she agreed with him on the first account. She couldn't behave like a shrew if any of them hoped for a pleasant holiday, and she would never purposefully ruin Gracie's Christmas. "Very well, Mr. McTaggart, I agree to a truce. I suppose if you deem the pond safe, I should trust you know what you are talking about. It is safe, isn't it?"
"Aye, lass. Yer confidence in me seems a wee shaky, but I'll no' make a fuss about it." His crooked smile appeared and Edith's knees wobbled again. There was something heartwarming and thrilling about his smile, like only someone special could earn such a lovely expression of his pleasure. "The skates are kept in the attic, but it could take a week ta find them searching alone. If ye would be so kind as ta offer yer assistance, I wouldna be opposed."
Edith's breath caught in her chest. She didn't know if she could speak, so she nodded and was rewarded with an even wider grin from Mr. McTaggart.
Lud! She must be out of her mind to follow him to the attic.
Kissed by a Scottish Rogue: Chapter Two
FERGUS GRABBED MISTRESS GALLAGHER AROUND THE waist when the toe of her slipper caught on one of the stone stairs and she pitched forward. "Watch yer step."
"I—I am all right, Mr. McTaggart."
When she began to ease from his embrace, he tucked her closer against his side. "You are all right this time, lass, but I willna have you getting hurt before Christmas."
She blinked up at him, her blue eyes magnified behind her spectacles. "And after Christmas?"
"Weel, I suppose I cannae allow anything to happen to you after Christmas either," he said with a chuckle. "No' when you'll be looking over yer shoulder. The element of surprise is gone now."
She briefly pursed her lips in a show of disapproval and pushed free of his hold to scramble up the stairs. He sighed and followed. Her reaction didn't surprise him. Now that Mistress Gallagher was Helena's paid companion, she outclassed him. There wasn't a chance in hell she would welcome the attentions of a lowly servant, not when fortune had elevated her from former brothel maid to company fit for a baroness. Only the Thornes, Helena's sisters, and Fergus knew of Mistress Gallagher's past, and no one was of a mind to reveal her secret when doing so could harm Helena and Miss Gracie.
Mistress Gallagher stopped midway into the climb and tossed a look over her shoulder. "How much further, sir?" She sounded breathless. She wasn't accustomed to the same activity level he was.
"We're halfway there, lass. Let's stop to catch our breath." He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his trousers to wait.
She nodded and reclined against the curved staircase wall. A pink flush covered her chest, neck, and face, and her breathing had grown labored. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she was debating whether to dash back down the stairs. She moistened her lips, her gaze seemingly drawn to his mouth.
Perhaps he'd discovered one thing he did correctly. She'd voiced no complaints after their kiss below stairs, and he suspected she wouldn't protest if he kissed her again. He suppressed a satisfied grin.
Her breath churned a silky strand of silver hair that had escaped from the punishing knot at the back of her nape. She was a pretty lass when she wasn't yelling at him, not that he'd only noticed now. He'd taken to avoiding her soon after arriving at Aldmist Fell so no one would notice how he couldn't keep his eyes off her. Even wearing matronly gowns and spectacles fit for a grandmother, she couldn't hide her beauty. Her skin looked as soft as a bairn's, but she was all woman. She had curves to keep a man happily in her bed every night for the rest of his life.
"Mr. McTaggart." Her voice was whip crack sharp and his gaze snapped to her face.
Damnation! He'd been staring like a starving mongrel in a room full of bones. She pursed her lips, which didn't help redirect his focus.
"I thought the skates were in the attic, sir. This staircase seems to be leading to another part of the castle."
He offered a sheepish shrug. "There isnae an actual attic at Aldmist Fell. The north tower is used for storage, but asking a lady to the tower has a sinister ring to it."
She said nothing for a moment, but then a rare smile appeared on her face. "Is this a ruse to take off my head?"
He chuckled, surprised to discover she possessed a sense of humor. "If you promise to leave my head intact, you may keep yers, Mistress Gallagher."
"Very well. That seems like a reasonable compromise."
His chest rumbled with laughter. Keeping one's head was merely a compromise? The lass knew how to keep him on his toes. "Are you rested? Should we continue?"
She nodded once then turned to trudge up
the stairs with her hand braced against the wall for support. Fergus grinned without restraint. The lass had to know he would be eying her arse the rest of the climb.
When they reached the tower door, Fergus retrieved a ring of keys from his pocket and tried each one until he found the correct fit. The tumbler clicked and the door swung inward, creaking on rusty hinges. A winter gray sky cast little light through the tower windows, but they should still be able to find what they were looking for in the trunks stacked in the center of the chamber.
Mistress Gallagher followed him into the room. With hands on her hips, she shook her head. "A week? This could take more like a month. Christmas will be over and Lady Thorne's guests will be headed back from where they came before we find those skates."
Fergus tried to see the mess through her eyes and agreed the task ahead appeared daunting, but he had some idea where the skates were stored. "I'll wager we will find them before afternoon tea."
Her eyes sparkled with a touch of playfulness behind her wire spectacles. "What do you wish to wager, Mr. McTaggart?"
"I didnae—" He clamped his mouth closed before he blurted he'd meant it as a figure of speech. A wager could be just what they needed to get to know each other better, and Fergus was interested in learning more about the lass.
He'd given up on having his curiosity satisfied soon after she came to live with Lord and Lady Thorne. Any time he'd asked about her past, she'd changed the subject. Before moving into the Thornes' home in London to help care for Miss Gracie, Mistress Gallagher had been living the life of an independent woman. She'd shared a home with Helena's sister in Chelsea and answered to no man. Even stronger than his urge to kiss her, he possessed a desire to know why she had abandoned her independence to help a young girl have a better life.
He rubbed his jaw, noting he'd not done the best job with his morning shave. "What do you suggest the wager should be, mistress?"
Once Upon a True Love's Kiss Page 37
