A Laird for Christmas

by Gerri Russell

  “Sir David Buchanan, come forward and greet Lady Jane,” Margaret called out from beside Jane before she could even react to the tangle of emotions within her.

  David came forward wearing leather armor. He knelt before her, his boiled leather creaking as he did. “Lady Jane, I am at your service. To protect you or marry you, whichever pleases you most.”

  Jane could feel heat come to her cheeks. “Sir David, please rise,” she said when he remained on the ground before her, his head bowed.

  “As you wish,” he said, his deep voice moving through her. He stood and she suddenly remembered how tall he was. Well over six feet. He looked tough, dangerous, and as handsome as ever. Energy shimmered off him in waves as it always had. His brown hair was neatly trimmed around his ears, revealing high cheekbones in his angular face. Somehow she had also forgotten how broad his chest was, made more so by his leather and metal plating, and how the leather of his armor clung to muscular thighs. His arms hung at his sides and his deep brown eyes were fixed on her.

  “You will not need your armor here, Sir David.”

  He looked back at his competition quickly, then returned his gaze to hers. “In that assessment, you may be wrong.” His mouth tipped briefly to one side in a smile that lived and died in an instant. He moved closer until he was no more than an arm’s reach away. “I am here to protect you, from harm, from them, whatever is needed.”

  His voice was impossible to ignore, and his eyes swirled with power.

  Yes, she was certain he would protect her from the others. “But who will protect me from you?” she whispered beneath her breath, but he must have heard because he moved even closer.

  “There is no need for protection, Lady Jane, because I am already yours, and you are mine.”

  He was just so much of a male specimen, the woman in her had never been able to ignore him. Staring up into his deep brown eyes she wondered if he knew the effect he had on women.

  “I am not yours. I am not anyone’s. Not yet,” she said as she straightened in her chair.

  Again a brief smile came to his lips. “As you command, Lady Jane.” He bowed once more. “May I offer you a gift, then, to truly get this competition started?”

  She nodded.

  He moved back to his men to gather something hidden beneath a muslin cloth, then approached her once more. “My gift to you, my lady.” His words lingered on the word my.

  Jane accepted the cloth-covered bundle. It moved and her pulse jumped. Her gaze shot to David’s. “What is it?”

  “There is only one way to find out.”

  Carefully she set the mass in her lap and pulled back the cloth to reveal a tiny black ball of fur. “It is a puppy?”

  “An Aberdeen terrier,” he said proudly. “She is a pup from my own Aberdennies Fala and Brock. And just like her mother and sire, she will be feisty and loyal. She will protect you with her life, if necessary.”

  The puppy wiggled free of the cloth, then reached up and chewed the pearls Lord Galloway had given her. The earl frowned. Jane chuckled. At that, the puppy stopped and looked at her with bright brown eyes. A moment later it settled back in her lap and nudged Jane’s arm until it lay across the animal’s small, furry body. She licked Jane’s hand three times before closing her eyes, suddenly asleep. “She is adorable.” Jane smiled up at David, feeling the happiest she had been in a long while. “Thank you so much for… Oh my, I will have to think of a name for this little girl.”

  “I am sure you will think of something fitting.” With another bow, he stepped back into the line of suitors.

  Jane was grateful for the diversion of the puppy as her aunt’s voice called out once more. “Jules MacIntyre, please approach Lady Jane and present her with your gift.”

  As Jules stepped forward, Jane tried to keep the look of shock from her face. The Jules she remembered from sixteen months ago was gone. This Jules was pale and thin, and lines of weariness had settled around his eyes and his mouth. He looked sad and lost, not his usual dashing self at all. He was wearing a baggy black jerkin and black breeches. Even so, he was still tall with the potential for strength. His long blond hair hung loose about his shoulders as he stared at her with the most startling blue eyes she had ever seen.

  “Lady Jane,” he said, bowing deeply.

  “It is so very good to see you,” she said, meaning it. She had done the right thing, sending him to gaol instead of the noose. It had cost her every bit of jewelry she owned except her mother’s girdle. He might not have enjoyed his time in gaol, but at least he was alive. Jane sat up in her chair, her spine stiff. Apparently because of this bizarre contest her aunt had devised, he had somehow been set free.

  Who had gained his freedom?

  Jane pushed the thought aside. It did not matter as long as Jules was safe and free once more. Today was the beginning of a new life for him. Was that new life with her? Did she owe him that for what he had had to endure over the past many months?

  “My gift to you.” He stepped forward and presented a parcel wrapped in cloth. “As you have restored something to me—” He stopped and brought his intense blue-eyed gaze back to hers. A rare smile came to his lips. “You have given me back my life. For that, it is time I returned something to you.”

  Whatever could he mean? Curious, Jane pulled the wrapping away from the object to reveal a small wooden figure.

  “My doll,” she whispered. “However did you find her?” She had lost Meriwether so long ago. Jane had shed many tears over the loss of her favorite toy.

  A look of remorse settled over his features. “You did not lose her. We were playing a game of hide-and-go-seek, remember? Below stairs near the buttery, I found a priests’ hole from bygone days and hid Meriwether there. I never went back to get her. I just forgot until…” He paused and his face became a blank slate. “I had time in gaol to remember all sorts of things.”

  Despite the mention of his suffering, Jane could not help the wistful feeling that came over her. She and Jules had become the best of friends after that day. But even as the softer emotions came over her, so too did a stab of old hurt. Jane forced it aside. Jules was the injured party here. She could not imagine all he had had to endure in gaol. He started to turn to leave, judging her silence as his signal to go.

  She reached for his hand and held it. “Do not go just yet.”

  He stared down at her, long and hard, then quietly said, “Thank you for not letting them hang me that day.”

  She swallowed thickly. “I wish I could have—”

  He reached toward her and pressed his finger to her lips. “You did more than anyone else, especially my father.”

  Jane nodded as he shifted his finger to smooth her hair away from her cheek. “You restored my life. I restored your doll. Are we even?” He gave her a soft smile that for a second transformed his weary face.

  “Yes.”

  “A debt repaid,” he said with a soft release of breath.

  Jane startled at the sudden realization. He had not been the one to give her a gift this day. She had given him one. With her forgiveness she had put that familiar smile back onto his face. A welcome heat warmed her soul. She grinned at her old friend.

  Jules MacIntyre was back.

  “You two can reminisce later,” Aunt Margaret interrupted, placing her hand over where the two of theirs were joined. Jules pulled his hand back, bowed, then returned to where the others stood waiting.

  Jane’s fingers felt cold at the loss of her friend’s touch. She clamped her hands together, waiting for her next suitor to greet her.

  “Bryce MacCallister, please approach Lady Jane.” Her aunt’s voice startled Jane back to the moment.

  Her cousin Bryce came forward with his hand behind his back. Jane tensed, expecting the worst, but at that moment, the last rays of the morning sun came through the open doorway to the great hall and highlighted the shining darkness of his neatly barbered hair.

  Had Bryce changed? Was that errant ray of light a signal
from the universe that her cousin had left his anger at Jacob and herself behind him?

  She offered Bryce a smile as he bowed. She searched his face, looking for more signs of transformation. His long sideburns accented the high cheekbones of his slightly elongated face, and the hollow line of his jaw and deeply bronzed skin. Compared to Jules’s paleness, Bryce looked healthy and vital. His attire continued the impression—a waist-length dark blue tunic, a shirt of fine white muslin, and black breeches with polished black boots. He moved with a restless grace as if suppressing a powerful and volatile energy so similar to that of her father and brother. Perhaps her smile shrank a measure.

  A shadow of stubble darkened his cheek and a cynical smile curved his lips. He brought his hand out from behind him to reveal a bouquet of tiny white snowdrops. Their heads drooped toward the ground and several petals fell onto Jane’s lap to settle around the puppy as he pushed them toward her.

  “Greetings, cousin. Please accept my gift.”

  Jane took the wilting flowers. Immediately, the puppy in her lap stirred and began chewing them, tossing the small white heads into the air until only one bent flower remained. Jane held the bruised stem out of the dog’s reach.

  “Thank you, Bryce. Very thoughtful.”

  He frowned. “I suppose I should thank you for including me among your many suitors.” A hint of irritation lingered in his words. Perhaps he was not so changed after all.

  “You are here at my invitation, Bryce,” Aunt Margaret interrupted.

  For an instant, venomous anger flickered in Bryce’s eyes. He shot a glance at Margaret then turned back to Jane. “No matter who invited me, I am here.”

  Jane frowned. Nay, he had not changed at all.

  His dark eyes fixed on her. “I intend to marry you and keep what should be mine.”

  “Nothing is certain, Bryce. I get to decide—”

  His face hardened. “You brought me here. I must have just as great a chance of winning your hand as any of these fools.” He stepped forward, intent, his concentration focused to a rapier sharpness. Jane pressed back against the chair until the wood bit into her back. He smiled, one side of his mouth turning up and carving a deep line beneath a high, broad cheek. A wicked smile. A devil’s smile.

  “Bryce, you will have to play by the rules. All of the rules,” Jane breathed.

  Bryce reached past her to place his hand on the back of the chair and lean in. His stance emphasized his much greater height. His gaze drifted down her face and throat and lingered where her breasts swelled in agitation above the low, square neckline of her dress. “Rules are meant to be broken.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw David tense. Lord Galloway’s eyes darkened.

  Jane shifted her attention back to the man before her. His gaze unsettled her. “Bryce, please…”

  “Please what? Please myself?” He gave a humorless laugh and darkness flared in his eyes.

  A sense of panic rose within her as he closed the short distance between their mouths. He crushed her lips. She fought against the intimacy, pushing him away. When pushing failed to remove him, she struck his chest with her fist.

  The puppy in her lap growled. A heartbeat later Bryce was ripped away. Jules had him by one arm, David the other. Both men’s faces were flushed and their eyes were wide with anger. “Are you all right?” Jules asked.

  “I am unharmed,” she said, dragging the back of her hand across her lips, her gaze fixed on Bryce. “Never kiss me without my permission.” To hide the anger that made her fingers tremble, she turned her attention to the puppy in her lap, stroking the animal behind the ear. The pup immediately curled into a ball and settled in her lap once more as though nothing had transpired.

  “You are done here,” David snarled, as he pulled Bryce from the dais and returned him to his men below.

  Jane pressed her bruised lips together, then released them. Quietly, to her aunt she said, “I am more determined than ever to continue the competition, because of Bryce and his antics.”

  “Then I suppose I should thank him for that,” Aunt Margaret conceded in as hostile a whisper as Jane had ever heard from the woman. “He will never have the opportunity to treat you thusly again, especially in your own hall.”

  Jane straightened and abandoned the single flower bud on the arm of her chair. “I am ready to meet the next suitor.”

  “Very wise, my dear,” Margaret said. She patted Jane’s shoulder before returning to the edge of the dais. “I call forth Sir Nicholas Kincaid.”

  Jane looked up sharply. She longed to see Nicholas again—longed—but half dreaded, too.

  He bowed, then came forward carrying a small parcel.

  “I trust you to be a proper gentleman,” Margaret said, her eyes narrowing sharply. “You are here by my good graces. Do not do anything, say anything, that might harm Jane any further than you already have.”

  Nicholas’s brows drew together in confusion. “I would never hurt Lady Jane.”

  Oh, but he had. Jane had imagined this moment in her thoughts and her dreams for the last six months since the rumors had started to circulate. In those moments, she had wanted to act with cool reserve. She wanted to hurt him as much as he had injured her and her reputation. Instead, her body rebelled as the old attraction between them sparked, warming her cheeks.

  “Thank you for inviting me here,” he said with sincerity.

  She had forgotten the sound of his voice, low-toned and warm like honey. Yet today, his tone carried a certain tension.

  She drew in a tight breath. “There is no need to thank me,” she answered, proud of the fact her voice sounded unaffected as she gazed into his familiar sherry-colored eyes.

  “There is always a need.”

  They were speaking about common courtesy, and yet his words sounded like so much more. He offered her a half smile. It did little to soften the hard angles of his face, the edged cheekbones, the long planes of his cheeks, the austere set of his features—large sherry eyes set under a broad forehead, straight brown brows, surprisingly thick lashes, thin chiseled lips, and the strong prow of his nose. His square chiseled chin bore witness to the stubbornness he usually hid beneath a cloak of easy charm.

  To Nicholas Kincaid, charm had always come easy, and its effect on her senses, even now, challenged her efforts to remain open to all her suitors. With a good four feet separating them, she could still feel her body responding to him. Her rib cage tightened and her breathing quickened. Her heart fluttered and her nerves tingled in telltale anticipation. She had not seen him for two long years.

  She had changed in that time. No doubt he had as well. And yet… Jane pulled her gaze from Nicholas’s. “The others are growing restless. Perhaps we should move our reunion along?”

  Something changed in his face—a coolness slid into his expression. “I have not presented you with my gift.” He moved closer and held out a small parcel wrapped in parchment. She accepted it. Immediately the puppy’s eyes snapped open and she started sniffing the parcel.

  “If I may,” Nicholas said as he bent to pick up the puppy. He nestled the animal close to his chest, humming to the animal as he carried it toward the discarded cloth it had arrived in. Nicholas gathered the cloth into a small bundle then set the animal on top. The puppy immediately nestled into the folds and closed her eyes, once again asleep.

  Nicholas straightened and came back to Jane’s side just as she reached the contents inside the parchment. Several dark brown chunks of something she had never seen before lay against the honey-colored paper. Wordlessly, she looked back at Nicholas, hoping for an explanation.

  “They are shavings,” he explained.

  “Of what?”

  He picked a small piece up off the parchment. “Open your mouth to taste a new delight.”

  She eyed him with suspicion. “You are going to feed me?”

  That charming smile of his returned. “Must you question everything?”

  She obediently opened her mouth. He la
id a small flake of what he termed a “delight” against her tongue.

  “Let it melt, then press it to the roof of your mouth.”

  Bitter sweetness invaded her senses, as did Nicholas’s masculine scent of cinnamon and bay leaves. She closed her eyes as the two scents mixed. She released a soft groan at the intensity of the sensation. The object in her mouth melted and intensified. “What is it?” she begged.

  “Chocolate.”

  “Where?” she asked, unable to finish her sentence as the chocolate slid down her throat in a wave of ecstasy.

  “I found it in a little shop in London called the Coffee Mill and Tobacco Roll. Chocolate is said to have rejuvenating properties and is a natural energizer. Do you like it?”

  Enjoyment shuddered through Jane so intensely she could only nod her head in agreement. Just as strongly, so too, did the lies he had spread about her. A passionate seductress. Although, at the moment, she did not feel seductive, she felt seduced.

  Nicholas brought his finger up to the corner of her mouth and touched the fullness of her lower lip. “Imagine a kiss on top of that sweetness…”

  Margaret bristled.

  Jane swallowed. She could imagine the sensation would be dangerous. Despite the years that had separated them, she could still remember the pleasure of his touch and his kisses. “Thank you, Nicholas. That was certainly a memorable gift.”

  He gave her one last heart-melting smile before he bowed and returned to the others.

  Margaret relaxed as he moved away. “That looks unusual,” she whispered from beside Jane.

  “Have a taste.” Jane offered the chocolate to her aunt.

  Her aunt placed a small shaving on her tongue and groaned. Jane smiled as Margaret’s reaction echoed her own. They both found the treat delicious.

  Just like Nicholas. Everything about him was delicious, it always had been. But then again, she had had similar feelings about all the men who had come to greet her. All the men, that was, except Bryce. Suddenly the sweetness lingering in her mouth soured. Bryce was the fly in the ointment, for certain. He would try to stop her from choosing anyone else as her husband.