Christmas in the Highlands: Anthology with 2 Stories

by Madelyn Hill

Bollocks, ‘twas too much.

  “‘Tis the truth of it,” he finally replied.

  Mairi came to his side and took hold of his hand. He glanced down at the wee lass and smiled.

  “Do you want to play?” she asked innocently. “When my grandsire was mad, my mother would take me to play.”

  He tipped his head back and laughed. Och, what a sweet lass. Her words were in turn endearing and troubling, but he was relieved her mother had ensured a safe harbor when Laird Gordon was out of sorts. Such a bastard of a man.

  “Aye, let us go and see if we have a pony just your size.”

  Her eyes widened and a huge smile filled her face. “My mother did promise me a pony a day when I hid—”

  Malcolm lifted her onto his shoulders and tried to hold in a chuckle. “When she was hiding you?”

  The incorrigible lass nodded.

  Cam laughed outright. “You’ve your hands full with these two.”

  “Aye.” And it didn’t bother him in the least.

  Even though he barely kenned them, they’d quickly found a way into his family. He looked forward to celebrating Christmas with his new wife and daughter. And in the future, if God allowed, to celebrating with more babes.

  Aye, many bairns.

  A thread of doubt burrowed in his mind, reminding him to remain watchful. Rossalyn had allowed her father to trick him. A man he’d never trust, but he had to forge the alliance for his clan’s sake. What if more treachery loomed? He shook his head to cease such worrisome ponderings. He had to trust her as he trusted his men to guard the keep. If Gordon tried anything, they’d ken.

  The future was bright with Rossalyn and Mairi, he must believe it so.

  Then Fiona approached and Malcolm groaned. He didn’t need further harassment. He lifted Mairi down from his shoulders and pointed her toward the chairs before the hearth.

  “So she brought a whelp,” Fiona sneered. “You could have had a chaste woman.”

  Cam scoffed and Fiona sent a glare in his direction.

  Malcolm pulled her aside. “You’ll never talk to her in that manner again. Do you ken?” His voice shifted from civil to threatening. Fiona stepped back, but anger narrowed her gaze.

  “She used you,” she hissed. “You could have had me.” She pressed a fist to her chest to emphasize the words spewing from her mouth. “I would have made you happy.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated to feel regret for his friendship with the lass. One that had endured since they were wee, filled with grand memories as he, Cam, and Fiona had played and grown together. Aye, as children not much older than Mairi, they’d said vows the way lads and lasses did when pretending. But damned if Fiona didn’t think the vows were true and insisted they were betrothed. No matter how many times he and Cam tried to persuade her otherwise.

  “I have chosen the right bride. Vex me no longer.”

  “We’ll see, m’laird. We’ll see.” Bitterness ringed her tone.

  Malcolm turned toward the hearth and the wee lass in the chair before it. ‘Twas odd, but he felt a kinship to her despite Fiona’s harsh words. And he wanted to protect her from any ugliness. As long as she was beneath his roof, he’d ensure she knew happiness, for he was certain her time at Gordon Keep was anything but.

  “Fiona, go to Brae.” Cam glared at their childhood friend. “Be certain to tell her how you disgraced the honor of your family with your words and actions.”

  Fiona gasped as she backed away. “I don’t have to listen to you.”

  “Do it,” he warned, “or I will.”

  She stalked from the room after sending a withering glare at both Cam and Malcolm.

  Cam swore beneath his breath. “I’m sorry, m’laird.”

  He patted his friend on the back. “Not to fret. I should have spoken to her when we first arrived.” He worried about her anger. Would she dare confront Rossalyn or be hateful to Mairi?

  She was a spirited lass and Malcolm didn’t trust her when her ire was up.

  “Ensure she realizes I will not allow her to speak to Mairi or Rossalyn in anger.”

  Cam cocked his brow and settled his hands on his hips. “You ken she’s a temperamental woman.”

  With a laugh, Malcolm acknowledged such truth. Fiona had a frightful anger. When they were young she would retaliate whenever she felt she’d been crossed, with swift fury and a sharp tongue. If she dared to use that viper’s tongue on Rossalyn or Mairi, he’d have to decide the consequences. He sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. Clansmen had seen the confrontation, and so mayhap ‘twould be warning enough for no one to speak to his wife as Fiona had. He’d shown he wouldn’t tolerate words or actions against Rossalyn and her child.

  “Warn her nonetheless. I’ll not have my wife hurt by her.”

  “Aye, your wife, you say.” He nudged Malcolm with his elbow. “Your wife.”

  Malcolm playfully pushed his friend away, ignoring his taunt.

  “Mal is smitten,” Cam teased.

  “Haud yer wheesh.” Smitten? Nay. Rossalyn was beautiful and . . . and when they’d joined the evening before—it was glorious. He was a man, after all, and appreciated a comely woman. Was it so horrible he found his wife attractive? Or a disgrace because he yearned to go upstairs and feast upon her again?

  Cam now regarded him with wide eyes and a frown on his mouth. “Tell me ‘tisn’t so.”

  “What?” he asked as he scooped Mairi up from the chair. She’d been watching them with rapt interest. He hoped she didn’t ken what had just transpired with Fiona. He’d have to warn Rossalyn about what had been said.

  “You love her.”

  Malcolm took a step back. “Nay.”

  Nay, he didn’t love her. He wed her for the alliance and that was how it would remain. He wouldn’t allow love, which had stabbed him in the back, to make of him the fool, or weaken the foundation on which he led the clan.

  “Nay,” he repeated.

  Cam smirked. “Aye, m’laird.”

  Mairi pulled on his ear.

  “Aye, Lady Mairi?”

  “Pony,” she said with a pout.

  Glad of the distraction, Malcolm chuckled. “To the stables.”

  Light filtered into the chamber, smarting her eyes. Rossalyn rolled over to pull her daughter close. ‘Twas her favorite time of day. When they were warm and safe and still tucked into bed.

  She patted the mattress, then quickly sat up and looked around the room. Where was Mairi?

  Rossalyn leapt from the bed. Her daughter was nowhere to be seen. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her rising panic. They were at the Sutherland Keep, not the Gordon Keep. She kenned ‘twas safe, Mairi was safe. One quick glance and she sighed. The laird’s chamber. She set her hand on her stomach, trying to calm the worry churning it, then hurried to her chamber and dressed so she could search for her lass.

  The door opened and her daughter bounded into the room with her usual energy and rosy cheeks.

  “I have to show you my pony.”

  Mairi hadn’t stopped talking about a pony since the eve before. Truth be told, she had even spoken of the animal while she slept. Murmuring different names for the pet she so desired, declaring her love for the beast between tiny snores and tossing in the bed.

  “Ah, I see you have awakened,” Malcolm said as he strode in the room, smiling. ‘Twas a good sign and her heart began to patter.

  Mairi squealed and dashed to Malcolm, who quickly swooped her into his arms. The grins both their faces wore proved infectious. Rossalyn clutched her chest at the lovely sight before her. Tears of joy tickled at the back of her eyes. Surely her husband would think her mad if she started to weep.

  “I trust you slept well,” he inquired, eyeing her.

  She mo
ved toward him as if she couldn’t help herself. His mouth twitched upward and she swore he kenned how his lovely dark eyes enticed her to think thoughts of . . . of his kisses and the feel of his skin beneath her fingers—och, and the way his muscles had flexed against her.

  Heat rose over her face; she lowered her gaze and nodded. “Aye.”

  “Mother, my pony.”

  Malcolm set Mairi on her feet. “Ah, ah, ah. Not until she has broken her fast.”

  The lass rolled her eyes and fisted her hands on her hips. They’d only kenned Malcolm for a short time and her daughter was already mimicking his stance. “Hurry.” Then her nose scrunched and she asked, “Will I get another pony for Christmas?”

  Rossalyn patted her daughter’s head. “Enough, my love. I will see your pony, then break my fast.”

  “I told you, m’laird,” she said with a pert tip of her head. “My mother loves ponies too.”

  Their laughter caught Rossalyn off guard. There had been sadness for too long and the easy shift to humor was unfamiliar. Again she touched her unsettled stomach. ‘Twas is if everything was too right with her world. As if she would turn the corner and all of this had been a dream with the nightmare of Gordon Keep, rising before her.

  “Is all well, m’lady?”

  “Aye.” She forced a smile along with the untruth she uttered, and accepted Malcolm’s arm.

  “My pony is black, Mother. I’ve named her Sunny.”

  “‘Tis a lovely name.”

  She clapped her hands. “‘Tis what Laird Sutherland said! Didn’t you, m’laird?”

  Rossalyn glanced at Malcolm and caught the bemused look on his face. Aye, the man was pleasing to look at with his sparkling gaze and his ear held captive by her daughter’s chatter. He cradled Mairi as if she were precious. Much like Daniel had done for the short time they spent together as a family.

  The image of Daniel kissing Mairi’s brow as a babe came to her. He’d scoop her up the minute she’d cried, making coos and promises, then carry on as if he held the best of miracles. Which of course she was. The bittersweet memories assaulted Rossalyn when she should be focused on the happiness of her new marriage.

  If only she’d been able to stop the confrontation with her father. If only . . .

  “M’laird, m’ladies.” The quavering voice brought her from thoughts of guilt and regret. Rossalyn blinked at Auld William, who greeted them as they crossed the bailey. “‘Tis a lovely day for the Sutherland Keep, with our laird and lady and the Christmas season quickly approaching.”

  “That it is, William.” Malcolm winked at Rossalyn and heat flooded her despite the chill in the air.

  “I have a pony,” Mairi announced.

  “‘Tis grand,” Auld William said. “I’ll be by to visit her in a thrice.”

  Mairi nodded and chattered the entire way to the barn, equally enthralled with the pony and Auld William’s pending visit.

  “There she is.” Mairi wiggled out of Malcolm’s arms and raced to her new friend.

  “‘Tis a large pony,” Rossalyn said with alarm. Her daughter barely reached the animal’s belly. She gripped Malcolm’s arm. “Is it safe?”

  He caught her hand and twined his fingers with hers. His warm palm chased heat throughout her. Dear God Almighty, her body was quick to react. She was a wanton woman, to be sure.

  He nodded. “The pony is safe, I assure you.”

  “I never meant to imply otherwise. Mairi is still so wee.”

  A gentle smile tipped up one side of his mouth. “I ken you are a concerned mother, Rossalyn—”

  Caustic, intruding words interrupted him. “Well, well, well.”

  ‘Twas that woman. The beautiful lass who rode with abandon and threw herself into Malcolm’s arms.

  “‘Tis a cozy family.”

  Malcolm’s muscles clenched beneath her touch. Rossalyn spied the rapid pulse along his jaw, a sign of vexation, to be sure.

  “Fiona.”

  “Not to worry, m’laird,” she sneered with a wink. “I’m certain you won’t be needing me when you have her.”

  Rossalyn opened her mouth to tell the woman she was a rude lass.

  “Mother,” Mairi called.

  Rossalyn sent an apologetic glance toward Malcolm and crossed to her daughter’s side.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Aye, she is.” Rossalyn tried but couldn’t prevent a scowl from forming as she glanced at Malcolm and Fiona.

  Her daughter gripped her hand and pulled. “Look, Mother.”

  Rossalyn made herself refocus on her child. Och, she was acting like a shrew. Malcolm had kenned Fiona since they were bairns. She’d no right to interfere. And, from the thunderous frown her husband wore, no reason to worry as anger darkened his face.

  Even so, as she petted the pony and made enough appreciative sounds to please her daughter, her gaze never left her husband and his childhood friend.

  Fiona tossed her hair over her shoulder and glanced back at Rossalyn. How did the woman get it so shiny and smooth? Not that she’d ever ask, but ‘twas vexing, nonetheless.

  “Look at her run.” Sunny had turned from her new owner and trotted around the small area Malcolm had fenced in for her.

  Rossalyn chuckled. “She’s lovely.”

  Mairi’s grin couldn’t get any bigger. Her daughter was smitten and Rossalyn feared she’d want to sleep with the beastie as well.

  She turned toward the sound of tinkling laughter. Ire raced through her as Fiona had snuggled close to Malcolm, touching his arm.

  Why didn’t her husband step away or tell the woman to stop? As she scrutinized them, he looked down his nose at the wench, but he didn’t move or push her hand from his forearm. If only she could hear what he was saying.

  Fiona cast her a smirk that said, “Aye, I’m touching your husband.”

  Rossalyn hiked up her skirt and strode to Malcolm’s side. Uncertainty and a touch of sadness flitted in Fiona’s eyes for a moment and then she quickly tipped up her chin in a haughty action.

  “M’laird, the pony is a lovely present for Mairi.”

  He nodded as relief visibly brightened his expression, and he moved toward her. “They are well suited.”

  “Please join us and then I can speak with Cook. ‘Tis the duty of the lady of the keep, after all.” Rossalyn would not resist that small taunt.

  If possible, Fiona’s glare would have flung daggers.

  “Mairi,” Malcolm called. “We’ll visit your pony later.”

  “M’laird, I’ll stay with the lass,” Auld William called as he slowly approached. “She’s safe with me.” He made a point to look at Rossalyn after he spoke. As if he were stating she’s one of us now.

  “Thank you,” Rossalyn said, accepting Malcolm’s arm. They walked back toward the keep’s entrance.

  Frustrated silence filled the air. Och, would the man say something? ‘Twas as if he’d lost his tongue.

  “Don’t let her anger you,” he warned. “‘Tis what she wants.”

  Finally. “Aye, well. I’m the one you married, aren’t I?”

  He tipped his head back and laughed then quickly kissed her brow. “And glad I am, at that.”

  Dear God Almighty, her heart filled with such happiness. She reached to grip his broad shoulders, stretched to her toes, and kissed his mouth. After a moment of surprise, he pulled her to him, swooshing the air from her lungs, circling her waist with his hands.

  As they kissed, the sounds of the clan disappeared and ‘twas as if they were the only people in the Highlands. If possible, her heart surged even more full. Of happiness—of love.

  She pulled away from him. Narrowed her gaze as she inspected his face. She’d kenned this man for such a short time. Could she love him? He
made her feel safe, wanted. And when he wasn’t there, her thoughts were only of him. Aye, she thought, she loved him.

  Rossalyn cupped his cheek with her hand and slowly brushed her thumb over the stubble along his strong jaw. The endearment burst forth.

  “I love you.”

  Chapter 10

  Her eyes widened in surprise even as the words came out of her mouth. God, she was lovely. Her eyes, bright and intelligent, seemed to ken all. They sparkled when she smiled, bringing light to the depths of blue.

  ‘Twas as if Rossalyn saw his soul and still wanted to learn more.

  And she’d just said she loved him.

  Her lips parted, a direct invitation. Malcolm wouldn’t leave her wanting. Nay, he thought as he descended, as their lips met—‘twas as if he were home. For a moment he almost pulled away, for he’d been made a fool before, his heart battered.

  But when her lips parted and she tangled her fingers through his hair, he pushed his thoughts aside.

  He smoothed his hands over her shoulders, his large palms itching to reach for her and cup her breast. His cods ached for her.

  Malcolm eased from her and stared at her face. Her breath came in spurts and her hooded gaze nearly had him ravishing her in the middle of the bailey. A smile curled her kiss-swollen lips, and he felt it. Felt it deep within him.

  Love.

  Malcolm leaned his forehead against hers. Her confession confused him. Nay, it worried him.

  He’d pledged not to love.

  But as he looked into the eyes that so enthralled him, mayhap ‘twas time to let go of the past. She grinned. He loved how her lids tipped up at the corners and how flecks of silver swirled in the sapphire depths. Bollocks, now he was waxing poetic about a lass’s eyes.

  “Go,” he rasped, as he tapped her nose. “‘Tis almost time to ready the tree for the main hall.”

  At the way she clapped her hands and squealed, Malcolm laughed. “I’ll send Mairi in to rest soon.”