Christmas in Kilts

by Bronwen Evans

  She nodded, felt tears in her eyes. Donal looked up to see Hugh MacAulay waiting for them—for her—properly dressed now. He heard Meggie draw a ragged breath at the sight of him, and he smiled at his daughter.

  He gently set Meggie down on her good leg, held her steady, and kissed her forehead.

  “Do ye suppose he knows he’s standing under the mistletoe?” her father murmured. “He hasn’t looked at anything but you since we came in.”

  She smiled. “I suppose I’d better go and tell him.”

  And as Meggie MacLeod kissed Hugh MacAulay under the mistletoe the steward rang the wee silver bells to announce the arrival of Christmas, and everyone cheered.

  But neither Meggie nor Hugh heard them. They had each other, and that was all they needed.

  Epilogue

  Hugh didn’t ask for permission or approval from the elders of Abercorry. He didn’t need it. Meggie was right for him, and together they’d be right for Abercorry.

  When the snow stopped on Christmas Day, they left for Raine Castle, and a summons went out to Glen Iolair, and to Abercorry. Six days later, Meggie’s sisters arrived for the wedding, and they adored Hugh. Four days after that, the elders of Abercorry arrived with Hugh’s wee cousin Sandy, ready to object, but Meggie quickly won their stony hearts. And Catriona and Charlie came as well, more in love every day. Charlie brought Hugh his brooch, and the sword and gold that Magnus had wagered and surrendered with ill grace. Charlie’s fine hunting hawk would arrive at Abercorry in the spring.

  “But ye won the greatest prize of all,” Charlie said, grinning at Hugh as they watched Meggie and Catriona and Meggie’s sisters giggling together. When Meggie looked up and smiled at him, Hugh’s heart flipped in his chest. “Aye,” he replied. “Aye.”

  And on Twelfth Night, as the storm clouds gave way to clear skies, Hugh and Meggie spoke their wedding vows before all the folk who mattered most to them. Then they mounted their ribbon-bedecked garrons to ride for Abercorry.

  But once they were out of sight of their well-wishers, Hugh took Meggie’s reins and rode into the woods.

  “Where are we going?” Meggie asked.

  He grinned at her. “Sir Hector told me there’s a wee sheiling a few miles from here. Sounds perfect for a honeymoon, wouldn’t ye say?”

  Meggie MacLeod’s heart bloomed in her chest, and she kissed her handsome husband, took back her reins, and raced him to the door.

  Also by Lecia Cornwall

  Other Titles in the Highland Fairy Tale Series:

  Beauty and the Highland Beast

  When a Laird Finds a Lass

  The Lady and the Highlander

  How a Lass Wed a Highlander (part of the Say Yes to the Scot anthology)

  Enchanted by the Highlander (November 2017)

  Awakened by the Highlander (Spring 2018)

  For a complete list of Lecia’s books, please visit www.leciacornwall.com

  About the Author

  Olivia Cotton Cornwall

  Lecia Cornwall is the author of seventeen Regency and Scottish romances. Her books are known for their layered plots, humor, and intriguing characters. Lecia lives in Alberta, Canada, with two adult children, four cats, a crazy chocolate Lab, the dozens of book characters who live in her head, and one very patient husband who endures it all with remarkable patience. Lecia is currently hard at work on her next book.

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  A SCOT FOR CHRISTMAS

  Bronwen Evans

  Chapter One

  Scotland—December 1st 1815

  Dougray stood at the edge of Loch Linnhe watching the sunlight sparkle across the water on this crisp winterish morning. After his five-mile hike from his hunting lodge, his breath created puffs of white in the cool morning air. He stood looking at the beauty surrounding him but he couldn’t see past the painful memories.

  Francesca had always loved it here. It was the fitting place to tell her his plan.

  Six years ago to the day, she’d died in his arms on this very spot, and the world had turned dark and his life had lost all its joy. He had loved her and he’d remained true to her since the day he’d met her. Two wonderful years of marriage had been followed by six lonely years without her.

  But although his heart would always belong to only her, he had to do his duty. He had warred with himself for months, but he had to produce the next Earl of Lorne, which meant he had to remarry.

  He pulled a jewel-encrusted cross out from under his shirt and pressed a kiss to it before ripping its chain from around his neck. He stared at it as it lay in his palm and his heart began to beat faster as he knew what he had to do. He let his fingers curl around the cross, drew back his arm, and threw it far out into the still loch.

  The jeweled cross glinted in the sunlight before it hit the water and was gone. His heart clenched tight in his chest and pain ricocheted inside him like the ripples spreading across the loch.

  “Goodbye, my love. I will hold you in my heart until the day I die, when I will finally join you. But I know you will understand why I have to remarry. Forgive me. I will give my next wife my body and honor, but never my heart.”

  With that he turned from Francesca’s favorite place, and with pain thudding deep in his chest he made the hike back to his hunting lodge and the meeting that was to take place in a few hours with Ian Mackenzie.

  * * *

  Four hours later he’d made his decision.

  “Ack, marriage to Fiona Mackenzie . . . vow or no vow, I’d not be doin’ it,” his cousin Angus grumbled.

  Dougray kept gazing after the departing carriage; all he saw was an endless, emotionless, lonely life. Just what he wanted. “She’ll do.”

  “It’s not a horse you’re buying.”

  He finally turned his gaze Angus’s way. “No, you’re right. If I was buying a new steed I’d be far more particular.”

  With that he turned and strode back into the old hunting lodge that had been his late father’s favorite place to hide from the stresses and tribulations of being the Earl of Lorne. As he walked toward his study he purposely ignored the shaking of Angus’s head, refusing to have this conversation once again.

  Angus hurried along beside him, boots loud on the stone slate floor. “Your vow to your father was to ensure the Mackenzie survival. You can do that without marrying his daughter.”

  He swung to face his cousin and stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I will hear no more on this. I’ve met her and see no reason that come Christmas I do not propose.”

  “I wonder why you wait. Why did you not tell Ian Mackenzie of your plan today? I think you want a way out of such a solution.”

  Angus’s words did hit close to home.

  When Angus had suggested a hunting party at Dougray’s lodge, he had taken Angus’s request as a sign that it was time to do what needed to be done. The Mackenzie lands bordered his hunting estate. He’d thought of nothing but this plan to save the Mackenzie for the past six months and today he’d met with old Laird Mackenzie and his daughter to see if he could stomach taking her as his wife. It would appear she would do.

  He’d tried to loan Mackenzie money but the stubborn fool let pride stand in the way. Ian had said only family loaned money to family.

  Since he needed children, and the only way he’d ever marry again was if it was a marriage of convenience, the idea of wedding Fiona Mackenzie and helping the Mackenzie suited his purpose. This was the way he’d honor his promise to his father.

  He stared his cousin down. “The guests will be arriving this afternoon. You wanted this party and I have indulged you. Now you will abide by my request and say no more about my plan to remarry.”

  “I like your plan to remarry, it’s been far too long since you have been with a woman, let alone shared your life with someone. I just wish you’d try to find a woman who would bring joy and pleasure to your life. You deserve some happiness.”

  His chest tightened at Angus’s words. His cousin woul
d never understand that life lost all joy the day Francesca died.

  In a few weeks, just on Christmas, he would propose to Fiona Mackenzie Frankly, he wanted the event to be over as soon as possible. He wanted children, a son, and having lost Francesca he no longer cared whom he married.

  Fiona Mackenzie was the perfect candidate. By marrying her he would fulfill his vow to his father to ensure the impoverished Mackenzie clan was taken care of without offering the charity he knew would be refused. But most of all he’d be in no danger of ever falling in love again.

  Fiona did not inspire him to give her his heart. He didn’t want to use the word “shrew,” but he could not think of a better description. “Spoiled beyond all recognition” was another. She would be content at the idea of becoming Lady Fiona Lorne, he was sure.

  He eyed Angus with amusement. “I wanted you to know my plan to marry Fiona because I don’t want you doing anything stupid over the next three weeks.”

  “As if I would,” Angus replied as if offended.

  “I saw your guest list. The guests are my friends and their paramours, with two other women of questionable virtue who appear to be coming alone. Who exactly are they for? One for you, and one for me?” He shook his head. “You know—”

  “Aye. I know you’ve turned into a monk since—well—but I thought if you were seriously contemplating marriage again, you might wish to indulge and see if your manhood still works.”

  Oh, it still worked. His hand could attest to that.

  “Just stay out of my affairs or I shall send every guest home early.”

  “I’d love to stay out of your affairs if you but only had them,” he heard Angus mutter under his breath. Dougray chose to ignore the comment.

  Time to change the subject. “The weather looks like it will hold for the next few days at least. The guests should arrive on schedule and you will be here to greet them since you invited all of them.”

  Luckily his hunting lodge sat on the right bank of Loch Linnhe near the sea, and rarely was the weather so bad that the roads would be covered with snow. But further south he could never guarantee the weather, even in early December. With any luck the weather would hold and they should get three weeks of good hunting in.

  Just then they heard the sounds of a carriage pulling up. He looked at Angus. “No more mention of the Mackenzie until after the guests have left,” he warned.

  Angus put his hands up. “Never a word will leave these lips.”

  Dougray merely frowned. He believed Angus meant what he said but the whisky he loved, which he drank by the jugful, often loosened his lips.

  He sent his cousin another stern look and decided to go and greet the first guest. As he strode through the front door he saw it was Lord Thornton Duckworth, one of his best friends from school.

  Thornton’s father was the Earl of Atherton and owned a large estate near York. He used to spend many holidays at the Atherton estate, and it was Thornton who persuaded him to go on a grand tour with him when they finished school. Thornton was the reason he met Francesca and he would be forever grateful to him.

  His spirits lifted as he realized he could have a night of playing billiards with Thornton before the other guests arrived. Thornton’s mistress, a young widow called Serena was arriving tomorrow, and then he suspected he’d not see much of Thornton at all.

  He knew Angus had devised this hunting party as an attempt to entice Dougray’s long dormant male instincts. The guests were a few merry widows and the odd man’s mistress in the mix. So it was with growing dismay that he saw who was being helped down from the carriage. Lady Emma Duckworth. What on earth had Thornton been thinking allowing his sister to come to a gathering such as this?

  “Thornton, good to see you my friend.” He put on his best smile but shook his friend’s hand hard, squeezing until he saw Thornton grimace. “And Lady Emma, how lovely to see you too.”

  She turned to greet him and gave him a smile that sent his senses reeling. He took a step back. It was as if a blast of summer sun washed over him on this winter’s day. He could not look away; instead he stood mute, basking in her glow.

  How had he forgotten how lovely Lady Emma was?

  The last time he’d seen Emma was at the wake for Francesca and he’d not been in any condition to notice anyone. Emma had his full attention now. She’d always been a pretty lass, but because she was Thornton’s sister he’d never paid her much notice in that regard. The word “beautiful” tripped on his tongue and he bit it before he said something stupid.

  “My lord, I apologize for forcing Thornton to bring me along, but I have always wanted to visit a highland loch.”

  For one stunned second he stood staring then he shook his head.

  A possessive anger engulfed him. Like hell. He had no idea what she was about, but a lady didn’t travel all this way, in the cold, to see a loch. Besides, he knew Emma well enough to know she was lying.

  His eyes narrowed on Angus. Had Angus invited her? But Angus shook his head and the look of horror on his cousin’s face was proof this was not his doing.

  So who was she here to meet? And why did he care? The men on the guest list ran through his mind as he forced a smile to appear on his lips. Dougray wanted to punch each and every one of them.

  He stepped forward and offered Lady Emma his arm. “You are a lovely addition to our gathering.” That at least was true. She was a stunning woman. Her fair hair was a shade darker than her creamy skin. She was very tall, but she still curved in all the right places. He wondered why she was not married. Lady Emma was more than attractive enough—vibrant and warm, always ready with a smile, intelligent too. She could turn any male head if she chose to.

  In fact, staring into her sparkling green eyes set off a sensation he’d not experienced in six long years, his male imaginings flaring to life. For the first time in an age his body wanted to find out what lay beneath a woman’s flattering traveling gown. He’d always had a weakness for high, firm breasts and long limbs. That’s what was odd when he’d met Francesca—she should not have been his type at all.

  Only Francesca had owned his heart from the moment she’d smiled at him. No woman’s smile had affected him like Francesca’s.

  Until today.

  His body was very aware of Lady Emma as she smiled up at him, and guilt sent a kick to his innards.

  “I shall arrange for my staff to ready a room for you. Why don’t you take a seat in the morning room by the roaring fire to get warm, and I’ll organize some refreshments while you wait.”

  Her hand trembled on his arm. “How lovely, thank you.”

  “Are we the first ones here?” Thornton asked as he followed them into the house.

  “Yes, the others will arrive over the next few days, weather permitting.” He waited until Lady Emma was seated. “Thornton, may I have a word in the hall, please.”

  As soon as Thornton entered the hall and closed the door behind him, Dougray rounded on him. “What in the blazes have you done? This is no place for an unmarried lady.”

  Thornton ran his hand through his hair. “She threatened to tell father about Serena. He would likely cut me off. You know he wants me to marry and settle down.”

  “We are of that age. I want a son, don’t you?”

  “I have plenty of time. My father is still alive but he grows tired of my defiance to marry. I just can’t give Serena up and father does not approve of a match. She has no money.”

  “Does the Earl of Atherton have need of money?”

  Thornton laughed. “No. We are very well off. It’s more that she’s been married before and she never bore a child. I’m an only son and father is desperate to continue the line. He wants a fine match with one of London’s leading young virginal debutantes, thinking to have many sons. I find it ironic as there is no guarantee they will be any more fruitful, shall we say.”

  “Then marry Serena. Your father will come around. He has to. You’re his only son and heir. Hell, if he cuts you off you can
live here until he sees the error of his ways.”

  Thornton’s face lit up. “What a fabulous idea. We could elope to Gretna Green on the way home.”

  “Which will be tomorrow. Your sister cannot stay here for three weeks.”

  “We have only just arrived, Dougray. Serena won’t arrive until tomorrow. She’s coming from Southport. I can’t expect her to turn around and leave without at least letting her rest.”

  He wanted to hit something. “Two days, then you’re gone.” He turned to leave but said over his shoulder, “And your sister is your responsibility.” With that he strode off to speak with Mrs. Jones, his housekeeper at the lodge, to explain the extra guest.

  Chapter Two

  Emma sank into a high-back chair by the fire and fiddled with her gloves, trying to hide her growing embarrassment at her bold plan. She could barely think with the tiredness. It had been five grueling days of travel in winterish conditions. No snow, but a biting wind. Yes, she must look a mess, and she desperately needed a bath. She wanted to sleep, but she only had three weeks to obtain her goal and she wasn’t about to waste precious time on sleep.

  She grew uncomfortable as she sensed Mr. Angus McGregor studying her. What must he think? She wished he’d say something.

  Unable to stomach the silence, she turned to him saying, “I suspect my appearance has upset Lord Lorne’s plans.” Emma had tried not to be offended, and disappointed, by the less than enthusiastic greeting from Dougray.

  Dougray had never been the same since he lost Francesca.

  “Dinna be silly. It’s lovely to have another bonnie lass at our gathering. I suspect he’s merely surprised at you wishing to attend.”

  Scandalized more likely. Her face heated because it was scandalous for her to attend what she knew was supposed to be a bachelors’ gathering, but she had nothing more to lose. At six and twenty she was officially on the shelf and forgotten by most of society.