Christmas in Kilts

by Bronwen Evans

  He could hear Thornton and the two women at dinner but was in no mood to join them. What was bloody Angus playing at? Where the hell was he and what on earth was he up to?

  Just then the door opened and Angus stood in the doorway, also soaking wet.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Dougray all but roared, his temper raging with all the emotions storming through him.

  “What’s got you riled up? I’ve been out, and the last time I checked I’m a grown man and not required to tell you where I am.”

  “Emma says you have a woman?”

  Angus stood straighter and his eyes narrowed. “A woman?”

  He nodded. “Aye, a woman. She saw you with her at the summerhouse. Who is she?”

  Angus moved further into the room, dripping water all over the beautiful Persian rug.

  “Nobody of note.”

  “Does this nobody of note have a name?”

  “Why are you so interested?”

  “Just promise me it is not someone’s wife and that you are not leading a young local lass astray. I hope you are acting with honor. I thought you’d at least be able to wait until the lovely ladies you invited to this gathering could arrive.”

  He watched as Angus’s fists curled at his side, and he knew he’d gone too far. Angus was a man who took honor very seriously.

  Angus leaned his two hands on Dougray’s desk. “And what of your honor? I know everything that goes on in this house, I wonder if Thornton does?”

  He couldn’t bring himself to look at Angus.

  “Tell me, are you still going to offer for Fiona?”

  Angus had him trapped with his own dishonorable behavior.

  “Whom I do or do not marry is none of your concern.”

  Angus took a step back. “I wonder what your best friend would have to think about this situation. What if you got her with child?”

  “Obviously I have to wait before I can offer for Fiona. If Emma is with child then of course I will marry her.”

  “Are you listening to yourself? This is not who you are.”

  Angus was right. He sank to his chair with his head in his hands. “I made a vow to my father, and marrying Fiona is the way—”

  “It’s one way. There must be another.”

  He looked at his cousin with anguish on his face. “If there is another way please let me know because I . . .”

  “You what?”

  “I don’t want to marry Fiona, I want to marry Emma,” he said in one rush of breath.

  Angus sank into a chair on the other side of the table. “Thank the Lord. Pour us some of my fine whisky and let’s think of a way to help stubborn Ian Mackenzie see sense.”

  * * *

  Emma felt like an intruder at the dinner table. Serena was doing her best to include her in the conversation, but Thornton had eyes only for his love. As soon as dessert was served, she pleaded tiredness and excused herself.

  Serena tried to get her to stay. “Don’t leave. Once the men return from the inn, Thornton will likely play billiards and we can have a nice catch up.”

  That was the problem. She didn’t want to chat. She knew Serena would ask what had happened, and she wanted to cradle the wonder of her memories to her chest without revealing the pain of rejection.

  She made her way upstairs and heard raised voices coming from Dougray’s study. She hoped she hadn’t got Angus in trouble with her observation of the lady he was meeting.

  She hurried forward to try and calm any maelstrom she’d unleashed, but as she neared the door she caught part of a conversation that almost stopped her heart.

  “I wonder what your best friend would have to think about this situation. What if you got her with child?”

  “Obviously I have to wait before I can offer for Fiona. If Emma is with child then of course I will marry her.”

  Fiona? Offer? He was thinking of remarrying? He was thinking of remarrying. She had to grip the bannister to stop from sliding to the floor. He’d led her to believe he didn’t want to marry.

  Idiot. He just doesn’t want to marry you!

  Pain sent her fleeing to her room. She flung herself onto her bed and let the tears come. What was it about her that made her so unmarriageable—so unlovable?

  She cried until she could cry no more and as she lay in the dark, still dressed, the anger came. How could he sleep with her when he knew he would marry another? It was one thing to sleep with her when he was still pining for his dead wife and had no room in his heart for another. She felt sorry for this Fiona.

  That’s when it hit her. She bolted into a sitting position. He didn’t love Fiona. Dougray wasn’t the type of man to sleep with a woman if he was in love again and about to marry, even out of pity.

  She didn’t call for her maid but undressed herself and got ready for bed with a new purpose. Tomorrow she would confront Dougray and learn why he was marrying this Fiona. Was Angus right? Was Dougray too scared to love again? She hated to think of him living the rest of his life in a marriage of convenience. She’d rather be alone, remaining a spinster, than face a life of convenient loneliness. But then, Dougray needed a son. Everything was making sense.

  She’d been brave enough to come here and ask for what she desired most—a night in his arms. Only it wasn’t what she desired most. She’d lied to herself. She desired Dougray’s heart. Was she brave enough to fight for that? Was she brave enough to at least see what could be?

  Yes. Absolutely yes.

  She had nothing else to lose and everything to gain.

  Chapter Nine

  An early morning ride on Curlin was just the ticket for clearing Emma’s head and building her courage to talk to Dougray.

  She’d risen early to get to the stables before anyone else rose, not wanting to talk with Dougray before she knew exactly what she would say.

  The gallop along the banks of the stream to the north of Linnhe Lodge fed her with joy. How could life not be filled with possibilities when you saw the beauty all around?

  The rain had ceased before dawn broke and the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds. Although it was still cold, the frost on the ground had melted and the birds were singing in the trees.

  She reined Curlin in and let him walk to cool down. Her mind turned to the conversation she would have with Dougray. Angus had inferred that Dougray could love again if only he’d let himself. She had never lost anyone close to her, but she could imagine the pain. Emma wondered if she’d be brave enough to love again if she’d lost her true love?

  So lost in her plan of how to handle Dougray, Emma hadn’t even noticed that she was almost back at the lodge. She’d reached the orchard when a child’s scream rent the air. It was coming from just ahead, near the stream at the very edge of the lodge’s gardens. She sent Curlin racing across the ground and as she rounded a copse of small bushes her breath lodged in her throat.

  Duncan was stuck on a large rock in the middle of the stream, holding a wriggling small black terrier who was barking, whether in fear or excitement she had no idea. James was screaming at Duncan not to get into the water, which was moving at a torrid pace. Little Paul was standing on the bank of the stream crying, while Scott had his back to the stream with his eyes covered.

  She leapt from the saddle saying as calmly as she could, “Duncan, stay where you are. Simon run to the house and fetch his lordship. James, come here and help me. And Paul, my brave wee boy I need you to hold these for me, can you do that?”

  The little boy stopped crying and she handed him her crop and hat.

  “The water suddenly rose, my lady. Sooty got swept away and managed to climb on the rock and Duncan waded across to get him, but now the water is too fast and too deep to get back.”

  James’s voice was filled with panic as they both noted the rising water level. It was likely a flash flood from the hills at the top of the loch. She should wait for Dougray and the men but the water was rising at such a fast rate she was worried that the boy and dog would be swe
pt away.

  She looked at her strong gelding standing patiently next to her. “Well, Curlin. Do you think you can hold me?” For once she was pleased she was so tall. She walked to the edge of the stream. “James, hold Curlin’s bridle and head and keep him still.”

  She took one of the reins and tied it around her waist, anchoring her to the strong, sturdy gelding. Then she eased herself over the bank and into the freezing water. The cold made her take a deep breath, and the force of the current made it difficult to stand as it tugged at her riding skirt. Carefully, she took two steps toward the rock. The bottom was muddy and her large feet sank into it, which, thankfully, helped anchor her.

  “Pass me Sooty.” Duncan reached out and the wet smelly bundle flew into her arms. She had to try and calm the dog before turning to throw, or pass, Sooty to James on the bank. “Paul, hold onto him so he doesn’t go in again.” Emma was scared the dog would drown if it fell in and got swept away—something she was hoping would not happen to her or Duncan.

  The current was getting stronger and she could barely feel her legs. The water felt straight off a glacier.

  She turned back for Duncan. The water was at Duncan’s knees where he stood on the rock and almost to Emma’s breasts.

  He shook his head. “Go back, my lady. I’m too heavy and the waters rising too quickly.”

  “Too quickly for you to argue. Now hop on my back, Curlin will hold us. NOW.”

  Duncan did as she commanded, and she waded back to the bank where James pulled Duncan from the water.

  That was when she realized her mistake. The water was now up to her armpits. And her skirt was so wet and heavy she didn’t have the strength to climb up the ever-diminishing piece of bank. The boys tried to pull her, but they were not strong enough.

  “James, get Curlin to walk backwards, see if he can take my weight and pull me out.” She prayed the sturdy leather of the reins held her weight.

  She didn’t want to panic the boys—or herself—but her legs were now so cold she could barely stand against the current. She gripped the dirt on the bank, one lot of roots in particular, hard. If she went under she could see herself taking Curlin with her, and that gave her the push to kick hard to wiggle up the bank.

  To her relief, her idea worked. Curlin was slowly pulling her out of the water. She got her chest and arms on the bank and then Duncan and James were there pulling her out and up onto the safety of the grass.

  She was so cold now her teeth were chattering and she couldn’t move. She lay on the bank like a large drowned cow. She didn’t even hear Dougray arriving.

  * * *

  “Christ almighty.” Dougray’s hands were shaking as he undid the reins wrapped round her waist, and took off his jacket to wrap around Emma before he scooped her into his arms. “What the blazes were you thinking, you could have been . . .” He briefly closed his eyes, couldn’t finish the words. She could have drowned. Images of Francesca lying cold and lifeless in his arms after he’d pulled her from the loch flashed behind his eyelids.

  Not again. Never again.

  Pain sliced through his gut and he almost stumbled. Emma was heavy, a tall woman with her clothes full of water.

  “The b-o-o-y-s”-she tried to speak.

  “Angus and Thornton have the boys, and the bloody dog.”

  Anger locked the muscles in his throat, which was just as well as he wanted to rant and rave at her for risking her life like that.

  By the time he had carried her to her room, Mrs. Jones had a hot bath steaming and ready. He handed her into his housekeeper’s and her lady’s maid’s care, and backed out of the room.

  He made his way to his study and poured himself a huge whisky. He didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing in the doorway.

  “She’s not Francesca. She’s strong. And clever. If she hadn’t done what she did, Duncan might well be dead. The water was well over the stone by the time we got there.”

  Spots swam in front of his eyes. He could not speak. He’d almost convinced himself that he could let himself love Emma. But Christ, he’d almost lost her today. What was it about this lodge that led to such accidents?

  Angus stalked into the room and took the whisky decanter out of his hand. “She’s alive. Don’t go into a fit of despair.”

  He tried to get the decanter back off his cousin. This time she’d survived but what if . . .

  “You must have pretty strong feelings for Emma if you’re reacting like this.”

  Angus’s words drew him up short and he sank onto the chair by his desk. “I don’t want to care for her—to—to love her.” But God help him he did.

  How could he not? She was the most amazing woman he’d ever met and if he’d not been so young and stupid and had not confused lust and attraction with love, he would probably have come home from Italy eight years ago a single man and fallen madly in love with her.

  “Thank Christ! I was beginning to think your heart had shriveled up and died when Francesca did.”

  “I should never have married Francesca and brought her here.” He took a long swig of whisky. “It’s my fault she died.”

  His cousin did not contradict him. “She wasn’t suited to the wilds of Scotland that’s true. But you did not kill her. It was a dreadful accident. You weren’t to know she’d go swimming in the loch on her own. All Scotsmen know not to do that, but she wasn’t born here.”

  “I’d warned her but she was so angry that I’d not come with her . . .” Guilt swamped him again. “You know what hurts the most is the sudden realization that hit me when I met Emma. It wasn’t my love for Francesca that stopped me moving on. I know now it’s my guilt. I feel guilty about having taken her from Italy, from everyone and everything she knew, and she died. If I’d never married her she might well be alive with a dozen children.”

  “Guilt can eat a man up until he’s a shallow husk. And that would be a waste. Most of all it would hurt Emma. She loves you. So let go of your needless guilt and don’t let her, or you, live a wasted life.”

  “Emma is an extraordinary woman. Who would have thought of tying yourself to a horse?”

  “Aye, she’s a clever lass who has more courage than the two of us put together. She came here and risked hurt, humiliation, and scandal because she is not afraid to go after what she wants.”

  Angus’s words were true. It shamed him to think of himself as a coward. “I never thought I’d find someone who would affect me as much as she does. I have to admit, I’m terrified of loving again, but I don’t think my heart is giving me any choice.”

  Angus handed him a glass. “We can’t help who we fall in love with, believe me I know.”

  He looked at his cousin, really looked. How had he not noticed the tiredness and sadness in Angus’s face? He’d probably not noticed because he was too caught up in his own sadness and problems.

  “You are in love?” he asked.

  Angus sank into the chair next to his and took a long slug of his whisky. “You know this is verra fine whisky if I may say so myself.”

  “That it is,” he agreed.

  They sat in silence, drinking the whisky until the bottle was almost empty.

  “Who is the lady that has stolen your heart?” he finally asked. “You keep telling me that I should open mine again, yet you can’t seem to declare your love at all. Bloody hypocrite,” he added under his breath.

  “Fiona Mackenzie.” At Dougray’s amazed look Angus repeated himself, louder this time, “I love Fiona Mackenzie.”

  Dougray sat back in his chair. “Does she love you?”

  The smile on Angus’s face gave him his answer.

  Dougray burst out laughing. It was either that or cry. “Why the bloody hell did you not tell me? It would have saved us all a lot of, if not heartache, then headache.”

  Angus ran a hand through his hair. “What could I say? Mackenzie is set on a marriage with you to save his family. And you made a vow to your father. Fiona told me she tried to be as disagreeabl
e as possible to you, but that didn’t work.”

  Dougray shook with laughter. He’d thought Fiona a shrew. “You idiot. Ian Mackenzie won’t take charity, as he calls it, from me, says it’s his pride, but I know he wants Fiona wed to me. But he’ll have no choice if I give the money to you,” he put up his hand to stop Angus’s objection, “and you marry Fiona. I shall call it a loan against the business we are setting up. This whisky is going to make you, and me, very rich men. If Smith at Glenlivet can do it, so can you.”

  “Ian won’t agree. He has his sights set on an Earl for his daughter.”

  Dougray slammed his glass down on the desk. “Then we shall make him agree. It looks like there will be two couples heading to Gretna Green.”

  Angus swung to look at him. “Two. Lady Emma?”

  His smile faded. “Not me. Thornton and Serena.”

  “Let’s make it three couples then. You have no excuse not to marry for the right reasons this time, now that you’ve found a way to help the Mackenzie. Don’t let Emma’s rescue of the boys set you down a path of loneliness again.”

  This time a smile broke over his lips. “I just need a few more whiskys and then, I think it’s about time I go after what I want.”

  Angus smiled. “What a good idea. I’ll take some more then, too.” He held out his glass.

  Chapter Ten

  Curses. Emma lay tucked up in her warm bed being fussed over by Serena, and Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Wilson.

  Mrs. Wilson was in tears thanking her for saving her grandson. Apparently, all the staff now considered her a Scot, which she knew was a very big honor for an English lass.

  She was simply glad everyone was safe, even Sooty the dog. And now that she was warm once more, thanks to a hot bath, a roaring fire in the grate, and a wee glass or two of whisky, what she wanted was to find Dougray and stop him from rebuilding the wall around his heart. He must have been beside himself at her narrow escape.

  She’d seen Dougray’s face as he’d carried her home. She might have had a chance of convincing him to open his heart before that, but now?