Christmas in Kilts

by Bronwen Evans

  Francesca had drowned.

  Of all the things she could have done, almost being swept away in the river was most likely to send Dougray fleeing.

  She must have been exhausted from her efforts in the water—or was it the whisky—because she fell asleep. It was dark when she awoke but the fire was still burning bright and the clock above the fireplace said a quarter to midnight.

  What had woken her?

  That’s when she heard it. A banging and crashing, and loud voices coming from Dougray’s bedchamber.

  Was it too late to confront Dougray and to tell him how sad it was that he could not let himself love again?

  Emma threw back the covers and reached for her robe. Best she tackle his fears before Dougray slept on the situation.

  She tipped-toed through the connecting dressing room and peered round his door. Dickens was just leaving his lordship’s room carrying his Hessians. She waited for Dickens to close the door and then she made her way to Dougray’s beside.

  He lay on his stomach, his head turned toward her and his eyes closed, and he was softly snoring. He looked naked, but the sheet and blanket covered him to the middle of his back. He looked younger in his sleep but still handsome, as handsome as he was the day she first saw him ten years ago.

  She reached out and traced his eyebrow with her finger. Her heart melted. A part of her wanted to let him sleep, while the woman in her wanted to slip under the covers and mold herself to every inch of his gloriously hard body.

  Just then one of his eyes opened, and a sexy smile broke on his lips.

  “I must be dreaming.”

  She bent and kissed his cheek. “Does that feel as if I’m a dream?”

  Before she could pull back a muscled arm snaked out and pulled her down onto the bed.

  “Oh, what do you think you’re doing?” she managed to say, as she became tangled in his sheets and arms.

  “I’m claiming what is mine.”

  That’s when she smelt the whisky. “You’re in your cups.” She tried to wiggle away but his arm pinned her to his side. “I bet in the morning you’ll not remember this, and when you do, you’ll run like a frightened little boy.”

  He merely rolled her under him, and nuzzled her neck, pressing little kisses up to her ear.

  She tried to push him off her. “Do you even know it’s me?”

  “Aye, I know who’s in in my bed. You’re my bonnie English lass.”

  He began running his hand up the inside of her leg and for a minute she forgot why she was here.

  “Dougray. Stop that. I don’t want to be your convenient lover. I want more from you. And I want you to understand that your heart is big enough to love again.”

  His hand gathered the edge of her night rail and robe and carried it with him as his fingers roamed up over her hip, making her muscles contract. Already her breathing hitched. Just the feel of his naked body sent desire flaming over every inch of her skin, but she had to make him see.

  She continued. “I know about Fiona. I know you have a plan to enter into a marriage of convenience, and I think that’s taking the cowards way out.” He pushed her arms up above her head, and the night rail up, too, baring her breasts. Before she could protest, not that she wanted to protest at all, his lips latched onto a nipple and all thoughts fled.

  As his lips drove her passions higher, she hardly noticed that Dougray had discarded her robe and pulled her night rail off over her head.

  This wasn’t how she planned this conversation to go—what conversation! But it was difficult to complain with his hot, wet mouth working its magic. She lay back, closed her eyes, and gave into his sensual ministrations. His hand moved between her legs and found her wet and ready for him, and she eagerly parted her thighs to let him fit between them.

  His clever fingers drove her wild and her legs automatically rose to his hips before she remembered. She had everything to lose if she didn’t reach him. If she didn’t convince him to open his heart to her.

  She gathered her trembling will and sank her hands deep into his hair and tugged his head off her breasts. “Please, Dougray, please wait.”

  He stilled between her thighs and rested his chin on her chest, his glorious eyes flashing his need.

  “What is it, my bonnie lass?”

  She swallowed hard and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Life is short—can be short, and hard, and unfair,” she stumbled. “But the one thing that makes it bearable is love. I came to Linnhe Lodge because I knew it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

  “Oh, sweeting—”

  She pressed a finger to his lips. “Please let me finish.” He nodded and she removed her finger. “If you try to protect yourself from love you’ll miss out on everything that makes life wonderful.” She pressed a kiss to her lips. “A kiss.” She ran her hand through his hair. “A simple touch. The sound of a laugh, a cry, someone you miss when they leave the room.” A tear formed in her eye. “You’ve given me memories that I will cherish all my life, please don’t shut yourself off from creating more memoires just because Francesca died. Open your heart and learn to love again. It doesn’t have to be me you fall in love with—I wish it were, but promise me you will be the brave warrior I know you are and make your life wonderful again.”

  Her chest was heaving with emotion as she waited for his reply.

  Tears appeared at the edges of his eyes. “How did I ever get so lucky to have such a beautiful, brave, and extraordinary woman fall in love with me.”

  She gave him a small smile.

  He leaned forward and kissed her. His lips were gentle, possessive and she could almost taste the love.

  He pulled back, rolled to his side, gathering her in his arms. “Everything you said was right. But it wasn’t that I was scared to love again. Well, maybe a little, if I’m honest. It was that I was too filled with guilt. My marriage to Francesca was a mistake in so many ways. I did love her, but I realized I wasn’t in love with her. And then she drowned and I blamed myself for taking her away for her home, her country, and her family. She deserved better.”

  “Did she love you?”

  “I think so. Everyone—my mother, Angus—told me she was happy.”

  “Then you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  He hugged her tightly. “I thought that I wasn’t worthy of love when I’d made such a hash of it the first time.”

  “Who is Fiona?”

  He sighed and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Fiona Mackenzie is the daughter of my neighbor who was my father’s oldest friend. Oldest and most penniless friend.”

  “So you were trying to please your father. He wanted the match?”

  “Not particularly. On his deathbed my father made me promise I’d help Ian Mackenzie financially. The stubborn bugger won’t accept ‘charity,’ but I think that’s because he wants me to offer for Fiona.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She knew Dougray loved his father. “I’m a problem then?”

  He rolled her so they were facing each other. He traced her lips with his thumb. “You are, and never were, a problem. You are my salvation if anything. You have given me the courage to love again by pointing out what a coward I’ve been. I love you, my bonnie lass. I think I fell in love with you the minute you stepped out of the carriage and smiled at me.”

  Her heart swelled and she boldly kissed him, showing him how much she loved him. When they finally parted, both panting, she asked, “What are you going to do about Fiona?”

  This time she didn’t try to stop him as his hands roamed over her body, and when he pulled her on top of him she loved the feel of his erection against her stomach.

  “The lass you saw Angus with in the summer house was Fiona.”

  As she began to laugh he lifted her and her laugh turned to a gasp as he slid her onto him. He sat up to cup her cheek.

  “Tha thu mo bheatha aisling,” he whispered. “You are my life’s dream. Will you marry me?”

  She
could feel him pulsing deep inside her, where he was always meant to be, and he already owned her heart. “Of course.”

  He kissed her breasts, suckling one nipple deep into his mouth before pulling back to ask, “How do you feel about joining your brother, Serena, Angus and Fiona, at Gretna Green as soon as the roads clear?”

  She began to slowly ride him and was thrilled when his hands gripped her hips tighter, and he closed his eyes on a moan.

  “I think this is going to be the most wonderful Christmas ever. You’re giving me your heart, something I want more than anything in the world. I get my Scot. A Scot for Christmas.”

  He began to move her a bit faster as his breathing grew uneven. “How about I try to give us another present. A wee barn?”

  “Now you’re spoiling me, and I love it—love you.”

  When he took her lips once more in a kiss full of love, she sighed and thanked the lord she’d found the courage to love the Earl of Lorne.

  Epilogue

  Linnhe Lodge Christmas Day—a year later

  Emma looked around the room and had to pinch herself. Never in her wildest dreams, well perhaps she had always had this dream, did she imagine she’d be this happy and content—and loved.

  Life was perfect.

  Her handsome husband, who still took her breath away whenever he entered a room, was standing near the roaring fire rocking Lachlan in his arms. Their son was almost three months old and Dougray was such a proud father, the baby was being spoiled.

  “I never grow tired of seeing such big, brawny men holding such precious bundles.”

  Emma had to agree with Fiona’s observation. The picture of Angus, Thornton, and her husband each holding their little bairn was enough to make any woman sigh.

  “I thought last Christmas was going to be the Christmas I never forgot, because Thornton asked me to marry him, but this Christmas is so special. I have a child.”

  Emma heard the catch in Serena’s voice and reached out and squeezed her hand. Serena had been married before but no child had come of that union. That’s why Emma’s father had been so against her marriage to Thornton. “My father is crowing. A complete change of heart about your marriage now that you’ve borne Thornton an heir. Little Robert will be very spoiled too.”

  “Angus is already threatening Dougray and Thornton, saying they best keep their sons away from his beautiful daughter when they are older.”

  Emma laughed. “She’s going to be a beauty, that’s for sure. Can you imagine how overprotective Angus is going to be?”

  “I feel sorry for Davina already,” Serena laughed.

  It was nice that the three couples had this private time together before their other guests arrived. Tomorrow, Dougray’s three sisters, their husbands, and children would be arriving to spend Christmas with them. And Ian Mackenzie would be arriving with the rest of his clan, too. The lodge would be full of family, just as it should be for the festive season.

  She’d missed having sisters while growing up. Happiness made her heart beat faster because Ally, Catriona, and Leslee had all embraced her as if she was their sister. She loved her sisters-in-law and being part of this big, boisterous Scottish family.

  Just then Dougray looked across the room at the woman. “What are you three beauties laughing at?”

  Emma returned his smile, and she felt her heart swell with the love they shared in that one look.

  “We are merely soaking in the sight of you and our children. It’s a sight that shows how wonderful life can be.”

  Dougray walked toward her and bent to place a kiss on her lips.

  “Let’s make every Christmas this special. I’m sure Lachlan needs a brother and sister.”

  All the ladies laughed at his words.

  “Typical man. They don’t have the painfully hard task of bringing the bundles of joy into the world.” Fiona stated on a humph.

  “Nor do they have to carry the child for nine months, growing big and fat and uncomfortable,” said Serena.

  Dougray laughed. “Perhaps not every Christmas then.” Then his face grew serious. “I’ll just be blessed to get to spend all my Christmases with the woman who owns my heart, body, and soul.”

  Three sighs filled the air.

  Emma replied, “Each Christmas will be the best Christmas ever because I get to spend it with you and our family.”

  Angus walked to join the ladies, juggling Davina in one arm, and raising a glass of whisky in his other hand. “Here’s to the financial prosperity from whisky, and to many merry Christmases to come.”

  Thornton added, “And to love.”

  “And to the women brave enough to show us that love is worth fighting for and nothing to fear,” Dougray said. “Without love the world is a lonely, empty place. Thank you, my bonnie lass.”

  As the wind rattled the windows, they all drank to Dougray’s words of wisdom, and then Serena handed out the first present from under the Christmas tree.

  What a wonderful life they were all going to have. Emma looked forward to many Christmases to come where this room at Linnhe Lodge would be filled with many children and, of course, love. Lots and lots of love.

  Also by Bronwen Evans

  Disgraced Lords Series

  A Kiss of Lies

  A Promise of More

  A Touch of Passion

  A Whisper of Desire

  A Taste of Seduction

  A Night of Forever

  A Love to Remember

  A Dream of Redemption (March 2018)

  Imperfect Lords Series

  Addicted to the Duke

  Drawn to the Marquis (2018)

  Attracted to the Earl (2019)

  Wicked Wagers Series

  To Dare the Duke of Dangerfield

  To Wager the Marquis of Wolverstone

  To Challenge the Earl of Cravenswood

  For a complete list of Bron’s books, please visit www.bronwenevans.com

  About the Author

  Malcolm Brow Studio Blue Fish

  USA Today bestselling author Bronwen Evans grew up loving books. She writes both historical and contemporary sexy romances for the modern woman who likes intelligent, spirited heroines and compassionate alpha heroes. Evans is a three-time winner of the RomCon Readers’ Crown and has been nominated for an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award. She lives in Hawkes Bay, New Zealand, with her dogs, Brandy and Duke.

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  LEFTOVER MISTLETOE

  Lavinia Kent

  Chapter One

  Kilbirnie, Scotland 1818

  They were the biggest boots she had ever seen. And perhaps the dirtiest. Those two thoughts filled Emma Spencer’s mind as she stared into the dark coach.

  Bucket-sized boots covered in partially dried mud.

  Bucket-sized boots with their heels set right in the middle of the bench—the bench she should be sitting on.

  A foul mood had taken her from the moment she’d risen this morning, still attired in yesterday’s gown and corset, and the boots were not improving her disposition. This was not at all how she had planned to spend the days before Christmas.

  Christmas. The soft sound of carols. Sitting beside her father at midnight services. Mulled wine. Love and family.

  She swallowed once, fighting anger and despair, before letting her eyes travel up the long legs attached to those boots. The breeches were hardly cleaner than the boots; once they might have been brown or beige, but now they were merely speckled with mud. At least she hoped it was mud.

  A quick sniff.

  Sweat. Horses. Dirt.

  Thankfully that was all.

  Her eyes moved further, up well-muscled thighs and skipping quickly to a rumpled coat of rough wool, an unruly ruff of a beard, and a tilted-down hat—if one could call it a hat. It clearly had weathered many a storm and little shape remained. The brim would have curved low even without the downward slant that covered the top half of the passenger’s face, leaving only the reddish-brown bear
d visible.

  A single loud, rough snore filled the coach.

  Emma glanced at the boots settled firmly in the middle of her bench.

  There would barely be room for her to sit to one side if she pulled her skirts tight and sat on one hip. She coughed quietly.

  No response.

  Slightly louder.

  The large man didn’t even twitch.

  She glanced back over her shoulder into the still light of the day. Should she ask one of the riders to wake the man? She’d paid her fare and that of her missing maid. If anything she deserved two seats, not barely enough for a skinny cat to settle on.

  For a moment her mind filled with the remembered luxury of her own carriage: the deep blue velvet benches, the covered lamp sconces set in the wall, the warming bricks always ready and hot, the . . . Oh, it didn’t matter. The carriage had not been hers. It had been her father’s and now it was her cousin’s. It was a piece of her past. Her future was much more likely to be filled with mail coaches and dirty boots than velvet seats.

  She glared into the coach, contemplating what to do.

  “Excuse me, sir, would you mind moving your feet? I need to sit.”

  He twitched slightly, but made no other response. She glanced about the yard one more time. Nobody was going to help her with this man anyway. The few men nearby were busy with their own chores and she was sure they’d laugh if she asked for help waking her fellow traveler. They already laughed enough every time she opened her mouth, acting as if they could barely understand her crisp tones. They were the ones who barely spoke English, not her. And that wasn’t even mentioning the gibberish they spoke amongst themselves. Was it Scots? Did such a language even exist?

  She shoved back half-dreams of her mother singing in just such a tongue.

  Miss Emma Spencer was as English as they came and proud of it. She might be being sent to . . . Blast it all, she didn’t actually remember and didn’t care. All that mattered was it was somewhere in the wilds of Scotland, somewhere an uncle she couldn’t recall ever meeting offered her a home.