Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

  Bloody conscience. He’d fare a lot better if he hadnae any scruples. Men without morals didnae spend half the night awake fashing about what they should or shouldnae have done in the past or hours earlier as was the case of his kissing Cat. They also didnae fash about what they should or shouldnae do from here out forward.

  Niall turned over. He grabbed the blanket and sheet and scrunched his fingers as hard as was possible.

  Ice pelted the windows.

  He stared across the room, watched the snow falling outside.

  Shite.

  If the storm picked up again, he’d never make it back to the Abbey before the set time he had told Edgar to come looking for him. And since he kent the man well, he kent Dear Old Edgar would send out half the staff looking for him. And he’d never get that slice of Grace’s pear tart, either. Not that he would mind spending the holiday with Catrina, Little Fergus, and the eccentric Mrs. Ramsay. Those three souls made this wee house a home.

  He tucked the blanket under his chin and squeezed his eyes shut.

  Rose perfume teased his nose.

  Aw, for the love of all things Scotland, why the bloody hell did he reckon that move would do him good? Every Dundaire-born man—and woman for that matter—kent the tales of how some of the residents of this strange area of the Highlands could identify their future spouses solely by their scent. And while he never found those stories as anything to put credence in, he was starting to think differently at the moment. For starters, not all Dundairians could be wrong. Those tales were quite prevalent among some families in the area. Even among other MacHendries, but those kin came from different branches of his family’s bloodline, not his direct line. He hailed from the sensible MacHendries, from the men who didnae believe in the tales of old. At least, not all of them believed in the myths even though the stories did linger in these parts. And yet, for all that he didnae believe, he couldnae deny the fact that Catrina’s scent stirred him. And on the off chance the ridiculous myth was real, how did it work when two people meant to be together were pulled apart? Yes, he had found Catrina again, but that didnae mean she was ready to become his wife.

  My wife.

  He hadnae thought about marrying since that damn trip to London.

  Niall cursed to himself.

  He punched the pillow, the aroma of rose rising once again to his nose like some tempting succubus looking to steal his soul.

  A soft little gurgle caressed his ear.

  He sat up, his gaze searching for a mouse.

  It found none.

  A second sound flitted across the room.

  Fergus.

  Having spent most of the night fighting his own thoughts, he’d nearly forgotten he was sharing a room with the wee bairn.

  Niall pushed back the covers and rose from the bed. He hadnae a single clue how to care for a small child, as Robbie was a grown lad by the time their parents died. And he certainly couldnae go fetch Cat. Not at this early hour. Though his reluctance, if he was true to himself, stemmed more from that damn kiss he’d taken from the woman. Or more precisely from the embarrassment he suffered over acting so bold where he had no right to do so. He had no problem putting off facing Catrina again for as long as he could.

  Approaching the crib, he leaned over the its side.

  Fergus stared up at him, his chubby cheeks cradling a smile between them. A large smile, much like the one Niall remembered Robbie having.

  God, but the bairn looked so much like his brother.

  Fergus gurgled again. He reached for the small stuffed bear in the corner of the crib, then threw the toy.

  “Och, but ye are definitely yer da’s boy. But let me tell ye this, keep up with that defiant attitude and it will win ye naught.” Niall plucked the stuffed toy from the end of the crib and returned it to Fergus’s side. “Now be nice to the wee bear. He’s a good looking chiel.”

  Fergus laughed. And repeated his throw.

  “Aye, ye are definitely Robbie’s lad. Ye ignore my good sense in the same way he had.” Niall shook his head but could do nothing about stifling the laugh rising in his throat. What he’d give to have Fergus grow up at Dundaire Abbey. But wishing for something that could never be, was useless. “I may not be in the position to give ye the family that ye should have, as I must remain loyal to ye da and he was firm on me restoring the family name first, but I will see to it that ye want for nothing. I have yer da’s inheritance and I have every intention of leaving it here when I return to the Abbey. Though I cannae tell yer aunt the whole truth as that would be breaking my promise to yer da.” Niall paused and stared into Fergus’s eyes. “But one day, God willing, I will be back and when I do return, it will be to take ye to yer rightful home, to Dundaire Abbey, the place where yer da and I grew up. I reckon ye will like it there.”

  He thought about the future of his beloved home. With no children of his own, Fergus was his rightful heir. And there was no law stating he couldnae leave the house to whomever he wanted. It was his to do with as he saw fit, along with the property and everything else he owned. But it would have so much more meaning if he could share it all with Fergus now, while he lived, rather than leave it to the lad only after his death.

  Fate was a verra unfair maiden.

  Pacing the kitchen, Catrina folded her arms across her chest, the coarse wool of her shawl itching her fingers. “What man remains in bed past ten in the morning?”

  Mrs. Ramsay harrumphed. “What woman leaves her wee nephew in the company of a man she has only just become reacquainted with after two years of not hearing a word from him?”

  She should never have spent the morning explaining the details of her relationship with Niall to Mrs. Ramsay. That, and she did not intentionally leave Fergus in Niall’s company. “I told you, the sole reason I did not collect Fergus from the nursery before I went to bed, was because I was exhausted from the day’s events. I was not thinking straight.” The statement was a complete and utter lie. Her head was lost not because she’d been too tired to think with any sense of reason, she’d lost her mind because of that darn kiss she’d shared with Niall. A kiss she had no intention of discussing with Mrs. Ramsay. “Besides, even you said his lairdship is a good man. Just ten minutes ago.”

  “Aye, I did. And he is still not a rogue. But he is still a man ye dunnae ken well. At least, ye didnae kent him well these past two years. People can change over time, ye ken.” The crack of wood smacking flesh rattled through the kitchen as Mrs. Ramsay slapped her trusty wooden spoon against her palm. She tsked. “I do hope with all my soul, that the rogue was worth it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I am nae a lass who was born yesterday, Miss. I see that look in yer eyes.”

  “What look?”

  Mrs. Ramsay stepped forward and raised the wooden spoon still gripped in her fingers. “Aye. That look. The one that says ye were up to no good with Mr. MacHendrie after I went off to bed.”

  She smirked. “I did nothing of the sort. Niall simply helped me with the greenery for the mantle.”

  “As if ye needed the help.”

  “He said you told him to help me. It was a heavy stack of evergreens.”

  “Which ye managed quite well on yer own last year.”

  “Not so. I left a trail of needles clear across the house. If you remember.”

  Mrs. Ramsay switched out her spoon for a dish cloth. “I do remember, as I was the one to sweep up the mess. Still, I digress, lass. Ye kissed the rogue.”

  She sucked in a breath so deep, she thought her lungs would burst.

  “And there is my proof,” Mrs. Ramsay said.

  Catrina flopped herself into one of the chairs and then smacked her hands over her face. She silently counted to ten.

  Mrs. Ramsay patted her arm. “There, now, Miss. It could have been worse, ye could have kissed an outright brute. Like one of those fellows from The Snarling Wolf.”

  Even threatened with death, she would never kiss one of Old Bruce’s cohorts. She dropp
ed her hands from her face. “At least Niall is not The Christmas Rebel.”

  “Och, if only yer sweet Moira had had the sense ye have. What went wrong with her, I will never know, as the lass seemed to have had a good head about her shoulders during the time I kent her. Of course by then she was also carrying The Rebel’s bairn. But still, I liked Moira. God rest her soul.”

  Catrina agreed with Mrs. Ramsay’s assessment of Moira, but still wished her sister had confided in her more than she had. “I believe Moira was caught up in the dream of falling for a man of danger. Though she never spoke ill of Fergus’s father. Of course she didn’t speak much of the man, period. All I ever managed to get out of her was how one day he would come back for her, that he loved her, and that supposedly they were legally married at Gretna Green, though all licenses and the sort were in his possession. It was almost as if the man was waiting to come into some good fortune before he publicly acknowledged my sister.”

  “If ye ask me, the man was a cad. He just used the excuse of waiting as a way for him shake off his responsibilities of becoming a father.”

  Mrs. Ramsay was probably right about the fact, but dismissing Moira’s feelings completely, was never something Catrina was willing to do. Capture The Christmas Rebel and force him to make amends for Little Fergus’s sake, yes. But in the deepest depths of her soul, she knew she also would get the truth out of the man. As believing that her sister would go off and do something so irresponsible as freely giving herself to a rogue without any real promise of marriage, was not the Moira she’d known growing up.

  The stomp of bootheels thundered from the hall.

  Catrina jerked her head toward the kitchen archway and quickly caught her breath.

  Walking in from the hall came Niall, Little Fergus carried in his arms.

  Mrs. Ramsay gasped.

  Catrina quickly shifted her gaze to the shocked cook as the woman’s voice only confirmed what she was seeing.

  “Oh. My. Lord.” The look on Mrs. Ramsay’s face matched the tone of her words.

  Niall frowned. “Ye will have to forgive me, Ladies. I am nae verra good with clouts and pilchers. But I did manage the lad’s cap with nae a problem.”

  Yes, he did indeed manage to tie the baby bonnet and keep it firm on Fergus’s head. If only he’d done half as good a job with the other end of her nephew, she wouldn’t be worrying about Fergus ‘blessing’ the floor or anything else his bottom touched. Not to mention a cap and a napkin did not cover a child. The poor little lad needed clothes on his arms and legs, as well. Catrina rose. “I thank you for…for washing up Fergus and changing him.” She took the child and held him close as she was certain he must be freezing having only a napkin on. And an already wet napkin, to boot.

  Niall barely looked her in the eyes. “I see the storm is picking up again.”

  “Aye,” Mrs. Ramsay said, flitting around the kitchen. “I have already planned on ye staying for dinner as there is no sense in ye trying to make it home in the snow.” She placed a plate with a single biscuit on it, along with a cup of tea, on the table. “Better ye eat up now as the latch on the storage barn needs mending. The blasted thing trapped me inside last summer for a whole day.”

  “Fixing the barn lock is not necessary, Niall,” Catrina said, distracting Fergus with a spoon. “I do not expect you to keep mending things around the house just because you are snowed in with us.”

  “I expect him too,” Mrs. Ramsay interrupted. “He’s eating my supply of food, the least he can do is fix up a few things.”

  Niall smiled as he looked Catrina’s way for a brief moment. “I dunnae mind, lass. as I am nae a man who sits around all day. I tend to keep busy when at home.”

  Catrina wasn’t so sure she liked the idea of Niall spending more time with them. What would she do with the man all day? Even if he did fix the one latch, the task certainly wouldn’t take hours. “I’m going upstairs to dress Fergus.” She turned to face Mrs. Ramsay. “If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.”

  She didn’t dare look at Niall as she wasn’t sure she could face him again. Especially not if her gaze lingered on his lips. Those lips that set off a flurry of desire in her last night, that she barely managed an hour’s worth of sleep.

  She prayed the day went by fast because if she was forced to spend any time alone with Niall, no amount of penance would save her soul.

  Chapter 7

  After Niall fed Mischief and cleaned the stables, he headed for the storage barn.

  Snow fell at a brisk pace just as it had yesterday afternoon.

  He wondered how many more nights he’d have to endure the agony of being trapped in Catrina’s presence. By now Edgar was probably fraught with worry, as was Grace. But he had no way of letting them ken he was safe without attempting a ride back to the Abbey. And he really didnae see the need to put Mischief through such grief. It wasnae the first time he’d ventured out for a few days without notifying the household of his whereabouts. Though he had informed Edgar he’d back by this evening, which was going to cause a problem when he didnae show up.

  And probably not just with Edgar, but with the bold Mrs. Ramsay, as well. The stout little cook must have kent what he was up to last night, or she wouldnae have been so forward with him this morning, ordering him about like she owned the cottage. She and Edgar were two of a kind.

  Reaching the storage barn, Niall couldn’t help but wonder if this was a place Robbie might have visited. Maybe he stowed away in the barn just to catch a glimpse of his Moira. The lad had certainly gone out enough without leaving word of his whereabouts the last two years of his life.

  Damn, but he now had more questions than before. He wanted to know everything Cat knew about Moira’s ‘injustice’ as she put it. But how did he even begin to breach the subject of asking her such intimate and, to a degree, scandalous, questions?

  For the love of God, but he had better confront that damn Murray and settled the family affairs soon as he seriously needed to come clean with Catrina. She needed to know Robbie was the not the brute she thought him to be. Though he didnae expect her to forgive Robbie for abandoning Moira. Or him for not divulging the whole truth, right from the start. Catrina was a strong female with a strong mind. Which she showed him again, just this morning.

  The vision of her keeping her head down, refusing to look him in the eye, filled Niall with guilt. He shouldnae have acted so brazen last light. And now the blasted snow had to pick up again.

  Catrina didnae look pleased at the prospect of him spending another night under her roof. And who could blame her? He had no right stealing that kiss from her. Though if he had the chance to do so again, he more than likely would repeat his actions. Even knowing it wasnae right.

  Damn me.

  If only God would get things done and over with—stop this bloody storm, allow him to settle Robbie’s inheritance, and make right everything else that seemed to be going askew in his world at the moment—then maybe he’d have some peace in his life.

  Dipping his boot toe into the snow, Niall cleared a path in front of the barn door and silently thanked heaven for the task he’d been sent out to do. Fixing the latch should provide him at least an hour away from Catrina. An hour he so desperately needed to himself.

  He jiggled the lock to better inspect it. The contraption appeared to be working as it was meant to, though he couldnae say the same for the door itself. The large slat of wood stood warped on one end, making it stick to the frame. No wonder Mrs. Ramsay ended up trapped inside the barn last year. If she’d let the door slam behind her—which could happen to anyone without them even realizing it—the warped part of the outermost plank would more than likely stick in the door frame. And once someone went to reopen the door from the inside, and with the force they’d need to do so, the latch would easily slip back in place on the outside, on its own. Thank goodness the woman hadn’t gotten trapped inside during winter. She could have frozen to death.

  Running his hand over the warpe
d plank, Niall deemed the slat unfixable. Replacing it was the best option.

  He proceeded with measuring the part of wood that needed to be changed out.

  As he worked, wind blasted the field, brought a furious squall of snow down from the hills. If he didnae know better, he’d swear winter was here to stay as he’d never remembered a season so cold. Not even when he was a lad and back then every winter seemed to put forth a good dose of snow. This year’s storms even out did last year’s record. He’d never understand how Dundaire attracted the worst and strangest weather in all of Scotland. But it did.

  A whiff of rose nipped at his nose.

  Catrina.

  He didnae dare look over his shoulder as he knew darn well who he’d find. And being alone with the beguiling minx wasnae going to help his conscience. Better he pretend to be unaware of Cat’s presence than to acknowledge her, as his silence just might be enough to make her turn back toward the house.

  Niall slipped inside the barn, careful to leave the door slightly ajar.

  He studied the bowed wood from the interior side. Imagine if his nephew came out here after he learned to walk? A wee lad could easily die trapped in a hot barn all day. Or freeze should the lad be out in winter, and given that he was Robbie’s boy, who knew what mischief lay ahead for the lad. Thank goodness he’d ended up at Rose Cottage when he did.

  He stepped away from the door and turned around.

  Rubbing his hands to keep his fingers warm, Niall glanced across the barn. At least a dozen wood planks sat scattered about the floor and they all appeared to be in good form, straight and strong. Though he wouldnae ken for sure if they would work until he started fixing the door. He sauntered over to the pieces and crouched.