The Highlander's Christmas Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  “He’s supposed to be looking to me for guidance,” Logan said tersely.

  “He will, once you remember how to be a parent again. Ainsley had the same problem when she was separated from Tira for all those months. Sometimes it takes a while to regain one’s bearings.”

  Logan stared gloomily into the fire. “Or sometimes one is just bad at the whole thing.”

  Nick let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you going to wallow in self-pity, or tell me what happened?”

  “Who died and left you in charge of everything?”

  “I believe our father did. And may I remind you, it’s not exactly a picnic looking after the lot of you.”

  “Poor you. Very well, if you must know, I made a complete hash of things again. Donella, fortunately, came to the rescue.”

  “How so?”

  Briefly, Logan recapped the scene at Monroe’s. As soon as Nick heard about Mrs. Ferguson, he growled out all sorts of social retribution. But when Logan explained how Donella handled it, his brother practically choked on his drink.

  “She did what?” he spluttered.

  “She tipped the contents of the entire bloody table onto their laps.”

  “Well, that is splendid. Kudos to the lass for her quick thinking.”

  “For a girl who spent three years in a convent, I must say she’s full of surprises. Her actions certainly took the focus off poor Joseph and placed them squarely on her.” He frowned. “Actually, I’m a bit worried about that. Ferguson and her pack of hens are bound to spread tales about the lass.”

  “She certainly gave them ample material. How many witnesses?”

  “The shop was full.”

  His brother shook his head. “We’ll do what we can to contain the gossip. And you can be sure I’ll be having a chat with Mr. Ferguson about his wife’s behavior. I will not allow her or anyone else to badger Joseph or subject him to bigotry.”

  Logan grimaced. “I’m grateful for your help, but I feel like hell that I can’t seem to protect my own son.”

  “You do protect your son, but this is different, Logan. Victoria and I have greater social influence than you do. We’ll come up with the best way to indicate to the Fergusons and all of Glasgow that Joseph must be treated with the degree of courtesy I expect for all of my family.”

  “Even the twins?”

  His brother flashed a smile. “Even the twins. You’re not to worry, laddie. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you, old man.” Emotion had made his voice gruff, but his brother would understand his true feelings.

  “You’re welcome.” Nick cocked his head. “Now tell me what else is bothering you.”

  He hesitated a moment. “I’m worried how this will affect Donella.”

  “Tempest in a teapot, I think. After all, she’s Riddick’s niece, and she’s under my protection, as well. Mrs. Ferguson is not a popular woman, so I’m sure any fuss will die down soon enough.”

  “I’m not so sure. She made a comment about Donella’s mother that seemed to upset the lass.”

  “What sort of comment?”

  “Something about how Donella was just like her mother and should be sent away.”

  “Ah.” Nick rubbed his chin. “That’s unfortunate.”

  “Is her mother still alive? I got the impression she’d died a few years back.”

  “She’s alive, but not well. Mrs. Haddon currently resides very quietly in the outskirts of Edinburgh, under the care of a private physician.”

  Logan frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Nick tapped his skull.

  “Damn, you mean she’s dicked in the nob?”

  “Unfortunately. Mrs. Haddon’s condition was such that the family believed it best to put her in the care of a well-respected and suitable physician.”

  “That’s a bloody awful thing to have to deal with.” No wonder poor Donella had been so rattled by the biddy’s mean-spirited comments. “Must have been a dire situation to take that sort of action instead of keeping the poor lady at home.”

  “I’m not privy to the details, so you’ll have to ask Miss Haddon for more.”

  “Right,” Logan scoffed. “By the way, lass, I heard your mamma is queer in the attic. Anything you want to tell me?”

  Nick grimaced. “If today’s incident blows up to the level of a scandal, you might have to talk to the poor girl about it. You’re the one who got her into this mess, after all.”

  “I bloody well did not. I was just trying to take care of my boy.”

  “Not very effectively, if Miss Haddon was forced to intervene.”

  Logan gave his brother the look that usually caused grown men to flee. Nick, as usual, was unimpressed.

  “Oh, very well,” Logan finally admitted. “You’re right, of course.”

  “I usually am.”

  “That doesn’t make it any less annoying.” He sighed. “Nick, what the hell am I going to do with Joseph? He’s my life, but I can’t seem to get it right.”

  “You’re trying too hard. Just relax and be his father.”

  “I’m not sure I know what that means anymore.”

  “For one thing, you should stop being so cautious with him. He’s a little boy, not a piece of china. He won’t break.”

  The room seemed to shift sideways, and suddenly all Logan could see was the lifeless body of his nephew as he carried him from the raging, unforgiving river. He had broken a child that day. He’d stolen Cam’s life from the entire family, because he’d been too stupid to pay attention to what really mattered.

  His brother’s hand landed on his forearm, jerking him out of the soul-destroying memory. “Stop that right now, Logan.”

  “I’m sorry, Nick,” he whispered. “So sorry for everything.”

  “Look at me, lad.”

  Logan forced himself to meet his brother’s gaze. Nick’s eyes, a mirror of his own, were filled with a father’s deep sorrow, tempered by wisdom and love.

  “You were young and foolish. It was an accident—a terrible one, but an accident nonetheless. I forgave you, Logan. Now it’s time you forgave yourself.”

  “But I break things, Nick,” he said hoarsely. “And I’m so bloody afraid of breaking Joseph, too.”

  Now his brother began to look stern, like the laird he was. “Joseph is a strong boy. You won’t break him, I promise. For one thing, I won’t let you. To quote Angus, ‘Yer not too big for me to paddle yer bum if ye make a mess of things.’”

  Logan let out a strangled laugh. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a brother like you.”

  “Och, don’t be a silly bugger, man.”

  Nick’s gaze was warm with a deep and abiding affection. While tragedy had all but smothered that affection, it had never died. It had only been waiting for light to seep back into their lives, opening their hearts and healing them all.

  “My little Cam loved you, laddie,” Nick gently said. “He loved all of us. That’s what you should remember. That’s what we all owe my son and ourselves.”

  It took Logan several moments to choke down his emotions. God, he was a lucky bastard to have the family he did.

  “When did you get so damn smart?” he managed.

  Nick reached for his glass. “I’ve always been smart. You were just too thick-headed to notice.”

  “All right, wise one, what do I do about my son? And about Donella?”

  “I’ve already told you how to deal with your son. As for Donella . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Marry the girl, of course. You’ll get a fine wife and a splendid mother for Joseph. They clearly have a great deal of affection for each other.”

  “He certainly prefers her company to mine.”

  “Think how pleased Lord Riddick and his family would be, too,” Nick added. “It could only help your business dealings with the old fellow.”

  Logan raised his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting I marry the girl to nail down a business deal with Riddick?”

  �
��Of course not. It’s simply an added incentive.”

  “Oh, she’d be thrilled to hear that.”

  “Logan, it’s clear that you’re quite taken with the girl. It is also clear—despite her continued insistence on becoming a nun—that she is quite taken with you, as well.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then you haven’t been paying attention. And Victoria would tell you the same.”

  “Huh.”

  “You can be quite charming, when you’re not being an idiot.”

  Donella did seem quite aware of him as a man, which could be viewed in a positive light. And he was more than aware of her as a woman.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Don’t think too long, because you’re not that charming,” Nick said. “She just might choose a nunnery, after all.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Donella stole a glance at Logan as he expertly steered her through another turn of the waltz. The other dancers swept by them in a swirling array of silks and satins, the sparkle of jewels glittering like tiny stars under blazing crystal chandeliers.

  For a few moments, she felt light-headed. It was like tumbling through a rainbow, and had less to do with the dance than with the man holding her close.

  “Are you all right?” Logan murmured.

  She managed a smile. “I’m just a bit out of practice.”

  “Och, you’re the most graceful lass on the floor.” He leaned closer, whispering in her ear, “And the prettiest, ye ken.”

  She barely managed to avoid tripping over her feet.

  Waltzing with Logan Kendrick was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Stimulating probably described it best, especially earlier when he wheeled her through a turn and she made a startling contact with his lower body. Everything about him felt big and hard, including what was hidden beneath the drape of his kilt.

  The entire evening was turning out to be rather mind-boggling, because she was beginning to think Logan was courting her. Even more mind-boggling, she was beginning to like the notion, though she hadn’t a clue why he’d wish to do so, much less publicly.

  After the gruesome episode last week at the sweet shop and the resulting nasty gossip, Donella had expected the entire Kendrick household to lay low for a while. Yet according to Victoria, an opposite strategy had been formulated. The Kendricks would brazen it out, making it clear that little Joseph had their full protection and Donella their full support.

  That strategy seemed to include a great deal of attention on her from Joseph’s father, if the last week was any indication. Whenever she left the house, Logan almost invariably accompanied her. If his intention was to show the denizens of Glasgow that she enjoyed his protection, he was making a splendid job of it.

  Still, the ugly glare she’d just gotten from a familiar-looking couple on the side of the dance floor suggested the plan hadn’t been entirely successful. She stumbled a bit, and it took a moment to regain her rhythm.

  Logan glanced at her face, then eased her to the side of the floor and behind a massive column as the strains of the waltz faded away. “You’re not all right, are you?”

  Truthfully, she was getting quite tired of strangers giving her the evil eye, even if she had dumped a table onto three unsuspecting women. It hadn’t been the proudest moment of her life, but she found it hard to regret. Even so, she thought it would be best to stay out of the public eye for the time being. Logan and the rest of the Kendricks, however, clearly did not agree.

  “I’m fine,” she tersely replied.

  Logan crossed his arms and propped his brawny shoulders against the column. Really, there should be a law against a man looking so splendid in clan dress, especially in evening kit. It was exactly the sort of distraction she didn’t need.

  “That’s a load of old cobblers, Donella. You’re fashed about something, and I refuse to believe it’s because some old tabbies and muckrakers can’t keep their silly mouths shut.”

  The gossip did bother her, but she’d rather die than admit to something so shallow. “Mr. Kendrick, I have asked you repeatedly not to employ such vulgar language.”

  “And I call bollocks to that bit of prevarication, too.”

  She scowled. “You really are the most irritating man.”

  “Aye, it’s a rare talent.” He tipped up her chin with a gentle forefinger and held it there. “Out with it, Donella. What are you upset about?”

  When two ladies strolling by arm in arm looked scandalized, she tried to push his hand away.

  “Are you trying to destroy what little reputation I have left?”

  Logan wrapped his fingers around hers, refusing to let go.

  “If you keep this up, I won’t have any choice left but to enter a convent,” she groused. “I’ll be a complete social leper.”

  His mouth—which she spent too much time looking at—curved up in a seductive smile. “Something tells me that’s not your only choice.”

  When she realized what he was suggesting, she yanked her hand away. “You shouldn’t tease like that. It’s not nice.”

  Now it was his turn to scowl. “I’m not teasing you. You’re not the sort of girl for that.”

  “That is something I am well aware of.”

  “I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, lass.”

  “Then perhaps you can give me the right end, because I don’t know what to think about any of . . . of this.” She felt like her face was on fire, and her skin was prickly under her stays. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were . . .”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

  “Courting you?”

  “It’s a ridiculous notion, and you know it.”

  Amusement gleamed in those blasted blue eyes of his before his gaze turned uncomfortably penetrating. Helpless, Donella stared back. The noise of the ballroom faded to a tuneless buzz, easily ignored. Only Logan was real. He was so full of energy and life, drawing her to him with an irresistible force. Her heart began to pound with an erratic beat, and the hot flush seeped into the very depths of her being.

  This simply cannot be happening. Not to me.

  No man had ever looked at her like he did, not even Roddy. But the expression in Logan’s eyes practically devoured her. It made her feel almost . . . wild.

  Then he blinked and straightened up, putting space between them. The din of the room came rushing back and, for a moment, Donella felt overwhelmed by the frantic gaiety of their surroundings.

  “I need a drink. We both need a drink before finishing this conversation,” Logan said in a husky voice.

  She expelled a shaky breath. “I don’t think we need to finish this conversation at all.”

  He waved to a nearby waiter carrying a tray of wine goblets.

  “Here,” Logan said, handing her a glass. “You look like you could use it.”

  She could, so she dutifully took a sip, hoping it would steady her jangling nerves.

  Logan tipped the waiter and took a cautious sip from his goblet. “God, they do serve ghastly stuff at these affairs, don’t they?”

  “Any sort of alcohol makes me feel tipsy,” she admitted. “We drank only cider and a bit of ale in the convent.”

  He grinned. “I’d quite like to see you get tipsy, Miss Haddon. Perhaps you’ll finish my glass, as well?”

  “One will be quite enough, thank you.”

  “Then let’s get back to our very interesting conversation.”

  Donella didn’t wish to continue, at least not in a public venue. If he said he was courting her, she’d probably faint from shock. And if he said the opposite, she’d be humiliated for making such an outrageous assumption about him.

  She peered around the column. “We should return to our party. Victoria and Lord Arnprior will be looking for us.”

  “No, they won’t.”

  Donella was about to insist when she noticed someone staring intently at them from a few yards away. More correctly, she was staring at Loga
n. A lovely blond woman, dressed in the first style of elegance, was studying him with an avid expression. There was something about the woman’s regard that was almost unnerving.

  “Are you even listening to me?” asked Logan, sounding exasperated.

  “Forgive me, but there’s someone staring at us. At you, to be precise. She seems to know you.”

  “That dodge won’t work, Donella. I know scads of women in Glasgow.”

  When she lifted an eyebrow, he grimaced.

  “That didn’t come out quite right,” he said.

  “Perhaps you should acknowledge her.”

  Muttering under his breath, Logan followed her indicating nod and promptly spilled half his drink. He stared at the young woman, his expression thunderstruck and oddly blank.

  Donella plucked the glass from his hand. “Mr. Kendrick, is something wrong?”

  He didn’t seem to hear. When the lady smiled at him—a charming, winsome smile—Logan simply blinked, apparently held in place by invisible bonds.

  Donella set both glasses on a side table and handed Logan a handkerchief from her reticule. He absently wiped the wine from his fingers and then handed it back to her.

  “You’re welcome,” she said sarcastically.

  That finally caught his attention. “Oh, sorry.”

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  His laugh was rough and held a note of disbelief. “I think I have.”

  “I don’t—”

  Victoria suddenly emerged from the crowd, dodging around a portly gentleman to reach them. “There you are.” Obviously sensing something amiss, she followed the direction of Logan’s gaze. “Oh, blast.”

  “What is going on here?” Donella asked.

  “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me,” Logan said.

  He strode off, forging a path through the crowd to the young woman, who’d been clearly waiting for him to do just that. As he took her gloved hand and raised it to his lips, her expression seemed almost triumphant to Donella.

  She, meanwhile, felt her insides curl up and began looking for a nice, dark corner to hide in.

  “Who is that?” she asked Victoria.

  “Mrs. Jeannie MacArthur, a widow from Edinburgh,” Victoria grimly replied.