The Highlander's Christmas Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  Then he flexed his hips and was all the way in, so close that she could feel the beat of his heart in every part of her body.

  And now she let the tears fall. “Oh, Logan.”

  He tenderly brushed her hair from her face. “Och, lass. Is it all right?”

  “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

  “We’re perfect.”

  He moved inside her, slow and steady, building her desire into a glittering spiral. Donella wanted to make it last, to keep him inside her all night, but soon she was cresting, sensation gathering like a fast, rippling tide.

  She cried out as the wave broke.

  Logan swallowed the cry with an urgent, devouring kiss. He moved in deep, long thrusts, driving hard. As she shivered through her climax, he slipped a hand under her bottom and tilted her up. Donella gasped as she clenched around his thick erection, sending out a second wave of delicious contractions.

  He pressed his face into her shoulder and poured himself into her, his climax intense and beautiful because he had surrendered to her, as she had to him. It was incredible and overwhelming, and Donella knew instantly that she’d tumbled into a life she’d never been able to envision before.

  A life that now truly felt like a blessing.

  After several moments, Logan breathed out a heavy sigh and carefully pulled out. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She sprawled on his chest, which rose and fell like a bellows. They both lay like that for some time, catching their breaths and letting the air dry the perspiration slicking their bodies.

  Finally, Logan untangled the rumpled bedclothes and pulled them up to cover them. He craned his neck to plant a kiss on her forehead.

  “All right, love?”

  She rubbed her cheek against his chest and smiled. Then she daringly licked his nipple—which caused him to twitch—and lifted her head to meet his gaze.

  “More than all right. In fact, I think what just happened was rather a miracle.”

  He let his head drop to the pillow. “I think we were both rather due for one, don’t you?”

  She did. Donella had been looking for signs of miracles all her life. It would seem she’d finally found one.

  They rested for a while, Logan’s hand languidly stroking down her spine. She was fine with the silence. Neither of them was the sort to spill out their emotions in speech. For her, their bodies had said all that needed to be said.

  At least for now.

  She frowned, mentally pushing back against that pestering secret. She wanted no part of it, especially not now.

  His hand stilled on the swell of her bottom. “Something wrong?”

  Drat.

  The man was too perceptive for his own good. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  “Tell me, and I’ll make it better.”

  She lifted up to look at him. “You never made it down to my toes.”

  His grin flashed like a beacon. Before she could catch her breath, he’d flipped her onto her back.

  “Then let me correct that unfortunate omission right now.”

  Donella choked out a laugh, stunned as the large erection nudging her belly made clear how ready he was for more.

  She didn’t know if she was quite ready yet, but as he worked his way down her body, she realized she was more than willing to try.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  With only a few nights until Hogmanay, it seemed the majority of the city’s residents had squeezed into the Glasgow Assembly Rooms to begin early celebrations.

  Donella swore that at least half of them had trod on her feet.

  After retreating into a window alcove to catch her breath, she went up on her toes to peer over the expanse of pomaded hair, silk turbans, and feathered headdresses. In the confusing mass of people around the edges of the dance floor, she couldn’t spot either Eden or Victoria.

  Her two friends had been forging ahead of Donella through the crowd, heading for the supper room to meet up with the other members of their party. When a piece of netting on Donella’s gown had snagged a woman’s bracelet, she’d been forced to stop to untangle it. The wearer of the bracelet in question had glared in rigid disapproval while Donella labored to work herself free. She’d finally resorted to giving the netting a good yank, with unfortunate results for the delicate fabric of her gown.

  By the time she looked up, the other ladies had disappeared into the crowd. The Kendrick twins were wandering somewhere close by, and Logan should arrive soon. Still, she couldn’t spot anyone she knew, and the mob blocking the path to the supper room remained dauntingly thick.

  It would appear she was on her own, for the moment.

  Of course, the only risk of danger was from terminal boredom or possibly expiring from the heat. Donella had forgotten how much she hated large parties. She could only hope that in their new life together, Logan wouldn’t insist on a steady round of social events. He didn’t seem the type for that sort of thing, but it was undeniable that he was a constant surprise to her.

  One surprise was how determined a lover he was, and how inventive. He’d climbed up the wall to her bedroom three nights in a row, and each night had been more wonderful and astonishing than the last. With Logan, Donella hardly recognized the woman she’d become, more willing to take risks than she’d ever imagined.

  Still, once he departed like a phantom in the night, she was left with all the same worries about her future. Could she be the sort of wife he truly needed? Could she support him outside the cocoon of their families and the quiet existence she longed for? There was a reason she’d been attracted to life in a nunnery. The world Logan moved in was one Donella often found irritating and even overwhelming.

  She went up on her toes again. Not a blasted Kendrick or Gilbride in sight. Sighing, she pulled a handkerchief from her beaded reticule and dabbed her neck, then shoved it back and prepared to elbow her way through the crowd.

  Suddenly, Jeannie MacArthur glided through a small gap in the throng. She was stunning in her sapphire blue gown, not a golden curl out of place or even a faint sheen of perspiration on her brow. The woman might as well have been a perfectly chiseled statue come to life.

  By contrast, Donella felt like a head of lettuce left too long in the sun.

  “Ah, Miss Haddon,” Jeannie said. “Just the person I was looking for.”

  Her determined advance had Donella retreating back into the alcove.

  Donella pinned a smile to her face. “Mrs. MacArthur, how nice to see you. Are you enjoying the ball?”

  “I find Glasgow affairs quite dreary compared to Edinburgh’s.” Her gaze flickered over Donella’s gown, lingering on the torn bit of netting. “And so provincial, don’t you think? One can hardly scare up a decent dressmaker worth the effort.”

  “I haven’t spent much time in Glasgow, and none in Edinburgh.”

  “Yes, it’s quite evident you prefer the country, which is so charming of you.” Jeannie’s smile was mocking. “And of course the convent, which must be positively rustic.”

  Since she’d always been hopeless at thinly veiled sparring, Donella decided to forgo the attempt. “What is it you wished to speak to me about, ma’am? I was about to rejoin my party.”

  Something hard flashed through the woman’s cornflower blue eyes before she composed her features into another smile. “So delightfully blunt. I’m sure Logan finds you very amusing.”

  Logan did seem to enjoy Donella’s unvarnished manner of speaking, but Jeannie clearly meant it as an insult. “I wouldn’t know,” she crisply replied.

  “Then I suppose I’ll have to ask him,” Jeannie purred. “When next I see him.”

  Donella held on to the fraying ends of her temper. “Mrs. MacArthur, is there a point to this conversation?”

  The woman’s golden eyebrows ticked up in an incredulous lift. “My dear Miss Haddon, I simply wish to offer my congratulations. I do apologize if I’ve offended you.”

  Since Jeannie had no doubt sought Donella out with the express i
ntention of giving offense, she didn’t bother to acknowledge the half-hearted apology.

  As for accepting congratulations, the formal announcement of her betrothal to Logan would take place at the Gilbrides’ Hogmanay party. Until then, it had been agreed to keep the news strictly within the family. That didn’t mean, of course, that servants didn’t gossip or that rumors hadn’t circulated about Logan’s marked attentions to her.

  Still, it was in bad taste for Jeannie to make such a bold assumption.

  “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, ma’am,” Donella replied. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

  Jeannie smoothly blocked her way. “There’s no need to be modest, my dear. You’ve managed to snag the most eligible bachelor in Glasgow, perhaps in all of Scotland. That is quite the feat for a countrified young lady who only recently was residing in a convent.”

  Despite the coolly ironic smile, Donella saw anger in the woman’s gaze and barely contained jealousy.

  “I know you and Mr. Kendrick were once close,” she replied. “So if you have something to say, I suggest you speak to Mr. Kendrick. Your former relationship is truly none of my business.”

  Jeannie’s smile turned malicious. “It was a great deal more than close, you know. Unfortunately, circumstances prevented us from marrying.”

  Donella stared at her in disbelief. “The circumstance was the tragic death of Logan’s nephew.”

  “I said it was unfortunate, did I not? But it was nevertheless unfair that we were forced to separate.”

  “From what I understand, when he asked you to marry him, you turned him down. No one forced you to do anything.”

  A sneer lifted the corners of Jeannie’s mouth. Suddenly, she didn’t look quite so perfect. “You know nothing of—”

  “What happened?” Donella interrupted. “I believe I do. Are we finished, Mrs. MacArthur? Because I would like to rejoin my party.”

  If the blasted woman tried to get in her way again, she’d give her a good shove to make her move.

  Jeannie made a visible effort to contain her emotions. Donella had to give the woman credit for impressive self-control.

  When that chilling smile again lifted the corners of her mouth, Donella couldn’t repress a shiver, despite the hothouse atmosphere.

  “Logan was my first,” Jeannie said. “One never forgets one’s first.”

  Donella frowned. “First love? Yes, I know that.”

  “No, my dear. Logan was my first lover, and what a lover he was.” She regarded Donella with amusement. “Logan, however, will not be your first lover. I cannot help but wonder how he’ll react to that on your wedding night.”

  The double blow knocked the air from Donella’s lungs, and the second carefully aimed jab went straight to the gut. How in God’s name did the bloody woman know about Roddy?

  Donella stood frozen as she tried to think past her growing panic. Perhaps it was simply a stab in the dark, fueled by jealousy and old rumors that had resurfaced because of her return to society.

  While she struggled to muster a coherent response, Jeannie patted her arm.

  “Logan is a very forgiving man, my dear. I’m sure he’ll be happy to overlook any former contretemps, particularly since your betrothal will be so helpful in sealing his new business relationship with Lord Riddick.” Jeannie laughed. “How charmingly old-fashioned of your family to offer your hand in marriage for financial gain.”

  Donella’s mind went blank for a moment, so she simply stared at Jeannie, unable—unwilling—to reply.

  The lovely blonde waved a casual hand. “You know, of course, that Logan has been in trading negotiations with your uncle for some weeks. Apparently, the arrangements will greatly advantage Kendrick Shipping and Trade.” Again, her contemptuous gaze flickered over Donella. “No wonder he wished to marry you.”

  Donella tried to ignore the black spots floating across her vision. It had to be the heat of the room. She had to get away, find someplace to sit and be quiet.

  “Mrs. MacArthur, if you do not move, I will be forced—”

  “Och, there you are,” Logan said, squeezing between two portly gentlemen at the edge of the dance floor. “Edie was in a stew that she’d lost you—”

  He broke off when Jeannie turned to smile at him. “Jeannie, er, Mrs. MacArthur, how nice to see you.”

  The woman all but sparkled. “Mr. Kendrick, I’m so pleased to see you. I’ve been having quite an interesting chat with Miss Haddon.”

  Logan’s gaze narrowed. “Have you now?”

  Jeannie pressed his arm. “Indeed. And allow me to offer my sincere congratulations on your betrothal. What splendid news.”

  He threw Donella a startled look. She gave a slight shake of the head.

  “Thank you, but congratulations are a bit premature,” he replied.

  Jeannie arched her elegant eyebrows. “Really, because the on-dits are quite insistent on the matter. Surely you can verify for one of your oldest friends if the rumors are true.”

  Donella didn’t think she misheard a thread of hope in the woman’s voice.

  When Logan smiled down at his first love, Donella’s heart almost stopped. Was he going to deny that, despite all his protestations, he still cared for Jeannie MacArthur?

  And had Donella been stupid enough to believe that he didn’t?

  “The on-dits have it right for once,” Logan said. “But since no formal announcement has yet been made, I would ask that you keep the news to yourself.”

  Jeannie blinked, but then adopted a charmingly fey smile. “You have my word, dear Logan.” She gave Donella a nod. “Miss Haddon, I wish you the best of luck.”

  When she slipped gracefully into the crowd, Logan frowned after her. “That was odd. I wonder how she found out about it.”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Donella said in a tight voice.

  His attention swung back to her. “Lass, are you feeling all right?”

  “I was, until your former lover decided to accost me.”

  His eyebrows practically shot up to the ceiling. “What the hell does that mean?”

  When two young ladies standing a few feet away turned to stare at them, Donella winced.

  “I . . . oh, nothing. Can we please leave? The heat in this room is appalling.”

  “I take it Jeannie said something unpleasant.”

  “She said many things. Now, are you going to escort me out of here, or do I have to find my own way home?”

  “Of course I’ll take you home. Do you want me to fetch Edie or Victoria?”

  “No, I just want to leave.”

  “Let me get you out of this mob, and then I’ll rustle up a carriage.”

  “I’d prefer you not bull through the ballroom, leaving bodies in our wake,” she warned as he took her elbow. “There’s already enough gossip about us.”

  He snorted. “You have no idea.”

  Her stomach did a nasty flip. He’d been looking harassed when he found her, which didn’t bode well.

  Logan maneuvered her through the ballroom with a minimum of fuss. Many curious stares followed them, including a few disapproving ones in Donella’s case.

  You should be used to it by now.

  It took every bit of her self-control and a heartfelt prayer for patience to maintain even the semblance of a smile.

  When they reached the entrance hall, Logan left her to speak to a footman, returning a minute later with her cloak.

  “Sure you don’t want me to fetch Edie?” he asked as he draped it around her shoulders. “You’re rather green around the gills, love.”

  “I just need to go home.”

  “I asked one of the footmen to call for Nick’s carriage.” He briefly cupped her cheek. “Just a few more minutes and we’ll be on our way.”

  “How will your family get back to Kendrick House?”

  “The twins won’t mind walking, and Nick and Victoria can take a hackney.” He steered her to a chair tucked behind a column. “Wait here u
ntil I arrange to deliver a message to Nick, all right?”

  She sank gratefully down onto the seat, feeling dizzy with distress.

  Had Jeannie and Logan been lovers? His reaction suggested otherwise. More upsetting was Jeannie’s contention that Logan’s marriage proposal had been primarily financial in nature. In a terrible way, it made sense that it would be. Although they’d been discovered in a compromising position, all but sealing their fate, Logan had already been making a show of courting her. As much as she wanted to believe he cared for her, other interests had to be at play—specifically, his desire to gain her uncle’s considerable business influence.

  Donella pressed a hand to her stomach, sick at the idea that she could have been such a dupe.

  A gentle touch on her shoulder brought her out of her grim reverie.

  “Lass, we can go,” Logan said.

  He kept a protective arm around her shoulders as they hurried down the front steps and into the cold night air, where the Kendrick town coach waited at the curb. It took but a moment for Logan to hand her up and give instructions to the coachman before climbing inside.

  As the carriage started forward, he sat and took one of her hands. “Tell me what she said to upset you.”

  Donella sucked in a shaky breath. “I hardly know where to start.”

  “Och, that woman has always been trouble.”

  His disgusted tone was a relief, but she still felt battered by emotion.

  “Donella,” he said, “whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

  It was difficult to say the words. “Were you and Jeannie . . . did you and Jeannie have . . .”

  “Relations?” He shook his head. “Good God, no.”

  “She said you were her first lover.”

  “We were never lovers, Donella. Word of a Kendrick and a Highlander.”

  In the flickering light of the carriage lamps, she read sincerity in his expression.

  He cracked a rueful smile. “And as Angus would say, ‘If ye canna depend on the word of a Kendrick and a Highlander, what can ye depend on?’”

  “In any case,” she said, “I have no business letting it bother me. You and Mrs. MacArthur loved each other and were to be married. It wouldn’t be entirely surprising if you had an intimate relationship.”