Christmas Kiss (A Holiday Romance) (Kisses and Carriages)

by L. L. Muir

  Her primal feminine ego took a nose dive.

  “Wish you wouldn’t have kissed the crazy chick, huh?” She pushed out of his arms and headed for the door. “Well, don’t worry about it, sport. She wishes she hadn’t kissed you either.”

  He cleared his throat. “I meant nothing of the sort, lass.”

  He didn’t sound convincing at all.

  She grabbed the latch and turned to face him, but she couldn’t quite manage a carefree smile.

  “It’s pretty silly for me to hang around and argue with you until New Year’s Eve. I’ll just pack my stuff and take off in the morning.”

  “Lass, wait.”

  She was grateful for easy-opening doors that let her get away quickly. When the tower door shut behind her, she’d taken a few steps before she realized she’d been plunged into the darkness again. But it didn’t matter. Her bedroom was just down the hall. She’d see the firelight under the door in a second or two.

  The hallway suddenly lit up behind her, but she didn’t turn.

  “I don’t need your light, thanks. I’m fine.” She picked up the pace, but he grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. She wouldn’t look at him, no matter how he tried to make her.

  “Brianna. Please. I must know what ye meant. What is it ye plan to take off in the morning?”

  Oh please. What was he hoping for, a strip tease?

  “Take off means go, leave, depart. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the sun comes up. I’ll tell Angeline goodbye. I won’t run out on her without saying a word.”

  “Ye mean to leave?”

  She nodded once but couldn’t face him. He probably looked relieved, and that would only hurt her feelings worse.

  Slowly, finger by finger, he let go of her arm.

  She walked as calmly as possible toward her room, hoping he couldn’t tell she was dragging her heart behind her.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Once Brianna was in her room, Heathcliff returned to his.

  He removed his boots and his cravat, and his coat. Then, without so much as considering the wisdom of it, without considering anything at all, he simply took up the blankets from his bed and dragged them out of the tower and down the hallway where he set his candle on a table next to a figurine. He wrapped the tale of his plaid and his mass of blankets around himself, then sat on the floor with his back against her bedchamber door.

  There.

  Leave? Of course she could leave—over his dead and frozen body. He didn’t care for her odds, however, since the door was warm at his back and heat slipped out from beneath it.

  As he sat in the soft glow of the candle, he thought about the kiss—the kiss that made it quite clear to him that he had, in fact, fallen in love with the woman. He’d reacted badly to the news, though, hadn’t he? Of course, she’d reacted badly to his reaction. So perhaps the lass felt the same about him. The fact that she was quite mad had nothing at all to do with it.

  But just how mad was she?

  If something unnatural happened around the castle while Grandmother was still alive, none would blink an eye. But the old woman was gone and all excitement had ceased. Hadn’t it?

  If he considered the past few days, looking for unnatural happenings, he would have to admit that the child’s arrival had been a bit queer. Welcomed, but queer.

  The woman’s arrival of course. The quick disappearance of the coachman along with his four-in-hand. But he’d been so distracted by the...underthings perched on Brianna’s head that he mightn’t have noticed the house catching fire for a moment or two—so the man’s departure did not signify.

  The storm. A more violent winter he could never remember, especially considering the wee avalanche that might well have taken his life. He thanked God there had been someone about to help him.

  Suspecting a child had been a bit unnatural on his part—

  But wait! The avalanche. The distraction a moment before.

  The murmur. He’d forgotten about the murmur—his words tossed back at him! The pair of ye should be grateful for one another.

  Heathcliff closed his eyes and let his head rest against the wood at his back. How had he forgotten about the voice? The disembodied voice?

  He wished there was another Muir Witch nearby upon whom he might call for advice. But all of those who had once lived among his clan were gone. He was the only one left with any Muir blood—

  He was the only one left.

  He was the only one left!

  Heathcliff’s heart jumped from the frightening idea he’d found huddled in the recesses of his mind. He turned over his forearm and looked at the large blue vein through which his Muir blood ran. Brianna believed something unnatural was underfoot. Could he be that something?

  He’d wished for a family a hundred times before. Why did a child appear in his life now? He’d wanted a wife, and if he’d have been able to fashion a woman to order, he’d have preferred a woman he could love, first and fore. Angelic hair? Lovely blue eyes? Were they not part of many a fantasy that had slipped into his dreams, back when he’d allowed himself to dream?

  And the storm? Had he conjured it somehow, when he’d been standing at his window that night, wishing for the ability to communicate with his new child? Or had it been a work of Nature? Perhaps it had, but once it arrived, had it remained because it helped him to keep the woman in his home?

  Had he summoned a voice from a child who had none? It had taken but a touch from his hand...

  God forgive him! He wanted to stand and pace the hallway; he could barely sit still with such thoughts flying through his skull—but he dared not. What if such unnatural power sat upon his shoulder, ready to bring about his will with barely a thought? No, he dared not give in to the temptation to test it. He was a God-fearing man, for pity sakes.

  His mind wandered back down the hall to his tower room. As disappointed as he’d been in finding her sneaking where she’d promised not to go, he’d found it impossible not to move to the side of the bed. She sat upon it so casually, she couldn’t have known how it had affected him. The sight of her there would likely greet him each and every night when he retired!

  He’d set aside his candle, not trusting himself with a dangerous flame when his hands were shaking so. He’d hardly noticed the discussion, focused as he was on taking that kiss. He’d needed that kiss. He’d been determined to know, once and for certain, if he were in love, or if he were only infatuated with her.

  He’d insulted her. Possibly more than once with his inattention. And then he’d gotten what he’d come for. She’d popped off the bed and into his arms as if he’d summoned her to him.

  As if he’d conjured the lightning to encourage her into his arms.

  Dear God!

  Heathcliff buried his face in his hands and began to pray.

  The next thing he remembered was waking on the floor, cold and stiff, with a feather light touch on his cheek. He shivered as he sat up and gathered his blankets tight around him.

  The child stood before him with a decidedly heartbroken look upon her face.

  “Fear not, Angeline. I’ll not allow Miss Colby to abandon us.” He rolled his shoulders and prepared to stand.

  Angeline’s bottom lip caught his attention as it was both protruding and quivering, so Heathcliff rolled onto a knee and reached for her.

  “There, there, my cherub. Dinna greet. Go back inside and fetch Miss Colby. We’ll sort it all out.”

  He thanked God Brianna would be able to decipher what had upset the child so. He hoped the cold hadn’t made her ill. When he got to his feet, however, Angeline wrapped her arms around his legs.

  And finally he understood. Brianna was gone.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When Bree woke up and it was still dark, her primal feminine side suggested she go back to sleep and pretend she and Heathcliff hadn’t had a falling out. But since her PF had been the one to get carried away and embarrass the hell out of her last night, Bree wasn’t listening.

&nbs
p; Heathcliff didn’t want her there. If he believed the note, she was a threat to him and his little girl. She was a threat to his sanity if he really believed the year was 1806. He couldn’t possibly relax with the clock ticking down to New Year’s Eve, but he let her stay anyway. Why? Because he knew how sexy he was and thought there was a chance she’d mess around with him, of course. It was probably the only reason he was allowing her to stay—just in case she decided to cave in.

  He sure didn’t need Bree in order to communicate with Angeline.

  It had been a mistake to sneak into his room.

  “I’m certain ye didna come here to seduce me...” And she was certain he wasn’t too happy about that.

  Well, every girl had been in that position by the time she was seventeen or eighteen at least. Sleep with me or go home. So she was going home. At least she hoped she was going home.

  When she found her way out through the gatehouse, the weather got pretty wild. She couldn’t believe it was still storming! It had been going at it hard for four or five days straight! But this time she was prepared. Since there was no way she was going to be able to drag her suitcase down the snowy road, she’d put on just about everything she had. Only this time, she used a sweater for a hat and kept her underwear on her butt where it belonged. She was also starting out with nice, water-tight rainboots. Staying warm would be easy enough—she only had to tough it out until she got to the inn Heathcliff claimed was at the bottom of the hill. She just hoped she’d be able to see it through the blowing snow.

  Man, it was going to be nice to see a new face.

  It was the twenty-ninth. She should have been on a plane that morning. She would have settled for a car, but Heathcliff swore he didn’t have a vehicle. And if someone pulled up in a horse drawn sleigh, even if he had a nice white beard and wore red velvet, she wouldn’t get in.

  She trudged on. As long as she was going downhill, she was going in the right direction, out of the Twilight Zone. She kept her weight centered over her boots so she didn’t slip on the icy patches. Cute waterproof boots? Yes. Traction? Not so much.

  A wolf howled. A real live wolf! How crazy was that?

  She stopped walking. Oh, how stupid was she? Of course there would be wolves. Wild wolves, with no fence or TV screen between her and them. The castle was in the hills, away from town, away from people. And if she were a wolf, she’d either be snuggled in a den or out looking for food. Since she was feeling pretty foodie, she got moving, only a lot faster than before.

  Oh, she was an idiot. When had her pride made her so blind?

  “Well, maybe only when men were involved,” she said, to hear her own voice. She’d been too proud to admit that her relationship with David wasn’t the fairytale romance she’d dreamed of as a teen. Now she was too proud to tell Laird Gorgeous that she didn’t really want to go away and never see him again. Too proud to tell him that she was afraid of his kisses because they were just too wonderful. That she was afraid she’d handed her heart over to him when he’d placed his hand on Angeline’s chest and invited her to hum. When he’d made her feel like a princess waltzing with a prince, and a desirable woman when she was dressed like her grandma.

  And now she might end up being a very proud, but very dead American whose bones wouldn’t be discovered until spring.

  But wouldn’t wolves eat bones too?

  She passed a big bush with a bare branch sticking out the top. It looked like a rabbit. Maybe the wolves were hunting rabbits.

  The ground leveled out. She might be close to the inn! And people. And noises. And cars. And things that probably made wolves run back into the forest.

  “Hello!” It had been a lot easier to walk downhill. The snow was so deep now it spilled over the tops of her boots, but she was almost there. “Please, let me be close,” she muttered. “Hello,” she hollered again. Every minute she walked without hearing a howl, her hope grew. It was like counting the seconds between lightning and thunder. She was moving farther away!

  A large shape darkened as she got near. It was a big bush with a familiar branch sticking out of it. Holy crap! She’d been walking in circles! She looked down, searching for her own footprints. They were barely visible. The huge paw prints, which followed alongside them, were much fresher.

  A wolf howled, this time clearer than ever before. But with the swirling snow, she couldn’t tell from which direction it had come.

  If she ran, would they just be chasing each other until she couldn’t keep up?

  To her left was dense growth. To her right lay a rocky ledge. The memory of that half-frozen stream kept her from trying that way. She had to be standing in the middle of the road. She just had to be. So how had she gone in circles?

  Frenzied growling erupted in the trees, like dogs fighting. Fear helped propel her down the road like a rock from a slingshot. She’d be an idiot to stand around arguing with herself when she could put some distance between her and the animals. So she ran. She watched her footprints, for the moment when they’d veer off to the left, but they continued straight. It was madness. If she kept going, would she be circling around to face the wolves again? She had to change course! She had to head left!

  The realization that freezing to death in a ditch was preferable to being torn apart by fangs was enough to make up her mind. She hurried to the rocks and looked for a path to take, but just beyond the rocks were twisted, thorny branches she couldn’t possibly work her way through. She ran farther down the road and looked again. No good. A straight drop off. No telling how far the drop to the snow was, or what was underneath it.

  She turned back toward the road just as a large black beast ran at her.

  She screamed. It reared and screamed back.

  A horse!

  “Brianna!”

  The animal turned and mounted on the back was Heathcliff. Behind him was a huge white wolf with blood dripping out of its nose and mouth, splattering in an arc as the horse turned. Though it was slung behind the saddle and not moving, the eyes still looked alive. The tongue wavered as blood dripped off the edge.

  Instinctively, she backed away.

  Heathcliff’s hand shot out and grabbed the front of her coat just as her right foot slipped off the ledge. She felt herself lifted into the air and dropped onto the man’s lap before the echo of her gasp died away.

  “Brianna,” he shouted again. “Brianna. Lass. Finally. Oh, Brianna.” He let go of her coat and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing the air out of her lungs. Her shock was so complete, she couldn’t seem to lift her arms to hug him back.

  She twisted so she could breathe again. “I can’t believe you came after me,” she said against the sleeve of his coat. The dark, stiff fur brought a tingle to her numb chin.

  He pulled back and looked at her. Their faces were only inches apart.

  “Brianna. My heart. I canna believe ye sneaked by me. How can you believe I’d let ye leave?”

  “I just assumed—”

  “Oh, forgive me, lass. I believed ye were past arguin’ last eve, so I saved my arguin’ for this morn. Only ye were gone. Surely, when ye saw I’d planted my backside before yer door, ye kenned I wanted ye to stay.”

  She bit her lips. Yeah, she’d gotten the message. He didn’t want her to get away, but she thought it was only because he was, well, horny. It wasn’t something she wanted to admit out loud though.

  And he’d come after her, in the storm, on a freaking horse. And he’d killed the wolf she’d been trying to outrun.

  “That wolf is huge! I can’t believe you killed it.”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Huge. Real. Live. And yes, I killed it. And no, we’re not going to eat it.”

  “Then why did you keep it?”

  He looked away, like he was embarrassed. “If there were others about, which I’m sure there are, I can toss them the carcass and get away, aye?”

  Well, that was reasonable. But then why would he be embarrassed?

  “What aren’t you telling m
e?”

  She wanted him to look at her again, so their faces would be close again. After the adrenaline fest she’d just had, a kiss sounded pretty good, whether it gave him the wrong idea or not.

  “I wanted to impress ye, Brianna Colby. I want to win yer heart, as ye’ve won mine. I want ye to come back. And stay.”

  A twig snapped. It wasn’t loud, but to her ears, it sounded like a gunshot.

  Heathcliff turned the horse and got it moving without showing any of the panic she felt. But of course he wouldn’t be worried. He’d already killed one without getting hardly any blood on him at all. The thought made her shiver.

  She figured they were headed in the right direction because the thick forest was now on their right, the edge of the drop off on their left. After a few minutes, she relaxed. It was nice not having to trudge back up the mountain in the snow, but she felt sorry for the horse.

  “Brianna, love. There is something ye should know. Something I realized last night, after... Well, after.”

  Bree looked at her hands and waited. This was where he was going to tell her that he was gay or something. One of those “I like you alot, but” moments. She’d had a lot of those with David.

  “I’ve said my grandmother was thought to be a witch.”

  That got her attention. She looked up at him then. He was biting his lip, glancing at her, then back at the road. If she said anything, he’d probably never get the words out, so she waited.

  “I fear that I, too... That I too might be a witch.”

  Bree snorted. “Men aren’t witches, though. They’re warlocks, right?”

  It was a joke. It had to be a joke. She kept waiting for him to smile, but he didn’t.

  “Males can be witches, lass. For many a man was killed for being such not long ago.”

  Well, not long ago to a Brit was a lot longer than not long ago to an American. Their history went back millennia. But why would he say something like that? Did he want to creep her out so she’d go away? If so, why not just leave her to the wolves? Why come after her? She didn’t get it.