Christmas in Kilts

by Bronwen Evans

  He sank onto his bed and coldness swept over him. He would have to say no to Emma. Teaching her about passion would be very easy. She was a very desirable woman. But because he already knew her, liked her, an increased intimacy would likely deepen his feelings for her.

  A cold dread seeped into his bones. What if he got her with child? He would have to wait to offer for Fiona until he was sure, and that would delay his plans.

  He imagined the strapping lad Emma could deliver him and a need hit him so strong he was shaking. Goddamn he would wait one more month.

  Christ, already his plans were unraveling. Ian Mackenzie was a proud man but Dougray had tried to offer him assistance. The man would have none of it. He’d promised his father that he would find a way help save Ian’s lands and he was running out of ideas and time.

  Why did Emma have to come just now? Just as he was thinking of children, family . . . His three younger sisters were married with families of their own. He had no one. How could a man be about to have a house full of guests but feel so utterly alone?

  Because you push everyone away. Coward. His father had taught him that he had to be strong to keep his clan and family together and to survive in this ever-changing world.

  After Francesca’s death he’d drowned himself in whisky for months until his father’s illness made him pull his head out of his arse. He had responsibilities. Through his pain he’d thrown himself into work.

  It was playing with his nieces and nephews that finally made him understand he wanted a child of his own. And that’s when he’d thought of the plan to honor his vow to his father and to find a mother of his children. Fiona Mackenzie was his answer. A woman who needed a good marriage, and a woman who he’d never come to love.

  Just then his valet, Dickens, arrived with another tub and set it by the fire. The servants filled it with hot, steaming water and twenty minutes later when he sank into the warm depths, his member hardened remembering the vision he’d seen in the other room.

  For the first time in six years he pleasured himself with the image of a different woman in his head. Funnily enough, he did not feel guilty. It was as if Francesca let him be, knowing he deserved to move on.

  * * *

  A few hours later Emma entered the drawing room pleased to see Serena had arrived. She really liked the young widow and thought she deserved happiness. Serena’s husband had died from a canker three years ago, and Emma hoped Thornton was not playing with her feelings.

  One look at her brother and any doubts she had died. He was looking at Serena with such love it caused a lump in Emma’s throat.

  “Emma,” Serena cried as she jumped up to greet her. “You look lovely tonight. The Scottish air is already agreeing with you.” She lowered her voice, “I heard about your ride today.”

  She’d confided her plan to Serena and, all credit to the woman, Serena had not told Thornton. They both needed a bit of happiness in their lives. Serena had loved her husband and she’d mourned him for two years until Thornton put the light back in her eyes. Emma returned Serena’s embrace and took a seat next to her.

  Thornton was deep in conversation with Angus and there was no sign of their host.

  Serena whispered in her ear, “Have you asked him yet.” She nodded and Serena squeezed her hand. “Well, what did he say?”

  “He was horrified at first but he has agreed to think on it.”

  Serena’s smile died. “Oh, that is not good. A man thinking is always a worry.”

  So she told Serena about him walking in on her naked this evening, and that he had become aroused.

  Serena fanned her face. “Oh, he won’t be thinking now. Well, not with his brain.”

  The two of them laughed.

  “I just wish I had more time. The other guests will be arriving over the next few days and I won’t have his undivided attention.”

  Serena patted her hand and winked. “You’ve not heard? The storm near Glasgow has washed out the Bridge at Orchy making the roads impassable. The other guests can’t get through for at least a week, if at all.”

  “How convenient for me.” As she looked up, Dougray entered the room and she could not help but stare with lust burning in the pit of her stomach. No other man made her think such naughty thoughts.

  It was not only that he was tall, it was the way he held himself. Almost regal, yet his beautiful blue eyes—hypnotizing when offset by his curling dark hair and chiseled cheekbones—promised kindness, fairness, and honesty. It was his character that set him apart from other men.

  “Lady Serena, Emma, how lovely you both look this evening.”

  Emma’s face heated remembering that only a few hours ago he’d seen far more than any man had ever seen.

  Serena smiled and he bowed over her hand. “I thank you for inviting us to your lovely home. It is far more than a hunting lodge. It’s a castle.”

  “If the weather deteriorates and we are stuck inside, feel free to explore. Be careful not to get lost, ladies.”

  “How lovely, thank you. I’m sure we can all find many amusements if we are stuck inside for a few days.”

  The way her friend said amusements made Dougray send a stern look in Emma’s direction. She kept her face blank of any emotion.

  “Dinner will be served soon, I shall just go and talk to the other gentlemen, and leave you ladies to catch up. I’m sure you’ve heard the other guests may not be arriving for a few days due to bad weather farther south.”

  He gave Emma a lingering look before walking to join Thornton and Angus. She remembered her threat. Did she think that if the others did not arrive he could turn her request down with no consequences? She followed Dougray as he walked across the room and Angus noted her gaze, giving her a wink.

  Her spine straightened and she smiled warmly back. There was always Angus . . .

  She made sure she sat next to Angus at dinner and spent the meal engaging him in conversation. It was not an odious task.

  She managed to learn that Angus was developing a whisky business. He’d created his own blend, and he told her he had men in Edinburgh interested in setting up a distilling company and backing his skill in making the smoothest blends. He was talking with Dougray, too, but he did not have spare funds to help the business as he was trying to help a neighboring family fallen on hard times. Dougray had promised his late father that he would help them.

  Angus was witty, intelligent, and wise to her game. He was not opposed to helping her make Dougray jealous. Whether it did or not she had no idea, but she did catch a few black looks from Dougray sent Angus’s way.

  “I should scold you, Mr. McGregor. I quite got the end of his lordship’s temper for being in his wife’s bedchamber.”

  Angus merely laughed. “He hasn’t spoken to me about it so he can’t have been that upset.”

  Emma was pleased to learn that. “Perhaps he has other things on his mind.”

  “I’m sure he has. I’ve never heard of him asking a lady to go riding with him in a verra long time.”

  That warmed her even more. “Stop it. While I thank you for the encouragement, please promise me no more meddling.”

  “Then stop flirting with me to make Dougray jealous.”

  She laughed at that. “Jealous? That is not my intention. More that he is informed of choices I might have.”

  Angus gave her a puzzled and worried look. “Choices?”

  “Never mind. I made a request of your cousin and he is weighing his decision. I merely need to remind him that a lady has choices.”

  “You asked him to marry you? That’s bold and ingenious.”

  She choked on her wine. “Marry? Good God, no. He’s still in love with Francesca.”

  “But that is why you are here. You need a husband.”

  She wanted to slap his face. “I have no need of a husband. I have money, a home in Cornwall. A pleasant enough life.” What she needed was love. A husband only if he loved her.

  Angus sat back in his chair. “This is dreadfu
l. No. You have to make him want to marry you. You have to . . .”

  “I will only marry for love, and you can’t force someone to love you.” She knew that from firsthand experience. She’d loved Dougray for ten long years and yet he’d never given her a passing thought.

  “But you could try to make him love you. He’s been alone for six years. He dedicates his life to his family, to his people, but he keeps everyone at a distance. He’ll face a long and lonely life if he doesn’t find the courage to love again.”

  She finally looked at Dougray. “Courage?” Dougray looked like a highland warrior of old. He wouldn’t be scared of anything.

  “Aye, courage. Can you imagine the pain of losing the one person you loved most in the world?” Emma heard pain in Angus’s voice. “I can.” Did Angus mean this lady that he could not marry? “When his lordship lost Francesca he closed himself off. He won’t let himself feel. Love is wonderful. It fills your soul and lights up your world. But when it’s gone it leaves only darkness and pain. Dougray learned this well and is ensuring he never feels this pain again.”

  “So it’s not his love of Francesca that is stopping him opening his heart. You’re saying it’s his fear of being hurt again.”

  Angus nodded. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, he loved her deeply. But if truth be told she wasn’t the right woman for him. I think part of him knows that and he feels guilty for her death. He brought her here as his wife because he lusted after her. The only way to have her was to marry. But once back here they had very little in common.”

  “Why would he feel guilt over her death? She drowned in the loch when she was thrown off her horse. It was a dreadful accident.”

  Angus looked across at Dougray. “She took a horse that she had no ability to ride. She was angry because he would not go riding with her. His father was ill and Dougray suddenly found himself deep in estate business. Francesca was an attention-seeker and would often throw a tantrum if she did not get it.”

  “He can’t blame himself for her decisions.”

  “No. He blames himself for marrying her in the first place. Scotland is very different from Italy, and Francesca never fitted in.”

  Emma took another sip of wine and studied Dougray from under partially lowered eyelids. Was Angus right? Was Dougray protecting himself from hurt? Or was he still so deeply in love with Francesca that he had no room in his heart for anyone else?

  Food for thought.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, Emma awoke to the sounds of rain hitting her window. There was no rush to rise since there would be no hunting today—but there might be another kind of entertainment.

  Finally dressed, she made her way downstairs, her stomach churning too much to eat anything. Would he give her his decisions this morning or make her wait until tonight?

  The dining room was empty. There was no sign of Serena or her brother. No doubt they were still in bed. She envied Serena the love she’d found with Thornton.

  She had no idea where Angus or Dougray were and she was too scared to go searching. When Dougray was ready to deliver his verdict, he would find her.

  So she asked if she could have a cup of tea and toast in the library, and she snuggled in the large chair by the fire with a book. She would wait for Dougray to find her.

  * * *

  Three hours later Emma was still reading in the library. The rain had stopped and the sun had come out. There was still no sign of Dougray, so she decided to take her mind off the conversation to come by going for a walk in the gardens around the lodge. She called for her cloak and set off round the back of the castle. She walked down through the rose garden toward the apple orchard she could see from her bedchamber window. There was a small summerhouse in the middle of the trees and she wanted to explore it.

  To her surprise, as she drew closer to the center of the orchard she heard a horse neigh and a bridle jangle. She peered out from behind a tree. In the doorway of the summerhouse, no more than fifty feet in front of her, locked in a passionate embrace were Angus and a young woman.

  They were kissing as if there would not be a tomorrow, and she wondered if this was the woman Angus had mentioned when she first arrived. Was this the young lady that he could not offer marriage to because of his circumstances?

  She knew she should not be intruding on their private moment, and that she should turn around and head back to the lodge, but just then Angus pulled back from the kiss, and stroked the young woman’s face so tenderly it broke Emma’s heart to see how much he loved her. She wished she could do something to help the couple.

  Angus turned his head and she quickly pulled back behind the tree, and a germ of an idea blossomed. She was never going to marry, so what use was her dowry. She would ask her father if she could have her dowry, and she would invest in Angus’s whisky business. If his business became profitable, he could legitimately ask for the lady’s hand in marriage.

  Emma was sure her father would agree. The whisky that Angus made was one of the smoothest she’d ever tasted, not that she drank a lot of whisky in her life. She might be thwarted in love, but she could see no reason why money should stop two people who were obviously deeply in love from marrying. She knew what it was like to not get her happily ever after. She would do everything in her power to see Angus got his heart’s desire.

  Men were so proud. She could not understand why Angus did not simply ask Dougray for the money. Surely he would agree if he saw how it would help Angus win his true love, and if it was a good investment. She would have to ask him when she saw him this evening. It would take her mind off their other conversation.

  She quickly made her way back through the orchard, hoping the couple did not spot her, when she rounded the hedge surrounding the rose garden and crashed headlong into a familiar muscled chest, knocking the breath out of her.

  “Emma, what’s wrong you’re trembling.”

  “It’s merely the strain of waiting for your answer.”

  His lips firmed and he looked toward the orchard. “Come with me,” and he began to turn toward the orchard. “I’ll show you the summerhouse—”

  “No!” She didn’t mean for the word to come out so sharply but she didn’t want Angus’s private moment to be intruded upon. “That is, the clouds have rolled back in and I’m a tad cold.” She prayed he had no idea how long she had been outside. She gave a shiver to add effect.

  “Then we shall go to the library and order some tea for you, and perhaps a drop of whisky for me. It’s not every day I have to talk to a young lady about—well delicate matters.”

  Emma looked into his eyes, whose color was as deep as the oceans, and as stormy, and tried to ascertain his answer. But all she saw was worry, kindness, and—heaven forbid—pity, and her heart sank, along with her pride. He was going to say no.

  He held out his arm and she took it. “I remember my mother loved the rose garden. See the bench over there? She would sit for hours watching the gardeners tend her roses, then she would gather her basket and pick each flower for the lodge’s vases herself.”

  “Did she not have a rose garden at your estate?

  “Aye, but it was a battle to grow them where the snows could destroy her plants each year.”

  “The temperature is milder here, then?”

  “Yes. By the sea the frosts are not so severe and we do not get snow very often. My father planted the garden for her before they married. My mother was a rare beauty. She stole my father’s heart the first time he saw her at the age of fifteen. My father waited for her to reach eighteen and then could wait no longer. He had tried to woo her with jewels and his lofty position, but she said to him she would only marry a man who understood the idea of real beauty.”

  Emma tried to imagine a woman who would not succumb to a McGregor. She had met Dougray’s father, and he had been a handsome man. Dougray’s mother had died before Emma could meet her, but she had seen the portraits of her and Lady McGregor was a beauty. Dougray had her beautiful eyes and curli
ng dark hair.

  “My father answered her challenge. He planted this garden and then invited her to see it. He proposed to her on the banks of Loch Linnhe and told her that beauty was always with them in the nature around them. He would find her beautiful even when old and gray because beauty was in the eye of the beholder and he loved what he saw in her.”

  “So theirs was a love match too, like you and Francesca.” The second she’d said her name, Emma wished she could take it back.

  But he merely hesitated before saying, “Aye, Francesca was beautiful.”

  They walked in silence. Emma didn’t know what to say. She’d ruined this conversation and just reminded him of his dead wife, just when she was expecting him to share himself with her. Stupid girl.

  “I’m sorry for bringing her up. It was distasteful of me.”

  * * *

  To his surprise Dougray had to admit hearing Emma say his wife’s name did not cause the pain and guilt that it used to. He’d loved Francesca, and he missed talking about her. Was it odd he wanted to share details with a woman who had asked him to have an affair with her?

  “I was not offended. It’s nice to talk about her. It wasn’t in the beginning, Angus can attest to that, it hurt too much. But recently I made the decision that I have to move on with my life.”

  He noted Emma’s hand suddenly gripped his arm for a moment.

  “I’m glad to hear that. You deserve to be happy and if Francesca loved you like I suspect she did, she would not want you to be alone for the rest of your life.”

  He patted her hand. “It’s taken me a long time to come to that conclusion.”

  “Do you think you can love more than once in your life time?” Emma asked, defeat in her tone.

  “Did the man you love die?”

  She swallowed hard. “Not exactly.”

  When she refused to say more he answered her question. “I can’t speak for others, but I’ve had a grand love and I’m not looking for another. A marriage of convenience, for children, is all I need.” He didn’t say want. Because a part of him yearned for something more. To find, perhaps not the mad rush of love and desire he shared with Francesca, but at least a slow burn, a friendship that might deepen over time.