to the group. "Many hands make light work, Johnny. And you’ll get the benefit of anything we do now when ye come to the ceilidh."
"Aye, and so will your offsider. By gum, he’s a big un, is he no’?" This last was said with awe, as Dougal stepped up beside Kirsty.
"Aye, that he is." She graced Dougal with another of those enchanting smiles. His heart reacted predictably. How he wished it wouldn’t. "Mr. Drummond…"
"Dougal," he reminded her, before he remembered that he ought to keep his distance from the Laird of Askaval’s pretty daughter.
Did that smile turn even warmer? Heaven help him. He was doomed. "Dougal, may I introduce the local troublemakers? Johnny Garrett, and Bill and Jock Macbain. Johnny, Bill and Jock, this is Dougal Drummond of Bruard."
"Bruard, is it? And where would that be?" asked one of the old men.
Dougal shook hands with all three. "Inland from Achnasheen."
"Well, that’s as useful as a hen with teeth," Bill – or was it Jock? – said.
Dougal laughed at another example of Askaval’s lack of ceremony. As heir to the rich Drummond estates, he was used to more formality. He enjoyed the free and easy air here. "We’re inland from the southern tip of Skye."
"You’ve strayed a long way south, laddie," the other man said.
"I was caught in that wee breeze last night."
Johnny’s regard was openly inquisitive. "So you’re here by accident."
"Aye, of course."
Again he felt that ridiculous rush of heat to his cheeks. After the response he’d received from Kirsty and her father, he was loath to confess his quest and put himself in line for more mockery. "I have business west of Lewis."
"It must be gey important business if it makes ye put to sea in winter, Mr. Drummond," Johnny said with unconcealed curiosity.
Dougal braced for Kirsty to tell them about Fair Ellen, but she shot Johnny a hard look. "I ken you’re dying to hear all the gossip, Johnny, but have some manners. Dougal doesnae deserve an interrogation."
Johnny raised his brows. "An interrogation, is it, lassie? I thought I was just being friendly."
"And nosy," Kirsty said without heat.
"You’re a braw sailor if ye made it through last night’s gale," Jock or Bill said. "Were ye on your own?"
"I was. I thought it would be the end of me. I’ve never faced seas like it."
"It was a terrible night, at that," Johnny said. "Now you’re joining us for Christmas. At Askaval, we have a grand celebration for Christmas. We do indeed."
"Unfortunately my business willnae wait," Dougal said. "I’ll be off in the morning."
Bill or Jock – as Dougal wasn’t staying on the island, it probably didn’t matter that he failed to work out who was who – shook his head in disapproval. "Och, you’re just asking the ocean to swallow ye up."
"Aye," the other one said. "The good Lord brought ye safely to harbor so you can celebrate Christmas like a Christian. Now you’re spitting in the Almighty’s eye and setting off again. Dinnae do it, laddie. You’re inviting trouble."
For one superstitious moment, Dougal wondered if the old men were right. Then he remembered he was a modern man who trusted in science, not old wives’ tales. "I’ll take my chances. Although I appreciate the welcome I’ve received on Askaval. It could no’ have been warmer."
"We dinnae see many fresh faces here, Mr. Drummond. When we do, we like to hold onto them as long as we can," Johnny said to grunts of general agreement from his cronies.
"Nonetheless, Mr. Drummond must away, now his boat is repaired." Kirsty shot the old men a smug look. "So if ye want to take advantage of someone new to talk to, you’d better come with us to the woods."
Johnny gave an appreciative chuckle. "You’re a canny lassie, Kirsty Macbain. The man who weds ye will catch himself a clever wife, indeed."
Dougal noticed that given the right encouragement, his hostess could blush, too. "Away with ye, Johnny Garrett. Nobody here is talking about a husband for me."
"And nobody will, as long as you run around like a heathen in men’s clothes and never see a soul ye havenae known since you were a wean in your mother’s arms."