The Highlander's Christmas Quest (The Lairds Most Likely 5) - Page 43

to explore more of the pleasure they’d started to discover. Although it was sweet to lie in his sweetheart’s arms and share confidences, too. He and Kirsty still had so much to learn about each other. What a life lay ahead of them. He could hardly wait.

"Ye great galoot, Dougal," she said, and he couldn’t object to the description when the words resonated with such love. "I’m so glad you decided ye loved me."

"When I met ye, I knew something extraordinary had happened. It took me too long to identify what it was, though. I certainly wanted ye at first sight."

She looked surprised. "Ye did?"

He gave a low growl of nostalgic appreciation. "Ye look better in a pair of breeches than I ever did."

Mocking humor quirked her lips. "I wouldnae say that." She paused, and he caught a flash of wicked teasing in her eyes. "Although ye look even better out of them."

His face heated, but that didn’t stop him kissing the cheeky lassie until she was breathless. Dougal wasn’t in much better state, so his voice was unsteady when he resumed his explanation. He became less interested in conversation by the second. "The whole time I was on Askaval, I couldnae stop thinking about ye. You’re the most interesting lassie I ever met. But I’d promised to rescue Fair Ellen. It seemed a sin to be so preoccupied with another girl."

"Does it still seem like a sin?"

"Och, no. The sin would be turning my back on the love of a lifetime in pursuit of a lady who is only a wisp of Highland mist. I’ve found everything I need here with ye, Kirsty." He shifted so he could look into her lovely face. He didn’t want to risk any misunderstandings with what he was about to say. "I love ye, and I want nothing more than to make ye my bride. I want ye to be the mother of my bairns. I want us to grow old together as we watch both Bruard and Askaval thrive. I want to dedicate my life to ye, mo chridhe. How does that sound?"

As he’d spoken, tears rose to sparkle in her eyes. "Dougal…"

He frowned, puzzled. "Now what the devil are ye crying for, you daft lassie?"

A broken laugh escaped her, even as a tear trickled down her rosy cheek. "Because I’m so happy, when on Christmas Eve, I thought I’d never be happy again. Because I’m here with ye. Because what ye just said was so beautiful, and I’ll cherish your words as long as I live."

He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump jammed in his throat. Even so, when he looked at her again and spoke, his voice was gruff. "Och, Kirsty, if ye keep that up, you’ll soon have me bawling, too."

She gave another choked laugh. "No’ ye, my doughty knight."

"So what do ye think of my plans?"

Transcendent love lit her face as she raised a shaking hand to stroke his jaw. "What else can a lassie say but ‘aye, I’ll go with ye to the ends of the earth,’ my darling Dougal?"

His heart flooded with such happiness that it threatened to burst. "My darling, ye do me too much honor."

He caught her up for a deep kiss that started out in reverent dedication but soon flared into volcanic heat. His hand curved possessively around one luscious breast, and he shifted over her with unconcealed intent.

"Och, Dougal," she gasped, as his naked body settled heavy and ready against hers.

"Och, Dougal, indeed," he said with a laugh.

After that, neither of them said anything sensible for a long while.

Epilogue

Askaval, Christmas Day, 1729

At the end of another riotous reel, Kirsty Drummond collapsed laughing into her husband’s strong arms. Around her, the room broke into animated chatter and more laughter as the fiddlers tuned for the next set.

The hall at Tigh na Mara was heaving with people attending the annual Christmas ceilidh, and the dancers had spilled out into the drawing room and the dining room on either side. Kirsty was so glad she’d supervised the removal of most of the furniture from the house’s ground floor. She’d also commandeered the library as somewhere for people to sit and converse, if they didn’t feel like dancing. Last time she’d checked, it was empty, as even the guests not up to the vigorous measures had come out to join the fun.

The house was bright and cheerful with Christmas greenery and pretty decorations made of ribbons and colored paper and gilt. Kirsty would lay good money that nowhere on earth was more festive than Tigh na Mara tonight.

Dougal smiled down at her from his great height as he took her hand and led her to the sidelines. "The Bruard crowd fit in as though they were born to be here."

For their first Christmas as a married couple, they’d invited Dougal’s family to join them, which partly explained the crush. Four days ago, his parents John and Kate had arrived with his six brothers and sisters and assorted Mackinnon relatives from Achnasheen. There wasn’t a spare bed on the island.

"I think your parents are getting used to the way we do things."

On first visiting Askaval last January for Dougal and Kirsty’s wedding, the older Drummonds had seemed rather taken aback at the easy relations between the crofters and the laird’s family, and even more, the lack of formality at the big house. After Kirsty traveled to Bruard a couple of months later, she understood why.

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