The Highlander’s Christmas Countess: The Lairds Most Likely Book 8 by Anna Campbell

Author:Anna Campbell [Campbell, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-16T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 9

“Shall we slip away together now?” Quentin murmured in Kit’s ear, as she reached the breathless end of yet another furious reel.

He held her hands after swinging her around so fast that she was dizzy. Or perhaps that was just the effect of staring into his glittering hazel eyes.

Even a girl determined on keeping a level head and remembering the events that led to this riotous frolic hadn’t been able to resist the wild joy of the dancing and the genuine happiness that everyone expressed at her marriage to the laird’s nephew.

Now Quentin’s whispered invitation reminded Kit of their true circumstances and all her giddy excitement shriveled into dread once more. “But the party is for us,” she said, looking around the crowded room.

“I think the party has become just a party.” Perceptive eyes studied her as she kept a smile plastered to her face. She refused to shame him – and herself – by betraying that her wedding was anything but a love match instead of a complete disaster.

Right now, she’d dearly love to dance down here until new year. In 1850.

Not good enough, Kit.

As always, her cowardice made her cringe. She raised her chin. “Aye, let’s go.”

“Your ladyship?”

The voice burst the fragile bubble of intimacy that had formed around Kit and Quentin. Kit blinked to break the hold of her new husband’s intense gaze. When she released his hand, she struggled against feeling the absence of that sure, steady touch.

“Mrs. McCluskey.” Kit searched the housekeeper’s face in vain for any hint of resentment for her deception.

The housekeeper, who had been a figure of authority to Kit the stableboy, dipped into a deep curtsy. “I wanted to wish ye and Mr. Quentin a long and happy life together and to say how happy we are downstairs that you’ve joined the clan.”

Kit reached out and caught the middle-aged woman’s elbow to help her up. “No, please, I still feel like the lowliest member of the household. You were all so kind to me. I’ll always be grateful.”

“You never put on airs, my lady. It was an honor to serve ye.”

Kit remembered that odd moment on the stairs when Hamish had announced her identity to the household. “You knew all along?”

She should have realized that she wouldn’t fool any really sharp eyes. The tact and goodness of the people she’d worked with these last weeks left her floundering.

Mrs. McCluskey smiled with the warm good humor that had such an influence on the atmosphere in Lyon House. “Och, your ladyship, ye did your best, but naebody in their right mind would ever mistake the Countess of Appin for a servant. Or for a lad.”

Kit found herself blushing. “Did everyone know?”

“I suspect quite a few of us did. Maybe no’ some of the younger ones. They’re all silly as wheels.”

Quentin caught her hand. Kit told herself that he acted for appearance’s sake, but that didn’t stop her nitwit heart from breaking into a vigorous jig. Nor did it stop warmth from settling in her stomach where it proved incompatible with her roiling misgivings.

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