The Highlander’s Christmas Quest by Anna Campbell

Author:Anna Campbell [Campbell, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Highland
Published: 2019-11-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Out of habit, Kirsty woke to darkness. Out of habit, she stumbled from the bed and lit a candle and dragged on her breeches and shirt, and the thick fisherman’s jacket that kept her from the worst of the cold. The wind rattling the windowpanes told her that the spell of good weather came to an end.

Perfect timing for Christmas tomorrow, she thought gloomily.

Just what she needed, when the house would be full of islanders for the ceilidh. Not that she felt at all festive as she picked up her boots and crossed to the closed door. Sour memories of Dougal’s reaction to kissing her had kept her awake for most of the night.

A bitter smile curved her lips. A girl should be in alt to receive her first kiss – and from the gentleman she’d set her heart on, too. But remembering that humiliating scene yesterday afternoon made her queasy and angry. Although whether at herself for inviting such a disappointment or with the stubborn, boneheaded, gorgeous Mr. Drummond, she wasn’t sure. Both, she suspected.

Dinner had been awkward, although her father, bless him, had been so excited about Christmas only a day and a half away, he’d chatted happily through the meal. At least his blithe disregard of the tension between his daughter and his guest had saved Kirsty from having to explain why she was so subdued.

Dougal had done his best to pretend he was his usual self, but she could tell that the kiss had upset him as much as it upset her. And when her father invited him, as he had every evening so far, to stay for Christmas, for one bleak moment, Kirsty glimpsed Dougal’s emotional turmoil. He looked hunted and guilty, before he masked his disquiet. Her father didn’t seem to notice Dougal’s unconvincing smile, and her beloved’s refusal emerged as polite as ever.

He’d arrived determined to sail away. He remained determined, curse him. More so.

That passionate kiss had poisoned the air between Dougal and Kirsty. The prospect of escaping the evidence of his sin – because that was clearly how he classed his actions – must be devilish appealing.

She hadn’t eaten much of Ruth’s lamb stew. Neither had Dougal. Given he ate like a starving giant most of the time, that spoke volumes about his state of mind.

Kirsty paused at the door, hopelessness slumping her shoulders. She was deathly tired, and the night would be freezing, once she set foot outside.

And what had her deceit achieved? If this afternoon’s kiss proved anything, it proved that Dougal remained set on rescuing Fair Ellen and he was no closer to falling in love with Kirsty Macbain than he was the day his boat limped into the harbor.

Why force herself out into the weather to damage the Kestrel? This evening had been pure misery. Wouldn’t it be better to let him go?

But how could she? Even if every night she’d sneaked down to the quay to commit mayhem, she despised herself a little more. Tonight she recognized that she was utterly wrong to try and compel Dougal to care.

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