Fergus’s hand rested casually on an upper rung of the ladder he’d used to hang the mistletoe, but his ruddy complexion hinted he was anything but casual. Even the tips of his ears poking through his mop of brown hair glowed pink.
Edith, for her part, didn’t appear intimidated by the hulking Scot or his fierce temper. With fists punched to her ample hips, she faced him with fire burning in her blue gaze. Her spectacles had slipped forward on her slim nose, and she peered at him over the wire rims. If she shook her finger in his face, Helena wouldn’t be able to maintain composure.What a picture they present!
Sebastian cleared his throat loudly, and they swung their heads toward the interruption. As soon as Edith saw she had Sebastian’s ear, she threw her hands in the air. “Thisaddle patetook Gracie into the woods and him carrying a firearm. What sane man does such a thing?”
“The lass was never in danger,” Fergus grumbled. His fingers curled around the ladder rung as if tightening the reins on his temper.
“I am fine,” Gracie said. “Fergus is a capable marksman.”
A corner of Fergus’s mouth slanted up. “Thank you, Miss Gracie.”
It was silly for Fergus and Edith to argue over the girl. Both were very fond of her. Edith—having lived with Gracie and Helena’s sister Lavinia prior to Helena finding and reuniting with her four sisters—might have known Gracie longer, but Fergus was fully wrapped around the girl’s finger. If Helena’s sister had insisted on hunting mistletoe with him, he would have been hard pressed to deny her. He had always been as helpless to say no to Helena.
Sebastian released Helena’s hand and crossed his arms. He tilted his head as if assessing the problem and nodded slowly. “Yes, I see your point, Edith. The man is clearly an idiot of the first order.”
Helena gasped. “Sebastian.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “See for yourself, love. He has an attractive woman standing directly under the mistletoe, and he’d rather quarrel with her than kiss her.”
Edith’s mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out. Fergus’s gaze lifted to the mistletoe he’d fixed in the doorway, and his face flushed a dark red.
Gracie rushed forward, clapping her hands in approval. “You must kiss her, Fergus. She is under the mistletoe. Kiss her!Kissher!”
Fergus aimed a glare at Sebastian before addressing Helena’s sister. “I am certain Mistress Gallagher would prefer I not impose on her.”
Edith sniffed. “Don’t be daft, Mr. McTaggart. It is tradition. Just kiss me and put this ridiculous matter behind us.”
“That is the spirit, old girl,” Sebastian said with a laugh.
Not that Edith wastrulyold. Perhaps no more than thirty. She had smooth skin and a voluptuous figure. The only feature that made her appear older was her nearly white hair she wore in a tight knot and her spectacles. To hear Edith tell it, her lovely curls had begun to lose their color when she was a girl of eighteen.
Fergus simply grunted.
Edith’s thin brows rose in challenge.
The muscles in Fergus’s jaw bulged as he flexed his fingers on the ladder rung. “Crivvens!” At last, he grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her against him for a loud smacking kiss on the mouth. When he thrust her away, Edith stumbled. He held on until she regained her balance then snatched his hands back as if contact scorched his skin.
She gaped at him, her eyes round and large behind her spectacles.
Gracie cheered and turned toward Helena and Sebastian. “Now it is your turn. Go stand under the mistletoe, Helena.”
Sebastian gave Helena a gentle nudge. “You heard your sister. We have memories to make, remember?”
Helena chuckled as she complied with their wishes. She hadn’t celebrated Christmas with her family in nine years, and Gracie had been a baby when Helena was taken to Scotland to be married. Sebastian was correct; they had many memories to make together.
Edith shuffled to the side while Fergus toted the ladder further into the foyer and out of the way. Helena positioned herself directly below the mistletoe. One come hither glance had her husband crossing to her in three long strides. His hands circled her waist and the smile he bestowed nearly made her swoon. Sebastian Thorne was the most handsome man she had ever seen, and with every kindness he showed to her and her family, he became more irresistible.
He sent a teasing smile in Fergus’s direction. “This is how you kiss a woman.”
Helena gasped when he dipped her backwards and planted a sweet kiss on her lips. The kiss wasn’t one of his all-consuming ones, the kind that made her forget her name. They had an audience, after all. Nevertheless, it filled her heart and satisfied at least one onlooker.
“Bravo!” Gracie cried. “I want a turn.”
She hurried to the threshold and wiggled between Helena and Sebastian. They placed kisses on her cheeks and hugged her.
The Christmas season was upon them at last. Helena couldn’t wait to make it the best one ever for those she loved.
Edith slumpedagainst the foyer wall for fear her knees would buckle and drop her to the stone floor. Her breath escaped on shallow little puffs as she struggled to mask her reaction to Mr. McTaggart’s kiss. She didn’t know what had possessed her to challenge him. Perhaps the restlessness plaguing her since arriving in Scotland was to blame. Having never stepped a foot outside of London before three months ago, she found the sedate pace of life at Aldmist Fell a trifle dreary.
