Edith returned the young woman’s smile. “Not one bit. I came from a large family. I was the youngest of ten, but they are all gone now.”
“Losh! I’m sorry about your kin.” Ismay put her arm around Edith’s shoulders and leaned her head against Edith’s. “You may no’ want us, but yer saddled with us now.”
“I would be a fool to turn down such a generous offer,” Edith said, hugging her in return.
“Fergus said he’ll be along in a moment.” Ismay ran an assessing gaze over Edith’s hair and dress before flashing a self-satisfied smile. “You look verra bonnie tonight. I believe it is my best work yet.”
The young woman served as Lady Thorne’s maid, and she had generously offered to assist Edith with her toilette for the party.
“Thank you.” Edith held her head high. Shefeltpretty in Lavinia’s gown.
Ismay grasped her hand and squeezed. “It was my pleasure, Mistress Gallagher. I enjoyed spending time with you, and I am pleased you are here tonight.”
Her new friend’s words were very kind. Edith had experienced many lonely Christmases in her life, and she would carry this memory with her forever.
Ismay’s mother held up a plain box tied with a red silk ribbon and waved to her daughter. “This one’s for ye, lass. C’mon. We’ll be here all nigh’ if we dinna get started.”
Edith pasted on a smile as the family members huddled around the pile of gifts on the table. The happy spark inside her dimmed a little, despite her determination not to be bothered that she couldn’t participate in the gift exchange.
“Here’s one for Ian.” A girl no older than fifteen grabbed a package and thrust it toward a redheaded man across the table. Everyone else was doing the same, calling out names, grabbing gifts, and ripping into them. There were hearty slaps on backs, squeals of joy, and lots of good-natured teasing.
Tiny prickles at the backs of Edith’s eyes caused them to water. The McTaggarts’ warm acceptance of her was beyond anything she had ever experienced, but it was time to go. Setting her mug on a side table, Edith stood and stole from the room without alerting anyone. She was halfway up the stairwell when heavy footsteps sounded in the foyer. She turned in time to find Mr. McTaggart reach the bottom of the stairs. His hands were clasped casually behind his back.
“Where are you going, lass? It is time to open gifts.” His eyes glimmered in the scant candlelight cast by the wall sconces.
Edith shrugged, her cheeks heating as she thought of the shirt she’d sewn for him. This afternoon she realized it was too intimate a gift for an unmarried woman to bestow on a bachelor. She didn’t know what she had been thinking when she chose the pristine white linen, but wisely, she had left the shirt in her chambers.
“I have no gifts to give, Mr. McTaggart. Besides, this is your family’s time to celebrate. I have a book in my chambers to keep me company.” She smiled gamely, hoping he did not detect the slight tremor of her chin. Being part of a large family again was her heart’s secret wish, but the McTaggarts were not her people and never would be.
“Dinna move. I’m coming up.” He staggered over the first step then stopped to aim a lopsided grin up at her. “Sly bastard, that one. Always trying to trip a man.”
He took more care with the next step, his footing steadier. Locking his smoldering green gaze on her, he climbed another. Her stomach quivered as he slowly closed the distance between them and stopped a step below her. They were face to face. His blazing eyes shouted for her to run, even as his tousled brown hair lent him an air of harmlessness. Fergus McTaggart was far from safe. When he was close, she was very much in danger of wanting something she couldn’t have—his heart.
He weaved toward her; his body heat called to her, but she gripped the railing behind her to hold her ground. “Have you no’ heard it is better to receive than ta give, lass?” The sweet smell of whisky on his breath teased her nose.
“For the love of St. Peter,” she grumbled. “You’ve been tossing back that royal liqueur all evening and now you don’t even know what you are saying. Off to bed with you before you take a tumble down the stairs.”
His large palm spanned her waist, his touch searing. “Any tumbling in my future willna be down the stairs, Eddi.”
She rested her hands on his chest, pretending his nearness didn’t send her heart into a rampage. “N-no one has ever called me Eddi. I’ll thank you to address me properly.”
“Aye, Mistress Gallagher.” He leaned toward her, his lips almost brushing hers. Her breath caught and her fingers curled into the fabric of his white shirt. Closing her eyes, she licked her lips in anticipation of his kiss, but his mouth only hovered above hers. “You didna have to go,” he murmured.
She blinked, confused that he was capable of speaking when all she could focus on was the fullness of his mouth. “That—” She cleared her throat. “That is very kind, but Christmas is a family affair, and I am not family.”
He drew back with a slight frown.
She suppressed an unladylike growl. If he didn’t kiss her, she was going to scream.
“I mean you dinna have to go back to London, lass. You could stay here.”
“And dowhat?”
“Become my wife, of course. We’ll have a few wee bairns and grow old together.”
“You are mad.” At thirty, she was well beyond her prime, and the blasted Scot knew it. He wanted sons and daughters she couldn’t promise him. This time she listened to her good sense and pushed against his solid chest to hold him at arm’s length. “Have children, indeed.”
His thick brows dropped low over his eyes. “You seem ta like children well enough, so it must be me you cannot tolerate.”
