Kimberly didn’t necessarily think making her father wait for an answer was a good idea, but she did agree that Winnifred should be made to wait. If Lachlan decided in their favor, took the money and the return of the jewels, and let it go at that, which Kimberly had no doubt he would do in the end, then the widow would have gotten away with the theft free and clear.
Making her wait, and doing so confined to her room, was the only punishment she’d receive for what she’d done. That was little enough for all the trouble and difficulties she’d caused the MacGregors, but at least it was better than nothing at all.
Her father, however, wasn’t taking the wait very patiently. His mood was about as sour as it could get, making itveryuncomfortable to be around him. But fortunately, he kept to his room mostly, or the widow’s room, so the rest of them didn’t have to suffer his unpleasantness very often.
Kimberly hadn’t asked Lachlan, but she guessed he wasn’t going to announce his decision until after they were married. That was rubbing her father’s nose in it a bit more, and he’d be all for that. She was sure, positive, actually, that Cecil would have preferred to be gone before she committed this public defiance of his wishes.
He could, of course, not show up for the service. That might have embarrassed Kimberly if she had been expecting him to make an appearance. But she wasn’t, so she really didn’t care if he did or not. As long as Lachlan was there…
With Christmas so close, Megan had suggested they enjoy the holiday first—she wouldn’t hear of them not staying for it—then have the wedding a few days afterward. And when the duchess made a suggestion, everyone pretty much agreed.
Kimberly saw nothing wrong with that arrangement. She had much to do anyway, shopping, difficult letters to write to her few closer friends in Northumberland, explaining why she wouldn’t be back. And a long, detailed letter to the Richards’ housekeeper, instructing her to pack all her belongings and send them on to the Highlands, as well as those things in the house that she considered hers.
Most important were the furnishings that had belonged to her mother, certain pieces that had become fixtures of the house after so many years. Like the mammoth painting that hung over the mantel in the parlor, the antique chinoiserie in the dining room, the Queen Anne walnut grandfather clock that had been handed down in her mother’s family since the mid-seventeen hundreds.
These were things that held no meaning for her father, but were treasures to her, and she would fight tooth and nail to take them with her. Which wasn’t necessary.
When she gave her father a list of the items she wanted, he merely nodded his agreement and turned back to what he’d been doing, dismissing her and the subject. And how familiar that was, exactly how he’d treated her most of her life.
Christmas arrived all too soon, and it turned out to be a really festive day, and one of the most enjoyable holidays Kimberly had ever experienced. She’d bought a little something for each of the St. Jameses, and gave her father a box of his favorite cigars. He’d never once, for any occasion, given her a gift from himself. Her mother used to tell her the presents she received were from the both of them, but once Kimberly was older and knew better she didn’t pretend anymore.
But that she received nothing from him that day was no more than she expected, so it didn’t bother her. Nothing, actually, could ruin that day for her, thanks to Lachlan, who teased her outrageously, and caught her beneath the mistletoe so often, everyone else was making jokes about it. And what was most delightful was that they’d both had the idea of giving each other gifts designed to be amusing.
Lachlan burst out laughing when she handed him a cane, remembering the day he’d mentioned one. And he warned her, “I’ll be taking this tae your backside if you try counting the hairs I have left before I’m at least—thirty.”
She studied his thick mane of auburn hair and replied seriously, “It’s going to fall out that soon, eh? Well, there are wigs, of course, and I’ll be sure to fix yours whenever it starts to fall off. Very messy, you know, when they fall in the soup—you do serve soup in the Highlands?”
“Nay, but we do serve sassy Sassenachs up for dinner quite frequently.”
She couldn’t hold a straight face any longer and chuckled. “I won’t taste good, I promise you.”
“Och, darlin’, now that’s a lie. I already know how good you taste.”
And he proved it by dragging her back over to the mistletoe, smacking his lips loudly, then giving her a half dozen quick kisses that had her giggling before he was through. And Duchy had looked up from the new stationery set she’d been examining to remark, “Good God, there ought to be a law against noise like that. Dev, m’boy, why don’t you show him how to do it right?”
And damned if the duke didn’t, pulling a protesting, though grinning Megan over to join them beneath the mistletoe, and soon the rest of them were all laughing, becausethey, of course, didn’t make a sound, and it didn’t look like they had any intention of stopping either.
But not much later, Lachlan topped her silly gift by pulling a parasol out of his coat and offering it with a flourish.
Kimberly saw the humor in the gift, and with a slight smirk, said, “Brave of you.”
“Aye, for you, darlin’, I’ll brave anything,” he said, and she could have sworn he wasn’t teasing in the least.
She smiled at him. He had a charming knack for saying all the right things, courting things. Then again, he said all the wrong things too, sensual, sexual things that shouldn’t be for her ears—yet, and caused her all those blushes.
She’d also bought him a rather expensive pair of diamond cuff links that got her yet another kiss, this one without any mistletoe, and of the warm, lingering kind. But then he surprised her with another gift also at the end of the day, one she really hadn’t been expecting.
It was in a small box, and while she opened it, he told her, “I bought that ’afore your da showed up.”
After the box was opened, revealing what could be considered an engagement ring, she realized why he’d volunteered that information. It was his way of apologizing because it was on the plain side.
Even so, it was a small emerald of good quality, and she knew he’d had no money to speak of to buy it, and still didn’t—yet. So she asked him, “How?”
He shrugged, trying to make light of it. “I sold my horse. I’m no’ much of a horseman anyway, so the nag won’t be missed. Mayhap I’ll accept those three the duke tried tae give me, just tae get us home, mind you.”
For some ridiculous reason, Kimberly was moved nearly to tears. He hadn’t needed to do anything like that. He could have waited until he could have afforded it. She would have understood. She knew his circumstances. That he’d gone ahead and bought her the ring anyway, simply because he wanted her to have it before the wedding as was traditional, made it all the more sweet, and she would treasure it far more than any of her own jewelry.
But to keep from crying and making a fool of herself, she latched onto what he’d mentioned about possibly accepting the three Thoroughbred horses from Devlin and told him, “I already did.”
