Page 33 of Christmas Wore Plaid

Chapter 7

The ginger-haired girl scampered around the corner into the foyer behind the housekeeper who opened Aunt Bess’s front door.

“Goodness, to be greeted with such exuberance.” Emerson forced a smile, stomping the snow from her boots.

The child’s bright eyes and happy expression soothed the bitter ache lingering in her heart after her beautiful afternoon with Brady was spoiled so miserably afterward. Why could he not see that wealth and affluence had never been important to her?

“My lady, we worried about you all night,” Kate said, bobbing a curtsy. “When the coachman arrived yesterday evening to inform us that you’d taken ill, I could hardly sleep.”

Emerson turned to Brady behind her as he stepped through the front door, filling the frame. His face remained grim, and the housekeeper’s mouth gaped open. “In truth, Lord MacInnes insisted I stay and recover from a faint, as a precaution.”

Brady nodded to the housekeeper. Bundled in his heavy coat, thick cravat, riding trousers and boots today, he nearly looked like an English gentleman except for his wind-tossed tartan pinned across his chest with his bejeweled brooch and the fact that his clothing was dated by modern standards. Emerson looked away. It would seem he had tried to dress to rights for her, and judging by Kate’s rude stare, it would seem that this wasn’t his normal attire.

Lord, she’d welcomed his wild unleashing of pent up desires, as scandalous as they’d been, but she wasn’t a naïve virgin anymore. Now that she’d lain with him, she knew she’d always loved him. But so long as his father’s debts and failures warred in his heart, he’d never be able to offer for her hand like she suspected he wanted to, and yet…

“What reason do I have to stay?”

“Me.”

That single word had done her in. She’d known right then that rich or poor, she only wanted him. Her money could vanish tomorrow, and yet she could still be happy with him if he’d allow her to be. She needed the man who was willing to give up everything to help others, including his life’s dreams. Her belly twisted with renewed heat at the thought of him as her lover, all wild muscle and wind-tanned skin, so unrefined compared to Corbin and the polished barristers he always brought home for dinner. Brady had asked her to stay at Aberfeldy Manor. But she knew what he really meant. He didn’t want to let her go again. Which made his lack of proposal all the more baffling.

“Won’t you stay for tea?” she asked him flatly.

He shook his head, infusing more doubt in her stomach. “Nay, Lady Emerson.” She stifled a roll of the eyes at the formality between them. “But I thank you kindly for the offer.”

Emerson nodded, hoping the disappointment didn’t show on her face. “Of course. Then, I bid you good day, happy Christmas, and thank you again for the hospitality.”

The way in which his face paled caused an inkling of wariness to niggle in the pit of her stomach. They’d not put cancelling the plans for a party into words, but she’d leave no doubt in his mind now that she expected nothing more from him. It had never been about a party to begin with. It had been about being near to him.

“My lady,” Kate said. “You should know that a man from Edinburgh came ‘round today to peruse the house and furnishings. He wishes to make a purchase and has promised to keep us all on staff, and so, I told him to come back when the mistress was here.”

She sensed Brady stiffen behind her.

“He said he would call this afternoon. It looks as though you might be able to sell the home quickly,” Kate added.

She saw Kate’s brow tighten. These people had served her family faithfully since before she had been born. Kate understood her need to sell the property, but the furrow to her brow told Emerson she didn’t want a new household master.

She glanced back at Brady. His face was unreadable and distant. He swallowed hard, then glanced once more at the orphan girl.

“You’re a lucky lass, young one,” he said, patting the girl’s head, “to have found Lady Emerson. Don’t let her go.”

He refused to look at her as he bowed his head stiffly and stepped back through the door. “I’d best take my leave whilst the day is still young,” he said. “Good day, Emerson, and good luck with your house buyer.”

Brady, exhausted, rode up to the first house on his list. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before as illness from bungling the aftermath of his love-making with Emerson twisted his heart. He’d poured needlessly over his ledgers, gone outside to hammer repairs in the stables, all the while his skin had buzzed with memories of her sprawled beneath him, her lips swollen from his kisses, her body undulating beneath his as he joined them together. Good lord, a babe of their own could come from such a union. He was a fool. For the first time in years he’d allowed himself to think of what could become of them together and he’d allowed worry about what his father had done to poison it all. A force to contend with. She had such confidence and he, such an injured pride.

Now, Emerson was selling her house. Kate had reminded him that her time in Scotland was limited, unless he did something about it. And if she returned to Apple Grove to discover she was carrying his child, could he live with himself for having left her to her own devices?

“Nay,” he muttered. God above, I must return to her and make this right before it’s too late!

It would be a crime to allow some masculine notion of pride and honor to interfere with the one thing that could make him truly happy. He didn’t want Emerson leaving Crieff. She’d reignited happiness in him that he had thought long-dead as he toiled each day to keep his estate afloat, and if he let her go, he’d be a prized dolt. If he could lose everything and still survive, he could bloody-well do what needed to be done to regain her confidence. Hosting a party after so long inspired a needed dose of hope in his heart. But then again, wherever Emerson bestowed her smiles, she always left a wake of hope.

He’d seen that small lass’s eyes light up at Emerson’s homecoming, and seen the worry on the housekeeper’s face for her safety. He didn’t know how she did it, after losing so much, including her own daughter. But if he could glean her trick to happiness, he’d bottle it and keep it as a tonic for the harder days, grieving for parents who had died so unexpectedly, and coping with the aftermath dumped upon him.

“Dammit, man,” he grumbled as he dismounted and tethered his horse to a post. He was anxious to return to her now. But he couldn’t fail the Widow Thomson. And he sensed Emerson respected him for trying.

Slapping the animal’s neck, he strode up the walk to the front step of the plain, stone house at the end of the high street. Double checking the house name with the file, he lifted the knocker and pummeled the plate. He glanced over the plain façade while he waited. This wasn’t a nobleman’s home, for certain.

A moment later, a woman answered the door. A slew of children peered around a doorway.