Page 68 of A Secret Scottish Christmas

“It’s a magnificent log!” exclaimed Emily, welcoming them into the house. “Come see, Muriel!”

Robbie and his companions grunted as they lugged the log into the parlor and lifted it onto the grate. Basking in the smiles of their hostess and the countess, Robbie and the others stood before the great log, admiring their achievement.

A surge of pride coursed through Robbie. “By God, we have done it!”

The rest of their group gathered around, applauding. Hugh slapped William on the back. “Great job, my friend!”

“No thanks to you,” William teased.

“You wound me,” said Hugh. “I would have offered to pull the sled behind the worthy mount you gave me, had you but asked. However, I can see you meant to do without such help.”

William smiled. “I did, didn’t I?”

Now that the log was in place, Robbie thought it was time to light it. “Shall you put flame to the Yule log, William?”

“Aye.” With a look of regret, he told Emily, “We don’t have the bit of last year’s log to use, as tradition requires, but next year we will.” He turned to the butler. “Lamont, can you take it from here?”

The butler bowed. “I will see it done, sir.”

Robbie stifled a laugh at the serious tone of the butler when everyone else was in a jovial mood. “Do we next hang greenery?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” said Emily. “That is just what we should do. The ladies and I will supervise. Pick a room, Ladies! The parlor where we stand is not the only room to be decorated. We have the dining room, the library, the study and even the kitchen. Whatever greenery is left over will go into your chambers. That way, the whole house will smell of the woods and Christmastide.”

Robbie gave The Grand Countess a lopsided grin. “Be sure they hang a kissing bough, Muriel.”

“Humph,” came her reply, but he could see a faint smile on her face.

“I have an idea for a kissing bough, Muriel,” said Emily. “And since you have more experience with decorating than the rest of us, why don’t you take this room?”

“As you wish, my dear.” The countess took up her quizzing glass to examine the pile of greens laid to one side. “Dashed lot of plants, Emily, but where is the mistletoe?”

“We don’t have mistletoe in Arbroath, Muriel, but we can still make a kissing bough out of other greenery and some red and white flowers I cut from the orangery just this morning. Thanks to Ailie, we’ve lovely red berries. I’ll leave you a footman to help you.”

“Very good,” said Muriel.

“I’m going to get Mrs. Banks and tackle the kitchen,” said Emily. “I just hope Martha is in a mood to cooperate. Join me when you’re done here, Muriel, and we can have a meeting with our cooks.”

“Excellent idea,” said Muriel. “Else there will be kale in the stuffing.”

Robbie chuckled. He was certain the countess’ dislike for the vegetable was not as great as she made out. He remained in the parlor to see how the ladies parceled out the rooms. Mary chose the library and Tara the study. Kit wanted to be able to go from room to room, sketching, so she chose none.

When Ailie headed to the dining room, Robbie followed with Nash. Best to keep their friends guessing.

“Wonderful,” chimed in Emily as they departed. “Just ask a footman if you require assistance.”

The three of them stepped into the dining room and Ailie paused, her gaze shifting from the side table to the dining table. “Where do we hang the greens?”

Robbie laughed. “That’s right, ’tis an English tradition.” Hands on his hips, he said, “Well, let’s see. Almost any surface will do, but certainly on the sideboard, down the center of the table and on top of that painting.”

Mirth danced in her lovely eyes. “Do show some respect. You speak of my father.”

Nash went to stand beneath the large portrait. “That is your father? All this time, I’ve been looking at it thinking it was some distant relation. I don’t see a resemblance.”

From where Robbie stood next to Ailie, he could see her father was a formidable man. “It’s there in the chin,” he said with a smirk aimed at Ailie. “Both are stubborn.”

She swatted his shoulder. “Behave, Robbie!”

“You must admit,” Robbie said, “you do have his chin.”