Page 23 of A Merry MacNaughton
She joined her small family in the parlor. The smell of pine mixed with the lavender soap lingering on her skin and hair. Pine branches, woven together with the pointed bright green leaves of the holly, adorned the mantel and window casings. The red berries glistened in the deep green casings. Cups lined the side table waiting to be filled with ale or honeyed mead.
Her father had not been happy with her decision, though he’d understood once she’d found the words to explain it. Uncle Archie was still furious. He’d ranted and cursed and threatened to send her off to the earl immediately. It had taken much cajoling and a bottle of scotch to calm him down. Malachi had finally convinced him that Peigi had not actually broken the betrothal but offered the lad his freedom. How were they to know if he’d take it? But Peigi did. She’d seen the look in his eyes when Angus and Ailish had danced together.
The men sipped whisky and gave her a nod as she entered. She curtsied, feeling so feminine and…pretty. Her long locks fell against her bare neck and shoulders, soft and satiny against her skin.
“Ye look bonnie, Niece,” said the chieftain. “Pour yerself a cup of mead and sit with us, lass.”
Peigi’s brows drew together at his inviting tone. He must have imbibed a quantity of whisky already. “Thank ye, Uncle. I feel bonnie tonight.”
“Almost time for First-footing,” remarked Malachi. He held up his glass. “A prosperous new year to us.”
“Aye, to us!” echoed Archibald loudly.
As she sipped, Mairi and her boys joined them. Her other two uncles would arrive soon with their families. And then the visiting would begin. Some of the crofters would not brave the weather with the young ones. They would come tomorrow or she would go to them with a small package of whatever baked goods were left over.
Songs were sung, smiles were abundant. She caught her father and uncle staring at her several times. Mairi smiled at her often, most likely her attempt to keep Peigi in good cheer.
There was a pounding at the door. “That would be Jamie,” she said to the room at large.
Uncle Archie himself rose to answer the knock. He winked at his niece as he strode by, looking handsome and arrogant in his dress plaid, pinned over his shoulder with a large pewter pin his wife had given him long ago. Wearing checkered stockings with white feathered flashes and an intricately carved dirk tucked in one side, he looked ready for a day at court. His best sporran was set under his slightly round belly and a cap perched jauntily on his head.
Her father was dressed in a similar style, and she realized why he’d wanted her to wear one of her mother’s dresses. They were making a statement as clan leaders and letting the Craiggs know all would be well.
There was mumbling in the hall, and then a massive snowball entered the room. It curled its lip and growled at Uncle Archie then padded over to Peigi and laid his head on her lap.
“Black Angus?” She looked at her father who shrugged, and her uncle who only smirked. She brushed the frost from the dog’s head and kissed his cold nose. “What in heaven is going on?”
She set down her cup and rose to greet the visitor whoshouldbe Jamie, but her knees gave out from under her. Clutching at the table, forcing her legs to hold her, she gaped at Calum MacNaughton. A snow-covered Calum MacNaughton. An unbelievably alluring, grinning Calum MacNaughton. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move.
It took him three strides to reach her. He dropped the bundles, peeled off his plaid, and reached into his sporran. Pulling out a piece of mistletoe, he dangled it over her head. “May I have a kiss?”
She blinked.
“And keep in mind it’s bad luck to say no.”
She swallowed.
“I’ll consider that consent.” He pulled her against his wet plaid, and kissed her soundly.
Not a gentle kiss as he’d given her before. A hard, demanding kiss that told her he wouldn’t listen to objections. This was an assured, confident man who would not be deterred. His hands held her back, pushing her breasts against him and sending her pulse into a frenzy. She pushed against his chest, shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears.
He pulled her back; his hot breath tickled her ear. “I’ll no’ have a woman telling me what I feel or dinna feel, what I want or dinna want. Ye’ll be wise to remember that in the future.”
He kissed her again. “Now, we have some Scotch buns, peat, salt, and whisky to hand out to yer clan. First, I’ll be asking ye a question. I want ye to ken peace will remain between our clans regardless of yer answer. I only demand ye listen to yer heart, lass, and tell me true.”
Calum wrapped an arm around her, tucking her into his side, and turned to Malachi and Archibald. “Weel, it seems I wasna clear enough when expressing my wishes to yer daughter. So, I’m here for a second attempt. I’ve spoken with Lord Fulton, and though he’s disappointed, he has no issue with our arrangement. As long as the cash continues to land in his pocket.”
Her stomach bounced to her throat, down to her toes, and back up again.
“Ye’re a long time dead, lass,” said her uncle. “Grab at the luck before ye.”
Peigi’s hands shook as she clutched them in front of her and stared at the handsome man towering over her. She could not make her still-tingling lips move or a sound come from her throat.Sweet Mary, what is he doing?Her resolve could not withstand another kiss or even touch.
“Here I am, Peigi lass, bringing good luck into yer home.” He opened one of the sacks and pulled out several items, setting them on the table next to her mead. “Peat for warmth, salt for friendship, a bun so ye shall no’ go hungry, and whisky. I wish ye and yer clan the most abundant year.”
She cleared her throat and fought back the tears. The smell of the Scotch bun, its sweet black currant filling, reminded her of the best of times. “I-I thank ye,” she said in cracked voice, her brain scrambling to make sense of this sudden turn of events.
“In addition to that, I offer ye a future of security, love, and happiness.”
