Page 156 of The Highlander's Christmas Bride

Donella choked out a laugh, stunned as the large erection nudging her belly made clear how ready he was for more.

She didn’t know if she was quite ready yet, but as he worked his way down her body, she realized she was more than willing to try.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

With only a few nights until Hogmanay, it seemed the majority of the city’s residents had squeezed into the Glasgow Assembly Rooms to begin early celebrations.

Donella swore that at least half of them had trod on her feet.

After retreating into a window alcove to catch her breath, she went up on her toes to peer over the expanse of pomaded hair, silk turbans, and feathered headdresses. In the confusing mass of people around the edges of the dance floor, she couldn’t spot either Eden or Victoria.

Her two friends had been forging ahead of Donella through the crowd, heading for the supper room to meet up with the other members of their party. When a piece of netting on Donella’s gown had snagged a woman’s bracelet, she’d been forced to stop to untangle it. The wearer of the bracelet in question had glared in rigid disapproval while Donella labored to work herself free. She’d finally resorted to giving the netting a good yank, with unfortunate results for the delicate fabric of her gown.

By the time she looked up, the other ladies had disappeared into the crowd. The Kendrick twins were wandering somewhere close by, and Logan should arrive soon. Still, she couldn’t spot anyone she knew, and the mob blocking the path to the supper room remained dauntingly thick.

It would appear she was on her own, for the moment.

Of course, the only risk of danger was from terminal boredom or possibly expiring from the heat. Donella had forgotten how much she hated large parties. She could only hope that in their new life together, Logan wouldn’t insist on a steady round of social events. He didn’t seem the type for that sort of thing, but it was undeniable that he was a constant surprise to her.

One surprise was how determined a lover he was, and how inventive. He’d climbed up the wall to her bedroom three nights in a row, and each night had been more wonderful and astonishing than the last. With Logan, Donella hardly recognized the woman she’d become, more willing to take risks than she’d ever imagined.

Still, once he departed like a phantom in the night, she was left with all the same worries about her future. Could she be the sort of wife he truly needed? Could she support him outside the cocoon of their families and the quiet existence she longed for? There was a reason she’d been attracted to life in a nunnery. The world Logan moved in was one Donella often found irritating and even overwhelming.

She went up on her toes again. Not a blasted Kendrick or Gilbride in sight. Sighing, she pulled a handkerchief from her beaded reticule and dabbed her neck, then shoved it back and prepared to elbow her way through the crowd.

Suddenly, Jeannie MacArthur glided through a small gap in the throng. She was stunning in her sapphire blue gown, not a golden curl out of place or even a faint sheen of perspiration on her brow. The woman might as well have been a perfectly chiseled statue come to life.

By contrast, Donella felt like a head of lettuce left too long in the sun.

“Ah, Miss Haddon,” Jeannie said. “Just the person I was looking for.”

Her determined advance had Donella retreating back into the alcove.

Donella pinned a smile to her face. “Mrs. MacArthur, how nice to see you. Are you enjoying the ball?”

“I find Glasgow affairs quite dreary compared to Edinburgh’s.” Her gaze flickered over Donella’s gown, lingering on the torn bit of netting. “And so provincial, don’t you think? One can hardly scare up a decent dressmaker worth the effort.”

“I haven’t spent much time in Glasgow, and none in Edinburgh.”

“Yes, it’s quite evident you prefer the country, which is so charming of you.” Jeannie’s smile was mocking. “And of course the convent, which must be positively rustic.”

Since she’d always been hopeless at thinly veiled sparring, Donella decided to forgo the attempt. “What is it you wished to speak to me about, ma’am? I was about to rejoin my party.”

Something hard flashed through the woman’s cornflower blue eyes before she composed her features into another smile. “So delightfully blunt. I’m sure Logan finds you very amusing.”

Logan did seem to enjoy Donella’s unvarnished manner of speaking, but Jeannie clearly meant it as an insult. “I wouldn’t know,” she crisply replied.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to ask him,” Jeannie purred. “When next I see him.”

Donella held on to the fraying ends of her temper. “Mrs. MacArthur, is there a point to this conversation?”

The woman’s golden eyebrows ticked up in an incredulous lift. “My dear Miss Haddon, I simply wish to offer my congratulations. I do apologize if I’ve offended you.”

Since Jeannie had no doubt sought Donella out with the express intention of giving offense, she didn’t bother to acknowledge the half-hearted apology.

As for accepting congratulations, the formal announcement of her betrothal to Logan would take place at the Gilbrides’ Hogmanay party. Until then, it had been agreed to keep the news strictly within the family. That didn’t mean, of course, that servants didn’t gossip or that rumors hadn’t circulated about Logan’s marked attentions to her.

Still, it was in bad taste for Jeannie to make such a bold assumption.

---