Christmas Kiss (A Holiday Romance) (Kisses and Carriages) (7 page)

“I would hear what ye have in mind for my punishment.” He was boiling with rage inside and hoped she would say something incriminating so he could release his frustration into the room.

“I think you should have to buy a computer and a cell phone. Maybe a satellite phone, considering the remote location.” She smiled, pleased with herself.

“And I suppose I should send ye on this purchasing trip on me behalf? Perhaps send you with enough money to purchase aught else ye deem necessary for me home?”

She frowned and stood. “What’s wrong? Has something happened? You’re back to being an... Back to not being nice.”

He held up the letter. Perhaps she was unaware her accomplice was going to write her. And if that was so, he would relish the look on her face when she realized she’d been exposed. He wanted to draw it out, make her squirm, make her pay for the blow he’d suffered when he’d read the letter.

“I will give ye one chance, Brianna Colby. One chance to confess all. I am not above forgiveness when given honesty.”

He took a step toward her. She took a step away. It was a heady dance, this stalking. And he was in no hurry for it to end.

“Confess? Me?” She edged around the chaise. He kept advancing. “Just what do you think I need to confess to?”

“That is the point of the confession, lass.
Ye
tell
me
.”

The silly woman eventually backed herself into a corner, but still he followed.

“Why did you send the girl away?” She’d whispered the question. The sound of it did disturbing things to him, as did the knowledge that they were completely alone.

The enemy, he thought.
Remember, she is the enemy
.

But still, his heart tripped. Tripped again. A deep breath in, then out. It made little difference. He could not hold another thought in his head. His only purpose now, was to kiss her.

And what harm would a kiss cause?

He could think of nothing.

“Fine. I confess,” she whispered. “I’d rather have a kiss for my reward. Okay? Are you happy now?”

Was he happy? He was in hell. And her speaking aloud of the kiss he was determined to take? It should sober him. He should turn and put space between them. He should walk about in the snow outside, perhaps with his feet bare, to remember his purpose. And still, he advanced.

She hid her shaking hands behind her back and waited. When the toes of his stockinged feet mingled with hers, he leaned down, breathing her in. He measured the moment, tucking each rise of her chest into his memory, to relive later.

How sad, that it would all be relegated to memory.

With his mouth an inch from hers, he murmured, “There was no date on the letter lass. I win. I claim my prize.”

Their lips brushed past, then returned, hers pressing forward as much as his. But he wanted to ensure she would remember it, this one and only kiss between them. He teased, sipped the taste of her, his lips a whisper against her own, then he pressed in again, renewing the heat they’d begun with, stealing her breath away.

Then he stepped back and did the only thing that would ensure it would never happen again.

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

She frowned.

He smiled. “I’ll just read this to ye, shall I?”

She took a step to her right, but he cut her off, herding her back into her corner. Then he held her there, with the fingers of one hand pushing gently but firmly against her collar bones. He ignored the heat emanating from her body, slipping easily through the thin layer of her shirt, and read.

“Dearest Brianna,

McKinnon promised all he had, so that is just what we shall take from him. Play yer part well. I shall come to collect it all, including the child, at Midnight on New Year’s Eve.

“It was signed,
Ever Your Coachman
.” Heathcliff turned his attention back on his prey and leaned forward. “Now, ye will tell me who is this coachman and what the pair of ye have planned. Then ye will help me catch this villain and perhaps not hang for yer part in it!”

“My part in it? Are you freaking kidding me?” She tried to push him away and when she could not, she stretched up on her toes until her nose was nigh to his chin. “I don’t have anything to do with this guy. He has to be messing with you. And I can’t believe he’s still messing with me!”

Heathcliff held his ground. If he but let all the breath escape his lungs, his lips would rest upon hers. So close. So easy. So ridiculous.

He straightened and retreated half a step. She rocked back to her heels. Nearly two feet separated their lips, then. Relief would have been appropriate, not loss.

“The missive is clear enough,” he said quietly. “Besides, last eve, when ye told me how ye teach mute children, I confessed how I promised
all I have
in exchange for someone like ye. No other heard that promise but Brianna Colby and a child that canna speak. Unless this coachman was sent by Satan himself, he heard the tale from yer own lips.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bree refused to panic.

Even when Laird Gorgeous swung a blanket under his arm, snatched up her re-packed suitcase, and dragged her along behind him, up the lovely staircase she had no chance to admire. Even when he led her back to the bedroom where she’d first seen the little girl. Even when he tossed the blanket on the bed and stalked toward her.

She could honestly admit it was
not
panic that made her heart thump like a hammer in her chest—cause she was pretty sure it was just the adrenaline leftovers from that kiss he’d given her. Since she was still floating in a bit of pink haze, she had a hard time believing the murderous look in his eyes. But there was something else in those dark eyes she did believe.

Pain.

He stepped up to her, close enough to kiss her, then glared down instead.

“Ye will stay here until I can bear the sight o’ ye again. The midday sun will warm the room.”

“Why do you want to keep me around if you don’t believe me?” She tried not to stare at his lips while she spoke. “Why don’t you just let me leave? I’ll find a way back to civilization on my own. I promise I have nothing to do with this. Whatever you have going on with that old man, you can work it out without me around.”

He looked at her for the longest time. Just breathing. She had no clue what he was thinking.

“You will stay—as my guest—until the blackheart returns. I’ll not give ye leave to lurk about the place waiting for a chance to take the child, or anything else, from me home.”

She really wished he wanted to keep her around for romantic reasons, but as the pink fog cleared, it was obvious their kiss hadn’t affected them both the same.

“That’s kidnapping,” she pointed out. Even in Scotland, the chance of breaking the law had to make him reconsider. He couldn’t seriously be planning on holding her prisoner until New Year’s Eve. So maybe this was just his knee jerk reaction. You can’t fight knee jerk reactions. So maybe he’d change his mind when he cooled down a bit.

And
midnight
? Couldn’t the old man have been a little more original? It was right out of a Cinderella story—only the prince was going to be disappointed when instead of a glass slipper left behind, he’d get a clunky red rainboot.

“I prefer to think of it as Scottish Hospitality—the traditional kind.”

Great. It was obviously going to take him a while to calm down and see reason. She’d just have to grin and bear it for a while.

Speaking of baring it...

“What about a bathroom?” She needed one.

“Ye’ll have no need for bathing for a good while.” He turned toward the door.

“I don’t want a bath. I need a...a water closet.”

He paused. If he said he didn’t know what a water closet was, she was going to lose her Colby Calm, and then she’d end up wetting her pants.

“There is a chamber pot below the bed.”

A chamber pot? Was he out of his mind?

“And food?”

“Ye’ll not starve, but ye will stay put. Unless of course ye can fly as ye claim to have the power to do. Oh, but I forget,” he sneered. “The coachman has yer valuable charms that allow ye to do so.” He looked back at her when he pulled the door open. The pain was still there.

And then he was gone.

She strode to the door and gave it a good banging. “I was with you the whole time!”

And damn it if she didn’t end up using the stupid chamber pot. The whole time she was squatting over it, she expected the bastard to walk in on her. She nearly pulled muscles in her ears listening for his breathing on the other side of the door.

As it turned out, she didn’t need the sun to warm the room since she worked up quite a sweat stomping around. When she got tired of veering around the bed, she pulled it into the middle of the room so she’d have a nice uninterrupted path. At the end of an hour, she wondered if she really was going crazy for the simple fact she’d enjoyed the exercise.

She never enjoyed exercise!

She was supposed to fly home on the twenty-ninth. And she had to come up with some ID before she could do that. If she had to use her rent money for a later flight, she’d have to move back in with her parents and that was
not
going to happen.

She had to get out of there. Just as soon as the storm was over. And no matter what, she couldn’t let him kiss her again. No trust, no kiss. That was her new policy.

Boredom led to dozing off, but it more than made up for the lack of sleep the night before. She woke to the sound of footsteps coming down the hall and jumped to her feet. 

Then she sat again, worried about looking guilty. But that just pissed her off. She wasn’t guilty here. The old man was using her to play some kind of sick joke!

McKinnon opened the door wide, then looked for her before he walked in. He carried a tray to the nightstand and set it down.

“Afraid I might jump you?” she asked and rolled her eyes. “I guess you don’t have to worry about that if you’re going to starve me to death.”

He snorted. “‘Tis not yet noon, Miss Colby. Have ye turned to bone already?”

Not yet noon? She would never last. No matter how long he planned to keep her there, she would never last. She would just have to harass him into letting her leave.

“I can’t believe you’d lock me up on Christmas Eve,” she said dejectedly. “Christmas Eve!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is it now? Well, then, ye’ll have to forgive me. I’m so terrible at readin’ calendars, and dates. I have an especially difficult time with the year, or so I’ve been told. Are ye certain it’s Christmas Eve? Not All Hallows Eve?”

Great. He had his emotions back under control. She could tell because his brogue was a lot more tame. The last time he’d been in the room, he’d been harder to understand.

“Oh, I’m positive it’s Christmas Eve. And you’d better start acting like it.”

He barked with laughter. “Or what, Miss Colby? I fail to see anything ye might have with which to threaten me, while I on the other hand can threaten ye with a wee noose if ye try to steal m’ wee bairn, or aught else from m’ home.”

“I meant that you’d better start acting like it’s Christmas Eve if you don’t want to break that child’s heart.”

He lowered his chin, giving the same impression as a bull about to charge. There was the button to push. It might even turn out to be the button that got her out of this nightmare.

“What do ye mean?” he asked quietly. “What is this risk to the cherub’s heart?”

She took a moment to imagine what it would be like to have a man like him worrying about her own heart. Then she stopped herself and shook her head before she ended up sighing like a teenager.

“I mean, if you don’t do something to make Christmas nice for her, she’ll always remember how you let her down. She won’t ever be able to get her hopes up for Christmas again.”

He frowned like he didn’t understand English.

“Her hopes? What might she be hoping for?”

Like a rat in a trap! Hah!

“Presents, Sherlock. Christmas Presents. A Christmas tree? Decorations? Please tell me you’ve got something for her to open in the morning.”

“Presents? Ye mean
gifts
?” He looked horrified.

The guy really was terrified of dropping the whole ‘daddy’ ball wasn’t he? Well, it served him right if he hadn’t planned to do something special for the girl for Christmas, even if he’d only been a daddy for a day.

“Know ye what the child might be hoping for?” He tried to sound demanding, like he could bully her into helping him, but it was that intense brogue that proved how rattled he was.

She tried not to smile. “Well, hmn. I don’t know. I suppose if I could use sign language, and if she understood sign language, I could ask her. But not in here. I won’t help you so long as you keep me in here.”

He took a step toward the door and held out an arm to let her go ahead of him. She plopped her butt back down on the bed. He closed his eyes. When his lips moved, she guessed he was praying for patience. It was kind of heady, this ability to control someone else’s emotions. No wonder David kept her around for so long, for someone to toy with.

Bree promised herself, then and there, that unless her safety or her freedom was at stake, she would only use her new super powers for good. She tried really hard not to giggle as she hopped to her feet and hurried out the door.

* * *

They found the girl dancing around in a room that looked like an ancient nursery. She was wearing the little grey dress and black lace-up boots McKinnon had taken from the bedroom. Her clothes looked as much like a costume as her daddy’s and Bree realized it must be the way people dressed in the Highlands. With how cold it was, maybe they had to pay more attention to warmth than style. Still, the child would have looked less like an urchin if McKinnon added a little pink to her wardrobe. There was a little black dress still hanging on a hook in the bedroom and Bree was afraid that was all the kid had.

All the toys looked hand made. There were three little beds and a cradle, all hand-carved and without mattresses. It was the kind of place you’d expect to be haunted by the ghosts of children. The thought made Bree shiver.