Highlander for the Holidays (38 page)

“God forbid a man should put on oven mitts and rescue them,” Jessie muttered, smoothing down her sweater and then brushing her cheeks with her sleeves as she headed for the door on rubbery legs. But she suddenly stopped and turned to Ian, pressing her hand to his chest to make him stop.

“What did my father say to you this morning?” she asked in a whisper.

“Some things are best left between men, lass.”

She rose up on her toes to better glare at him. “You are such an atavist.”

Ian’s eyes nearly crinkled shut, and he turned her around and gave her backside a rather boisterous nudge to get her moving. “Yeah, I can be a real bastard like that sometimes.”

Dinner turned into quite a lively affair, partly because Roger was in full crazy-old-hermit mode, and partly because the five of them had to keep taking turns jumping up from the table to shoo Toby away from the presents until Ian finally took the big lug’s face in his hands and did his way-with-animals thing. Toby stayed sitting in front of the woodstove after that, but he was on full alert, his eyes trained on one specific present.

Jessie just knew it had to be a fat, greasy bone.

They cleared the table—Ian and her dad actually helping—while Roger went over and sat down on the floor by the tree while urging them to hurry up. Jessie just put the perishable food away, then shooed everyone out of the kitchen, saying everything else would still be there after they all opened their presents.

She ran into the bedroom and took Ian’s stocking out of the bottom drawer, ran into the living room and hung it on the sixth nail she’d put up when she’d hung the other five, and took her place on the couch between her mom and dad when Ian waved her over to them as he sat down in her chair.

“Okay, then,” Roger said, carefully picking up Toby’s gift and holding it on his lap. “You can come over now, big fella, and see what Santa had me bring ye.”

Toby bounded over like a pup being called to dinner, nearly knocking Roger over when he skidded into him and tried to clamp his teeth on the box. Jessie sat up with a gasp that was echoed by her mother when the box suddenly made a noise.

“Ohmigod,” Jessie whispered just as Roger pulled off the lid and reached in to pull out a kitten. “Oh. My. God.”

Roger sat the kitten in front of Toby, and the dog immediately lay down and went perfectly motionless. The kitten immediately reared up on its haunches, slapped its little claws into Toby’s snout, and started licking his mouth.

“Oh. My. God,” Jessie whispered again, her hand clutching her throat. “Roger, you gave Toby a . . . a
kitten
for Christmas?”

“Nay, I didn’t; Santa did. I’m just delivering the little bugger for him.”

“But what am I supposed to do with a kitten? Service dogs can’t have
pets
.” She gestured weakly at Toby, who was now returning the favor and licking the kitten’s head to a slick-backed wetness. “I don’t think he’s supposed to have anything to distract him from his job.”

“What job?” Roger asked. “He ain’t got to be worrying over you no more, so Santa figured the big fella needed something to keep him busy.”

Jessie looked at Ian for help, but when he only shrugged, she looked back at Toby and sighed at the sight of the kitten trying to crawl up his back.

“This one be for you, Maureen,” Roger said, holding out a small gift the size of his fist. “I’m thinking it might be just what you’re needing.”

Jessie jumped up and got the gift and brought it back to her mom.

“That was very sweet of you to bring something just for me,” Maureen said, holding the box on her knees as if she was afraid it might also be an animal—although the package was small enough it had to be a mouse, Jessie was afraid.

“Go on, missus; open it.”

Maureen carefully pulled the bow free and undid the wrapping, then smiled in relief at the small wooden box inside. “Oh, this is a beautiful trinket box, Roger. What’s the wood it’s made of?”

“I’m sure your husband recognized the bird’s-eye maple,” Roger said, “him being a fine architect. But the box ain’t really the gift. Look inside.”

Her mom lifted off the lid and gasped softly. “Oh my,” she said, reaching inside and pulling out what looked like a wooden pendant with a finely spun gold chain trailing after it. “Oh, this is beautiful,” she whispered, holding it at eye level then leaning over Jessie to show her husband. “Jacob, do you recognize the wood? I’ve never seen anything like it. It looks like some sort of knot; you know, what do they call them? Burls?”

“I’ve never seen one like that, though,” Jacob said, taking the necklace in order to study it as Jessie leaned into him to also see it better. “It’s amazing. It looks like a burl, but the center’s been carved out and there’s a . . .” He squinted. “What is that?” he asked, looking at Roger.

“The burl would be cherry and that stone inside is moonstone,” Roger said, sliding his smile to Jessie. “Moonstone would be a powerful rock for women, Maureen,” he said as he then slid his smile to her mother. “I’m thinking ye might find yourself feeling mighty fine when you’re wearing it.”

“Well, I’m certain I will, Roger, because it’s simply so beautiful,” she said, reaching across Jessie to take it away from her husband. “Can you clasp this on for me, Jess?” she asked, handing it to her and turning away.

Jessie opened the clasp and carefully slung the chain around her mom’s neck, her fingers faltering when her mother suddenly gasped.

“Oh, I think it just gave me a little shock,” Maureen said with a laugh, holding her hand over the pendant. “Is it on, Jess?”

Jessie tore her alarmed gaze away from Ian and clasped it on, then jumped up from the couch as her mother looked down at her gift, and walked over to Roger. With her back to everyone, Jessie bent down to glare at him, only to have him shove another gift at her.

“This one would be for your da, lass. Take it to him for me, would ye?”

Honestly, she didn’t know if she dared. What in hell was Roger doing giving her parents magical gifts? The box she handed to her father felt empty it weighed so little, and being a man, Jacob didn’t bother being as careful as he unwrapped it, but he did stop to admire the beautiful birchbark box.

He lifted the lid and then stared down inside it, frowning, only to flinch when he picked up the rectangular smooth piece of wood the size and shape of a credit card. “You’re going to have to get a humidifier for the house, Jess, because I just got a shock, too, from the dry air. Is this a . . . money clip?” he asked, looking at Roger.

“That it is,” Roger said with a nod. “And don’t you go worrying none that it’s too delicate to carry a goodly amount of dollars, ’cause it be sturdier than it looks. A lot like your daughter,” he said, his eyes squinted with laughter. “You carry that on ye, Jacob, and you’ll find that when you’re needing some money it’ll be right there wait’n on you. Now here, Jessie, this one be for Ian,” he said, handing her another small package.

“How come I get mine last?” she asked, trying to see around him to beneath the tree, then eyeing him suspiciously. Because honestly, she’d been hoping he’d brought her another walking stick, since she’d left hers on the mountain.

“You’ll be getting exactly what you be needing when you’re needing it, missy. Now go on, give that one to your man there.”

Jessie had to walk around Toby and the kitten, which was now curled up between Toby’s paws, its little head resting on one of his legs, sleeping the sleep of the innocent—apparently unaware that it could have become dinner as easily as it had become a friend. “Um . . . Roger?” she asked as she handed Ian his present and walked back to stare down at Toby. “Is that a boy kitten or a girl kitten?”

“Well, I guess Santa figured that if Toby was used to worrying over a female, he should probably have a girl kitten for a pet, wouldn’t you say? Here, this one is for you, missy. Now go sit down and open it while I open mine from you.”

She turned back to him with a smile. “What makes you so certain I got you a Christmas present? Since I haven’t heard from you in almost a week, I might have decided you probably weren’t coming today.”

He reached under the tree and picked up his gift without even reading the label, smiling smugly up at her as he started tearing the paper away. Jessie sat down between her mom and dad and set the big heavy gift Roger had handed her on her knees. She slowly undid the bow, then ran her fingers over the beautiful paper, thinking that it really looked like gold leaf.

“It sure seems real, doesn’t it, Jess?” her father said, leaning in to whisper. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d swear the ribbon is sterling silver.” He shook his head. “But that’s just a bit much. Who did you say Roger is again?”

“He’s related to Ian somehow,” she whispered back, finally slipping her finger under a corner of the wrapping—not a piece of tape in sight—and slowly folding back the paper to reveal a thick, leather-bound tome. She opened it to find page after page of handwritten recipes for every conceivable food ever cooked.

“That would be a collection handed down through the generations, lass,” Roger said, looking up from the unwrapped but unopened gift she’d bought him. “Dating back to the very first MacKeage wife. If something’s not in there, it probably shouldn’t be eaten,” he added with a smile—the real Roger de Keage briefly emerging then disappearing right before her eyes as the bartering old hermit held up his gift and frowned. “Mind telling me what in tarnation this thing be?”

“It’s one of them new-fangled iPads,” she said, mimicking his burr. She waved toward the window. “It has Wi-Fi and 3G, so you can use it near any one of those blasted towers for sending e-mails and surfing the web.”

His eyes danced with merriment. “Oh, I’ll be liking this, then,” he said, tearing into the box.

Jessie looked down at her MacKeage book of recipes and, keeping her head lowered to hide her blush, she glanced over at Ian, only to find him staring down at the opened small box in his hands; the gaze he finally lifted to her was so profoundly serious that she instantly paled.

“Okay, then,” Roger said with a grunt as he got to his feet. “Ye wanting me to pass out all these other gifts, or might you Pringles be want’n to have yourselves some private family time?” he asked, even as he bent over and pulled out the gift Jessie had wrapped for Ian over a week ago. “Ye might wanna be giving this one to your man, though, before we leave.”

Jessie shoved her cookbook onto her mom’s lap and jumped to her feet. “No! I mean, that’s okay, Roger,” she said, taking the heavy package from him and setting it back on the floor, then using her foot to push it behind the tree. “I’ll give it to him later.”

“Ian, what did Roger give you?” her mom asked. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

Ian smiled at Maureen, not that it came anywhere near his eyes, then looked at Roger for an awkwardly long time. He finally turned his gaze on Jessie and slowly stood up.

Everyone and everything in the room receded until only Ian remained as he walked to her, his winter spruce eyes making Jessie’s insides suddenly clench as his power radiated ahead of him in waves of . . . oh God, he was getting down on his knees in front of her.

He reached out and captured her hand when she tried to step away, then lifted the box he was holding for her to see the two . . . honest to God, those looked like two matching wedding rings in his and her sizes, only they appeared to be made of some sort of black stone instead of metal, with tiny flecks that glittered like starlight.

Jessie’s legs went from rubber to jelly, and Ian had to catch her when she fell to her knees.

He lifted her chin to make her look at him. “Will ye do me the honor of being my wife, Miss Pringle?” he asked quietly. His eyes got the faintest crinkles at the corners. “With your father’s permission, of course.”

She leaned closer. “Oh, Ian, I want to, but I . . . I can’t,” she whispered so only he could hear. “Not until I give you a miracle, only I don’t know what it is. I thought it was getting you back in school so you can be a wildlife biologist, and that’s why I wrapped up a bunch of college catalogs,” she said, gesturing weakly at the tree behind her. “But now I don’t think that’s it, because . . .” She leaned closer again. “Because I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, on . . . on your mountain.”

“Ah, Jess,” he said quietly, brushing a finger across her cheek. “You gave me two miracles, lass; one when you gave yourself to me, and then when you gave me TarStone.” He leaned in until his nose touched hers. “Say yes, Jessie, and then say thank you.”

“But those rings are from Roger, not yo—”

Still keeping their noses touching, he placed his palm over her mouth as he softly chuckled. “You willing to go with a nudge, or are ye waiting for him to
knock
some sense into us? It’s going to happen, so why waste time
waiting
for it to happen?” He straightened away and held the box up between them again. “Will you marry me, Jessie Pringle, so I can start breathing properly again?”

“I . . . oh . . . yes!” she cried, throwing herself into his arms. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“There now, that’s done,” Roger suddenly barked, clapping his hands together. “So come on, people, we got us a wedding to throw together. Ian, you call your mama and papa and tell them to spread the word that we need everyone up at the summit house by sunset if’n they’re wanting to witness the nuptials. Oh, and have Greylen and Callum get them tourists off the top of the mountain by then, so we got the place to ourselves. This here marriage is a solemn matter, not some spectator sport.”

“Today?” Jessie squeaked, scrambling to her feet even as her mom jumped up off the couch with a gasp of horror. “You think we’re getting married in
three hours
?”

Roger puffed up his chest and smoothed down his shirt. “I am a duly ordained justice of the peace, you know.”

“In
Maine
?” Jessie whispered tightly as she stepped closer. “In what
century
were you ordained?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.