A Highlander for Christmas (51 page)

“No,” Maggie cried. “You have to go. I’m of no use to them, but they want you. Just
go
, while you still can.” She pushed him away toward the cottage as the aircraft door opened and a man in a jumpsuit leaped to the ground. Grimly, Maggie shoved past Jared and raised Preston’s pistol in a desperate grip.

The man in the jumpsuit halted. “Dear sweet lord, what’s been going on here?”

Snow swirled over Nicholas Draycott’s dark hair and anxious face as he stared from Maggie to Jared. “Jared, is that you? If so, perhaps you’ll tell me why Maggie is holding a gun.” His eyes narrowed on the snow. “And why you’re bleeding like a pig.”

Maggie spun with a gasp. “Nicholas? Thank heaven. Help me. There’s so much blood.”

“My dearest love, I’ll survive,” Jared muttered with a hint of a smile.

Maggie swallowed hard. “Hope MacLeod went for a doctor. They should be back very soon.” She turned her cheek to Jared’s chest, breathing raggedly. “I thought Preston—I thought you—”

“Nay, love.”

“Don’t talk. Keep your strength until we reach the cottage. It isn’t far. Maybe we can commandeer that helicopter of Lord Draycott’s.”

“There’s no need for—”

“No more talking.” Maggie gripped him tightly. “I won’t let you waste your energy. Your leg—”

Jared stopped her with a kiss that could have seared a platinum plate. Long and slow, he drove his lips over hers, sealing out everything but the wild race of their hearts.

She pulled away with a broken sound. “Can you walk? We need to hurry.”

“Later.” He opened his freezing hands to cradle her face. “I need something else first.”

Behind them Nicholas Draycott cleared his throat. “I could swear I saw a cat racing over that slope. Perhaps it was some kind of mirage.”

“It was a cat,” Jared answered, never looking up from Maggie’s face. “Damned good timing he had, too. If it weren’t impossible, I’d almost say he was kin to that great creature I saw in your conservatory.” He touched Maggie’s chin. “Odd, what imagination does in this kind of a storm.”

“Perhaps it’s blood loss,” Nicholas said grimly. “We have a physician with us. Let’s have him look at your leg.”

“Later,” Jared repeated. “Send him down to check on Maggie’s father first. He needs him more.”

“But how—” Nicholas gave an exasperated sigh as Jared pulled Maggie closer and slid his hands into her hair.

“Stubborn, impossible man,” she whispered. “We need to hurry.” But her answering kiss took the sting from her words. When her head rose, her cheeks were wet with tears. “What in the world am I going to do with you?”

“Love me,” Jared said hoarsely, brushing snow from her cheeks. “Today. Tomorrow. Forever. That’s all I want in life.”

Maggie leaned closer as the wind snapped around them. She gave a shaky laugh. “Max is going to be
very
jealous.”

She thought she heard Jared mumble something about puppy farms before his lips closed hard over hers.

Outside Glenbrae House the snow fell on, silent and thick. Off the mountains clouds billowed low while a dozen people gathered around the roaring fire in the comfortable kitchen.

Morwenna Wishwell filled a steaming mug with tea and splashed in a generous amount of whisky, managing to slosh water over the table and both shoes in the process.

“Do watch that boiling water, Morwenna, lest we have you in to see the doctor next.”
Perpetua
took her cup and set it safely away from harm on the table. “But you’re not drinking your tea, Ms. Kincade.”

Maggie sat before the fire, weighed down by four tartan blankets. Her fingers finally had sensation again, but her shivering had yet to stop.

“Tea?” She pulled her eyes from the closed door across the hall. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

Hope MacLeod put a hand on her shoulder. “What
Perpetua
means, my dear, is that you should have some of the tea you’re holding in your hands. It will warm you up in no time, especially if there’s as much whisky in it as I think there is.”

Maggie looked down, frowning. She saw that a cup was cradled between her fingers, and steam tumbled up into her face. She took a drink, wincing as the fiery spirits seared the lining of her throat.

“Takes a bit of growing used to,”
Perpetua
said, nodding gravely. “Try it slowly next time.”

But Maggie didn’t hear. Her eyes were locked on the door where Jared was sequestered with Glenbrae’s octogenarian doctor.

“There’s no reason to fret, my dear. Your man is sound enough.”

Fret? Maggie stared at the door, willing it to open. She wasn’t fretting, she was terrified. She’d thought of nothing but Jared since their return from the grisly attack by the loch.

“Do you think he’ll lose the leg?” she whispered.

“Nay, lass. The wound was never so deep as that.” Frowning, Ronan poured another bit of whisky in her tea. “The best thing for you would be to have another drink of tea. He’ll not want to see you pale as oatmeal, and anxiously expecting his death.”

With a wan smile Maggie took another sip, her eyes going wide as the potent spirits bit at her throat.

Hope lifted the bottle from her husband’s fingers. “I don’t think she’ll be needing more of this.”

“But her color’s gone flat.” he whispered.

“She’ll be fine once she sees Jared,” his wife answered firmly.

“Maybe the doctor needs blood for a transfusion.” Maggie turned her cup blindly as tears burned at her eyes. “Maybe he—”

Ronan gripped her shoulder. “MacNeill will need none of that.” He studied her intently. “Though perhaps he will need other things.”

“I’ll gladly give him anything,” she whispered.

The door creaked open “Ms. Kincade?” The doctor peered owlishly around the kitchen as Maggie stood up. “There you are. Right this way with you.”

“But I’m fine, truly. Just a little cold. And sometimes my throat—”

He tilted her face, peering into her eyes. “Open your mouth and say ahh.”

“But I’m not—” A wooden tongue depressor cut off her protest.

“Very good,” the doctor muttered. “No sign of inflammation. Now let’s have your hand.” Her wrist was caught, turned, probed. The doctor stared at his watch, ticking off silent seconds. “Excellent,” he said finally. “A fine, normal pulse. You’re fit as a horse, young woman.”

“But what about Jared? Will he—”

Over the doctor’s shoulder she saw Jared hobbling toward her. Beneath his kilt a thick strip of gauze covered his lower thigh. “I’ll be fine, woman. As I told you before, it was just a scratch.”

“Not entirely,” the doctor countered.

“Close enough.” Jared took Maggie’s hand and pulled her toward the table.

Maggie saw nothing but his face. “You’re too pale. There was so much blood, Jared.” He pulled her into the chair beside him. “It appears that I am going to live.”

“I told her she should drink all of her tea.” Morwenna slid a cup into Jared’s hands. “That same advice holds for you.”

Absently he took a drink, then passed the steaming cup to Maggie. “Finish the rest of it.” His eyes narrowed. “I think you’re going to need it.”

“Why?”

“The tea first.”

Maggie took a swallow, then burst into raw coughing as the whisky hit home.

Jared held her shoulders, then took her palm in his. “I’ve something to say to you, Margaret Kincade. Something I’ve never said nor even wished to say before.” He eyed the teacup and took a swift gulp, then brought her palm to his lips for a slow kiss that had Maggie’s pulse climbing.

Ronan cleared his throat. “We’ll be leaving now. I’d best have a look to check that our prisoners are secure out in the storage shed. Nicholas Draycott’s people from Edinburgh should be here soon.”

“I don’t mind if you stay,” Jared said. “I don’t mind if everyone hears.” He didn’t take his eyes from Maggie’s face. “I love you, Maggie Kincade. I never thought I would or could, but you’ve turned me inside out. I have no hope of ever going back to what I was before. And I have no wish to.”

Her hand tightened. “Jared, you don’t have to—”

“No, don’t argue.” He muttered something in Gaelic, then held out a hand to MacLeod. A moment later the whisky bottle hit his fingers, and he downed a tidy amount, flinching only slightly.

“Listen to me, Maggie.” Jared’s throat was tight and his pulse was ragged.
Damn
and blast, who would have thought a simple question could be so hard in the asking?
His throat felt raw, and if she turned him down, he’d go straight out to the loch and shoot himself.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve had my reasons for holding back these words, my heart, even when you slid beneath all my shadows with your joy and your passion. Your touch changed me. What we found together changed me. But up until today, one thing wouldn’t change.” His hands tightened. “I’d seen my own death out there in the snow, Maggie. A dozen times in Thailand I lived through every cold detail.”

Perpetua Wishwell
frowned, stroking her amber brooch and murmuring softly.

But Maggie saw nothing but Jared’s beloved face and dark determined eyes.

Jared took a harsh breath. “I knew every detail. The blood on the snow. The tree with a broken branch and the MacNeill tartan fallen against the ground. It might have been me—probably would have been me, had luck and good friends not stood on my side.” He shoved a hand through his dark hair. “It appears that I
won’t
be dying here today after all.”

A tear streaked down Maggie’s cheek. Silently, Jared bent on one knee before her and brushed the salty bead away with his thumb. “I couldn’t offer you a future before this, Maggie, but now I can. And I’m asking now. Hoping.”
Dying
, he thought. His hand opened over her cheek. “Would you marry me,
mo chridhe
? No man could love you more than I do.”

All movement stilled. Silence wrapped around every corner of the room.

“M-marry you?” Maggie’s heart did a painful jackknife. He hadn’t thought this through.

He’d nearly died out by the loch, after all. She swallowed hard. “You don’t have to say this. It’s been a long day.”

“There’s no one else for me, Maggie. Nothing else I could ever want more than this.” He pulled away from her, his eyes fierce. “I won’t say there haven’t been women who’ve touched me, women I’ve admired.”

“Jared, you can stop now. You don’t really—”

Behind Jared, footsteps rustled up the stairs, but neither he nor Maggie noticed. “I can and do. Not one of them touched me as you did from the second I saw you. When I slipped into your mind that day, Maggie, I was lost. Trapped in colors and light, caught in all your passion and dreams. I was jealous of the man who’d touch your fire, but I didn’t dare to hope he could be me.” Jared’s hands clenched. “Tell me yes, Maggie. I know you best, my heart. I can see all the way to your soul every time we touch.”

Maggie straightened her shoulders. Doing the right thing had never seemed so hard before. She knew her face was pale and her voice reedy. Suddenly the sigh of the snow at the window seemed very loud.

“If something’s wrong, tell me.” His eyes darkened. “I won’t believe there’s someone else. I’d have felt him in your mind.”

“Not that.” She started to reach out to him, then remembered his singular gift. Closing her hands tightly, she turned away. “The answer is no, Jared,” she said mechanically.

The silence stretched between them, cold and heavy. Hope, Ronan, and the Wishwells were nowhere to be seen. Only snow moved, whispering at the windows.

“Talk to me, Maggie.” Jared frowned, reaching for her hands.

“Don’t,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Why?”

“Because we have to resolve this without your touch. I don’t want you in my head,” she said desperately.

“Then tell me in words.”

Behind Maggie, Hope MacLeod tiptoed past. On her way to the stairs, she gave Jared a swift thumbs-up.

The smell of pine needles and juniper lingered in the quiet air. “Why, Maggie?”

She stood stiffly, gripping the marble mantel covered with a length of green holly. “Because it’s a bad idea. Because,” she said flatly, “you’ll only regret it.”