MacKinnon’s Rangers 03.5 - Upon A Winter's Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

wi ’ you. Killy is undone by his affection for you."

    "Bram!" Hildie shouted for her brother, who was carrying firewood in from the woodpile. "I’ll have you thrown out, MacKinnon!"

    But MacKinnon was not cowed. "He told my sister-by-marriage that he is cast down for the love of you and would ask you to marry him if he thought you’d consent."

    She felt her fist clench, the humiliation of having a man everyone in Albany knew and admired torment her like this almost more than she could bear.

    MacKinnon held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I swear to you on my honor as a Scotsman and a MacKinnon that I’m no’ jestin ’ or deceivin ’ you."

    Hildie stared at the big Scotsman, unable to believe him and yet certain he would not swear such a thing on his honor unless it was true. But how could that be? " Killy truly spoke those words?"

    "Aye, so he did."

    "He…he was not drunk?"

    "Nay, miss. He was on the hurtin ’ side of the bottle, if you ken my meanin ’. What man would lie about such a thing with a poundin ’ head?"

    Before she could think on this, MacKinnon drew something out of his pocket and held it out for her. It was a plant of some kind.

    " ’Tis mistletoe." He gave it to her. " ’Tis said to possess magic. We believe that if a man and woman kiss beneath mistletoe at Christmas, they’ll wed in the new year. I bring it as a token of Killy’s affections."

    Killy had sent this for her?

    Hildie stared at it. She heard what MacKinnon said, but her mind could scarcely fathom it. Could all of Killy’s absurd, outlandish, sweet words have been sincere?

    * * *

    Sarah sat with Annie and Amalie, sharing their memories of Christmas while they stitched gifts for the men, taking advantage of their husbands’ journey to Albany to sew, knit, and embroider without fear of being caught and ruining their Christmas surprises. Cups of hot tea and Annie’s delicious shortbread sat on the table before them. Miraculously, the babies were all asleep. Iain Cameron played with wooden horses on the floor. Artair and Beatan , Iain’s enormous wolfhounds, dozed on the braided rug near the door as if keeping guard. Killy and Joseph were in the barn seeing to the heavy chores.

    "After Mass, we lit candles and placed them in the windows, then set food and drink on the table in case the Virgin should call upon us during the night," Amalie said, speaking of her life in the Ursuline convent at Trois-Rivières , where she’d been raised. "I cannot say for certain, but I believe the Mother Superior enjoyed an extra meal and glass of wine on Christmas Eve."

    Sarah laughed, amused by the unlikely image of a stern nun drinking wine on Christmas Eve, the warm winter hat she’d begun knitting for Killy slowly taking shape in her hands.

    "In my great-great-grandfather’s time, we didna celebrate Christmas in Scotland. ’Twas forbidden. But that has changed." Annie’s voice took on a wistful tone. "When I was a child, we hung garlands of holly and pine on the banisters, above the hearths, and around the doors and windows. I can still smell it, so fresh and clean, wi ’ shortcake bakin ’ in the kitchen…"

    Sarah’s heart ached for Annie, for her family was gone, her brothers and fathers slain by Highland Scots at Prestonpans , her mother murdered. Now Annie was the only one who remembered those days. "You must miss them terribly."

    There was a sheen of tears in Annie’s eyes, but she smiled, her delicate stitches not faltering. "Aye, I do, especially at Christmastide."

    Sarah was surprised to realize she didn’t miss her family at all.

    You are with your true family now.

    Her marriage to Connor had been the beginning of a new life for her, far from the dreariness and loneliness that had been her existence before scandal had compelled her father to send her to the Colonies. Annie and Amalie were more like sisters to her than her four sisters back home, Iain, Morgan, and Joseph the brothers she’d never