Yuletide Enchantment Read Online Free PDF

Isobel muttered in a huff. “I don’t think that’s asking too much.”
    “And what else?”
    Isobel emptied a box of red and gold balls onto a velvet cushion. Without looking at Fiona, she replied, “Passion seems the sort of thing one might ask for in a marriage.”
    “Indeed,” Fiona said, smiling, “passion is a must.”
    Fiona and Stuart had that in spades. Every time Isobel turned around, Fiona was in Stuart’s arms, their lips pressed together. And each time Isobel saw them like that, she longed for the same with a man of her own.
    “What makes you think that you will not have passion with the Earl?”
    Isobel shrugged. “I don’t think the Earl feels strongly about anything other than his lands and his money. A wife, I think, would come in a distant third, possibly even fourth, after his favorite hound.”
    Standing, Isobel kicked the train of her dark emerald green gown behind her and straightened her bustle. She then proceeded to the giant pine tree that stood in the corner of the parlor. With little hooks, she placed a few of the red balls on the branches before standing back to see where more balls and ornaments might be placed. After the decorations were all on, the candles and garland would come next. That task had always been left for Stuart and Ewan, who were, of course, nowhere to be found.
    Behind her, Fiona came up and hugged her tight. “Have an open mind, Issy, you might find you’re wrong about the Earl.”
    “Not bloody likely,” she snorted. The proper Earl of St. Clair would probably swoon if he heard her unladylike talk. But then, Isobel doubted very much it was her good manners the earl was interested in. Her dowry, more likely.
    “Well, now,” came the sound of Stuart’s voice. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
    Fiona ignored her husband’s pointed gaze. “And you’re supposed to be helping trim the tree.”
    Stuart sauntered into the room and placed a kiss on his wife’s lips. “What about a sleigh ride?” he asked. “I’ve asked the groom to have the horses readied.”
    Isobel hoped she could prevail upon Stuart to stop at the forest. She’d lost her clan pin yesterday, and she had a feeling it was in the woods where her scarf had gotten tangled in the low branches.
    Her clan pin was a MacDonald heirloom. Handed down through the female line, she’d been eighteen when her grandmother MacDonald had given it to her. She couldn’t allow it to be lost. Not when she’d dreamed of giving it to her daughter someday.
    “A sleigh ride is a lovely idea, Stuart. I shall tell cook to prepare a crock of wassail, and we can sip it along the way.”
    “Perhaps, then, Miss MacDonald, you would be so kind as to accompany me.”
    Isobel whirled around. In the doorway was the Earl of St. Clair, looking sullen and not at all interested in a brisk ride in the cold. “Good day, my lord,” she replied while curtsying. “What brings you to the hall yet again today?” Lord, was this to be a daily penance? she wondered. Could she expect the earl to arrive on her doorstep every afternoon?
    A strange look passed between the earl and her brother. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Then he pierced her with his gray eyes. “Your brother has been so kind as to invite me to be a guest of your family for Christmas.”
    “Has he?” she asked sweetly, while casting Stuart a venomous glance. “How thoughtful he is. Will you be staying through to twelfth night?” She almost feared his answer. When he nodded, she gritted her teeth. Two weeks with the earl. She’d rather have a tooth pulled.
    “Well?” St. Clair drawled, offering his arm. “Shall we? I would be honored if you would enjoy the ride with me.”
    “Of course, my lord. I shall change and be with you directly. Stuart, you will be chaperoning, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    Of course . Everything was arranged. She was to be married off to the earl. She would be a countess, a true lady. She would have estates in England