Bound by Wish and Mistletoe (Highland Legends, Book 1.5) (9 page)

“’Tis no matter, Susanna, for I know what I’m capable of. Abandon your worry. Let me handle anythin’ threatenin’ to harm you. Agreed?”

Susanna reluctantly nodded, even though neither the action nor his words did anything to allay her fears.

An echoing high-noted ring interrupted their conversation. Isobel stood next to the tree with a delicate metal bell in one hand and an ornately carved, ivory-handled dagger in the other.

“Thank you everyone for joining in our festivities for tonight. Where I come from we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ in church—with our religious celebrations—and through a tradition we call Christmas. Christmas is a time where gifts are given to the ones we love to bring smiles to their faces and warmth into their hearts. Those gifts are called presents and are hidden beneath wrapping paper, adorned with ribbons, and placed under a tree.

“Tonight, we decorate the first Brodie Christmas tree. Each of you may have wondered about the specific favor I asked of you—for a tiny treasure to be crafted. Tonight, you’ll each open the gift you created and hang them on a branch. They’re called ornaments.”

Isobel took a thin golden ribbon, looped it through the top of the small bell, and hung it from a branch in the middle of the tree. The weight of the metal dropped the branch a few inches. Susanna stared at the bell, watching it shine from the light of the fire as it gently swayed before settling. Amazed by the beauty of an event she’d become lucky enough to take part in, she glanced around and found everyone else watching with the same rapt interest.

“Hamish, since you’ve enabled this tree to be erected in our great hall with the iron stand you created to my precise specifications, you shall place the next ornament on the tree.”

A burly man with sandy-brown hair stepped forward from the crowd. Iain assisted Isobel by squatting down and retrieving a small wrapped item with a green bow she’d pointed out to him, and he handed the item to Hamish. With a furrow to his brow and a serious expression on his face, Hamish’s large fingers pulled on the tiny strings, and the ribbon and linen fell open, cradled in the palm of his hand. A tiny silver dagger no more than two inches long, with a sparkling emerald embedded in the cross of the hilt, lay in the middle of the wrapping.

Isobel took the item from his hand, looped another golden ribbon beneath the hilt, and handed it back to the smithy.

“Where shall I place it, M’Lady?” he asked.

“It’s your choice, Hamish. That’s the fun of decorating: there are no rules,” Isobel replied.

The man nodded and placed the ornament higher up, moving the loop back over the pine needles until the branch dipped only a couple inches from the weight.

Iain spoke as the dagger spun in a sl
ow circle. “Well done, Hamish.”

Hamish joined his smiling wife who looked nearly as pregnant as Isobel. He stepped behind her and enfolded the happy woman in his arms.

“It’s your turn, Robert—for leading the expedition to bring us this exceptional Christmas tree, the beauty of which is rivaled only by the other gift you brought to us tonight, Susanna. Please honor us by placing your ornament on the tree,” Isobel said.

“Susanna, will you hang the ornament for me?” Robert asked.

She looked into dark eyes filled with warmth. Her shyness among his clan melted away with the gentle intensity in his gaze. “’Tis an honor, Robert. Thank you,” she whispered.

She eased off his lap, careful not to disturb his injury, and walked over to Isobel and Iain. Isobel pointed, and Iain plucked up a round, flat present, its wrapping made of ivory silk, tied with a thin red ribbon. It reminded Susanna of the wider ribbon that had bound her hands the day before.

How oddly fitting.

Her heartbeat accelerating in mild excitement, Susanna pulled the loose end of the ribbon. The bow unraveled, the silk fabric beneath falling open in a wisp across her palm. She pulled back the corners to see what lay hidden within. It was a delicate, pale wooden shape with six points, its surface polished to a high sheen.

“’Tis a snowflake,” Robert said.

Susanna turned around. “You made this?”

“Aye. I carve more than bows for huntin’.”

Susanna pulled the silk and ribbon away, closing her left fist around the soft material as she held the ornament up. Isobel threaded a golden loop through an opening on the delightful treasure. With trembling fingers and tears filling her eyes, Susanna stood on her tiptoes and hung the wooden snowflake high on a branch. She wanted Robert to see his exquisite ornament at eye level when he later stood in front of the tree.

The lightweight ornament spun in one direction, twisting on its ribbon loop, then unwound, spinning the other direction. She laughed and clapped her hands, pleased at how perfect it looked dangling from its branch. She glanced over at Robert. However, his attention was directed not on his ornament, but squarely on her, the intensity of his gaze heating her body once again.

She took a deep breath to steady herself and walked back to his chair. “May I return to my seat, Robert?”

Robert smiled, and she suddenly realized what had struck her earlier that she hadn’t been able to place. He’d shaved. A face that had once held the rugged appeal of a week’s worth of stubble had become all the more attractive clean-shaven.

She shook her head, shocked at her uninhibited thought.

Really, Susanna? Thinkin’ a man handsome now?

Robert opened his arms wide, and she settled onto his lap, facing more forward to better see the festivities. She wriggled a bit, trying to get more comfortable in the position.

A low groan rumbled into her ear. “Susanna, please. If you keep shakin’ your ass against me like that, I might die right here in this chair.”

She gasped, afraid she’d hurt his injury again. “I’m sorry, Robert. I doona wish you more pain.”

He sighed and gripped her hips with his hands, stilling her movements. “’Tis fine, Susanna. I’m willin’ to suffer.”

Susanna exhaled slowly, trying to ignore an uncomfortable firmness beneath her bottom while remaining as still as possible to spare Robert further distress. She felt a twitch under her, and a flash of ache speared between her thighs. Her breath caught right as another groan came from Robert.

Understanding dawned on her as the dull pain turned erotic, spreading into delicious warmth. Robert suffered in the same way she now did: from the tortured pleasure of their bodies joined intimately as they sat together.

She swallowed hard, uncertain what she should do. She swept her gaze across the other faces in the room, but they all paid attention to Brigid as she hung a bluish glass icicle ornament on the tree.

Since her wriggling had seemed to make it worse for him...and for her...she focused on calming her breathing and sitting perfectly still on his lap. The task of maintaining complete stillness took great effort, as the more she tried to remain immobile against Robert’s heat behind her, that hard twitching beneath her, and his intoxicating scent drifting around her, the more she wanted to...
move.

Gawain was the next to place his ornament on the tree. She watched in quiet reverence as a solemn hush spread into the room. Hung from a delicate silver chain was an ornate gold and silver pendant that looked familiar. She leaned to the side and confirmed what she’d thought. At his hip, Iain wore a brooch fastened to his plaid that matched the pendant’s design.

When Gawain dangled the necklace from a perch on a high branch, the dazzling jewel spun. He captured the twirling pendant with trembling fingers and slowly released it. On a deep breath, the enormous warrior stood back, staring at the tree while everyone in the room watched silently.

Iain came up behind Gawain and clapped him on the shoulder. “She’ll be with us always, brother.”

Robert whispered into Susanna’s ear, “’Twas their mother’s.”

With a single hard nod, Gawain turned away from Iain, breaking their brief brotherly connection. Susanna tried to watch where he went, but he disappeared behind the people standing on the outer edge. She slowly exhaled, sharing in his pain.

One by one everyone present took a turn hanging their unique ornament on the tree. With all the rustling of the tree’s branches and needles, the fragrant scent of a pine forest filled the space around them. After the last ribbon-wrapped present from under the tree had been hung, Isobel took a length of wider gold ribbon and wove it in and out of the branches, above, below, and behind the ornaments.

“I still have your ribbon, you know,” Robert whispered in Susanna’s ear.

“My ribbon?” she asked.

“Aye, the one that bound you
...to keep you from harmin’ me. I doona think the measure was unwise at the time,” he teased.

He shifted, reaching his arm behind him, and pulled the length of wide red ribbon from the pleats at his waist. He placed it in her palm, folding her fingers over it. “Keep it. I retrieved it from the snow when I set you free.”

When he set her free
...

Had he? When every instinct she possessed and all the carefully trained moments of her life had been toward escaping imprisonment, could a man—the very thing she’d identified as the enemy—have granted her freedom
...rather than her taking it?

No.

Freedom was earned. The blessedness of her life being her own could never be granted; it was taken. Seized at all costs. Risked at all peril.

Brigid appeared from the kitchen and handed them each a metal tankard. Susanna carefully held the handle of the etched cup as delicious spiced aromas rose on tendrils of steam from the amber liquid’s surface.

Isobel and Iain also passed out the beverage that, even after the decadent meal Susanna consumed, made her mouth water anew. She handed her tankard to Robert and stood as everyone in the room rose from their seated positions.

Robert edged close behind her. “I believe a toast is forthcomin’,” he whispered.

His hot breath fanned across her ear, sending another course of shivers through her. The heat of his body pressed into her back challenged her already weakening focus. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and tried to block out his presence.

She failed. Nothing muted his power over her. She furrowed her brow and continued to make the attempt anyway.

“Does everyone have a drink?” Isobel asked, glancing around.

Iain nodded to her.

“Good. Tonight is one of countless nights in many years to come where we will celebrate hope, faith, and love at Christmastime. Iain and I shall be wrapping presents to give to one another, and to those who need a smile brought to their face. We encourage you to do the same.

“Tonight, we drink spiced apple cider. It’s a beverage similar to your apple wine, and one my people drank around the holidays.”

“No eggnog?” Iain interjected, a wry smile on his face.

“Shhh,” Isobel chided.

He growled low.

She smiled.

Susanna watched the exchange, wondering about the couple’s story. They were so clearly in love with one another and seemed perfectly suited, despite their chafing and grumbling.

Isobel continued, raising her spiced cider. Everyone followed in kind.

“To Clan Brodie! May we fight hard, love harder, and cherish every heart among us as we embrace what matters most during a season of giving. To Clan Brodie’s first Christmas!”

“To Clan Brodie’s first Christmas!” everyone shouted, the sentiment echoing into the rafters.

Susanna took a sip of the hot liquid, enjoying the sweet spicy taste rolling over her tongue. As soon as she turned, Robert wrapped his arms around her, and she tilted her face up to find him smiling broadly as he gazed down at her.

“I dinna know people could be so happy,” she confessed, her voice soft to her own ears.

“I had no idea happiness was possible for me,
before you
,” Robert said.

“Aren’t you a part of this clan? How could you not be happy?”

“Ahhh, tonight, Isobel and Iain have invited only a few of our clan to celebrate in our first Christmas. There are many single women that are not here tonight...” He sighed. “Some women can be quite vicious and relentless when pursuin’ a man they want.”

“Women pursue men? This is a strange clan indeed,” she remarked, surprised to hear about the women she hadn’t yet met.

Robert barked out a laugh. “Aye, lass. With regard to that matter, I whole-heartedly agree. And now, with you in my arms, I realize why none of them ever appealed to me.”

“Why is that?” she asked.

His expression grew tender, causing her breath to catch. “No woman ever gained my interest, because none of them were you.”

Overwhelmed, and needing more air due to the building heat between them, she turned away from his penetrating gaze but remained within the comfort of his arms as she
stared at Isobel’s Christmas tree. A few small candles now flickered from within tiny glass jars that hung on only the sturdiest branches. Pieces made of gold and many other shining surfaces twinkled with light. Each person here tonight had placed a piece of themselves upon that tree—a collection of brilliant unique gifts brought together into one beautiful whole.