Mackenzie Family Christmas: The Perfect Gift

Chapter Five

"Damn you, dog!" Daniel shouted and grabbed for him again.

Achilles filled the hole for a brief instant, then he squeezed on inside, his hindquarters writhing with his wagging tail.

Cameron's lantern fell on a confusion of objects behind the dog, some small and squirming, little peeping noises issuing from the dark. Cameron saw the wide reflective eyes of a cat, and beyond that, a flash of pink.

Somewhere in the back of his whirling thoughts, Cameron remembered Angelo, his groom, friend, and valet, telling him that cats always instinctively sought the warmest places to sleep. If you seek warmth, find a cat.

Cameron yanked loose another board and started to put his head inside the hole. Daniel seized him by the shoulder.

"Let me, Dad. You'll get stuck."

Cameron, the largest Mackenzie, had to concede. He moved out of the way but stayed on his hands and knees while Daniel got himself on his stomach and slithered inside.

Cam heard a low miaow then Daniel's voice as he spoke to dog and cat. Daniel inched his way back, his kilt catching on the icy stones and exposing his thighs, but he didn't release the bundle he carried with him.

In a new pink dress her Aunt Eleanor had given her, topped with the tiniest rabbit fur coat Cameron had ever seen, Gavina was just opening her gray eyes, her face flushed with sleep. Achilles scrambled out behind her and ran to greet the other dogs coming up with the rest of the men, led by Ian and Hart.

Daniel sat back, lifted Gavina to his lap, and blew out his breath. "She's lovely warm. Probably stayed warmer than any of us tonight."

Gavina blinked sleepy eyes at her stepbrother and father, then lifted her arms. "Dabby," she said.

"I'm here, sweetie." Cameron scooped up Gavina with his giant hands and cradled her against his chest, brushing the top of her head with his shaking lips. Her body was indeed warm, her breath milk sweet as turned her face up to kiss his cheek.

"She was talking to me," Daniel said beside him. "She said Danny."

Cameron shook his head. "No, she said Daddy. "

Father and son shared a stubborn look. Gavina pulled away from Cameron and reached for Daniel, her little hands opening and closing. Cameron relinquished her, and Daniel swung her up over his head, making her laugh.

"Who's the sweetest little sister a lad ever had, eh?" Daniel said. "What were you doing out here, worrying us all to death?"

"Kitties." Gavina pointed back under the stables. The mother cat and kittens, perfectly happy where they were, looked out at the sudden influx of Scottish men and dogs with mild curiosity.

Cameron heaved himself to his feet, taking Gavina from Daniel and holding her close. His heart wouldn't stop hammering.

Daniel leaned the boards back over the hole, and Achilles danced in tight circles around first Cameron then Daniel. He ran to the other dogs, paused to touch noses with Ruby, and leapt back to Cameron again.

Hart lifted his lantern, the relief on his face undisguised. "You've got her, then."

"She's all right," Cameron said, barely able to form the words. "She's all right."

Ian was next to Hart, looking over Cameron, Gavina, Daniel, and the now-covered hole. Achilles ran to Ian, circling his legs.

Ian bent down and stroked the black fur. "Good dog," he said.

*** *** *** "You've found her?" Isabella leaned over the stair railings, Beth beside her, as the men and dogs swarmed back into the front hall.

Cameron held up a bundle of pink and fur, and Gavina squealed with laughter. Isabella clutched the railing, relief making her knees weak. Beth let out a shaky breath. "Thank God," she whispered.

Ainsley came out of the opposite wing, lifting her skirts as she flew down the stairs toward her husband and child. She was weeping as Cameron caught her up, crushing Gavina and Ainsley into a hug.

Daniel put his arm around his father, leaning his forehead on Cameron's shoulder. Isabella's eyes stung as she watched the family pull into itself, the four of them comforting and rejoicing together.

Mac came down the stairs, two at a time, reaching Beth and Isabella. He hadn't taken the time to change out of his painting things, which was fine with Isabella. He looped one arm around Beth and the other around Isabella, kissing his wife's cheek.

"All is well, then," he said.

"Yes, thank heavens." Isabella leaned into Mac's embrace, loving that she could now be with him in relief. "Poor Ainsley. We should give her some tea, perhaps with whiskey."

"Splendid idea," Beth said, though her gaze was all for Ian, coming in with the rest of the dogs behind Hart.

"No, ye ladies can leave her alone to Cam and her babe," Mac said. "Danny will take care of them."

Hart, below, directed the housekeeper Mrs. Desmond to take everyone who'd searched to the dining room where they could enjoy whiskey and a light repast. Ever the generous host, Hart ushered them down the corridor himself. He looked impatient, though, wanting to return to Eleanor.

Ian didn't follow the others, but came straight upstairs to Beth. Not looking at Mac, Ian brushed his brother out of the way and caught Beth in an embrace.

"What happened?" Isabella asked him. "Where did you find her?"

Ian directed his answer to Beth. "Under the stables. With a cat. Achilles kept her safe."

"Thank God for our misbehaving and useless dogs," Mac said. "How on earth did she get under the stables?"

"That, I'm sure will be the question," Isabella said.

Below them, Cameron and Ainsley held each other, Gavina between them. Daniel rested his hands on their shoulders, speaking in a low voice.

"We should leave them to it," Beth said. "I for one, have the greatest desire to check again on my children."

"Indeed," Isabella said.

The two men didn't argue. The four mounted the stairs to the nursery, to find Nanny Westlock, already informed of Gavina's return, making sure the girl's bed was ready. Miss Westlock pressed a firm finger to her lips when the two couples came inside, indicating the sleeping children.

Isabella pulled a blanket a little straighter over Aimee, then smiled down at the dark red heads of Eileen and Robert, snug in their cots. Mac leaned down and pressed a kiss to all three children in turn, then led Isabella out.

Ian wouldn't leave, to Nanny Westlock's distress, and Mac laughed softly as he and Isabella went back to their wing of the house.

"Trust Ian to stand guard." Mac stopped on a shadowy landing and closed a comforting arm around Isabella. He smelled of paint and turpentine, and the heady scent of himself. Isabella sank into his warmth, her body shuddering in reaction. She'd shared Ainsley's fear, knowing what she'd feel if one of her own babies went missing.

Mac ran his finger under her chin, leaning down to kiss her. He tasted of spice and oolong tea, sweat and worry. But his stillness calmed her, as only Mac could.

Their lips met, and met again. Far away, the sounds of the household had turned joyous, laughter and raucous voices replacing the bowstring tension.

Mac's warmth flowed through his kiss, down through Isabella's body, loosening every limb. Isabella needed him, the reassurance that he was here and solid, protecting her and her children from harm.

Mac skimmed his fingertips over her cheek. "Let's seek someplace a bit more comfortable, eh, lass?"

Isabella smiled, loving his low voice and the promise in it. He put his arm around her waist, hand cupping, and led her on to their wing of the house.

Relief made Isabella giddy, wild need for Mac warming her blood. Instead of turning in at their bedchamber, a decorous married woman ought, Isabella broke loose from Mac's hold and ran on up another flight of stairs to his studio.

In the early days of their marriage--and again when they'd first been reunited--they'd made love in Mac's studio, shamelessly naked on the couch, or on drop cloths on the floor. Young, innocent Isabella had learned to be wicked and wanton with the decadent Mac Mackenzie, and she wanted that wickedness tonight.

Mac vaulted past her, boots thumping, and put himself between Isabella and the studio door. "Where are you going?"

Isabella touched a paint splotch on his cheek. "I thought we could reminisce. You know, about old times."

Mac started to smile. He loved reliving their first days together, when he'd stolen her from her debut ball at her father's house, eloped with her that very night, and had her in his bed before dawn.

He deliberately erased the grin and pressed his back to the studio door. "Our bedchamber's warmer, my love."

"Your studio will be plenty warm, if Bellamy has had his way." Mac used to grow too absorbed in painting to feed the fire, but Isabella had put in place instructions for Bellamy to check it and stoke it if necessary.

"Bellamy will have gone to bed by now," Mac said. "Or joined in the repast. I imagine he's exhausted."

Isabella's eyes narrowed. He was speaking a bit too glibly. "Mac, why don't you want me to go inside?"

"Because I think the bedroom will be more comfortable, love, that's all. We'll want to sleep after, cuddle under warm blankets. Not be stiff and cold in the studio." He leaned his arm on the doorframe, blocking it.

"You are a bad liar, Mac Mackenzie."

Isabella darted under his arm, going for the doorknob and the key in the doorplate. Mac had his hands on her arms, whirling her around and pinning her to the wall next to the door before she saw him start to move.

He leaned to her, copper-colored eyes dark in the shadows. "A liar, am I? Thought I was a rogue."

He pressed Isabella against the wall, her bustle squashing against the molded trim of the wainscoting.

Mac brushed her hair from her face with his thumb, then he drew back and gave her a slow smile, his eyes half closing.

"I've smudged paint on you." He brushed a kiss to her cheek, warming with his breath. "Remember, when you first came to my studio? We had paint up and down your arms, and found some on a very interesting place on my backside."

"At our house at Mount Street," Isabella said. Mac's studio had been at the very top of the house, their aerie away from the world. "I loved that room."

"As did I, lass." Mac touched another kiss below the paint smear then to her lips.

The kiss turned long, dark, passionate. Tongues flickered, lips met. Mac slid his hand up her waist to rest over her corseted breast.

Isabella wrapped one arm around her husband, palm going to his kilt-covered backside. He had such beauty, firm male flesh over a body of honed muscle. She loved to watch him paint, when he'd bare himself in all but his kilt and paint-speckled boots. His athletic body would move as he worked, sunlight kissing his skin and the faded plaid of his kilt. He'd pause, arm wiping sweat from his forehead, smears of paint decorating his face.

As she kissed him, Isabella let her other hand travel along the cool wall, walking with her fingers until she found the key in the door's lock.

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