The Highlander’s Christmas Countess: The Lairds Most Likely Book 8

By Anna Campbell

The new stableboy has a secret!

Kit Laing is a genius with Glen Lyon’s horses and a favorite with his employer’s family, but he isn’t all he seems. In fact, the shy stablehand isn’t a he at all. Kit is actually Christabel Urquhart, Countess of Appin, on the run from a greedy, violent stepbrother with designs on her fortune.

And the laird’s handsome nephew has worked out just what it is.

Quentin MacNab, the dashing heir to Cannich, has had his suspicions about the new stable lad from the first. Kit is far too pretty to be a boy – and far too well spoken to be a servant.

Now passion and danger combine to create a Yuletide like no other.

When a snowstorm traps Kit and Quentin overnight in an isolated hut, the discovery of her true identity sparks a rushed marriage to stave off a scandal. But can the Christmas Countess learn to trust her charming new husband’s promises of protection? Or will their fragile alliance fall victim to the evil forces assailing her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anna Campbell
• Release date: Nov 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781925980035

Anna Campbell

Always a voracious reader, Anna Campbell decided when she was a child that she wanted to be a writer. Her historical romances have been critically acclaimed and have won numerous awards, including the Australian Romance Readers’ Favourite Australian Romance Author from 2009 to 2012, and Favourite Historical Romance for Seven Nights in a Rogue’s Bed , Untouched, Captive of Sin and My Reckless Surrender. Seven Nights in a Rogue’s Bed also won Best First Meeting of a Couple, Best Love Scene and Best Cover for 2012. Anna lives in Queensland.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Glen Lyon, Western Highlands of Scotland, 20th December 1830

Kit! Kit! Let’s do it again!

The imperious voice of five-year-old Miss Andromeda Douglas rose above the laughter and chatter echoing around the snowy glen.

No, Kit! It’s my turn! Come down the hill with me, Kit! Master William Douglas, a year younger than his sister, demanded.

A light laugh and a cheerful voice responded. He’s right, Miss Andy. It is his turn. Ye can ride down with Uncle Joseph, if you’re in such an all-fired hurry.

But I want to go with you, the daughter of the house insisted, scorning the idea of accepting Joseph Laing, the head groom, as a substitute.

In that case, you’ll have to wait.

With a mince pie in his hand and a smile that he hoped hid his raging curiosity, Quentin MacNab turned to his Aunt Emily who stood beside him. The new stable lad seems to be a favorite with the bairns.

A group consisting of the laird and lady and the senior members of the household gathered on the snowy slopes behind Lyon House. Beside them stretched a trestle table, laden with seasonal treats. The day was fine but bitterly cold. Perfect sledding weather.

Quentin had already taken the dizzying ride down the hill several times and had only drawn aside now to join his aunt and uncle in a mug of mulled wine. The scents of cinnamon and cloves lent a spicy note to the clean Highland air.

Emily Douglas smiled back. The Lady of Glen Lyon was a bonny woman, with rich dark brown hair and gray eyes that sparkled with intelligence. Despite being Quentin’s aunt, she was only eight years older than his twenty-four. More friend than aunt.

Yes, he’s proven himself a treasure in this last month. Laing speaks highly of his work and as you can see, the children adore him. We were lucky Laing asked his nephew to come and work for us.

Quentin’s gaze locked on the slim figure settling in behind the rambunctious heir to Glen Lyon. The stable lad seemed to have cut off Andy’s tantrum before it could start, which spoke volumes for his tact and intelligence. He’s very well spoken for a stableboy.

Uncle Hamish turned, a slab of fruitcake in his massive hand. Aye, apparently the lad was a favorite back in his village, too. When Kit wasn’t busy on the family croft, the minister gave him lessons.

Uncle Hamish sounded as English as his wife, the result of a childhood spent in London. He was fair and brawny like a Viking, and while Quentin at six foot one was no midget, his uncle towered over him.

Quentin took a mouthful of his wine, appreciating the warmth. Odd he aims no higher than a place in the stables, then. If he has a good education, he could find a post as a clerk somewhere or a teacher.

Quentin watched as the sled careered down the snowy slope. William’s shrieks of delight filled the air, and the stableboy’s face was bright with childlike excitement.

When Quentin turned back to Hamish and Emily, he caught them sharing a meaningful glance. That was nothing new. Quentin had lived at Glen Lyon for the last six months. He’d become used to silent communication between the laird and his lady.

Emily answered. Kit’s a genius with the horses and seems happiest working outdoors. I believe Laing is hoping that his nephew might take over as head groom after he retires.

Although that won’t be for years yet, Hamish added, before he took a bite of his fruit cake.

Hmm. Quentin continued to observe the stable lad and the two children, the boy dark and intense and the girl as golden fair as her papa.

Speaking of family resemblances, Kit didn’t look much like his uncle Joseph Laing. Quentin’s gaze flickered toward the redheaded giant standing under the trees with the horses and wagons that had transported the sleds and the furniture for this alfresco winter party.

Kit and William reached the base of the hill and climbed off the sled. Holding William’s hand, the stable lad started to haul the sled back up the hill. Andy bounced around on top of the slope, urging them to hurry.

Andy was a clever, outspoken lassie, very like her father in personality, too. Hamish Douglas, Laird of Glen Lyon, was a famous astronomer. Emily was hardly less distinguished in scientific circles. Quentin had come to Glen Lyon from his father’s estate near Perth to work as his uncle’s assistant. Hamish’s older sister Prudence had suggested that her son might enjoy some time on the west coast with his uncle and aunt.

His mother had been right, as usual. Quentin was enjoying it. He loved Hamish and Emily and the children. He loved the elegant house on the shore of its sheltered sea loch. He loved the challenging work, although he was the first to admit that while he might be clever, he was nowhere near as clever as his brilliant uncle.

But as he watched Kit trudge up the hill toward Andy, he had to admit that by far the most interesting thing on the Glen Lyon estate was the laird’s new stableboy. Thick trousers covered long legs – the lad gave the promise of height to come. A bulky, roughly woven coat fell from neck to knee, and a tight knitted bonnet covered his head and ears. In fact, the boy was considerably more bundled up than anyone else out here on this cold day, including the two children.

Quentin set his silver mug on the table. I might go back to the sledding. If William will accept me in place of Kit, I might even take him with me.

Another of those speaking looks between his aunt and uncle. Kit has it all in hand, Hamish said with a hint of disapproval.

No doubt, Quentin said and strode up the hill to Kit and the two children.

It’s my turn now, Andy was saying, as dictatorial as any princess. You have to wait, William.

Now, Miss Andy, there’s nae need to rub it in, Kit said, a gurgle of laughter adding a rich edge of warmth to the gentle reprimand.

I’ve got a better idea, Quentin said, with a shaming hint of breathlessness. That hill was deuced steep. It was a lot easier coming down it on a sled than climbing it on two legs. I’ll take William.

Oh, Cousin Quentin, yes, please, yes, please! the child shrieked, jumping up and down with excitement.

Two large bluebell-colored eyes surrounded by thick black lashes fixed on Quentin with a hint of wariness. The cold weather had put pink in Kit’s cheeks. He was a delicate-looking creature to be working somewhere as rough-and-tumble as the stables. This close, Quentin could see that the body under all that heavy clothing was slight.

Aye, sir. Kit bowed, before sidling away. He’ll love that.

Quentin had already noticed that the lad was painfully shy and inclined to avoid company other than the children. A few times, he’d set out to talk to Kit, only to turn around and find the lad had scarpered out of sight.

He waved a hand through the air. No, stay.

Aye, sir. But reluctance weighted the obedience, Quentin could hear.

He held that bright blue gaze until the pink in the stable lad’s cheeks turned vivid. The boy’s glance flickered away, and he seemed flustered as he placed Andy on the sled and positioned himself behind the little girl.

Let’s go, Andy commanded.

Aye, Kit said, the husky tone sending a jolt of awareness through Quentin. His hands closed into fists at his sides, and his nostrils flared. He knew now how a hound felt when it scented a fox.

William tugged at his sleeve, and he started as if he woke from a dream. Cousin Quentin, can we go, too?

Aye. He looked down at the little boy and smiled. I’ll just give Kit and Andy a push.

Nae need, sir, the stable lad said, then released a surprised Oh! as Quentin ignored that and the sled began to slide downward.

The sledding went on until the short day drew to a close. As the hours passed, the stableboy’s nervousness faded, Quentin noticed. But then, after asking Kit to stay, he’d done his best to conceal his avid curiosity. He also noted that as far as possible in the circumstances, which wasn’t very far at all, the lad kept his distance and ducked his head to avoid any searching looks.

Eventually William tired, but Andy remained as greedy for thrills as ever. Just one more time, Kit. Please.

Kit’s done enough, Emily said. She’d climbed the hill to gather her offspring and usher them down to the cart for the ride home.

I’m sure I can manage one more, my lady, the boy said.

She’ll keep you here all night if she can, Quentin said.

Aye, sir, the boy said, sticking to the monosyllabic responses he’d supplied most of the afternoon.

Please, Mamma, just one more, Andy wheedled.

Emily gave a longsuffering sigh. You’re a little horror, Andromeda Mary Douglas.

Och, the lassie just has high spirits, Kit said.

Doesn’t she just? Emily cast the stableboy a laughing glance. Are you up for one more go, Kit? You’ve been marvelous with them, but you’ve done more than your share.

Aye, my lady.

Goody, Andy said, plopping herself down on the sled with a smug expression.

I’ll give you a push, Quentin said, as Kit took a protective position behind the gilt-haired little girl.

Hold on tight, Miss Andy, Kit said, then couldn’t contain a shriek of excitement as the sled gathered speed down the hill.

The shriek turned into a cry of panic, as the sled hit some invisible barrier and shot up into the air. Its two occupants went flying.

Time slowed to a standstill as Quentin watched in horror. Then, with dread cramping his gut, he broke into a run toward Kit and Andy.

Andy! Emily cried, also scrambling down the hill toward the two bodies sprawled over the snow.

Quentin was just ahead of her. He rushed past Andy, who already sat up, to where the lad lay unmoving. Terror tasting rusty on his tongue, he fell to his knees at Kit’s side. Shaking hands helped him to turn over. The knitted hat had come off in the fall, revealing an untidy mop of unevenly cropped black hair.

Kit! Are you all right? Can you move? Where does it hurt?

Quentin’s hold was gentle, as he cradled Kit against his chest. The boy smelled not unpleasantly of the stables. Horses and fresh sweat and hay, and beneath that an incongruous hint of flowers.

Kit looked pale and shocked, and the slender body in his arms was trembling. Those extraordinary eyes turned up to his face then darted away. The force of that charged blue gaze struck Quentin like a blow. His concerned questions jammed in his tightening throat.

Mamma, that was fun, Andy informed her frantic mother.

Dreadful child, Emily said, her voice thick with the remnants of fear as she hugged her daughter.

Is she all right? Hamish asked, rushing up.

It would take a cannon to put a dent in this one, Emily said. She turned to where Quentin had dragged Kit out of the snowdrift. What about Kit?

He cleared his throat and made himself look away from Kit’s face. I think he’s fine.

I’m…I’m unharmed, my lady, Kit said, trying to push away from Quentin, but too shaken after the accident to make much of a job of it. He fumbled after his lost hat.

Quentin located the hat and passed it over, noticing how quickly the boy tugged it down around his ears and low to his uncompromising dark eyebrows. Can you sit up?

Aye, I’m sure I can, Kit said in a muffled voice, although he remained still and he kept his head down. How is Miss Andy?

"Her parents are with her. She seems her usual self, not even frightened.