The Highlander's Christmas Bride

  A HIGHLANDER FOR CHRISTMAS

  “Joseph shouldn’t be subjected to any more nasty gossip.” She managed a wobbly smile. “Nor should you. You’ve been incredibly kind, Mr. Kendrick, but I do not hold you to any obligations you feel you may have—”

  He moved so quickly she barely had time to gasp. A moment later, she was sprawled inelegantly on his lap, staring up into his glittering gaze.

  “What are you doing, sir?” Her voice came out more like a squeak than a demand.

  “You are daft if you think I give a damn about any of that,” he said. “And Joseph loves you, silly girl. He’d kill me if I let you leave.”

  She tried to steady herself by bracing her hands on his massive shoulders. “That’s . . . that’s very kind of you. And I know you believe you made a commitment to me, but you didn’t. And . . . and it’s silly to think you or any man should wish to marry me. Or want to. I’m not the marrying kind, you see. I’m . . .”

  She trailed off when his gaze narrowed to ice-blue slits.

  “Are you quite finished?” he asked with heavy sarcasm.

  She felt the first stirrings of irritation. “I’m not sure.”

  “I am.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “Because of this.”

  He swooped down and captured her mouth in a soul-searing kiss that blasted every thought and every reservation straight to oblivion . . .

  Books by Vanessa Kelly

  MASTERING THE MARQUESS

  SEX AND THE SINGLE EARL

  MY FAVORITE COUNTESS

  HIS MISTLETOE BRIDE

  The Renegade Royals

  SECRETS FOR SEDUCING A ROYAL BODYGUARD

  CONFESSIONS OF A ROYAL BRIDEGROOM

  HOW TO PLAN A WEDDING FOR A ROYAL SPY

  HOW TO MARRY A ROYAL HIGHLANDER

  The Improper Princesses

  MY FAIR PRINCESS

  THREE WEEKS WITH A PRINCESS

  THE HIGHLANDER’S PRINCESS BRIDE

  Clan Kendrick

  THE HIGHLANDER WHO PROTECTED ME

  THE HIGHLANDER’S CHRISTMAS BRIDE

  Anthologies

  AN INVITATION TO SIN

  (with Jo Beverley, Sally MacKenzie, and Kaitlin O’Riley)

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  THE Highlander’s Christmas Bride

  VANESSA KELLY

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  A HIGHLANDER FOR CHRISTMAS

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2019 by Vanessa Kelly

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4703-2

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4704-9 (eBook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4201-4704-8 (eBook)

  This one is for Trish, my amazing big sister,

  and Beryl, the sister of my heart.

  You are two of the best people on Planet Earth.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Publishing is a crazy business, so I’m particularly grateful to my agent and editor for their skill, kindness, and sanity. I’m also thankful for the wonderful staff at Kensington, and for their help in bringing my books to the world. And the art department—good Lord, you folks are terrific!

  Finally, to my dear husband—I WOULD lose my marbles without you!

  Chapter One

  November 1819

  Dundee, Scotland

  The edict was delivered in a tone of mild regret, completely at odds with the appalling effect it would have on her life.

  “But . . . but you cannot just kick me out,” Donella Haddon stammered. “What the devil would I do with myself?”

  A spasm crossed Reverend Mother’s dignified features. “Remember where you are, my child.”

  Donella would have been able to describe the prioress’s study in the Convent of the Sacred Heart even if blindfolded. After all, she’d received a fair share of gentle but guilt-inducing scolds in this very room.

  “That is precisely my point,” Sister Bernard intoned. “Our dear sister never remembers where she is.”

  As Novice Mistress, Sister Bernard was Donella’s immediate superior and the bane of her existence. She stood behind Reverend Mother’s chair, her spare features obscured by her cowl and the sun shining through the window at her back. Donella could easily imagine Sister’s disapproving frown, because she’d seen that on a regular basis, too.

  “My final vows are only a few months away.” Donella waved her arms, her wide sleeves flapping like a sparrow’s wings. “It would be an utter disaster to turn me away now. I’ve given up everything to be here.”

  When Mother’s iron-gray eyebrows arched up, Donella winced. The prioress was a truly saintly woman, but no one could argue with those eyebrows. They conveyed volumes, and the message was that Donella’s goose was indeed cooked.

  “My dear, such dramatics are unnecessary. I’ve discussed your progress with Sister Bernard and Sister Agnes—”

  “Oh, drat,” muttered Donella.

  Sister Agnes was the Mistress of Liturgical Music and even more exacting than Sister Bernard. If those two had lined up against her, Donella’s goose was scorched beyond recognition.

  “And we’re all in agreement,” Mother firmly continued. “We believe that life in an enclosed order may not be the correct path for you. Some time in the outside world would be helpful in ascertaining your true vocation.”

  “Or if you even have one,” Sister Bernard said. “In my opinion, that remains to be seen.”

  Donella clamped her lips tight against the impulse to stick her tongue out at the old . . . the good woman. Sister Bernard had never trusted Donella’s vocation.

  In truth, it was hard to argu
e with their assessment. For months, she’d had the growing sense that she’d once again made a fatal mistake. Ghastly little twinges of guilt and anxiety had kept her awake at night and distracted her during the day.

  Something was very wrong. She knew it, and so did Mother and the rest of the sisters.

  Her scalp prickled with perspiration under the close-fitting cowl. What in God’s name would she do if they shoved her out into the world? Over three years ago, she’d run from that world as fast as she could, carrying no doubt that she’d made the right decision.

  “Sister Bernard, you’ve always worried about me because I was not raised within the Catholic Church,” Donella said, trying to sound calm. “But I can assure you that my conversion was entirely sincere.”

  “Hmm,” replied the nun.

  Really, the woman was such a snob. The aristocratic granddaughter of a French émigré family in the Bourbon line, it was no wonder she sniffed down her long nose at Donella.

  Still, Donella’s great-uncle was the Earl of Riddick, a descendant of Scottish kings. She’d stack her relatives up against snooty Sister Bernard’s any day.

  She supposed that made her a bigger snob than Sister.

  Face it, old girl. You’d probably make a terrible nun.

  “It’s not your faith we worry about, my dear,” Mother said. “It’s your . . .”

  “Complete inability to follow the rules,” Sister Bernard finished.

  Donella shook her head. “But I’m very good at following the rules. Everyone knows that.”

  So good, in fact, that everyone also believed her to be a total bore. Certainly Alec Gilbride, her cousin and former fiancé, had thought so. He’d found her so boring he’d run away from home at the age of sixteen and refused to come back for ten years.

  Sister Bernard snorted. “You fall asleep in chapel on a regular basis, you have trouble memorizing the liturgy, you deliberately sing off-key—”

  “I do not.” She sometimes just lost her place because her mind wandered.

  “You frequently break the Great Silence,” Sister Bernard ruthlessly continued, “and you have a fatal tendency to interrupt your elders. That is most surprising, since we were assured by your family that you were an obedient, biddable girl.”

  “That’s exactly what I am,” Donella countered. “Obedient and biddable.”

  “If you were, you lost the knack of it.” Sister’s tone was as dry as a communion wafer.

  That was probably true. But if they kicked her out now, it would prove to her family that they’d been right about what her great-uncle had called her mad scheme to run away from life.

  Reverend Mother finally intervened. “My child, why do you wish to become a nun?”

  Donella blinked. For several dreadful seconds, her mind went blank.

  Think, you idiot.

  “Because it’s so peaceful and quiet,” she finally blurted out. “And because I love God.”

  When Mother grimaced, Donella couldn’t blame her.

  “And I do like the music,” she lamely added.

  Never before had Mother or any of the other sisters asked that simple but fateful question. Becoming a Catholic nun in Scotland was not for the faint of heart, so it had probably never occurred to them to question her vocation. Besides, her uncle had given the Carmelites an exceedingly generous dowry as payment for Donella’s entrance. No abbess in her right mind would have looked askance at the support of a powerful Scottish earl, even a non-Papist one.

  “One does not enter a convent seeking to hide from problems,” Mother said. “It has been our experience that unresolved issues can loom even larger inside these walls, as I think you’re finding out.”

  Donella pressed her hands onto Mother’s scarred oak desk and leaned forward to meet the older woman’s wise gaze. “I’ll try harder. I swear I will. Just give me another chance, please.”

  Mother shook her head. “No, dear child. You have done as well as you can, but this is not the life for everyone.”

  “Perhaps she could try the Franciscans,” Sister Bernard suggested. “They’re not as exacting as we are.”

  In other words, that order might be inclined to overlook her many failings, especially if she brought along her substantial dowry.

  Donella sank into the creaky chair in front of Mother’s desk. Since she was clearly going to get the boot, there was little point in standing on her best behavior.

  “And of course we’ll be returning your dowry,” Mother said.

  Since that would leave the convent in something of a bind, Donella would see to it that either Uncle Riddick or Alec made a generous donation to the convent to offset the financial blow.

  At the thought of her cousin—the man who’d rejected her to marry another woman—Donella felt sick. More than anyone, Alec had supported her wish to enter the convent. He’d done it because he truly cared about her. He’d brought everyone else in the family around too, and now she’d failed them all yet again. Her family loved her, but they hadn’t a clue what to do with her.

  And now, neither did she.

  “I suppose I could try the Franciscans,” she said. “Are there branches of the order in Scotland?”

  “There’s a convent house in Galway, Ireland,” replied Sister Bernard.

  And wouldn’t that go down like a treat with her great-uncle? Scotland was one thing, but Ireland?

  “Whether the Franciscans would accept you is beside the point,” Mother said. “As I said, you need to ascertain if you have a true vocation. The best way to do so is by returning to the outside world.”

  Panic flared inside her body. Donella didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for the outside world, where she’d again face all the troubles she’d so gratefully left behind.

  “Mother, I beg of you—”

  The prioress rose to her feet. “My child, what is the fundamental principle of life within a religious order?”

  Donella came to her feet as well. “Obedience, Mother. First to God, and then to you.”

  “Correct, and I am requiring this final act of obedience from you. Accept my decision with good grace and take this time to search your heart for what you truly desire. If you do this in good faith, you will find the answers you need.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Mother. The word echoed through her memory. Her real mother had also demanded obedience, until she’d made it utterly impossible for Donella to comply. They’d almost lost everything then, and only by the grace of God—and her great-uncle—had disaster been averted.

  “I’ll have to go into the village and arrange for a carriage,” Donella said. “I could do that tomorrow, if you like.”

  Now that the departure had been forced on her, she had no wish to linger. Knowing how thoroughly she’d failed made her hot with shame.

  “That won’t be necessary,” the prioress said. “I wrote to Lord Riddick this morning and informed him of my decision. I’m sure he will want to make his own arrangements for your return to Blairgal Castle.”

  Donella had to struggle to hold back a most irreverent curse. She’d hoped to at least be able to explain this wretched state of affairs to her family in person. Now, even that small measure of control and dignity had been taken away from her.

  “We likely won’t hear back from my uncle for several days if he has to make all the arrangements. He’s very busy, you know.”

  “I’m sure he can spare a carriage and escort,” Mother said dryly. “We’ll wait to hear back from him. For as long as it takes.”

  Hanging about would simply prolong the agony. “I’m sure I could easily hire a post-chaise down at the inn. I could pack in a trice and be on my way.”

  Sister Bernard looked scandalized. “Your uncle would not wish you to travel alone, my dear girl. It would appear exceedingly slipshod and indecorous.”

  “It’s only a two-day journey. I’m sure I’d be perfectly fine.” At this point, she scarcely cared if she ended up murdered by bandits.

  “You
will stay in the convent’s guesthouse until we hear from your uncle,” Mother said firmly. “You can spend that time getting used to the world again and thinking about your future.”

  What future? As far as Donella could tell, she had none.

  “Of course, Mother,” she replied, trying to sound like she meant it.

  The prioress rewarded her acquiescence with a smile. “You might even enjoy it after your years of enclosure. You can walk about the village, do a little shopping, and have a good chat with Father Thomas at the church. I have every confidence he can help you make peace with this decision.”

  “If only it had been my decision to make, Mother.”

  The elderly nun let out a gentle sigh. “My dear, I know this is a blow to your spirit—and to your pride. But you do have a choice as to how you will respond to this challenge. You can either see it as a failure or as an opportunity. I hope you will choose the latter.”

  Since there was no response to that eminently practical if irritating advice, Donella simply crossed herself when Mother blessed her.

  Sister Bernard went to open the door to the main hallway. “Go to your cell and begin packing. I’ll join you shortly.”

  “Yes, Sister.”

  Donella walked out with as much dignity as she could muster, resisting the urge to slam the door. She never slammed doors or stormed off. In fact, she rarely made a fuss about anything.

  The reward for all that good behavior had usually been a big, fat, kick in the backside. And now it had happened again.

  Maybe it was time to start kicking up a fuss.

  Chapter Two

  Logan Kendrick eyed the tiny but implacable force blocking him like Cerberus at the gates of the underworld. Carmelite nuns weren’t exactly his forte, but he’d give it a try.