The Highlander Who Stole Christmas - Eliza Knight Page 0,4

his hand. “My dear, I am so verra sorry.”

The wee lass grasped onto his outstretched hand with wide, blameless eyes.

Forcing a smile, he said, “Why do ye no’ tell this clumsy Father Christmas what it is ye wish for.”

The bairn stood before him, blinking upward with large eyes, hands clasped in front of her, and without preamble said, “I wish to have our lady and laird back.”

The lass could not have done more damage if she’d thrust a dagger into the center of Thane’s heart. Her request broke his heart, and he found it hard to breathe for a moment. What innocence…

“Lady Thea was helping my ma with the new bairn in her belly. ’Tis being quite troublesome. And the laird, my da said he was twice the laird as these new ones. Says only the weak need to rule together.” Truth out of the mouths of bairns.

Thane choked on his heart, which seemed to have removed itself from his chest and thrust its way up into his throat. He, too, had thought it odd that Edward and Ellyson Campbell had made a pact to share the lairdship.

He swallowed and then patted the lass on the head. “How old are ye?”

“Six summers.”

“Well then, ye’re practically grown. I bet ye can be a great help to your ma with the bairn.”

The lass beamed up at him. “I think I can. But…” She shook her head and bit her lip. “What if she doesna want my help?” The wee thing looked so worried.

Thane knelt before her at eye level. “All mothers want help from their older bairns with the younger set. Trust me.”

The lass held her hands to her chest, a beaming smile cutting across her face. “Oh, thank ye, Father Christmas. Ye’ve given me a great gift.”

She hugged him tightly, her little arms barely reaching around his middle, and Thane awkwardly patted her back.

“Go on now, afore ye’re missed.”

She skipped off, and again he felt that perhaps his plan had been misguided. The wee lass missed Thea.

God, he missed his amazing sister too.

And that was why he needed to avenge her death. He was not the only one suffering from Thea’s loss—the people were missing their mistress, their healer.

A tap on his shoulder had him startling once more. He turned around a bit more carefully to avoid knocking down someone else. Only this time, he found himself staring into a pair of inquisitive brown eyes, with an equally inquisitive pair of red arched brows.

“A word, Father Christmas?” Her voice was low and silky as she made her request.

Finding Lady Sarah Campbell had been a lot simpler than he thought, for she had been the one to locate him.

Sarah held her shock in well by masking it with curiosity.

Just what was Thane Shaw doing here, and dressed as Father Christmas of all things?

The man had a death wish to be certain, for why else would he appear here, apparently unarmed and unaided? She glanced around surreptitiously. No one seemed to recognize him just yet, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t soon. His face was quite distinctive. Blue eyes that were flickering in the bonfire light, the same shade as Thea’s. His golden locks were hidden beneath the decrepit wig, but she’d bet all the grain in the storehouse that it was him.

“Is that your wish, my lady? I’m only giving away one to each soul.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ye dinna seem to grasp just what your position here is, sir.”

“Father Christmas,” he insisted.

“As ye say.” Miraculously, she kept from rolling her eyes at him.

“Is over there fine?” He indicated the barn. “Ye can tell me what ye would rather see as my position.”

He handed her a sweet from his satchel, but she pushed it back. “Nay, thank ye.”

Thane held out his arm to her. She considered arguing about going toward the barn with the man, but then she realized perhaps now was the exact moment she needed to make her move. No one would care if they saw her walking about with Father Christmas. She might easily be able to slip away with him as a distraction.

Besides, she had to find out just what the devil he was doing here.

The soft velvet of the red coat was straining from the breadth of his muscular arms, and she wouldn’t be surprised if, at any moment, there was a tearing sound as his body gained its freedom from the restrictive garment. Normally a red coat would scare the devil out of everyone, fearing for