The Highlander's Christmas Countess (The Lairds Most Likely #8) - Anna Campbell Page 0,12

estate is in the east near Perth.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

As he spoke of his background, Quentin saw her nervousness ease. He supposed it must be a relief to shift the attention away from her plight. Except his attention wasn’t away from her plight at all. He hoped if he told her something about himself, she might return the favor.

“Yes, two brothers and three sisters.”

“And you love them?”

A smile curved his lips. “They’re a blasted nuisance most of the time. Two of my sisters are engaged. One’s still in the schoolroom with my brothers.”

“I should have known,” she said. “You’re so good with Andy and Will. It’s clear that you’re used to dealing with children.”

Now that was interesting. It seemed Kit had been watching him, too. “At least I’m used to dealing with my brothers and sisters. I’m fond of the little terrors. I’m sure they’d like you.”

She made a strangely wistful gesture. “I would have loved brothers and sisters. You’re lucky.”

He was. Luckier by far than this jittery girl. “Laing came to Glen Lyon two years ago. That was when your father died.”

She went back to looking like she contemplated the end of the world. “Neil, my stepbrother, took over running the estate until I was old enough to take charge. Laing couldn’t stomach him as a master, so he found this post at Glen Lyon.”

Shock shuddered through Quentin and had him rising to his feet and staring down at the slight woman opposite him. The woman with the unassuming air and the shabby work clothes. The woman who seemed to have convinced everyone except him that she was a humble stableboy.

“By God, I know who you are.”

Fear glittered in her beautiful eyes, as she jerked to her feet once more and backed away. “I told you who I am.”

“Aye,” Quentin said with an edge. “Kit, also known as Christabel, who has a rare gift with horses and bairns, and a stepbrother who deserves a good thrashing.”

“That’s right,” she said, continuing to watch him warily. And with good reason.

One of Quentin’s hands slashed the air. “But you didn’t tell me that you’re the Earl of Appin’s daughter.”

Chapter 4

Quentin saw her attention focus on the door. She tensed up, ready to scarper.

“Don’t try it, my lady.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said through stiff lips. He thought she’d been pale before, but now she was almost transparent.

“You’re heiress to a fortune.”

“Aye.”

“One of the greatest in Scotland.” He struggled to gather together what he recalled of the Urquhart family and title. It wasn’t much. “And you’re set up to become countess, because it’s one of the few titles that can run through the female line.”

“I am the countess,” she said, still in that horrid frozen way. She didn’t even sound like Kit anymore. Joseph Laing’s nephew had always been unusually well-spoken for a servant, but now she sounded like she attended a royal reception. All tight vowels and cut-glass consonants. “I’ve been the countess since Papa died.”

Quentin frowned in bewilderment. “So tell me – what the deuce is the Countess of Appin doing as my uncle’s stableboy? I hadn’t heard anything about you going missing.”

“I suspect Neil is keeping my disappearance quiet to avoid a scandal.” She slumped in front of him, suddenly looking exhausted and frightened and defeated. It was as if someone had snipped the strings that held her up. “Please, don’t tell anyone.”

He resisted the urge to take her arm. She didn’t yet trust him enough to let him close. “You have my word.”

Startled, she stared into his face. “You mean that?”

“You know I do.”

“But you don’t know why I’ve done this hare-brained thing.”

His hand swept through the air. “You must have your reasons – and good ones. I can imagine life as Hamish’s stableboy is a good deal more arduous than life as the Countess of Appin.”

The cynicism that twisted her lips made his heart ache. She was older than he’d originally thought her, but she was too young to look like that. “I’ve been happy at Glen Lyon.”

Which meant she hadn’t been happy at Appin. Of course she hadn’t been. If she had, she’d never have taken such appalling risks with her reputation and her person.

“I assume Hamish and Emily know who you are.”

“Aye.”

“Anyone else?”

“I haven’t told anyone, but I sometimes think Mrs. McCluskey might have guessed. That I’m a girl, at least.”

Mrs. McCluskey, the housekeeper, was one of the cleverest women Quentin knew. She was smart enough to have twigged that the new stableboy wasn’t