"A Christmas present, is it?"
She walked toward him, hands behind her back, swaying a little. Mac studied her as she came, gaze raking from her pushed-forward br**sts to her moving hips.
"Aye. The perfect gift, I'm thinking."
"What is it?"
"Can't tell you."
Isabella lunged for him. Mac whirled away, still clutching the key. He ran down the stairs, Isabella after him, then he made for a tall window on the landing and tucked the key on top of the cloth-covered cornice, well out of Isabella's reach.
She halted, her breath coming fast. "You know I can always ask Mrs. Desmond for the key."
"But you won't." Mac stepped to her again, slipping one hand around her waist and pulling her against him. "You'll save it for Christmas."
"I'll consider it."
"You will." Mac's face was an inch from hers, soft in the shadows. He gave her a slow kiss, full of desire.
"You're highhanded."
"I am, wife."
His mouth came to hers again, brushing fire. Isabella opened her lips for his, seeking him, wanting him. Mac had been able to make her crazed with need since the night she'd met him, when he'd strode so casually through the crowd at the ball in her honor, where he'd not been invited. Wild, daring Mac had turned her world upside down from that night to this.
He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, holding her, while he thoroughly kissed her mouth. He stepped into her, boot nudging between her high-heeled lace-up shoes.
Isabella hung on to him, her body pliant, knowing he'd never let her fall. Never. Even when they'd been apart, those horrible years when they didn't speak to each other, Mac had been there, from afar, making sure she was all right.
He broke the kiss, his breath heating her skin. Isabella laced her fingers through his and tugged him along the hall to their bedchamber. She kissed him again as they nearly fell inside the door to the warm and welcoming room and its wide, embracing bed.
*** *** ***
Ainsley rested her hand on Gavina's back, the bassinet on its stand pulled near the big bed. She leaned her hip against the bed's mattress, unable to move from her daughter to get into the bed as Cameron had ordered her to.
Her daughter, her beautiful daughter, had nearly been lost. Gavina lay on her tummy in the bassinet, her head turned toward her mother, eyes closed in exhausted sleep. Ainsley reached out and smoothed one of the golden curls that tumbled over Gavina's cheek.
Cameron strode into the bedchamber with his usual energy, but he closed the door softly, not waking Gavina. Cameron's hair was damp, and he smelled of soap and also warmth under the dressing gown that covered him from neck to slippers.
"Ainsley." The mattress sagged as Cameron leaned on it next to her, his arm stealing around her, smoothing her nightgown. "Let Nanny Westlock take her. You need your sleep, little mouse."
"I should have been watching her," Ainsley said, the pain of that welling like a fresh cut. "I shouldn't have taken my eyes off her for one moment."
Cameron was silent. His large body gave her comfort even through her sickening fear. He was the man who'd gone into the night and brought Gavina home.
"I had my hands full with this stupid Christmas celebration," Ainsley said. "Not noticing that my own daughter had gone missing, until it was too late."
"I was the one at the pub," Cameron said, his words heavy. "Throwing back a pint at the local was more important than looking after my family."
Ainsley gave him a surprised look. "This wasn't your fault."
"Why? Because fathers are supposed to be downing ale while the womenfolk carry on at home? Balls to that. I raised Danny on my own--I should know better than anyone that babies need your eyes on them all the time."
Ainsley heard the pain in his voice, the self-reproach. "I was arguing with Mrs. Desmond about the color of the tablecloths, when Nanny Westlock sent down word she didn't have Gavina. The color of the tablecloths. When my daughter . . ." Ainsley broke off, pressing a trembling hand to her mouth.
"Come here." Cameron pulled her against him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. His great strength came to her through his touch, and the heat beneath the dressing gown told her he was bare inside it. "Ye can't castigate yourself, love. Hart has an entire household of servants and nannies who were supposed to be looking after the children, not to mention my three brothers, their wives, and their servants. Someone should have seen her go, but none did. Danny's the only one guiltless in this--he was on the train."
"But I'm her mother," Ainsley said. "A bad mother."
"Stop." Cameron rumpled her hair. "You're hurting, love, I know, and not only about this."
Cameron knew her so well. He always had, even when he'd played the rakehell trying lure her--one woman out of many--into his bed. Cameron had understood when she'd told him about losing her first daughter. He'd been the only person in the world with whom Ainsley had been able to talk about that Gavina, the only one who'd held her until the pain lessened enough for her to bear.
Her terrible dread tonight was that any child given to her would come to harm, that God's plan for Ainsley didn't include her being a mother. Ainsley wasn't a stoic enough Scots to accept such a thing. She burned with fear, knowing that losing this Gavina would open a wound from which she might never recover.
"I can't stop thinking about her . . . out there alone . . . cold." Tears wet the soft velvet of Cameron's dressing gown.
"She wasn't cold, and she wasn't alone. She hadn't wandered aimlessly, she'd fixed on a purpose, a stubborn purpose, like the Mackenzie she is. Achilles went with her and protected her. He's going to be spoiled rotten after this . . ."
Ainsley had to smile as she looked across the carpet to the dog curled up by the fire. Everyone had certainly made a big fuss of Achilles when Daniel explained to all what had happened. Achilles was the hero of the hour, and Daniel suggested they fashion some kind of medal for him. The dog had been given a royal feast in the kitchen, but he'd followed Ainsley and Gavina back to Cameron's bedchamber, still guarding Gavina.
Cameron's arms came around Ainsley again, holding her close. "Hush now," he said, his voice gentle. "Hush, little mouse."
He'd called her that since the night he'd found her hiding in his bedchamber--this very one. Ainsley had been there for a perfectly good reason, in her opinion, nothing to do with Cameron. Cameron had caught her, growled at her, teased her, confused her, seduced her, then protected her and made her fall wildly in love with him.