Once Upon a Highland Christmas by Lecia Cornwall

and Sandy chuckled at the gesture.
    Iain glowered at him. “She was unconscious. All night.”
    Sandy waggled his brows. “Och, aye, just as you say, Laird. Still, your Sassenach won’t like this, especially if this lass is bonnie. Is she? I can’t tell with her wrapped so tightly against your heart.”
    â€œPenelope is hardly my Sassenach. She’s my cousin, just here to visit.” And yes, Alanna McNabb is bonnie indeed . . . His hand tightened on her shoulder, possessively, unwilling to share her, even with Sandy.
    Sandy puffed his pipe, his white eyebrows winging toward the edge of his bonnet. “As you say, Laird, as you say,” he said again. “It’s just that you’re the only one who believes that. We’d better hurry home,” Sandy said. “The storm won’t be long in coming.”
    Iain held his tongue and almost sighed with relief when Craigleith Castle came into view. The sickly yellow-­gray storm light loomed behind the sturdy square tower and its pointed roof. Snow clung to the weathered stones, giving the castle a speckled appearance. It looked magical, and as always, he felt a sense of contentment and pride at coming home. Would he feel that in England, at Woodford Park?
    They rode into the bailey, to the kitchen door. It swung open as they brought the garrons to a stop, and Annie stood in the doorway regarding Iain fondly as he slid off the horse with Alanna still in his arms. She didn’t bother with a greeting. “Our visitor, no doubt. Bring her inside out of the cold,” she commanded, standing back, pulling her arisaid closer against the chill. She cackled softly as Iain carried Alanna over the threshold of his home like a bride. He sent the old seer a quelling look. Alanna was a bride indeed, though not his. This was to have been her wedding day, a joyful occasion, but at Craigleith she was just an injured stranger. Poor lass.
    She woke and looked up at him in surprise, her hazel eyes widening, her lips parting. Iain’s breath caught in his throat, and he forced a smile. “We’re here, lass—­Craigleith.”
    â€œThere’s a fire in the kitchen—­I’ll tend to her there,” Annie directed him, and Alanna glanced at her. “Annie MacIntosh, this is Alanna McNabb,” Iain said and set Alanna carefully on the bench near the fire. She clung to his shoulder a moment, and he had the urge to keep hold of her, but he stepped back, his body cold where she’d lain against him. Alanna looked around at the curious eyes regarding her—­Sandy, his daughter-­in-­law Seonag the cook, and wee Janet, Seonag’s eldest daughter. He introduced them, and Alanna smiled at each one in turn, as if she was glad to know them. They beamed right back at her as if they were all simple and had never seen a pretty lass before this moment. Iain frowned at them over the top of Alanna’s head, but they didn’t take the hint. They stayed right where they were, staring. Alanna folded back the plaid from her hair and blushed.
    â€œWhy, aren’t you a bonnie lass!” Annie said, peering at her. She looked at Iain with a grin. “This will set the cat among the pigeons, Iain, you mark my words, and neither one of us needs the sight to ken that.”
    Iain ignored the comment and leaned on the mantel, loathe to leave Alanna, even in Annie’s gentle care. Annie poured a cup of whisky, went to the cupboard, and took out a pot of herbs. She put a generous pinch into the cup, added some honey, and took a poker out of the fire to stir the brew. The whisky hissed and bubbled, and she pressed it into Alanna’s hands. “You drink that down while it’s hot,” she instructed.
    Alanna looked at the faces around her. Was the pregnant woman with her sleeves rolled high on her arms Iain’s wife? She had eyes only for Alanna, it seemed, and had barely looked at Iain. Alanna