A Mackenzie Family Christmas: The Perfect Gift

The picture showed Aimee in a pretty white dress, the skirt pulled back over a tiny bustle, her plump legs encased in white stockings and little black high-button shoes. She leaned casually on a chair and looked down at the fiery-haired Eileen, who was seated on it, her arms around her baby brother Robbie. Eileen grinned out of the picture, and Robbie gazed at the painter--his father--with curiosity and good humor.

Achilles, the heroic dog, lay with head up in front of the chair, on watch. Fergus, the little white terrier, had his feet on the chair, mouth lolling in a smile at the children.

"I hadn't meant to paint in the dogs," Mac said. "But when I was doing the preliminary drawings, the bloody animals wouldn't leave."

He'd depicted them in a garden, though Isabella knew he'd likely done all the sittings right here. The picture was full of bright summer flowers and twining vines, the landscape flowing into recognizable mountains, the ones near Kilmorgan.

The colors were vivid, and a large pitcher on the ground held a bouquet of yellow roses. The yellow roses shouted Mac painted this, even over the casually scrawled Mackenzie in the bottom corner.

Isabella pressed her hands together, eyes blurring with tears. Her children, two she'd had with Mac, one adopted to save from a wretched life, were bright and beautiful on the canvas. Mac had captured them as only Mac could, not stiffly posed, but laughing and playing as they loved to.

"Oh, Mac, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"A bit slapdash," Mac said in his careless way. "Our children do not like sitting still. The dogs were better behaved."

Isabella turned in his arms, even if it meant she had to look away from the wonderful painting.

"Don't you dare belittle that picture. It is beautiful, the best thing you've ever done."

"I don't know. There was a Venetian view that I thought turned out rather well--"

Isabella placed her fingers over Mac's mouth. "Stop."

He grinned, eyes shining. "I was teasing. The Venetian paintings were bloody awful."

"Shush," Isabella said, her voice softer.

She lifted her fingers away and replaced them with her lips. "I love you, Mac Mackenzie." She kissed him again. "Thank you. It's a marvelous gift." One straight from his heart.

Mac slid his arms around her. "The ball is beginning," he reminded her, but his voice was low, coaxing, his smile hot.

"Bother the ball," Isabella said, and drew her husband close once more.

*** *** ***

Cameron danced well, Louisa observed from where she sat against the gilded wall next to her mother. He swung Ainsley around in exuberance, her gown billowing, his kilt pressing her legs. He danced closer than decorum decreed, even between husband and wife--especially between husband and wife these days. Husbands were meant to leave their baser needs to their mistresses.

Very silly, Louisa thought. She'd seen how happy Isabella had grown under Mac's rather indecorous attentions. Anytime Isabella was caught kissing her husband, she blushed rosy pink, but not with shame.

Come to think of it, Isabella and Mac weren't in the ballroom at all. Ian and Beth stayed in a corner, Beth conversing with Elliot McBride and his wife, Ian drinking whiskey and pretending to converse. Louisa craned to look around the room. Ainsley and Cameron danced, Hart strolled about, talking to guests alone, Eleanor having retreated again to her bedchamber. Daniel . . .

"Dance with me, Louisa."

Daniel didn't give Louisa much chance to refuse. He pulled her to her feet and swung her into the waltz in the space of a breath.

He danced with the exuberance of his father, but with the vigor of a boy. Louisa spun around and around, and she began to laugh.

"Did you feel sorry for me?" Louisa asked. "The poor wallflower?" Wallflowers were able to observe much, however, such as which gentlemen might be eligible at the marriage mart come spring.

"No, I saw a beautiful woman who should dance. Ah, Louisa, if I were a wee bit older . . ."

"You would still not be ready for courting," Louisa finished.

Daniel laughed. "Aye, that's so. I have a few wild oats to sow yet."

Louisa laughed with him. It was impossible not to like Danny. "Not the most complimentary thing to tell a young woman who's condescended to dance with you."

"No, but you're family. I have no secrets from you."

"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or frightened."

"Flattered, love. It's not everyone gets to be welcomed into this family. Most run far from us or refuse to like us. Can't think why."

"You're ridiculous, Daniel Mackenzie."

"Ah, she cuts me to the quick. You are lovely, Louisa. Remember that. Worthy of any gentleman who chooses you. And the Mackenzie family embraces you with open arms."

Louisa's eyes narrowed. She wondered whether Isabella had spread the news that Louisa wanted to marry, but she squelched the thought. Isabella wasn't one to betray confidences from her sister.

No, she wasn't sure what Daniel had in mind. She also noticed he'd danced her to the far end of the ballroom, near the open doors to the corridor beyond. The music ceased, the dancers applauded the musicians, and they drifted from the floor to wait for the next set, probably a Scottish reel Louisa still hadn't learned.

"Shall I fetch you an ice?" Daniel asked. "Walk ye back to your mother? Kiss you in the corridor? The mistletoe is just there, see?" He pointed to the sprig hanging down from the chandelier in the middle of the deserted hall.