Page 68 of The Highlander's Christmas Bride
“Mamma, by definition, a convent cannot be ‘godforsaken, ’” Eden said.
Her mother bristled. “Why not?”
“Because it’s aconvent.”
“And if a miracle’s going to occur, that’s as good a place as any,” Alasdair said, amused.
Uncle Riddick scowled at Lady Reese. “This conversation is entirely daft. And why the devil are you here? This is family business.”
“I’m Eden’s mother, which means I am a de facto member of your family. And may I remind that I was the one who not only cured Fergus of his melancholy but found him a wealthy wife.”
That was all true, although Fergus hadn’t really been melancholy. He’d been guilt-ridden about their mother’s criminal behavior. Donella and Fergus had dealt with that guilt in different ways—she by entering the convent, and he by practically working himself to death to make up for their mother’s misdeeds.
“She’s got you there, Grandfather.” Alasdair settled next to Eden onto the red velvet settee. “Lady Reese is a capital matchmaker.”
“Excuse me, but I don’t wish to get married,” Donella said.
Lady Reese looked offended by the very notion. “All sensible women wish to get married.”
“That’s not true, Mamma,” Eden said. “Many girls prefer the single state.”
“For example, Donella,” Alasdair said. “She had the good sense not to marry me, and bully for her.”
“Only because you two were so poorly matched,” Lady Reese retorted. “That entire debacle could have been avoided if the rest of you had only listened to the poor girl in the first place.”
Donella jumped in. “Very true. I didn’t want to get married then, and I don’t want to get married now.”
“Nonsense, child. You just haven’t found the right man yet.”
“There is no right man.”
Possibly there might have been, and his name was Logan Kendrick. Now that chance was gone—thankfully, she told herself, since he’d likely not given her a thought since the day they parted. She’d discovered from Eden that Logan had a son—really, the dratted man had been ridiculously closemouthed—and a rapidly expanding business that consumed all his attention. A man like him wouldn’t waste a moment of time on a woman like her.
“Ah, here’s Fergus,” Walter said, sounding relieved.
Donella’s brother hurried in from the anteroom. “Sorry I’m late. Did I miss anything?”
“Just reliving a bit of family history,” Donella said, going to greet him.
He shot a quick glance around the room. “That bad, eh?”
“You have no idea.”
Fergus enfolded her in a hug. “I’m here now, Sis. I won’t let anyone badger you.”
Donella hid a smile against his shoulder. With the exception of her uncle, Fergus badgered her more than anyone. All in the name of brotherly love, of course.
She pulled back and fondly patted his cheek. Like her, Fergus had dark red hair, green eyes, and a dusting of freckles across his nose. When she left for the convent three years ago, he’d seemed hollowed out by the events that had almost torn their family apart. Now he was the picture of health, at peace with himself and devoted to his pretty English bride.
“Have I told you yet how happy I am for you?” she asked.
“Not as happy as I am to have you home—although you should be staying at Haddon House with Georgie and me. It’s where you belong, Donella. Not up at the castle.”
“It’s Georgie’s house now. She doesn’t need me looking over her shoulder, telling her what to do.”
Haddon House, Donella’s family home, was a small but lovely estate a short ride from Blairgal. Before entering the convent, she’d all but run the place, since their mother had never been comfortable with the responsibility.
“Now, Sis—”
