Page 71 of The Highlander's Christmas Bride
“And I’ll take care of Mungo Murray,” her uncle said, reading her mind.
She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, sir.”
He pointed a gnarled finger at her. “Now, you cannot be hiding here at Blairgal, like a hermit. Go down to Glasgow with Eden and Alasdair for the holidays. Get out and do some socializing. Play cards, go to dances, and talk to nice fellows.”
She gaped at him, appalled. “But—”
“Donella, you will not lurk about here for six months and then scamper off to a convent to escape us. You’re going to do what all young ladies should do—have fun.”
“But I don’t know how,” she blurted out.
Donellahatedsocializing and was an absolute failure when it came to flirting and other normal female activities. Aside from her relatives, she hadn’t a clue how to talk to men.
You could talk to Logan Kendrick.
“Capital idea, Grandfather,” Eden enthused. “I could truly use Donella’s help planning the Christmas and Hogmanay parties. I love doing it, but it’s always quite the undertaking, especially now that we have fewer staff at the manor.”
Breadie Manor, a tidy estate just outside Glasgow, was the family’s base when they visited the city. There, Eden and Alasdair hosted annual parties that were always tremendously successful. Donella had never been to one of those celebrations and had no desire to start.
“I haven’t the foggiest clue how to plan holiday parties,” she said. “We never did anything like that at Haddon House.”
Socializing had always happened at Blairgal, overseen by her uncle and the castle’s competent staff.
“Our housekeeper can get you started,” Eden said. “In fact, I think you should go down early. Alec and I can join you in a week or so.”
Alasdair frowned at his wife. “Why don’t we all just go down at the same time?”
“Because Elizabeth has developed the sniffles, and Callum is teething. They’re in no condition to travel.”
Alasdair jerked up straight with alarm. “Lizzie has the sniffles?”
Lizzie was Eden and Alasdair’s adopted daughter, an adorable and rambunctious three-year-old. Callum was their son, a robust baby who would no doubt weather the half-day journey to Breadie in good order.
“Nurse told me just a short time ago,” Eden said with a vague wave.
Donella was hard-pressed not to roll her eyes. When she saw Lizzie a few hours ago, her little niece had seemed in perfect health.
“Then she cannot step foot outdoors until she’s better,” Alasdair exclaimed.
Alasdair Gilbride, once a fearless spy for the Crown, turned into a wreck when anything was even slightly wrong with his children.
“Sorry, old girl,” he said to Donella. “You’ll have to start the holiday folderol without us for a bit.”
“But we don’t even celebrate Christmas,” she protested. “And we can certainly wait a few weeks before planning the Hogmanay celebrations.”
Scots generally didn’t fuss about Christmas, saving most of their holiday spirit for Hogmanay, when they rang in the New Year.
“We celebrate Christmas now,” Alasdair said, winking at his wife.
“Aye,” said Uncle Riddick, sounding slightly disgruntled. “With Eden and Georgie in the family, we don’t have much choice.”
“Which is exactly why we hold the parties in Glasgow,” Eden said. “So you don’t have to put up with ourSassenachfuss and nonsense.” She smiled at Donella. “You’ll see. It’s great fun.”
“And you’re a Catholic now, old girl,” Alasdair said. “Celebrating Christmas is obligatory.”
“I suppose, although it’s beastly that you’re using my conversion against me,” she grumbled, annoyed by their ruthless manipulation.
“But you love Christmas, Sis,” Fergus said. “You told me that in one of your letters.”
