Page 29 of A Secret Scottish Christmas

Chapter 7

Ailie loved gliding over the snow in the open carriage, the sound of the harness bells echoing through the woods.

The wind blowing off the snow was cold on her face, but Will had given them lap blankets to keep their legs warm. The rest of her was wedged between the broad-shouldered bodies of Nash and Robbie Powell. The seating arrangement had been suggested by Will when he climbed up to the driver’s seat to join the groom, leaving Nick and Tara a seat of their own, facing Ailie and the Powell twins.

At least she was warm but, in truth, the nearness of the handsome Powell brothers was disconcerting, particularly after her time spent with Nash in the shipyard. She had to remind herself they were only here on holiday and would sail to London in a matter of weeks.

Maintaining a calm appearance, she focused her attention on Nick and Tara in front of her.

Tara took in the three of them and smiled. “Is William your only sibling?” she asked Ailie.

“I have two other brothers in Aberdeen, but I am the only daughter.”

“It’s the same with me,” said Tara, apparently happy to encounter one like herself.

“That is how my wife came to crew like one of my men,” said Nick. “She went to sea with her father and brothers after her mother died. She’s a monkey in the rigging.”

Tara tossed her husband an impudent look just before the sledge hit a bump and the groom made a sharp turn, jostling them like raw peas in a pan.

“I have never had the pleasure of traveling this way through the woods,” said Robbie, pressing his leg into hers on the sudden turn. With a wink at her, he added, “I shall have to do so more often.”

Ailie could have sworn Nash rolled his eyes, as he slipped his arm over the top of the seat in what she took as a proprietary gesture. She felt like a mouse between two cats. At least they had not changed clothes from the morning so she could tell them apart.

“In Maryland,” Tara informed them, “sleigh rides in the countryside are a tradition. The bells the horses wear are a part of the sounds of our Christmas.”

Riding behind the sledge, dark-haired Hugh and his fair wife Mary laughed. When the road was wide enough, they came alongside, adding to the conversation.

Mary had told Ailie the pair of black horses pulling the sledge reminded her of the Friesian she kept at the family estate. “We don’t have room for Midnight in London but we often visit Hugh’s parents so they can see the boys, and I ride him there.”

After traveling for a while, Will had the groom stop in a wooded area where there was a stand of mature birch trees, the bark partially covered by snow. “Will’s been scouting the best trees for the Yule log,” Ailie explained.

Nick and Tara alighted from the sledge first. Nash climbed down and helped Ailie to the ground, Robbie right behind her.

They all gathered around Will, who pointed to the trees behind him. “There are some good choices for your Yule log behind me, but to save a lot of labor, I’ve spotted a few we can root out of the ground where they fell. The older ones are better for burning, too, the more knotted the better.” The groom handed Will a rope. “We’ve brought a sled to haul the log back when you’ve found the one you want.”

With that, Will released them to hunt for the log.

Ailie gazed into the forest. The carpet of snow made the woods appear lighter. She surveyed the birch trees within easy range, almost certain her brother had identified a log he liked. But Will would not deprive their guests of having a hand in selecting the one that would burn during the celebration of the English Christmastide.

Plunging into the woods, Nash cried, “Come on, Ailie, let’s find a good one.”

“Not without me,” said Robbie, taking her elbow and urging her forward.

Though it was low in the sky, the sun had not yet set as they entered the woods, their boots crunching on the ice-crusted snow.

A snowy owl, disturbed by the invaders, launched from its perch. Their English guests gasped as the huge bird with its five-foot wingspan flew over their heads.

“Never seen one of those before,” remarked Nick.

“Magnificent bird,” said Nash. “I’ve read about snowy owls.”

When the owl had gone, Hugh leaned up against the thick trunk of one birch, crossing his arms over his chest. Fixing his eyes on Will, he grinned. “Are you certain you don’t want to cut down this one?”

Before Will could respond, Mary pelted her husband with a snowball.

Hugh’s searching gaze found her, a teasing smile on her face. Looking highly offended, he said, “We’ll see about that!” Ailie could tell by his expression as he reached for the snow he was not offended at all, but excited. Forming his own snowball, he launched it into the air to hit Mary’s back just as she turned to run.

The fight was on.