A Laird for Christmas by Gerri Russell Page A

He had more questions for her when they returned.
    As they plodded through the snow, Nicholas was keenly aware of Jane’s nearness. The feel of her back against his chest did something to him that he could not define. Nicholas breathed in her sweet, feminine scent as his body throbbed and ached for her with a primitive need. Was there anything he could do or say that would help her remember what they had once shared? Did he have a chance of winning at all when compared to the physical perfection of Colin Taylor?
    Plagued by the disquieting thought, Nicholas turned his attention back to Jane. Despite the incident this morning, she sat tall and proud upon the horse. Her chin was tilted slightly, and a look of determination settled across her face.
    Instantly, he remembered what it was about Jane that had captivated him long ago. It was not her beauty; it was her indomitable will. There was a strength in Jane he had rarely seen in other women. She spoke her mind. And as she spoke, it was hard not to see that her soul was filled with fire and vitality. An irresistible combination.
    Nicholas frowned. Did the others see what he saw in Jane? If so, this competition could become ruthless, for Nicholas did not intend to lose what was once so precious to him.
    With the reins in one hand, he brought his other hand up to pluck a leaf from the escaping hair of Jane’s tight plait. He should have pulled back when the leaf was gone, yet he could not resist coiling his finger in the wisp at her nape. Her glorious thick hair had always intrigued him. In the weak winter sun, her hair was like golden sunshine and warm silk against his flesh.
    At this touch, she did not pull away. He saw her smile. Sensual and knowing and devastating. The amused gleam in her eyes was breathtaking, and her features softened with the charm that had always been his undoing. She would melt their hearts, all six of her suitors.
    Nicholas suddenly needed to ask the question burning in his mind. “Why have this competition, Jane? Why not choose your champion and be done with it?”
    “The competition was Aunt Margaret’s idea.”
    “You seem perfectly happy to participate,” Nicholas replied with an edge to his words.
    Jane’s smile faded. “I have no other choice. If I want to keep the castle, I must marry. Father’s will allows me no other option.”
    “You are certain your kin are dead?”
    “It has been six months.” Her voice rose. The girl on the horse in front of them turned back to stare. “Why do they not return if they are alive?” Jane asked in a softer voice as her brow knit. “I know it sounds terrible, but I almost hope they are being held prisoner somewhere. Better a prisoner than dead.”
    “If they were being held hostage, would not their keepers send word for ransom?” Nicholas lowered his voice. “I am sorry, Jane. Losing your father would be difficult. Losing both your father and brother must be unbearable.” He smoothed her arm atop her cloak, not knowing how else to comfort her.
    “The odd thing is—they left with a company of men.” She twisted to look him in the eyes. “Not a one of them returned.” She paused and drew a sharp breath before continuing. “How can all those men vanish, every single one of them? Not even a horse returned home to us.”
    She swallowed hard, saying nothing, and he knew the turmoil of emotion that must tie her in knots every night. He had felt that kind of loss before when his own mother had died. It was not the loss of her that had hurt so much, though he did miss her every day. It was the monster her loss had unleashed in his father. Nicholas had been forced to endure that pain for years.
    To counter the emptiness inside him, Nicholas had become ferocious and reckless, hiding his pain and desolation. He had thought himself jaded to all humanity before he had met Jane. Somehow she had managed to touch something soft in him, and from that day forth he had been a different person. He had come