A Mackenzie Family Christmas: The Perfect Gift(13)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

Gavina was their love too, the little girl sweet and whole.

"As much as you’re trying to make me feel better," Ainsley said. "I won’t cease to blame myself."

"We’re both to blame." Cameron’s chest rumbled with his words. "The poor lass is cursed with us as parents. But it turned out all right, and we’ll all three go on. She’s taught us how diligent we need to be."

Ainsley raised her head. "Meaning she’ll try it again. And again."

"Of course she will. She belongs to this family." Cameron tugged a lock of hair at his forehead. "Ye see these gray strands? That’s all Daniel, that is. Had them before I was twenty-five."

Ainsley had to smile. "I imagine he was a handful."

"A handful, a fistful, an armful, an earful. Thank God I had brothers to help me and that they started getting married. I’ve been a rotten father, but Danny’s muddled through."

"You’re not a rotten father." Ainsley slid her hands to his shoulders. "Daniel has become a remarkable young man."

"Good God, don’t tell him that."

"Don’t tell me what?" Daniel swung the door open and walked inside, his wide smile broadcasting that he’d heard the last. "Are you crying, dearest stepmama? No need. We’re all here, and safe."

"You walk into a bedchamber without knocking, Daniel Mackenzie?" Ainsley said, pretending indignation. "One with your father in it?"

"I knew there was no danger of embarrassing you as long as Gavina was here, not to mention the snoring dog. I came to fetch my baby sister, by the way. Nanny Westlock is demanding her return to the nursery, where she belongs. Her words, not mine. I offered to come down for her, so you wouldn’t have to face the wrath of a nanny whose schedule has been disregarded. You may thank me with an extra helping of pud at Christmas dinner."

Daniel reached for the bassinet, which lifted from its stand by whicker handles.

"Perhaps she should stay here for the night," Ainsley said.

Daniel raised his brows. "Oh, so ye want to break that news to Miss Westlock, do you? She’s in a rare temper as it is, blaming herself for losing track of Gavina. Every one of the maids and all the footmen are beating themselves blue for it too. The majordomo and Mrs. Desmond are each trying to outdo each other in self-blame, because they’re responsible for all the rest of the servants. The only one sleeping well tonight is Gavina. And Achilles. And maybe Eleanor. She almost dropped in her tracks from exhaustion, and Hart carried her up to bed. Hart’s very angry, you can be sure. Oh, he blames himself too."

Cameron leaned to the bassinet to kiss his daughter’s cheek. "Ye’ve managed to have the house in uproar, haven’t you, love?" he asked her softly. "Just like your brother used to." He tickled Gavina’s cheek, and Gavina stirred but didn’t wake.

Ainsley drew a breath. "You’re right, Daniel. Take her up to bed. I suppose she’ll be safe enough in her cot. She won’t get out of that."

"Actually, I used to . . ." Daniel broke off. "Ah. Never mind. Off to bed you go, my sweet little sister. Good night, stepmama." He leaned around Cameron and gave Ainsley a noisy kiss on her cheek.

"Do stop calling me that, Danny."

"Right you are. Good night, Father."

He went out with his usual energy. Achilles, awakened, trotted after them, tail moving. Daniel closed the door behind them, and quiet fell.

Cameron gathered Ainsley into his arms again. His heat came to her, and she heard the firm beating of his heart.

An ordinary man might say, Come to bed, love. Everything will be fine in the morning. But Cameron wasn’t ordinary. She knew she wouldn’t love him so much if he were.

Ainsley raised her head and kissed him.

His lips firmed against hers, the worry and fear in him changing to desperation. Ainsley tasted his hunger, the terror he’d shared with her.

Their child was safe, unharmed. This was a time to celebrate, not weep.

Ainsley wrapped her fingers around the lapels of his soft dressing gown and pulled it open. She found him bare inside, as she’d suspected, warm and still damp from his bath.

She skimmed her hands down his torso, his heartbeat quickening. His tight abdomen met her touch, his waist narrowing to his hips and the thickness of his cock.

"Don’t." Cameron raised his head, gold gleaming from between half-closed eyelids. He seized her wrist, fingers shaking as he kept himself from gripping too hard. "Don’t, unless you want me to . . ."

"She’s safe," Ainsley whispered. "I want to rejoice."

Cameron smoothed her hair, his touch strengthening as he cradled her head in his hand. "Then we will," he said, voice rasping.

He dragged her to him, his next kiss anything but tender. Cameron opened her mouth, pressing her back. Ainsley tasted the need in him, the desire to hold on.

Her husband lifted her into his arms and laid her across the bed, coming down on top of her. A mad light gleamed in his eyes.

"Too confounded many buttons," he growled before he ripped her nightgown open from neck to waist.

Ainsley delved inside his dressing gown, wanting his skin touching hers. She loved the weight of his body on hers, comforting, protecting. Never hurting her. Cameron never would.

Cameron shed his dressing gown in impatient jerks and furrowed her hair with his hand. Pulling her head back, he kissed her–hard–and at the same time entered her.

His hands on her body were strong, kisses on her lips, her flesh, as strong. He loved her with firm, sure strokes, Ainsley opening to him, body rising to his.

Cameron loved her in silence tonight, speaking only with his body, his kisses, nips, touches. He stirred fire deep inside her to wash out the pain, the fear, the worry of everything to come.

He loved her until they were both crying out, peaking together, then falling again to the valley of peace, warmth, quietude. Cameron kissed her with the slow kisses of afterglow, their bodies sweating in the warm room.

"I love you, little mouse," Cameron said softly.

Then he gave her the sweetest gift he had to give–he curled up around her, pulled the covers over them, and went easily to sleep with her.

*** *** ***

Ian entered the sitting room of the suite he shared with Beth, looking forward to his warm bed and his wife in his arms. This last week with its chaos of preparations, the house swarming, and more and more people arriving had kept him unnerved. Ian had gown better at dealing with people around him, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

Poor Gavina going missing tonight had given him something practical to do, a problem to solve. Ian was much better at that. Finding Achilles, her favorite dog, had seemed the obvious thing to do.