Mackenzie Family Christmas (The Perfect Gift)(21)

He'd tell no one. Ian couldn't trust Mac, Cam, Hart, or Daniel not to give away his secrets. He wanted to keep it special and private for his children, for Beth. The perfect Christmas gift.

Ian felt a smile spread across his face before he could stop it. Joy of joys, Beth smiled too, no more tears, though her lashes were still wet.

Ian kissed her again, and she responded, her mouth softening for him, hands seeking his body. He unfastened the intricate buttons of her bodice, then Ian let himself grow lost in the beauty of her, sorrow forgotten.

*** *** ***

A Prussian prince was one of the houseguests that year, and he arrived in splendor with his entourage a few afternoons later. Hart had invited him, first because the man was a longtime friend, and second, because Hart was still uneasy about how Germany was building up industry, including arms manufacturing. His princely friend was in the position to know many things, and Hart intended to use his visit to learn those things and pass them on to those who could act on the knowledge.

Hart stood with Prince Georg in the long upstairs gallery, which was filled with paintings of dour Mackenzie ancestors, interspersed with bright landscapes by Mac or his portraits of Mackenzie dogs past and present. The two men indulged in cigars as they looked out the long windows at the thin layer of pristine snow covering the Mackenzie lands, trees on distant hills outlined in silver.

The conversation had turned to Hart delicately probing for information about an armaments factory, when Beth rushed toward them in a swirl of rust-colored poplin.

"Hart, there you are. I need to speak with you." She passed the two gentlemen but looked back, her eyes wide, when Hart didn't move. "Urgently. I beg your pardon, Your Highness."

Georg smiled--the handsome, blond prince always had an eye for the ladies.

Beth continued walking at a rapid pace toward Hart's private wing. "Quite urgently," she said over her shoulder.

Hart let out a breath. "I need to follow her." He laid his cigar into a bowl on a carved Louis XV table. "My apologies."

"Not at all." Georg's smile indicated he knew damn well that Hart had brought him here to mine him for information. "Perhaps I will take a stroll in your lovely garden."

"If you prefer a warmer activity, an early dinner is being laid on in the dining room. I'll return as soon as I'm able."

"Of course." Georg chuckled. "Les femmes, eh?" He always used French when speaking about women.

Hart started after Beth down the gallery. His sister-in-law kept a swift pace, and Hart was striding fast by the time he reached the entrance to his wing of the house.

Beth made for Eleanor's bedchamber and walked in without knocking. Hart entered the chamber to see his wife sitting up in bed, a writing desk on the mattress next to her, a sheaf of papers surrounding her. Menus, Hart saw when he approached. And seating plans, and lists, so many lists.

Next year, Hart would rent a cottage in the middle of the Highlands for himself, Eleanor, and their new baby, and spend Christmas and New Year's in glorious privacy. No parties, no weeks of planning, no dining room full of too damned many people.

A futile dream, he knew. The entire staff of Kilmorgan Castle would follow them into the remote Highlands, never believing that Hart and Eleanor could look after themselves. Considering events of the past, they were probably right.

"No change?" Eleanor asked Beth.

Two pairs of blue eyes turned to Hart, one dark blue, Eleanor's cornflower. A double assault.

"Beth." Hart kept his voice gentle. "I have cabinet ministers and the Admiralty waiting for my report on armaments in Prussia."

"Not to worry," Eleanor said, before Beth could speak. "You rushing off after Beth over some domestic trouble will disarm Prince Georg admirably. He will relax and tell you everything. But I assure you, this is not a trivial matter. Beth came to me at once, which was the sensible thing to do. And, no, this is not about the cold supper for Boxing Day, although of course, I would value your opinion, as always, although . . ."

"Eleanor," Hart said sharply. Sometimes the only way to stop his wife was to talk over her. "Now that you two have brought me here, please let Beth tell me why."

Eleanor blinked. "Well, of course. Do carry on. Beth is frightfully worried about Ian."

"I think I upset him very much when I broke the bowl," Beth said, diving in before Eleanor could speak again. "He seemed all right for a few days, but now he's locked himself into one of the chambers in our wing and refuses to come out. He went in yesterday evening, came to bed very late, and then got up and went right back inside. He's not come out to eat, he'll not let anyone leave him food, he won't unlock the door. Curry says he used to do this sometimes, before I met him."