by Caroline Lee
Chuckling, he brushed his lips across the skin of her neck. “Yer wish is my command.”
Chapter 12
“A toast!”
The call was met with cheers and laughter from the gathered clan. Alistair, feeling more at ease than he had in years, lifted his own flagon and called out his support.
At the head of the main table, Kiergan waved his hands above his head and—amid much hooting and teasing—managed to hoist himself up on the bench. He lifted his flagon and called for silence. From his perch, he called down his toast.
“Friends, thank ye for joining us tonight to celebrate Laird William Oliphant’s fiftieth year here on this mortal coil! Of course, ‘tisnae like ye had any real choice, did ye, no’ when he ordered us to all show up and bring gifts. Who brought him the goat? ‘Tis my favorite so far!”
The last was called over the laughter from the clan, which began when Da started bellowing about how attendance wasn’t mandatory.
Alistair grinned and draped his arm around Lara’s shoulders. Having her beside him at his family’s table just felt right. Of course, she’d been here for some time, being Nessa’s best friend. But now Lara was beside him, touching him, and ‘twas perfect.
She rested her head against him, and he was happy to take her weight. She’d worked hard today to make this feast a success, and although he’d done what he could, there was no denying he’d also kept her up half the night. And, true to her desire last night, he’d caught her “walking funny” and wincing a few times. He felt guilty about that, aye, but also a little proud.
Especially when she caught him watching and sent him a wink.
“Quiet, ye great louts!” Kiergan hollered from atop his bench. When he got his wish, he continued, “Now, I ken ye all ate more than yer share tonight, but how could we no’? And no’ to brag, but while Cook’s roast hog is delicious, for certes, I got to taste some of Da’s special birthday meal, and let me tell ye, Lara’s fried chicken will likely go down in history as the finest meal Scotland has ever produced!”
Glancing over at Lara, he saw her cheeks reddening. But that didn’t stop him from nudging her to stand when Kiergan flung out a hand.
“Oliphants! Show yer appreciation to Lara and Alistair, who planned this whole bloody celebration!” Kiergan lifted his flagon to his lips, and amid the cheers and calls, his clanmembers did the same. Slowly, Alistair stood and lifted his ale in acknowledgement, afraid he might be flushing as red as Lara.
“And before we allow these two to sit,” Kiergan continued, quieting everyone, “let me be the first to share their good news.” The way he was beaming should’ve told Alistair something was amiss, but he was still surprised when Kiergan bowed his head in Lara’s direction. “My uptight, over-responsible twin has finally gotten around to admitting he’s got time for love. Alistair and Lara have just announced they’ll be married as soon as Father Ambrose can get around to them!”
This time the clan went mad, stomping and yelling and offering lewd suggestions and sweet blessings. Alistair slammed his flagon on the table, pointed at his brother, and roared, “We’ll be married tomorrow, ye clot-heid! Get it right!”
He wasn’t certain if Kiergan could hear him over the noise, but his brother was beaming happily. Then Alistair felt hands on his shoulders, and he turned to find Lara pulling him. As she dragged his lips down to hers, the clan somehow managed to double the volume of their approval.
Alistair wasn’t certain how much time had passed. But when he and Lara finally pulled apart, he was sitting once more, her pulled across his lap, both of them breathing heavily. And Kiergan was standing on the bench, extolling da’s virtues. The clan was roaring with laughter, and Alistair wondered how much he’d missed.
“Aye, to ye, he’s been a wonderful clan chief,” Kiergan was saying. “But to us, he’s merely our father. A man who raised six bastard sons when he didnae have to—and we’re still no’ certain he’s collected them all.” He winked. “Any of ye ken of more Oliphant bastards?” He waited for the laughter to calm down, then continued, “Aye, we ken him as a father. Big, braw, and right most of the time. He could piss farther than any other da, and take a punch without falling over, and the stories of his flatulence was legendary, as far as we were concerned.”
Alistair heard chuckling, and realized his brothers were nodding along to Kiergan’s words. He found himself smiling, remembering so many childhood adventures. He was a different man now, but thanks to the woman in his lap, he once again felt like that lad. The future was opening before him, full of boundless opportunities.
And he wanted to share them all with Lara.
At the head of the table, Kiergan lifted his flagon. “To William Oliphant. Father, friend, and laird. Happy birthday.”
This time the cheering was deafening, and Alistair and Lara joined in.
When Da stood up with his own flagon, the cheers grew even stronger, if possible. When they began to die down, he lifted his ale. “Wait! Wait!” he bellowed. “Ye forgot the best part!”
While the clan wondered what he meant, Da reached down and offered his hand to Moira. The plump housekeeper flushed prettily and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She was smiling happily, and so was Lara, when she exchanged a secret smile with Alistair.
“Father, friend, laird,” Da called, “and lover!”
When he kissed Moira, she enthusiastically wrapped her arms around the laird’s neck and kissed him back.
And the clan heartily approved.
Sometime later, after the tables and benches had been pushed back to allow for dancing, Alistair stood beside his twin brother and watched their father spin Moira to the pipe and drum music.
“He looks happy,” Kiergan commented.
“Aye,” drawled Alistair. “It seems Da has finally heard the ghostly drummer.”
Kiergan scoffed, then raised his voice to be heard over the music. “Dinnae tell me ye believe in that nonsense!”
“What? Ye’ve never heard him?”
“Och, aye, I’ve heard him plenty of times.” Kiergan rolled his eyes. “But that doesnae mean I’m doomed to fall in love.”
“No’ doomed,” Alistair corrected, in too good a mood to allow his brother to get away without teasing him. “Doooooomed.”
Kiergan’s sigh was overly dramatic. “So this is it, then? Ye’ve fallen as well? Just like the rest of them?” He nodded forlornly at Duncan, Rocque and Malcolm spinning their wives and laughing, while Finn and Fiona—who still looked a bit green from what was apparently all-day sickness—swayed together at the edge of the crowd. “I thought the two of us would grow auld together, just two bachelors—”
“Eh, keep yer guilt to yerself, ye son of a diseased frog.”
“We’re brothers,” Kiergan pointed out, unhelpfully.
“Huh?”
Alistair’s twin smiled. “If I’m the son of a diseased frog, what does that make ye?”
Scowling, Alistair knocked his shoulder against his twin. “Shut yer mouth.”
“Another son of a diseased frog, I’ll—”
“Shut up!” growled Alistair.
His brother just chuckled. “I am pleased for ye, ye ken. Lara’s a good lass.”
“Aye, she is.” Alistair’s eyes swept the crowd, knowing she’d been playing with Evelinde’s younger son moments ago. Ah, there she was, still holding the boy and speaking with his brother, Liam. “I’m lucky to have found her.”
Kiergan snorted. “She found ye.”
“True.” Lara had been here the whole time, right under his nose. “I was just too wrapped up in my work to really see her.”
His twin was quiet for a moment. Then, “And now that ye have?”
Alistair blew out a breath, then smiled a little ruefully. “I’m sorry it took me so long. She’s beautiful, aye, but she’s warm and caring and makes me want to be a better man. I feel better than I have in years.”
“Och, ‘tis just because I’ve taken over the correspondence
for ye. Less for ye to do, ye ken.”
Alistair shrugged. “Aye, that might be part of it.” The other was the memory of sinking into Lara’s softness, of allowing someone else to be in command for a bit. “I’m happy.”
“What are ye clot-heids doing, standing over here by yerselves?”
Aunt Agatha’s shrill question broke through the twins’ seriousness, and they turned in unison to find the old woman scowling at them from Father Ambrose’s arm.
“Dear aunt!” Kiergan offered a formal bow which had the old woman’s eyes twinkling, even though her frown turned fiercer. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
She knocked her cane against the priest’s leg, and he winced and gingerly side-stepped. “I got lonely sitting over there and waiting for one of ye young idiots to come entertain me. So I had to flag down this laddie to bring me over to ye!”
The laddie, who had to be as old as Da, merely nodded in agreement. “I was honored to escort Lady Agatha around the celebration. For as the Lord tells us, we can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”
“Bah,” interrupted Agatha. “Why in damnation would I want to catch flies?”
“Ye dinnae catch flies, Aunt Agatha?” interrupted Kiergan. “Why no’? Where else do ye get yer milk?”
“Ye get milk from flies?” Father Ambrose frowned.
And Kiergan, obviously thrilled to have finally confused the confusing priest, beamed. “Aye! Ye mash ‘em up with a pestle, then soak ‘em in whiskey.”
When the others scowled, their great-aunt rolled her eyes. “Verra funny. Now, tell me what the two of ye were over here talking about so seriously, and dinnae think to distract me with yer silliness.” She jabbed her cane at Father Ambrose. “Or any more of yer foolish holy talk.”
The priest grabbed his chest. “Ye call my lessons foolish?”
“I’m an auld woman—I can say what I like. And aye, I verra much doubt it says anywhere in the Bible, ‘Ye cannae eat soup with yer hands,’ which is what ye spouted to me yesterday.”
Father Ambrose winked. “Nay, but ‘tis a good lesson, aye?”
Before the two of them could get into it any further, Alistair interrupted. “I was just telling Kiergan how happy I am now that I’ve found Lara—”
“She found ye, laddie,” his great-aunt corrected. “She had to beat ye over the head with her feelings before ye could recognize them, eh?”
Alistair grinned ruefully. “Aye, something like that. And Kiergan was just telling me how he’s heard the drummer many times, but doesnae believe it means he’ll find love.”
Mayhap ‘twas cruel to throw his brother to the wolves like that, but Kiergan likely deserved it. His twin threw his hands up, palm-out, in front of him when Agatha whirled on him. “Och, nay, dinnae start on me!”
“Dinnae dare speak to yer elders that way, ye clot-heid!” Aunt Agatha aimed a whack at Kiergan’s knees with her cane, and the younger man dodged it. “The drummer is naught to joke about. If ye heard him, ye’ll find yer love!”
“Why?” Kiergan dared to ask. “Ye’ve heard him plenty of times.”
“Aye, and what I choose to do in my private time is none of yer business!”
Alistair smiled. “Mayhap, when we set out to find Kiergan a bride, we should look for one with a spry father.”
“Grandfather,” Father Ambrose corrected.
“Aye,” Alistair said somberly as he nodded, “grandfather.”
Agatha scowled at both of them. “If Kiergan’s bride has a handsome unmarried brother, I could teach him a thing or two.”
“Ye dinnae think he might be a little young for ye, Aunt Agatha?” Alistair was having a hard time keeping a straight face.
“Kiergan’s bride—”
“Wait!” Kiergan roared, finally stepping forward, but keeping out of the path of Agatha’s cane. “Kiergan doesn’t have a bride! Kiergan has nae intention of getting married!”
While Alistair finally gave in to his humor and grinned, Agatha shook her head. “Ye’ve heard the drummer, laddie. Just accept the inevitable.”
“Aye,” drawled Father Ambrose, “for does the Holy Scriptures no’ tell us there is more than one way to skin a cat?”
“What?” bleated—and aye, ‘twas definitely a bleat—Kiergan. “What! Why in the hell would I want to skin a cat?”
“And where are ye getting yer Biblical knowledge, exactly, Father?” Alistair raised a brow, but the priest just smiled.
Kiergan scoffed and shook his head. “Alistair is just trying to get me in trouble since he’s still upset I refused to woo a wife for him.”
Shaking his head, Alistair drawled, “Nay. Because if ye had given in, I wouldnae have Lara now.”
“Why in damnation do ye think I refused?” Kiergan sounded exasperated.
Before Alistair could respond, he felt a pair of hands wrap around his forearm and turned to smile down at Lara.
“Good eve, everyone. Father Ambrose, Lady Agatha.” She offered a cheerful smile and nod.
“Hello, love,” Alistair murmured. “Kier was just trying to convince me his laziness was premeditated.”
She lifted a brow and turned to Kiergan, who was—
Was he blushing?
Lara must’ve noticed as well, because she made a little sound of understanding. “This isnae about him wooing ye a wife, is it?”
Alistair blinked. “How did ye ken that?”
Twining her fingers through his, Lara smiled up at him. “Yer twin brother has suspected my feelings for a long while, ye ken. ‘Twas why he wouldnae find another wife for ye. Well, that, and the fact I threatened him.”
Alistair grinned and lifted her hand to his lips. “Well, it appears I owe him my thanks,” he murmured against her skin.
“And an apology!” Kiergan snapped.
Too pleased to be irritated, Alistair nodded to his twin. “And my apology. Thank ye for saving me from myself. And I’m sorry.”
Kiergan harrumphed, Aunt Agatha rolled her eyes, and Father Ambrose beamed.
And Lara tugged on his hand. “On that note, I hope ye dinnae mind if I steal Alistair away? We have some important celebration-planning business to attend to, and I need his help.”
As everyone nodded approval, she offered the priest a little curtsey. “I’m looking forward to meeting with ye tomorrow, Father Ambrose.”
He chuckled. “Fast weddings are becoming something of a tradition in this family.”
“Ye’re just lucky I didnae insist on being married today,” Alistair quipped, as he allowed her to tug him away. “But alas, duty calls.”
“Aye,” Lara threw over her shoulder with a smile. “I need yer help, hurry!”
“Is aught amiss?” Alistair was breathing heavily as she dragged him up the stairs. “Ye said ye needed my help!”
“Aye,” she called over her shoulder, “ ‘tis verra important!”
“Lara! What is it? What’s wrong?”
Smiling, she finally reached his solar and slammed her hand into the slightly open door, knocking it open before Alistair could even call out a warning. As she did, a bucket of water came crashing down, and she jumped backwards to avoid it. Alistair caught her up, lifted her out of the way, and muttered something about a “son of a diseased frog.”
The bucket had completely taken her mind off her hurry.
“Wha—” She shook her head as Alistair lifted her over the puddle. “What was that?”
“That, my love”—he kicked the bucket out of the way and nudged the door shut with his foot—“was my twin brother’s idea of a joke.”
“Kiergan put a bucket atop the— Oh! Last night ye said he’d been trying to play stupid jokes on ye. So I fell for that one, I suppose.”
“Aye.” He finally placed her on her own two feet in the center of the room. She immediately reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “So what’s wrong, Lara?”
She smiled. “Naught’s wrong, except for the puddle of water I’ll have to cle
an up.” Later. Much later.
His brows drew in. “Ye said ye needed me, then dragged me up here. Is something wrong with the celebration plans? Do ye need my help?”
“Naught’s wrong, but I do need ye.” Her grin turned wicked as she flexed her pelvis forward. “I need ye verra much.”
His eyes slowly widened. “Lara Oliphant, did ye drag me away from my father’s birthday celebration, saving me from my brother’s ridiculous sense of humor and my great-aunt’s nagging, just for sex?”
“There’s nae ‘just’ about it, Alistair. I need ye,” she repeated simply. “Make love to me.”
He was already reaching for his clothes. “Ye’re too sore.”
“I’m sure ye’ll think of something.”
He did, and when he pressed her back on his little cot and dragged his tongue along her dripping core, she screamed his name.
Later, he held her against his chest as they both waited for their breathing to return to normal.
“See?” she finally murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I kenned ye’d come up with something.”
She loved the way his whole chest rumbled with a chuckle. “I love ye, Lara. Thank ye for keeping me on my toes.”
They had the rest of their lives together, and she couldn’t wait to get started. She planned to make sure he spent the rest of his life happy and contented, and vowed he’d find time each and every day for relaxation, no matter what the future held for them.
With a grunt, Alistair shifted on the cot, trying to find a more comfortable position. She pushed herself upright. “I’m sorry. Let me move off—”
His arm tightened around her. “Ye’ll do nae such thing. I need ye here with me, lass, can ye no’ tell?”
He’d neglected his own pleasure to give it all to her, and she could feel his erection digging into her hip. Smiling, she was reaching for it when his words stopped her.
“I am thinking we’ll be needing a different bed.”
Tsking, Lara pushed herself up on one elbow so she could smile down at him. “Mam and I had a little chat earlier. Now that ‘tis nae secret she’s been sharing the laird’s bed, they’re going to make things more permanent.”