Men in Kilts

by Katie MacAlister

  I saved Iain’s present for last, making him and everyone else open all of the other presents first. I had flattened several boxes and used them to disguise the shape of the sword, then wrapped the resulting strapped-together flattened boxes with newspapers, and tied a big red ribbon around it. I brought it out on Christmas Eve and let everyone get a good look at it. I hadn’t told anyone what it was, and swore Joanna to secrecy. Once everyone was through opening their presents, I brought Iain his.

  He started opening it at the end with the handle, and peeled back the boxes enough to peer into the opening. He looked up, surprise writ all over his handsome face. “It looks like…” He peered back into the boxes, then stood up and reached in and pulled out the sword.

  Nate and David ooohed appreciably. Archie blinked once or twice, but didn’t say anything. Joanna grimaced. Bev passed a hand over her eyes.

  I sat across the room, clutching my books to my chest with one hand, chills rolling down my spine at the sight of Iain standing over the carcasses of several freshly killed boxes, the sword held easily in his manly hand, a strong, vibrant warrior with a somewhat perplexed look on his face. It was a hell of a moment, one I wouldn’t soon forget.

  “There’s a leather thingy for it, too,” I said, my breath catching in my throat as he ran one hand down the gleaming length of the blade. “Do you like it? Isn’t it magnificent? It’s a claidheamh-mor” I added, as if he wouldn’t recognize what it was.

  “Aye, that it is,” he said, still looking a bit stunned about the eyes.

  “It has drooping quillions,” I said, pointing them out. “And that’s ebony.”

  “Ebony’s a good wood,” Nate nodded.

  “Sturdy,” David agreed.

  I didn’t take my eyes off of Iain. He made a couple of extremely controlled passes with the sword, then looked up at me, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

  “Ah, love, it’s… erm… a grand gift.”

  I felt like the floor dropped out from beneath me. He didn’t like it! He thought it was stupid! It didn’t suit him at all. What had I been thinking?

  Joanna was right after all. I swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat, and dug my fingernails into my palm. I’d be damned if I sniveled in front of Archie and everyone.

  Iain sheathed the sword and set it against the wall, out of everyone’s way. I went out to check on the teakettle, and stood in the kitchen fighting tears.

  “It’s the second grandest gift I’ve ever had.”

  I didn’t turn around. He would be upset if he saw I was upset, and I didn’t want to ruin his Christmas.

  “Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the grandest gift.”

  “You already have, love,” he mumbled against my neck, his arm snaking around my waist.

  “No, I’m serious, Iain.”

  “So’m I, love.”

  I let him turn me around to face him. “ ‘Tis a grand present, Kathie, but not as grand a present as you gave me yesterday.”

  “I fell down your hill yesterday. I didn’t give you anything you didn’t already have.”

  He shook his head and pulled me closer, then held up my left hand and kissed my palm. “Aye, you did. You gave me something I’ve waited my whole life for.

  You gave me your heart and your hand and without them, I’d be lost.” His finger traced the hearts of my luckenboofh brooch as his words sank down into my soul.

  “I was wrong.”

  “Wrong about what, love?”

  I let him nibble my neck for a moment or two. “I didn’t think you were comfortable telling me what you felt, especially about romantic things, but that was the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Do you really like it?” He growled softly in my ear and rubbed his hips against mine.

  “Not that, I know you like that, I mean the sword. Do you like it?”

  “Aye, love, I like it.”

  “I thought you needed one.”

  “Verra thoughtful of you.”

  “Being in the Highlands and all.”

  “Aye, ‘twill come in handy no doubt.”

  “Marauders,” I said, getting into the spirit of his nibbling.

  “Feudin‘ clans,” he said, doing things to my nape that made my hair stand on end.

  “Sassenachs,” I offered, and slid my hands under his jumper.

  “Wolves,” he suggested, and was just about to investigate my upper hemisphere when there was the noise of a throat clearing politely in the doorway. I peered over his shoulder. Susan was holding back the rest of the family, blocking them from coming into the kitchen.

  I really liked her!

  Shortly after the present opening the women dispersed to the kitchen to check on the turkey, and begin preparation of the remaining dishes. I tried to offer my one hand as help, but was soundly chastised for interfering, and sent back to the sitting room.

  I curled up next to Iain and smirked at Archie, who glared back at me. I didn’t care. I knew I would get my own back later.

  Surprising enough, he took the news of our nuptials rather well, with only one little scene. At the time. I didn’t know until later that he had what amounted to a temper tantrum privately with Iain.

  Dinner was a marvel, and turned out to be perfection. I sat between Iain and Ewen, Iain there to cut things up for me, and looked around the table filled with happiness. I might not have known these people for very long, but we already fit together comfortably. We laughed, we argued, we pulled together.

  They were family. I started getting a bit maudlin on the thought of family—my family that I was missing, and my new family who was coming to mean so much to me—but thankfully was stopped by Ewen before I turned into a blob of mush before their very eyes.

  He rose and looked around the table, then raised an eyebrow at Iain. “No champagne?”

  “No.”

  “Surely this warrants it, little brother?”

  “I’ve whisky.”

  “Oh, well, then,” Ewen nodded, enough having been said. Champagne doesn’t stand up to the water of life here in the Highlands. Ewen waited until Iain had passed around the whisky.

  “Hey,” I nudged him, and frowned at the glass of goat’s milk he brought me.

  “Where’s mine?”

  “You’re drinking milk. You need the calcium.”

  “A little whisky’ll do more for my wrist than milk will.”

  “It’s milk you’re drinking, love.”

  I was about to thin my lips and make a face at him when Ewen rose. “As the eldest, although I hasten to point out it is by no means apparent, member of the family, I take it upon myself to wish each and every one of you a Happy Christmas.”

  He toasted us. We all lifted our glasses and drank. I sucked off my milk moustache and waited, anticipated, and almost danced in my seat with excitement. Due to the arrangement of the cardigan I had thrown on, no one but Ewen had noticed my luckenbooth brooch.

  “And also as head of this family MacLaren, it gives me the greatest pleasure to welcome the newest member. Iain, Kathie, may you both be hale and hearty ‘til you’re old enough to die, may you both be just as happy as I wish you both to be.”

  Archie’s head swiveled to shoot laser beams of hatred at me. He snapped out an obscenity. Iain, who had leaned over to kiss me, paused for a moment, gave his son a look that I hope to God he never turns on me, and said slowly,

  “Because this is a happy occasion I’m going to forget you said that, lad.” Then he kissed me, and accepted the congratulations of everyone at the table.

  Everyone except Archie.

  Archie and Susan left on Boxing Day. Their original plans called for them to stay to the twenty-seventh, but Archie was in a foul humor, and Iain was angry with Archie, so all things considered, it was good they left. I thanked Susan for the cloisonne bracelet she had given me in her and Archie’s name, and tried my best to apologize for her rush departure.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said softly, watching Archie hurl
their luggage into his car. “You have the right to be happy. Best wishes—you and Iain are perfect for each other. Maybe he’ll”—she was looking at Archie when she said this—

  “come around in time.”

  I doubted it. Iain told me later that Archie had gone off on him, ranting about a midlife crisis and how Iain shouldn’t marry me until he, Archie, had a chance to make up what amounted to a prenuptial agreement.

  “That’s ridiculous,” I had snorted.

  “Aye, it is.” Iain agreed. We were in our bedroom, getting ready for bed. Iain was assisting me in donning Minnie Mouse.

  It suddenly dawned on me that Archie viewed me as an impediment to his eventual inheritance.

  “Do you think he believes I mean to do him out of his rightful share of the farm?” I asked once Minnie was pulled down over my head.

  Iain was a wee bit distracted, having helped me unhook and remove those garments meant to restrain buoyant parts of my anatomy.

  “Iain.” I nudged him with my foot. He had a familiar look in his eye. I waved my cast in front of him. “My arm is a bit sore, sweetie.” Instantly he looked contrite for even thinking those thoughts that he had obviously been thinking.

  “We were talking about Archie. Do you think he views me as a threat to his future?”

  It was Iain’s turn to snort. “He’d be a bigger fool than I give him credit for if he does. I’m not a rich man, love, and the boys know that.”

  “No, not rich in the conventional sense, but you do have a successful sheep farm with almost a thousand sheep. I’m sure Archie feels I’m here to do him out of his share. Either that or he just doesn’t like the thought of you remarrying.”

  Iain plumped up my array of pillows and tucked me in.

  “He’s always been a moody little bugger. Don’t let his comments worry you.

  He’ll come around in time.”

  “That’s what Susan said,” I replied without much satisfaction. I continued to gnaw on the problem of Archie for a while, then gave in to the sleepy tug of the painkillers.

  Everyone’s mood was definitely more jovial without Archie, and it was with a great sense of disappointment that we said farewell on the day after Boxing Day to Ewen, and Joanna’s parents.

  “Have you set a date?” Bev rolled down her car window to ask. “I hope you’ll invite us.”

  “Of course you’re invited.” I shivered in my heavy wool coat. “Iain suggested Valentine’s Day, so he wouldn’t forget it.”

  She laughed. “That’s a wise man you’re getting, Kathie.”

  “Don’t I know it!” I smiled and waved as they drove off.

  “Alas, parting is never as much pleasure as greeting.” Ewen took my one good hand and kissed me, shooting a sly little glance over at his brother. “Just kissing the bride for luck, little man.”

  Iain, who stands a good four inches taller than Ewen, made shooing motions.

  “Bugger off, Ewen.”

  Ewen buggered off, and we were left alone. Mrs. Harris returned to her duties, tched over my injury, and greeted the news of our engagement with a sour look and a begrudging wish for our happiness in the future. It sounded more like a curse than a congratulation, but I was too elated to care. All I had left to do was tell my mother, then sit back and wait for Bridget to stop by to annoy me to share the news with her. I didn’t have long to wait.

  My mother took the news well, by now happier that I be married and living halfway across the world than just living with a man she’d never met. By the end of the conversation she had slipped into full mother of the bride mode, and was talking about things like flowers, churches, and whether or not we could drag Great-Aunt Amber to Scotland from sunny Florida, where she was the reigning belle at the Sarasota Retirement Village.

  I hadn’t the heart to tell her that Iain and I had already decided we were going to be married at a registry office. I figured there was time enough for that later.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It wasn’t until a day or two before Hogmanay that Bridget showed up to torment me and see how Iain liked her gift to him, and in twist of fate that makes me believe whoever watches over us has a tremendous sense of humor, Iain just happened to be wearing the substitute gift that day. I was upstairs having a wee little nap when she arrived. I hadn’t been sleeping well since I kept crashing my cast on the night-stand, finally necessitating a return to my side of the bed, but I heard her piercing voice all right once she greeted Iain.

  I damn near broke my neck racing down the stairs to see her. Unfortunately, I forgot my apparel, or lack thereof, and burst into the kitchen wearing nothing more than Iain’s undershirt and a pair of cotton sleeping shorts. I had on knee socks as well, one of which was up to my knee, the other sagging around my ankle. Couple that with my arm in a cast, sling dangling from my fingers (I didn’t want to take the time to put it on), rumpled hair that hadn’t been combed since the morning, and, Iain tells me later, sleep lines on my cheek deep enough to moor a trawler, and you have a pretty good idea of what a lovely picture I made.

  Bridget looked marvelous in a garnet colored tea-length dress with matching garnet colored boots. It must have cost her a packet, and I will admit to a twinge of jealousy over the outfit. Especially when she burst into peals of biting laughter over my appearance.

  Iain helped me on with my sling, then brought a throw in from the sitting room and tucked it around me as I waved Bridget to a seat at the table.

  “I’ll take the post out,” he offered, gathering up a few bills and letters. “I put the kettle on a minute ago, love. Will you be all right?” Iain was clearly uneasy at leaving me with Bridget. I wondered if he had told her yet about our engagement, but didn’t think he’d had the time.

  “I’ll be fine. We’ll have an early tea when you’re back.” Iain shot Bridget a warning look, and began putting on his wellies and mac.

  “Oh, Iain darling,” Bridget called out, giving me a smug glance. “Before we discuss your latest plan for Kin Aird, do tell me how you liked my little Christmas present.”

  His brow cleared as he rubbed his red jumper-clad chest. “ ‘Tis lovely, Bridget.

  I thank you.” He smiled happily at me. “Kathie likes it as well.” I closed my eyes and sent up a thank you to whatever deity was responsible for Bridget playing directly into my hands.

  Bridget looked shocked for a moment before recovering her composure. “She does?”

  “Aye, she says it suits me quite well.”

  It was Bridget’s brow’s turn to furrow. “You… you think it suits him, dear?” she asked me.

  “Oh, yes, it’s a remarkable fit. Isn’t it, Iain? It fits nicely? Like it was made for you? Not too big and not too small, it’s just right?”

  “Aye, it is.” He nodded and pulled his wellies on.

  I couldn’t resist one last comment. “Yes, we both like your lovely present. I think it does something for Iain. It makes him so… so virile looking.” I winked at Iain. He smiled, gave me a quick kiss, and went off to post the mail.

  “Virile?” Bridget choked out the word. “You think it makes him look… virile ?

  Oh, my dear, you are in need of help more than I possibly imagined. Both of you!”

  I rose and gathered up two mugs. “Would you mind getting the tea things? I’m afraid I’m a bit handicapped.” I waved my cast at her.

  Bridget was clearly having trouble coming to grips with our supposed reaction to her present.

  “But… you were there when Iain opened the present, weren’t you?”

  “Oh yes,” I said, thumping down the mugs, and going back to fetch the tea things myself. “We all were. Everyone thought it was a marvelous gift. We made him check the fit right away.”

  “His... family?”

  I nodded. “All of Iain’s family. It was quite a gathering, very enjoyable. I quite felt like one of the family.” I set the jug of milk down in front of her. “Which, of course, I will be after Valentine’s Day.”

  Brid
get dabbed at the slosh of milk that spilled when I set it down.

  “Valentine’s Day?” she asked in a distracted voice.

  I swished hot water around the teapot, dumped it, then added a few careless spoonfuls of tea and filled the rest with hot water. I plopped the teapot down in front of her.

  “Yes,” I said, savoring the moment. “Valentine’s Day. That’s the day we’ve set for our wedding.”

  She didn’t believe me at first. She stared and sputtered, then gulped down a mug of tea and sputtered some more. Finally she got a grip on herself, aided partly, I believe, by my go ahead and ask Iain attitude. By the time he returned, she was able to choke out a polished, “So thrilled for you both, darling.” Neither Iain nor I were fooled by her apparent lack of interest in the turn of events, but we both pretended her fingers weren’t white with anger as she gripped the table, just as we declined to find anything strange in her immediate change of subject.

  “I’ve been thinking, darling, and I’m just not going to see my way through to falling in with your scheme for Kin Aird. It just won’t serve to plant crops on soil that could be better used in another, more profitable, manner.” Iain accepted the cup of tea I handed him. I rounded up some leftover holiday cookies and set them out on a plate next to Bridget. She ignored them and me both with breathtaking disregard.

  “I’ve told you I’d not have dealings with Tannahill,” Iain replied warily.

  She smiled her shark smile and leaned across the table, allowing the neckline of her garnet dress to gape in a most slatternly way. Iain, no mere mortal man he, kept his eyes firmly on her face. I determined to reward such good behavior in a very tangible manner that evening.

  “Darling, that is old business. Consider it forgotten.” I poured myself a glass of milk and sat next to Iain, watching Bridget suspiciously. I was certain she hadn’t forgiven and forgotten as her smooth, silky voice implied. I had seen the hatred in her eyes, and I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to hurt Iain by any means possible. “Nor do I agree with the plan to let the land, but if you insist on grazing it, then I suggest we simply use it ourselves.” She picked up a spoon and frowned at it, polishing it on a napkin.