Blessed Virgin, he is a beautiful sight, is he no’?
With one last grunt, Alistair clapped his hands together, then lowered himself to his chest and rolled over, splaying himself on his back on the rug. He was breathing heavily, and the sweat beaded on his forehead—and other places.
Hungrily Lara’s eyes dragged over him, wishing she could step out of her hiding spot and offer to clean him.
Mayhap with my tongue.
The thought of dragging her tongue—her lips—across all that beautiful skin caused an unconscious whimper to escape her. Her hands tightened around her breasts as Alistair abruptly sat up.
“Who’s there?” he called, his gaze immediately going to the corridor door.
Silently cursing herself and her obsession, Lara stepped back into the secret passage.
She couldn’t see him, but she could imagine Alistair pushing himself to his feet and padding, naked, to the solar’s door. There was the sound of the door opening, and she imagined him poking his head out.
When his voice came, ‘twas clear he was facing the room. “I think ye should ken I dinnae believe in ghosts, drummers or nae.”
Oliphant Castle was home to the laird, his family, a dozen servants like Lara, and one ghostly drummer who was said to portend doom. But if Alistair didn’t believe in him, then he’d likely begin to investigate.
Hands shaking, Lara pulled the door shut a bit faster than she’d intended, and stood, back pressed against the stone of the secret passage, for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Part of her wanted him to find the door, find her, discover the illicit feelings she’d had for him for years.
But the rest of her knew that, to Alistair Oliphant and his brothers, she’d always just be their little sister’s best friend.
Dropping her hands to her side, Lara smoothed her kirtle, took a breath, and head held high, slipped down the dark passageway. She was needed in the kitchen, which was about as far away from the laird’s solar as a lass like her could get.
But a secret grin tugged at her lips. She had duties, aye, but this little excursion had been worth it. Very worth it. If she had her way, Alistair would soon find a way to relax every day.
With her.
Chapter 1
“Any idea why Kiergan was so keen on this meeting?” Alistair asked his brother, as they climbed Oliphant Castle’s front steps.
“Nay,” rumbled Rocque, frowning down at his boots. “But it cannae be too important, else he would’ve interrupted training.”
It wasn’t often Alistair was able to train with the other warriors. He made sure to keep fit, but there just wasn’t time to attend Rocque’s sparring practices and training sessions. Today had been an exception, as he’d finished the trade agreements the previous day.
So, as they crossed the great hall, he nudged his brother in the side. “Ye ken my twin doesnae need any sort of excuse to interrupt training, aye? Remember the time Kiergan slept late and showed up with that story about a rabid badger and the virgin?”
Rocque’s chuckle seemed forced, and Alistair frowned.
“What has ye so thoughtful? Ye were fine during training.”
Rocque was the largest of the Oliphant bastards, and the most skilled when it came to the martial arts. This was why their father, the laird, had made him the commander of the Oliphant warriors. When he wasn’t focused on his men and their skills, he was happily ensconced in his little cottage with his new wife.
Now, Alistair’s brother startled and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I’ve just been thinking.”
They were headed for the laird’s solar, which had become Alistair’s domain in the last years since Da had turned the running of the clan over to him. “Aye? About what?”
“Merewyn’s pregnant.”
The way Rocque flushed when Alistair turned, proved the big man hadn’t intended to blurt out the announcement like that.
And when his brother ran his hand over his auburn hair and looked away, Alistair could guess why. Still, he forced a smile and clapped his hand on Rocque’s shoulder. “I’m glad for ye, brother. Truly I am. Ye will make a fine da.”
“Aye, I’m—we’re—verra happy. Mere’s been blessed without sickness, unlike Fiona.” Their brother Finn had married Fiona earlier that summer, and even if he hadn’t announced she was carrying, the whole clan would have known it from her frequent bouts of morning illness. “She says that’s a sign she’s carrying a lad, but I dinnae ken if ‘tis true.”
He said the last part in an almost apologetic tone. They’d reached the solar, and before they went in, Alistair stopped him.
“If she does bear a son, Rocque, ye’ll make a fine father and a good laird.”
His brother eyed him doubtfully. “Ye mean it?”
“Aye!” Alistair forced a smile. “The Oliphants will be lucky to have such a strong laird.”
“If Fiona gives Finn a son first, the clan will have a diplomatic laird,” Rocque countered.
And if I could manage to find myself a wife, who’d give me a son, the Oliphants could have a laird who actually kens how in damnation to run the clan!
But Alistair just shrugged. “It’s in God’s hands now.”
At the beginning of the summer, Laird Oliphant had gathered his six sons together and explained, since they were all bastards and all born the same year, there was no fair way to choose which would succeed him as the clan’s chief. Therefore, he’d leave it up to fate, and declared whichever son married and presented him with a grandson first would become the next laird.
Charming Finn had already long been in love with Fiona and had made short work of securing her hand in marriage and planting his seed. Finn’s twin brother, Duncan, might not have intended to fall in love with Fiona’s twin sister, Skye, but the stoic goldsmith and the firebrand were
