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,
