“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 clean 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.
