“Aright, so Da wants a new kilt?” Finn prompted.
“With nine yards, ye could make him two new kilts,” Duncan muttered.
And Alistair shook his head. “Let us assume Da just meant he wanted a grand celebration, aye? Can we move on?”
“Certainly.” Kiergan winked. “Lara is in charge of the menu. Ye ken she and Cook will come up with something wonderful, aye?’
Since his twin was looking right at him, Alistair nodded in answer. Aye, Lara was young, and few Oliphant realized what a genius she was when it came to combining flavors, but somehow, Alistair had been made aware of it. Oh, aye, ‘twas over the winter when Kiergan—who was friends with the lass—had sat him down and let Lara feed them.
The memory of the lass’s berry tarts was enough to require an extra Hail Mary as penance.
Another memory assailed him; one he’d prefer to forget. At Malcolm’s wedding celebration, he’d watched Kiergan laughing with Lara, and the ale had loosened Alistair’s tongue enough for him to blurt out, “Why do the two of ye no’ just get married already?”
His twin had been surprised and claimed Lara was naught but a friend to him. And Lara…? Lara had blushed and claimed her heart lay elsewhere.
Hearing the sweet lass, his younger sister’s best friend, was in love with a man…it had struck him like a blow to the gut. Or mayhap that ‘twas the ale as well. Either way, he’d been looking at her differently since then.
She was no longer the little girl who’d tagged after Alistair and his brothers growing up. She’d become a woman.
Kiergan was still peering at him intently, so Alistair gave himself a mental shake and frowned at his twin. “Aye, she is a creative baker and will make sure Da’s menu is superb.”
“She’s a hell of a fine cook too,” Kiergan said, his gaze intense, as if daring Alistair to say otherwise, “but her tarts are the best I’ve tasted.”
“Aye,” Rocque called out. “I’d no’ mind putting them into my mouth any day.”
His twin scoffed. “Ye’re married and should no’ be admiring any woman’s ‘tarts.’ ”
Rocque looked confused. “This isnae one of those you-feminisms ye were talking about earlier, is it?”
Aye. They’re speaking of her tits.
Alistair wanted to say the words, but for some reason, the thought of putting Lara’s tits—tarts—in his mouth had made his throat go dry.
“And the rest of it?” asked Finn from where he sat on the cot, his elbows on his knees.
Kiergan shrugged and slapped the scroll against his palm once more. “Da was verra clear about that too. Someone’s got to arrange for the merriment and the decorations and oversee the menu.”
“So let Lara do that. Or her mam,” Rocque pointed out.
“Lara could, of course, but Moira’s far too busy keeping the rest of the household running, and Da wanted one of us to oversee things.” Kiergan explained.
A sinking feeling in his belly, Alistair straightened from the desk. “Who?” he asked coldly.
“Well, Da kens that Duncan’s busy in the forge, and of course Rocque, as commander, has enough responsibility. And Mal and Finn, with their growing families, are too distracted.”
Now, Alistair dropped his hands to his side and stepped toward his twin. “And ye?” he growled.
“Me?” Kiergan blinked innocently. “Oh, Da kens I’m far too busy doing—doing…”
When he trailed off, Malcolm snorted. “Doing Minnie? Elizabeth? Rachel?”
“Doing things,” Kiergan finished with a smirk. “Also, Elizabeth’s auld enough to be my mother.”
“Has that stopped ye before?”
“So if ‘tis nae ye or me or Mal or Dunc or Finn…who’s in charge of the celebration?” rumbled Rocque, and from the corner of his eyes, Alistair saw Duncan roll his eyes and drop his head into his palm.
Kiergan smiled and brandished the scroll toward Alistair. “Da kens the best way to get something done is to give it to someone who is already used to running things.”
Finn pushed himself to his feet. “He’s making Alistair do it? Does he no’ do enough?”
Alistair’s twin brother held his angry gaze and shrugged languidly. “Mayhap Da feels as though Alistair needs to be doing something else instead.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alistair growled.
He knew his twin wasn’t mean-spirited. He knew Kiergan had plenty to offer the clan besides just his skill at pleasuring women. But at that moment, Alistair wanted naught more than for Kiergan to laugh, and admit it had been another joke, like the bucket of water. He wanted Kiergan to confess Da had asked him to plan the celebration, and he’d finally be helping to take some of the weight off Alistair’s shoulders.
Kiergan didn’t.
Instead, he smiled and waggled the scroll in Alistair’s face. “It means, brother dear, that ye and Lara will be working together to ensure Da’s celebration is a success.”
Working with Lara?
And the order had come from the Oliphant, so there was naught Alistair could say against it. Now that the trade agreements were all signed, and the harvest rotations seemed settled, he’d been looking forward to a fortnight of less duties. Mayhap he could focus on training more, or finally go for the morning rides he’d been missing.
Or find yerself a lass and fook some of this frustration out of yer system.
But nay. He’d be planning a birthday celebration instead.
Muttering something unflattering, he snatched the scroll out of his twin’s hand and unrolled it. Aye, he’d be working with Lara for the next fortnight, and for some reason, the knowledge he didn’t have time for this nonsense suddenly didn’t seem quite so bad.
And that, in itself, was a bad sign.
“Shite.”
Chapter 2
Chicken would be special.
Not that chicken itself was special, but the fact so many animals would have to be sacrificed for the meal, as opposed to slaughtering just one hog to feed the Oliphants.
Lara frowned at the slate in her hand, absent-mindedly doodling along the margin. What would go well with chicken? Nay, before she got to side-dishes, she’d have to determine how to prepare the chick—
“The light’s better over here.”
Nessa’s announcement caused Lara to startle, and she smiled sheepishly at
