In Scot Water - Caroline Lee Page 0,39
know he was now her husband.
But that smile faded as he led them through the second gate and into the castle courtyard. This close to the meal, there were few people about, but one man turned and made directly for them.
He was larger than Malcolm, and old enough for his auburn hair and beard to be shot through with gray. As he got closer, she could see the wrinkles around his laughing blue-gray eyes, as well as the Oliphant brooch on his kilt, and she sucked in a breath as she realized two things simultaneously.
This man wore the regalia of the clan laird.
And this man was related to Malcolm.
“Malcolm!” the man boomed, slamming one beefy hand down on Malcolm’s shoulder. “We were getting concerned about ye, especially when the rains started again.”
Malcolm didn’t flinch, but dropped the horse’s reins and shifted wee Tomas up to his shoulder, bouncing the bairn slightly in a completely natural way. “I had business to attend to,” he said with a slight smile.
“Aye, I can see that!” Did the big man not speak at anything less than a bellow? He leaned closer to peer at the bairn. “And I can see ye were successful!”
Malcolm’s grin grew. “This is Tomas.”
Tomas grinned gummily, then promptly spit up.
Both men got out of the way in time, and while Evelinde burned with embarrassment, neither seemed to mind. In fact, the older man was chuckling.
“He’s a lad with opinions, aye? Trying to soil his laird’s boots, tsk.”
So he was the laird. Evelinde held her breath, waiting to see how the clan chief would react.
Laird Oliphant tweaked the bairn’s nose and slapped Malcolm on the shoulder once more. “Ye ken ye willnae win unless ye sire the laddie, aye?”
Evelinde frowned slightly, tightening her hold on a suddenly squirming Liam, wondering what he’d meant. But Malcolm just laughed and shrugged off his laird’s hand.
“I ken it.”
He was still smiling when he turned and handed Tomas up to Evelinde. When she reached out to take the bairn, he swung Liam down. The little boy bounced on his toes, while Malcolm reached up to wrap his hands around Evelinde’s waist.
When she—and Tomas—were standing safely beside him, he kept his arm around her. “This is my wife, Evelinde. Ye’ve met Tomas—dinnae fash, he does that to everyone—and this is my new son, Liam.”
It was a lovely introduction, and Evelinde couldn’t help but feel proud at the way Liam thrust his shoulders back and his chin out, in an imitation of Malcolm.
“Evie,” he smiled down at her, before glancing back at the older man, “this is my father, Laird Oliphant.”
Father?
Evelinde did little more than squeak as the laird enveloped her in a hug.
“Call me William,” he boomed, and between them, Tomas squirmed. She held her breath, willing the bairn not to spit up again.
When the man straightened, she exhaled and offered an awkward, one-handed curtsey. “Laird Oliphant,” she murmured deferentially.
“Nay! My name is William! Or ye can call me Da, if ‘tis to yer liking. And ye,” he said, rounding on Liam, “can call me Granda, if ye like. Ye’re my first grandbairn, ye ken.”
Evelinde’s eyes widened, praying Liam didn’t say anything embarrassing.
But the lad just cocked his head to one side. “I like yer name. It’s like mine.”
“Aye.” The laird’s voice softened slightly as he smiled. “I’m pleased to share my name with such a strong, fine lad.”
“I’m learning to be a gentleman.”
Dinnae say aught about penises. Dinnae say aught about penises.
Mayhap her son heard the unspoken plea, because Liam continued, “Do gentlemen bow to lairds?”
“They do.”
As Liam offered an awkward bow, Laird Oliphant’s smile grew. “But gentlemen offer their grandas hugs.”
“I dinnae have a granda. I have a Father Ambrose, that’s what we call him. I hug him, so I guess I can hug ye too.”
As Liam offered the older man a hug, and Malcolm beamed, Evelinde felt her heart slamming against her chest.
Malcolm’s father was a laird. And not just any laird, but her laird. The head of her first husband’s clan! The man she might’ve gone to for help, if she’d been less stubborn. He seemed kind; would he have helped her and her sons? Would she have met Malcolm earlier?
He’s the son of a laird!
She felt her breaths coming faster and faster, as if the courtyard was shrinking around her. Malcolm seemed to notice and offered her a smile. When she just stared at him with wide eyes, he leaned down and brushed a kiss against her cheek.
But she stiffened.
I dinnae