In Scot Water - Caroline Lee Page 0,60

now he just smiled.

If ‘twas God’s will Fiona bear Da a grandson, then Finn would become the next Oliphant laird, and the clan would be well-served with a charming leader. If Merewyn—who, if Malcolm wasn’t mistaken—was also pregnant—bore a son first, then the Oliphants would have a strong laird in Rocque.

But the future was uncertain.

“What are ye lot doing, standing around looking so dour?” Kiergan bounded up to them, his eyes already glassy from one too many ales. “Are ye contemplating the meaning of life? Have ye been speaking with our new priest? Father Ambrose gives excellent advice, although I’m no’ sure, ‘Dinnae shite in the stream where ye draw water,’ is in the Holy Scriptures.”

“As the holiest of thou,” Malcolm deadpanned, “I can assure ye, ‘tis no’.”

“We’re talking about marriage, Kiergan,” Rocque said with a nasty grin. “I’m sure ye’ll have plenty to contribute to the conversation.”

Their carefree brother held up his hands, palms out, and shook his head. “Dinnae think to trap me in such a dour topic! Marriage! Ha! Instead, let us speak of beheading, or pustules, or plague. Much more pleasant topics than marriage!”

Malcolm hid his smile as Duncan snorted.

“These two were just congratulating themselves on their choices of wives, and Rocque was saying Malcolm is finally in the running to become laird.”

It was no secret Duncan wanted to become laird about as little as Kiergan did, although he was less vocal. Luckily, his new wife, Skye, had no interest either, and wasn’t in a hurry to have children. She was content spending her days learning how to keep house—‘twas a new skill for her—and spar with her men, who were now Rocque’s men.

“Aye,” Kiergan said, with a waggle of his brows, “yer scheme bore fruit. Now, will yer wife?”

His twin, Alistair joined their little group. “Ask him if it matters.”

“What?” Rocque frowned at their usually serious brother. “What do ye mean?”

Alistair nodded to Malcolm with a little smile. “He went and fell in love with his own wife. Remember his certainty this was all about logic and planning? I’ll wager he’s changed his mind.”

“Ye’re on!” his twin offered. “What’s the wager?”

Malcolm rolled his eyes. “I willnae allow him to take any more of yer money, Kiergan. Because he’s right; I do love Evie. And I’m willing to admit my plan was flawed.”

Kiergan slapped his hand against his chest. “Did ye hear that? Did ye hear that, Dunc? Mal admitted his logic wasnae quite so logical.”

Duncan made a show of peering up at the Heavens. “Is it the Apocalypse? It’s the End of Times, is it no’? ‘Tis the only explanation!”

“Saints protect us!” wailed Rocque, with a credible expression of fear. “I’m too pretty to die!”

Snorting, Malcolm rolled his eyes. The only thing which would force Duncan to overlook being called “Dunc,” was the chance to make fun of one of his brothers.

Alistair was grinning as well. “So, brother, are ye still hoping to win Da’s ultimatum?”

There was an edge to his voice, an edge to the question. Malcolm met Alistair’s eyes, knowing the other man was still considering his own chances.

“Meeting Evie, falling in love with her and her lads…” He shook his head. “My priorities have changed. Aye, I still think I’d lead the clan with more sense than any of ye clot-heids”—he paused, while around him, their brothers objected to his description—“but I ken I can be happy if one of ye—or Finn—fathers a son first.”

Rocque threw his arm around Malcolm’s shoulders. “Because ye’re in love.”

“Aye.” Malcolm lifted his chin and grinned defiantly at his brothers. “Because I’m in love.”

“God help ye,” Kiergan breathed irreverently, making the sign of the cross.

Duncan snorted, rolled his eyes, then punched Kiergan in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“Bless ye, my son,” Malcolm intoned, waving his hand piously in Duncan’s direction.

They were all chuckling when Finn strolled up, Tomas tucked against his shoulder as he patted the bairn’s bottom.

“What are we laughing about?’

Before the others could drag Malcolm’s feelings for Evelinde out again, he nodded to Finn. “I was just telling them about my son’s propensity to vomit all over whoever is carrying him.”

Finn frowned, twisting to peer down at the bairn. “I dinnae ken what propensity means, but it sounds nasty.”

“Aye, ‘tis,” Malcolm said solemnly.

“Do ye have a propensity? Do I?”

Rocque shook his head. “Sounds like a big, vicious animal. How many legs does it have?”

Alistair sighed. “None.”

“Och, ‘tis a snake, then? A viper?”

Duncan’s lips twitched at Rocque’s question. “Is it hairy?” he played along. “Are there giant, hairy, vomitous