merely hummed again and lifted his flagon. “Do ye no’?”
Alistair was saved from having to answer from the most unlikely source.
Lara bounded up at that moment, her blonde curls barely held back from her face by a pretty blue ribbon, which matched her eyes, and her cheeks rosy. She was smiling in that carefree way, which made him suspect she’d indulged in a flagon or two of ale herself.
“There ye are!” Kiergan cried and tossed his arm around her shoulders. “I was wondering if ye’d gotten the bairn settled in for the night.”
Lara looked so—so at ease at his brother’s side. When she smiled at both of them, her eyes sparkled in the torchlight.
“Is Tomas no’ the sweetest? I think he likes the mashed fruits I’ve been making him. I was settling him upstairs in the nursery with his brother when his parents decided to finally emerge from their room.”
The brothers, understanding perfectly why Malcolm had dragged his new wife up to their chambers, merely grinned knowingly.
Kiergan, however, shifted his arm so his hand was draped over Lara’s shoulder as he took another draught of the ale. When he lowered the flagon, he smacked his lips and said, “If ye cannae guess what had them so occupied, love, I’ll no’ be the one to ruin yer innocence.”
“Och!” Laughing, Lara jabbed him in the side with her elbow, then reached in to tickle him. “I’m no’ some bubble-headed lassie, ye ken!”
Kiergan was laughing now too, bent double, trying to keep his ale in from spilling, while avoiding her hands.
They looked…happy.
Alistair shifted his gaze to the depths of his flagon, wondering if it was the ale he’d drunk earlier which made him feel so tightly wound. He’d felt a bit like this earlier, watching Duncan dance with Skye, and seeing the way Finn fawned over his wife.
Was it jealousy?
Then why would he be feeling it again now? Watching his twin laugh and—and play with a lass they’d known since childhood?
“Why do the two of ye no’ just get married already?”
It took a moment to realize where the question had come from, and when he did, he pressed his lips together. Had he really been the one to snap that?
Could he blame the ale?
Slowly, Kiergan straightened, glancing at Lara. She now stood stock-still, her hands clasped in front of her. He’d embarrassed her with his question, damnation!
So he dug himself a deeper hole. “Ye like one another, ‘tis obvious.”
Kiergan was frowning. “Aye, she’s one of my closest friends.”
Now, Lara was blushing, her gaze on Alistair’s boots.
Alistair frowned at his brother, although he was angrier with himself for asking the damned question in the first place. “So I’ll ask ye again: Is it the marriage ye object to, or—”
Not giving him time to finish the question again, Kiergan wheeled on Lara. “Do ye want to marry me?”
Her chin jerked up, and she blinked. Alistair found himself holding his breath as she looked between the two of them. Then she shook her head.
“Nay,” she whispered.
“Nay, ye dinnae want to marry my brother?” Alistair repeated, not sure why the answer mattered to him so much. Or why he was feeling both hot and cold, waiting for her response.
She met his eyes and lifted her chin, as if daring him to challenge her. Still blushing furiously, she said, “Nay. My— My heart lies elsewhere.”
In the light of the torches, he thought he could see certainty in those blue eyes, but something else too.
Longing?
What is wrong with ye, lad?
Alistair blew out a breath and looked away, at the same moment his twin threw his arm around Lara’s shoulders.
“There! See? She doesnae want to marry me, so lay off.” Kiergan’s eyes narrowed. “Both of us.”
My heart lies elsewhere.
Alistair’s gaze dropped to the ale in his flagon once more, his gut churning at the idea of sweet little Lara loving someone. He’d always just associated her with Nessa, who was her best friend, or even chatting with Kiergan. But she loved a man?
He snuck a glance at her, trying to see her as a woman. She was no longer the wee lassie with the wild curls and scabbed knees, was she? Sometime in the last years, she’d blossomed into a woman. A lovely woman, inside and out.
Oh, hell, I’m getting maudlin.
“Come on, Lara,” Kiergan murmured, still glaring at Alistair, “let us away from this dour soul and find someone with whom we can celebrate.”
He tugged her away from Alistair, and they headed toward the remaining revelers.
But just once, Lara peeked