Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,12

Rocque’s snot to drip, can they no’ cause a mole to form on my nether regions—”

“We’re trying to eat, ye lummox!” Evelinde called out, tossing a piece of bread at Alistair’s head.

“And I’m trying to have a medical discussion, woman!” Alistair roared in return, his eyes sparkling. “Mal, keep yer woman out of this!”

Everyone could hear the teasing in his tone, so Malcolm shrugged and handed his wife another piece of bread. Laughing, she threw it at Alistair again, but he snatched it out of the air and took a defiant bite of it.

“Uncle Alistair,” little Liam said primly, “ye cannae eat food from a food fight. Mama says so.”

“Yer mother is wasteful, laddie,” Alistair mumbled around a bit of brown bread. Lara, who was laughing too hard to speak, swatted at his arm, as Liam hefted his own piece of brown bread thoughtfully.

“Liam! Dinnae even think it!”

“Why no’, Mama? If ye can start a food fight, I can—”

“Lad, listen to yer mother,” Malcolm called, laughter in his voice. “Just accept the fact she is right and do as she says.”

“Ye mean I should follow her instructions, no’ her example? Is it because she cannae follow her own commands?”

Alistair was laughing now, and Lara’s hand was pressed against her mouth to try to maintain control.

“Look, son, ye must ken by now that yer mother is always right,” Malcolm continued, in a reasonable tone. “I’ve gotten used to being wrong all the time, so ye might as well accept—”

Evelinde shrieked and threw a piece of bread at him, and he burst into laughter as well.

“Looks as if at least one of yer sons has learned the trick to a happy marriage, William,” Moira called, in an over-loud voice, smiling. “Let the wife get her way!”

As Alistair nodded in agreement, Laird Oliphant reached for his former housekeeper. “If they’re as lucky as I am, love, they willnae mind being led around by their noses for the rest of their lives!”

When he pulled her in for a kiss, Davina wasn’t the only person at the table to smile.

Malcolm was already apologizing to his wife, but from the way Evie’s eyes sparkled, she knew he’d been teasing her. Liam was explaining something to baby Tomas, and from the movements, it looked to be relevant to the velocity of bread. Finn and Fiona were whispering to one another, her expression pinched, even as she watched the fun, and Alistair had his arm around Lara, both looking relaxed.

Instinctively, Davina turned to Graham to see how he was reacting to the wit. She’d thought mayhap to just exchange a little glance with him, a tolerant smile at most.

But when he caught her gaze and held it, her breath caught in her throat.

There was a sort of longing deep in those dark blue depths. He’d heard his brothers’ joking, and yearned for the same for himself? Or was it simply a reaction to the way Alistair and Malcolm, and even his father, teased their wives, the easy camaraderie of a family?

And despite her pain of the last months, there was a part of her, even now, which ached for him. A part of her which wanted to reach for him, to comfort him, to tell him he was worthy of a family as wonderful as this, despite what he’d been raised to believe. A part of her which still wanted to love him.

A big part, damn her eyes.

His lips parted, and his breath escaped on a sound which might have been the first syllable of her name.

Unfortunately, she’d never know, because at that moment, from across the table, Fiona let out a loud, shuddering, “Oh!”

Graham was the one who looked away first, the yearning in his eyes changing to concern in a blink as he turned to Fiona. “What is it?” he asked a little too harshly.

Fiona didn’t seem to notice. She was clutching Finn’s hand, her breaths coming in great gasps. Her eyes were wide when they met her husband’s. “I think… I think I’m having the bairn.”

Around them, the table erupted in noise and each person reacted. Lara reached for Fiona, as if patting her shoulder was going to help, while Malcolm leaned further away, appearing worried. Everyone was speaking, but it was Graham who took charge.

Pushing away from the table, he stood up and was moving before he started speaking. “Finn, help her upstairs to yer room. Malcolm, ye’re in charge of getting Merewyn up here to the castle.” He leaned over and snatched a