Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,53

even one of the innumerable Henrys he kept betrothing her to—would love her as much as the humble man who held her now.

When Aunt Agatha spoke, her voice was still breathy, and those around her shushed others to hear her words. “Ye ken, Oliphant Castle has many, many ghostly legends. No’ all have been active in my lifetime, but I’ve heard them all from my grandparents. I’ll tell ye one day if ye’d like.”

“Aye!” Katlyn called out, shifting wee Graeme to the other tit. “And I think I’ve met half of those ghosts recently!”

Replies ranged from enthusiastic agreements to, “Nae more ghosts!” to, “Da, ye told me ghosts werenae real!” from wee Liam.

Suddenly, MacKinnon interrupted them all by bounding to his feet, his flagon raised. Since the fire, he’d recovered faster than Agatha, but his head and chin were still covered in patches of wispy, half-burned hair.

“A toast! A toast to family! To aligning with a good clan, to joining together no’ just as an alliance, but as a family.” When he grinned down at Agatha, his skinny features pulled into, what William supposed, wasn’t intended as a grimace. “And to new love, and the ghostly drummer who brought it to us.”

Several throats were cleared, likely trying not to think of the two of them experiencing new love, before Agatha, beaming up at him, called softly, “Hear, hear!” and the rest of the family began to echo it.

“Aye, to family!” Alistair called out, standing behind his pregnant wife. Lara, bless her, beamed up at him proudly, the way her mother often beamed at William.

Alistair, who’d been so staid and serious until his new wife had taught him how to lighten up, squeezed Lara’s shoulders and smiled. “To family and gaining new family, like all these wives and bairns—”

“And husbands!” Nessa bellowed.

“Aye, and husbands,” Alistair swiftly corrected. “Every one of ye bring new skills and knowledge to Castle Oliphant, and the clan is better off for having ye. For instance, Evie brought her fa—I mean, Father Ambrose. And we all benefit from his sermons on cleanliness and food safety awareness, do we no’?” As those around him nodded, Alistair’s lips curled into a smile. “And Katlyn brought Laird MacKinnon, whom I am proud to call my Great-Uncle Angus.” As the old man began to sputter, Alistair smoothly continued, “And thanks to Davina, we’ve found another brother. I, personally, was thrilled to welcome Graham to the family last summer, although the clot-heid still willnae look at the spot on my belly!”

As the rest of the family burst into hoots and laughter at the skillful segue, Graham threw up his hands. He’d been standing with his arm around his brand-new wife, leaning against the side of the hearth, but now he left her side and stalked forward.

“Let us see it then, this mysterious spot! Right here, ye buffoon!”

Since Alistair was the last person to be accused of being a buffoon, William was surprised when he began to untuck his shirt from his belt.

“No’ this again!” moaned Aunt Agatha, covering her eyes.

Malcolm handed his flagon to his wife and slammed his hand down over Liam’s eyes, and Duncan did the same for Skye, although she pushed his hand out of the way and waggled her brows in Alistair’s direction.

In fact, when Alistair had his shirt pulled up all the way, someone gave an impressed whistle, and Lara made a show of bowing as far as her big belly could allow. “Thank ye, thank ye! Impressive specimen, is he no’?”

As the others laughed, Graham locked his hands behind his back and leaned forward, peering at his brother’s stomach. “I see nae moles.”

“ ’Tis no’ a mole, but a spot.”

“ ’Tis more of a hole,” Lara called out, trying not to laugh. “In the middle.”

Graham’s expression was serious—but ‘twas always serious—as he peered at Alistair’s skin. “Freckles can sometimes change size and shape, but ‘tis no’ a healthy sign. If ye have a beauty mark—”

“ ’Twould be a manly mark, would it no’?” Kiergan called out, as his twin nodded.

Graham, however, kept his tone bland when he shook his head. “On Alistair, ‘twould be a beauty mark, for certes, since he’s so delicate and vulnerable.”

Alistair jerked down his shirt in affront. “I’m no’ delicate!”

“Did he just call women vulnerable?” Skye growled, shoving herself to her feet in mock anger. “I’ll show him—”

Chuckling, her husband yanked her back down again, and Graham motioned for Alistair to raise his shirt again.

“I dinnae see aught which could be called