Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,54

a strange spot.”

“Aye! Right here in the middle!” Alistair pointed.

Graham squinted and bent closer. The gathered Oliphants seemed to hold their breath as he studied Alistair’s stomach. Then, slowly, he straightened.

“Alistair, ye complete dunderhead. ‘Tis yer navel.”

As the family began to chuckle, Alistair nodded. “I ken. Does it no’ look like a strange spot to ye?”

Kiergan was laughing so hard, he staggered backward, and Davina had to give him a little nudge to get him upright again. Duncan rolled his eyes at Finn; Malcolm was trying to explain how a navel was different from a penis to his oldest son; and Rocque was guffawing happily into his drink.

Graham held out his hand for Alistair’s ale. His brother handed it to him. “A toast,” Graham solemnly called out. “A toast to no’ having to live with ye fookers any longer.”

“Fooker?” Rocque called out, still chortling, “I hardly ken ‘er!”

As the laughter threatened to drown him out, Alistair raised his voice. “Ye love us, dinnae lie!”

Nodding somberly, Graham agreed. “Each and every one of ye, although ye’re a trial to my patience.”

And then, as Alistair laughed, Graham dumped his ale atop his brother’s head.

“Och, and who’ll clean that up?” Moira screeched.

Kiergan waves his hand. “Ali can use his kilt. There’s a part no’ quite soaked yet!”

“Dinnae call me that,” Alistair growled.

“Aye,” Dunc hollered, “ ’tis as bad as Uncle Duncle!”

William had to hold his belly he was laughing so hard. It did his heart good to see his sons sharing so much affection, even if they were a handful.

Alistair and Kiergan had been with him the longest, having been born right there in Oliphant Castle to a serving lass William barely remembered, who’d died giving them life.

Duncan and Finn were born shortly after to a pretty lass down in the village, who’d since married the blacksmith, a fine man. The lads had grown up running wild between the village and the castle.

Rocque and Malcolm had joined them over a decade later. Their mother had been banished when her father had discovered she was carrying the laird’s bastards, and they’d been born in the home of a distant relative who’d treated them as drudges. After their mother’s death, they’d made their way to Oliphant Castle, where William and the other lads had welcomed them with open arms.

But truthfully, ‘twas Graham whom William still couldn’t believe was really here. He’d been in love once, decades ago, with the beautiful daughter of the MacVanish Laird. She’d given herself to him, and he would’ve married her, had her father not lied and told William of her death. To learn she’d lived long enough to bear his son—one of many, but special because of his mother—had taken some time to get used to.

Graham had come and gone through the fall and winter, but now would live permanently on MacKinnon land…but William knew he was blessed to call the lad his son.

He was blessed by all of his sons, and Nessa too.

“I’ve got a toast,” rumbled Rocque, finally, as he lumbered to his feet. Beside him, Merewyn expertly bounced her son against her shoulder. Despite the length of her pregnancy, she’d recovered the fastest, and had spent the last fortnight badgering her sisters-in-law into trying various exercises and concoctions.

Slowly, everyone quieted as the big man lifted his flagon.

“I’d like to make a toast…to the future. Da’s got a good crop of grandbairns already, and at least one more is on the way.” He nodded to Lara, who blushed. “But no’ from Nessa, because Nessa can never have bairns, as I refuse to think of her having sex.”

“Lots and lots of sex!” called out his sister from Brohn’s lap. “Sometimes more than once a day!”

But Rocque calmly ignored her. “Aye, Nessa isnae having sex, so nae bairns from her. But my point is… Och, what was my point?”

“Bairns, love,” Merewyn prompted him.

“Aye! Bairns!” Rocque nodded forcefully. “Da said whoever had a son first would become laird. Well, we have Mary and Elizabeth born first, and then Ava.” He smiled at first Fiona, then Evelinde. “And Graeme and my Robert born on the same day. But fair is fair—Graeme came first, and so, let me be among the first to raise a cup and salute the next Laird Oliphant—Kiergan!”

As the rest of the family toasted him, Kiergan wasn’t laughing. For the first time William could recall, this ne’er-do-well son of his looked…embarrassed. When he offered Rocque his hand, Rocque didn’t clasp forearms as they normally did, but instead, pulled him