Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots Book 8) Page 2

  Pop? Graham’s lips twitched, having never heard that description before. “That’s why I’m here, brother.”

  Kiergan’s hand tightened on his shoulder, then dropped. “I willnae say I havenae missed ye these months. I ken ye claimed ye had business and patients in St. Andrews, but ‘tis pleased I am ye’ve wrapped all that up to return home.” Before Graham could work out how to respond to that, his brother hurried on, adding, “I suspect ye’ve been away for so long because of Davina, but with her return, mayhap the two of ye will find a way to be together.”

  Graham’s gaze was drawn back to the western horizon. Was there movement in that direction? The spring snow was finally starting to melt, so ‘twas hard to imagine the roads were aught but mud, but ‘twas impossible to deny there were travelers on their way to Oliphant Castle.

  Was it the MacKinnons finally arriving?

  “Ye ken how much ye all mean to me?” he murmured to his brother but didn’t allow him the chance to answer before he continued, “I’ve had a family my whole life, but no’…a family. Ye have welcomed me with open arms, and I’ve been blessed to find ye.”

  Beside him, Kiergan grunted. “Why do I hear a ‘but’ in there?”

  Unable to resist the jibe, Graham solemnly said, “If ye hear butts, I think the medical solution is to get yer head out of yer arse.”

  “Oh, hah. Hah.” When Graham glanced at his brother, Kiergan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “What I should’ve said is, why does it sound as if ye’re ready to hie off to St. Andrews again, ye great clot-heid?”

  Suppressing his sigh, Graham turned back to the distant travelers. “Because I am considering it.” It all depended on what happened in the next few fortnights. “I love ye all, but this place will always remind me of her. If I cannae be with Davina—if she doesnae want me—I would rather be someplace I can make a real difference without such painful memories.”

  Last summer, he’d hidden in the secret passages and awaited word of the MacKinnons’ arrival, desperate for the chance to see his Vina. They’d fallen in love months before when he’d visited Mull to tend to a patient’s elderly uncle, but her grandfather had refused Graham entrance to MacKinnon land when he’d learned of their feelings for one another. As far as Angus MacKinnon was concerned, the man who married his granddaughter would be the next MacKinnon laird, and a MacVanish bastard wasn’t worthy of the title.

  Apparently, an Oliphant bastard wasnae worthy enough either, although he’d been happy to betroth her to Kiergan when he had the chance.

  In the distance, the dust cloud resolved into a mounted party, and Graham dropped his hands to the stone before him, squinting to make out the banners.

  His brother sighed, likely understanding Graham’s dilemma and being kind enough not to try to talk him out of it.

  “Does she ken ye’ll be here?’

  He grunted a negative in response to Kiergan’s question. “She hasnae responded to any of my letters. ‘Til ye wrote to tell me she and her grandfather would be joining ye for Katlyn’s confinement, I had nae idea how she fared. She could already be married to another man by now,” he finished in a whisper.

  “Nay, brother.” Kiergan’s tone bordered on pitying. “Katlyn would’ve kenned such news and would tell us all. Davina is still unmarried and no’ betrothed either.”

  Which meant she just didn’t want to speak to him.

  Fabulous.

  The approaching riders were wearing MacKinnon colors and surrounded a fancy carriage.

  Beside him, Kiergan leaned his elbows on the stone wall. “True story. I stood up here last summer, watching this same scene. Da had only just told me the MacKinnon was bringing his granddaughter to marry me, and I was livid. I came up here to get a glimpse of her, and when she stepped out of that carriage, I thought she was the most beautiful creature God had made.”

  She was. She is.

  “But ‘twas her sister who met my eyes, who made me lose my breath,” Kiergan continued ruefully. “It took me a bit longer to fall, but when I did…” He blew out a happy breath.

  “ ’Twas good.” Graham nodded matter-of-factly. “Because if ye’d tried to woo Davina, I’d have had to kill my own brother.”

  Kiergan burst into laughter and straightened to slap his hand on Graham’s back once more. “Aye, but ye didnae ken we were brothers then! Ye were still skulking about the passageways, and one day I should tell ye who I’d thought ‘twas who’d come to my room that first night!”

  Graham had a good idea, since on their first night in the castle, he’d gone to Davina’s room to find her sister Katlyn missing. He and Vina had made good use of Kat’s absence that night, and the memory never failed to arouse him.

  Last summer, he’d been in St. Andrews when she’d sent him word of the planned journey to Oliphant Castle in order to marry one of the laird’s bastard sons. He was a man who believed being fore-warned was to be fore-armed, so he visited the college’s library and found a treatise on architecture which included a map of the secret passages of Oliphant Castle.

  He’d thought he was learning about an enemy stronghold, little realizing it was his own family’s history.

  And meeting with Vina in secret—thanks to the passages few knew about—for those blissful few days had been the happiest of his life.

  “Aye, ‘tis the MacKinnons aright. Soon ye’ll have answers, and my Kat will let me put my feet up and rest a bit.” Before Graham could do more than snort, Kiergan chuckled. “This really is verra much like my watch last summer. All that is missing—”

  “Ho! Kier! Have ye seen Graham—Och, there ye are!”

  Kiergan groaned as Rocque came bounding up the steps. “—is Rocque.”

  As Kiergan slid behind him—as if Graham could somehow hide his tall frame—Graham murmured, “Are ye avoiding Rocque?”

  “I’m avoiding Rocque’s nose. I dinnae ken how his wife can put up with all that honking and wheezing and no’ get— Oh, hello, Rocque.”

  Ignoring him, Rocque reached for Graham and pulled the smaller man into a hug. ‘Twas possible his brains were being squeezed out of his ears, but Graham awkwardly patted this huge brother of his on the back and tried to stay out of range of what he now saw was Rocque’s runny nose. As the larger man—beaming happily—released him, Graham took stock of his ribs and tried to remember how to breathe.

  “I’ve been hoping ye’d return soon, Graham! Dinnae think I dinnae see ye cowering over there, Kier, but ye’ll no’ convince me to forgo punishment for missing this morning’s sparring session.”

  Kiergan groaned again. “I told ye, I had two letters to draft for Da’s seal! These things take time!”

  “Aye, and so does perfecting yer sword arm!” Rocque sniffed hugely, then wiped his nose across his forearm. “If we go to war—”

  “If we go to war, ye’ll lead the warriors, ye clot-heid! Ye’re the commander.”

  “And a good one too!”

  Rolling his eyes, Kiergan snapped, “Aye, I’ll no’ deny it. But I dinnae ask ye to answer the correspondence, nor draft replies and trade agreements and contracts.”

  When Rocque shuddered, a glistening drip rolled from one of his nostrils to get stuck in the thick red hair above his lips. Graham watched in fascination, his gaze flicking between the two men. His MacVanish cousins treated one another with cool indifference, but these brothers of his looked ready to launch into violence at any moment.

  “Can we just agree that I’ll no’ give ye shite about missing training if ye dinnae force me to practice my letters?” growled Rocque.

  “Aye!” Kiergan sounded relieved. “ ’Twas my point all along.”

  “Then why were ye cowering?”

  “I wasnae cowering!” Kiergan threw a glance at Graham. “Tell him.”

  Shrugging, Graham watched the MacKinnon contingent creep closer. “Ye looked as if ye were cowering to me.”

  Kiergan scoffed. “I was staying out of range of his snot! Have ye seen how sick he is?”
>
  “I’m no’ s-s-sick!”

  Rocque had barely managed to get the word out before a huge sneeze caught him unaware. Graham, recognizing the signs, grabbed Kiergan and pulled him backward out of range of the spewed mucus.

  “St. Columba, bless me,” murmured Kiergan, performing a quick Sign of the Cross. “Ye saved me, Graham.”

  Rocque sniffed. “Dinnae be so melodramatic.”

  “Me? Melodramatic?” Kiergan clutched at his chest. “Graham saved me. With reflexes like that, ‘tis safe to say he’s exempt from sparring too?”

  “ ’Twas no’ like he threw himself in front of an arrow for ye.”

  “Ye did have verra pointed snot,” Graham pointed out, “and impressive range.”

  Rocque blinked, looking as though he couldn’t decide if he’d been insulted or not.

  “Ye likely saved my life!” Kiergan went on, his tone so serious, he had to be teasing. “I might’ve caught the devil’s snot and perished!”

  “The devil’s snot?” Graham repeated blandly.

  “Aye, the devil’s snot! When it comes out of Rocque’s nose, ‘tis—”

  Rocque growled, “Listen, ye little shite, I can still beat ye three ways to next Sunday, snot or nae.”

  “Do I get a say?” Kiergan quipped. “I vote for nae snot.”

  Below, the MacKinnons were rolling toward the gate, and Graham knew he was moments away from seeing Davina again. And here he was, arguing about snot.

  “Kiergan, the sniffles likely willnae kill ye. Wash yer hands before ye eat and dinnae lick Rocque.”

  “I shall endeavor to refrain from such urges,” Kiergan intoned solemnly.

  “And Rocque…” Graham rounded on their larger brother, fumbling for the pouch on his belt and pulling out a scrap of material. “This is a handkerchief. ‘Tis more sanitary than yer sleeve, and if ye sneeze in it, ‘twill prevent the sickness from spreading.”

  Rocque frowned at the square of linen. “I ken what ‘tis, but why would I want to sneeze into it and trap the sickness in my nose? Surely ‘tis better to force the devil snot out of my body?”

  And spread it to the rest of the world? Graham tamped down on his shudder, knowing most people didn’t understand the human body the way he did.

  “ ’Tis no’ devil snot. Nor… Nor…” With one eye on the approaching caravan, he searched his memory for what else he’d heard used to describe illnesses as he waved the handkerchief at Rocque. “Nor an evil miasma, nor bad air. ‘Tis merely that ye have tiny—” How to explain the theory of contagions? “Seeds of the illness in yer nose and mouth. When ye sneeze, ye spread those seeds.

  “Like dandelions?” Rocque said doubtfully, taking the handkerchief.

  “Aye!” Graham gratefully grasped for the metaphor. “And ye dinnae want to spread those seeds to those ye love.”

  “We need Merewyn to be healthy, for yer own bairn and the rest of ours,” Kiergan pointed out.

  Rocque was frowning down at the linen square. “So these demon seeds are in my nose, and I need to catch them before they can spread around?”

  The analogy wasn’t perfect, but below them, the MacKinnons were trotting into the courtyard. “Aye! Close enough.”

  “I cannae allow demon seeds to—to—”

  As Rocque drew breath for another sneeze, Kiergan took a big step backward, and Graham used the chance to sidle closer to the courtyard.

  “Achoo!” The big man had gotten the handkerchief up in time, catching most of the sneeze in the linen square.

  “Good work, Rocque!” Kiergan burst out, springing to the big man’s side and slamming his hand down on Rocque’s back. “I’m so proud of ye!”

  He beamed like a father bragging about his son’s first caught fish, as Rocque frowned suspiciously down at the handkerchief.

  “That wasnae so bad,” he muttered, lifting the linen up by two corners to peer at it. “But I dinnae see the nose seeds.”

  “Demon seeds,” Kiergan corrected, pointed one finger at the handkerchief. “And there’s one, see?”

  “ ’Tis snot.”

  “Mayhap demon nose seeds look like snot?”

  As the two of them debated, Graham stepped up to the edge of the wall and peered down into the courtyard. There was the MacKinnon, his long white hair and beard braided in the style of a younger man. His men surrounded him, helped him dismount, then opened the door of the carriage.

  Graham held his breath as a slim leg emerged, followed by a green gown the color of new leaves, and then…

  He caught his breath.

  Seven months, and she was still just as beautiful as he remembered.

  Even from this height, he could see her subtle stretch, and the way she took a deep breath, then tilted her head back to catch the spring sunshine.

  And when their eyes met, she froze.

  This was it. She was back at Oliphant Castle.

  Davina stretched her back, trying to be subtle enough her grandfather—who was already leading his men toward the stables—wouldn’t notice. Since her birth, she’d been taught the future of the MacKinnon clan rested in her hands, and ‘twas her duty to use her perfect manners, feminine charm, and stunning beauty to entice the right man.

  Instead, she’d met and fallen in love with a bastard-born doctor on a mission of mercy.

  Nae use thinking of Graham now. Focus on Katlyn. He might no’ even be here.

  She took a deep breath before tipping her head back, then slowly exhaling, loving the feel of the spring sun on her face after being stuck alone in that carriage for so long. At least the weather had cleared enough to allow for traveling.

  A small smile was on her lips when she opened her eyes and saw the man by the parapet above.

  Graham.

  Her eyes locked with his, and she froze.

  Her first thought was, Grandda’s going to be riled as a bees’ nest…and strangely, that fact didn’t bother her as much as it should. Because Graham was here, and she cursed her traitorous heart when it sped up.

  Aye, Graham’s here, but he wants naught to do with ye, remember?

  But he was staring at her awfully hard, was he not? She wished she could see his lovely dark blue eyes closer in order to get some hint at what he was feeling.

  Nay. Nay. Dinnae think like that.

  He was the one who’d sworn to love her forever, but then had refused to communicate with her. She was the wounded one here.

  So it took all her strength to close her eyes, to turn away, to drop her chin…just in time to hear her name being screamed by a voice she knew well.

  “Vina! Vina, ye’re here!” Katlyn was running across the courtyard, if what she was doing could be called running as ‘twas really more of a fast waddle, but she was laughing with joy by the time she reached Davina.

  Vina’s mouth dropped open as she saw the changes in her sister. “Kat! Look at ye! Ye’re…”

  “Fat! I’m fat!”

  Both of them burst into laughter as they threw their arms around one another, and Vina felt tears gathering in her eyes at the same time. Tears of happiness, she assured herself. ‘Twas only because she was so excited to see her sister.

  “I cannae even hug ye! How does Kiergan see his way around this giant lump?”

  Katlyn linked her arm through Davina’s and began to pull her toward the main doors. “He manages well enough, I can tell ye.” She winked lewdly. “And if ye think I’m large, wait ‘til ye see Fiona!”

  “Och, Fiona’s no’ had her bairn yet?” By the time Davina and Grandda had left Oliphant Castle last summer, Kat’s sister-in-law was already showing.

  “Nay, and the other day, Merewyn mentioned Fiona’s big enough to be carrying two bairns, and Finn almost vomited!”

  It likely wasn’t that funny, but Vina found herself laughing along with her sister, pleased to be tucked up against her like old times. “And Merewyn? How fares she?”

  “Also as big as a house.” Kat rubbed her stomach in the most charming way, obvi
ously a habit she’d developed over the months of pregnancy. “But ye ken her; she’s still rushing about, bossing us all around. She’ll have her hands full if we all start laboring while she’s still pregnant!”

  If that happened, at least they’d have…

  As if pulled by an invisible string, Davina’s chin turned over her shoulder, her eyes seeking out the man on the parapets. He wasn’t there anymore, and she wasn’t certain if she was relieved or disappointed to learn Graham hadn’t stood there to watch her leave.

  Had he been here at Oliphant Castle all these months, and Kat hadn’t mentioned him in her letters? Or had he only returned for the births?

  He was a trained medical man, and although ‘twas not proper a man be present at such a feminine event, having someone like him on hand would be a blessing if Merewyn wasn’t able to help because of her own labor.

  Aye. ‘Twas likely the reason Graham had returned, right? No other reason.

  Swallowing down a feeling very much like disappointment, Davina forced herself to focus on her sister’s words as Katlyn chattered happily about the future and Merewyn’s teasing.

  Davina shot her sister a sideways look as they started climbing the stairs, making sure each step she took was stable in case Kat needed to lean on her. “Is it likely that Merewyn will still be pregnant when ye and the others begin yer labor? Ye told me she fell pregnant before she was even married, which would put her ahead—”

  “Och, aye, she’ll likely be the next after Fiona. But naught is set in stone.”

  “Would ye be disappointed if that happened?”

  Katlyn’s chuckle was husky. “Nay. Rocque would make a good laird if Finn doesnae beat him to it.”

  “But Kiergan is yer husband.”

  “Aye, and I’ll support him and love him as I’m able. He would also make a good laird if given the opportunity. As would Malcolm, since Evelinde is so close to her time now as well. They’d all make good lairds, but I think Kiergan is especially blessed. He’s diplomatic and charming, but he kens people, and ‘tis important.”