Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt (Hot Scots #4)

Chapter Twenty-Five

The first bird had been gobbled up, and the second bird brought in with the same ceremony as the first, when the trouble started. Gavin tried to mind his own business throughout the meal. He chatted with Mrs. Teague, Erica's mom, and Mrs. MacTaggart, the clan matriarch. Why Emery had placed him between the two moms, and directly across from Lachlan, he had no idea. He would've been more comfortable sitting next to Iain. Lachlan studied him occasionally, even smiled a couple times. With all the conversation din around them, though, he and Lachlan had trouble speaking over the wide table.

So, he gabbed with the moms.

The longer he talked to them, hearing stories about Erica's life before Lachlan and the MacTaggart brood's shenanigans, the more antsy he got. It shouldn't have bothered him after all these years, but all this family time reminded him he had no family anymore. His parents were gone six years. Calli had joined the MacTaggart clan more than a year ago.

He nibbled at his food, but his stomach didn't seem inclined to accept any of it.

One of the rug rats — he couldn't see which, but Nicholas seemed like the prime suspect — lobbed a yeast roll at the adults table. It bounced off the top of Aidan's head and landed on Jamie's lap. She yelped and giggled. Cole, Emery's brother-in-law, snagged the roll and tore off a big mouthful.

"It wasn't my kids," Hadley, Emery's sister, proclaimed. "They're little angels."

Calli piped up with, "Sarah's too little to pick up a roll, much less throw one."

Everyone looked at Erica.

She pretended offense. "Oh that's right, blame Nicky. I'd like to see the evidence incriminating him. I think Lachlan did it."

Erica scowled at her husband, but the twitching of her lips exposed her humor.

"It was Iain," Lachlan countered. "He knows how to throw bread like a boomerang."

"Do I?" Iain said with that mildly sardonic tone Gavin had come to know as signature Iain. "I'm a magician then, eh, Lachie?"

Laughter and more good-natured taunts followed.

Gavin set down his fork, unable to eat. Families teased each other. Families traded jibes and shared meals. He glanced at Emery, and she winked. Whatever that meant. She was a little weird.

When he'd first arrived at the castle, he'd been in a damn good mood. Jamie had greeted him with a brilliant smile that melted his heart. Then, she'd thrown her arms around him. Yeah, that was a great start to Thanksgiving.

Sure, yesterday he found Trevor here trying to make time with Jamie. She wasn't having any of it, though. The quickest glimpse of the English Ass made him really, really annoyed. Finding out the guy had offered Jamie a job, that had him grinding his teeth. And suddenly, an urge to prove she was his had overpowered him. He'd dragged Jamie to her bedroom and fucked her like she'd vanish into thin air if he stopped, making her come so many times she'd been dazed afterward. Maybe it had been stupid manly pride, or maybe a desperate need to reclaim her.

Not that she'd ever belonged to him. He didn't want to own her. He wanted her, period.

Which meant getting in good with her brothers.

And Lachlan was studying him again.

He couldn't have a real conversation with the guy in this situation. Too much noise, too much of a crowd. What he needed to talk about with Lachlan required privacy. He really didn't need gossip about him sucking up to the Three Macs to spread across this table.

Gavin glanced to the right, past Mrs. Teague and Mrs. Granger, Emery's mom.

Iain nodded at him, his mouth seeming stuck in that subdued smile he so often wore.

Nodding in response, Gavin speared a slice of turkey from the nearest platter and plopped it onto his plate. Time to try food again.

"Mr. Douglas."

The deep voice of Rory MacTaggart boomed through the great hall, and everyone fell silent — even the rug rats at the kids table.

Gavin took a deep breath and swung his attention toward the lord of the castle.

Rory raised his brows. "Enjoying the turkey?"

"Sure, it's good." Gavin poked at the slice he'd put on his plate, despite not wanting to eat. "You can call me Gavin."

"I believe Mr. Douglas is more appropriate since we have business to discuss."

Gavin couldn't help it. He stared at Rory like the man had grown horns. The big, red, spiky kind. What was the guy up to?

"Family business," Rory said.

Emery sharpened her gaze on her husband, her eyes slitted.

Rory ignored her, his focus squarely on Gavin. "What are you doing with my sister, Mr. Douglas?"

Gavin flattened his palms on his thighs, fighting the impulse to gape at the man. How did a person answer a question like that? He had no frigging idea.

So of course, he blurted out something dumb. "Jamie's my girlfriend."

Rory picked up his knife and twirled it between his fingers, the light glancing off its polished silver surface. "You hurt her badly. What makes you think you have the right to call her your girlfriend?"

"Excuse me?" Gavin bristled, and dammit, though he tried to rein in his temper he failed. Those two words came out razor-sharp.

"What precisely are your intentions with my sister?"

Jamie's brother might as well have scraped a metal brush up Gavin's spine. Gavin snapped ramrod straight, his jaw set. "I love Jamie, and frankly, my intentions are none of your business."

Calm down , he chastised himself. Get a grip and don't let this guy rattle you . That was exactly what Rory wanted, and it was damn hard to ignore the taunts. He had to do it, though, for Jamie.

Gavin took a slow breath and exhaled out the anger.

"Is that so?" Rory said in that infuriatingly level tone. He clapped the knife down on his plate. "You won't marry my sister, but you've been fucking her in my house."

Before Gavin could react, Sorcha MacTaggart smacked her palms down on the table. "Rory Niall MacTaggart, shame on you. There are children in the room."

Gavin swore one corner of Rory's mouth kicked up in amusement.

"Mrs. Darroch," Rory said without glancing at the housekeeper, "why don't you and Tavish take the children to the sitting room?"

Though she frowned at Rory, Mrs. Darroch murmured to Tavish and the two of them hustled the kids out of the great hall and down the stairs.

Lachlan cleared his throat. "Rory, why don't we try to calm down."

"We?" Rory arched one brow at his older brother. "This conversation doesn't involve you, Lachie."

Emery nailed her husband with a hard look, her eyes squinted and her lips compressed. Gavin wouldn't have been surprised to see smoke curling up from her ears.

Rory smirked at his wife and sneaked a hand under the table.

Emery jerked, then relaxed as her expression softened.

Gavin decided he did not want to know what Rory was doing to his wife under the table.

Sorcha MacTaggart latched onto her son's ear and yanked him toward her. "Rory Niall MacTaggart, you apologize to Gavin this instant."

He flashed his mother an exasperated frown. "This is between me and the American, Mother."

"Then why are ye starting a rammy in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner? Ye've made it everyone's business, and I donnae like it one bit."

"Rory," called a fatherly voice from the opposite end of the table. Niall MacTaggart wore the same kind of unperturbed expression as his son. "You're ruining the holiday meal our American daughters have arranged and looked forward to for weeks."

"This isn't —"

Niall cut his son off with a wave of his hand. "Your wife wanted this dinner."

Rory glanced sideways at Emery, then averted his gaze to his lap.

Holy shit . Rory had gotten shamed by his daddy.

It lasted about three seconds.

Rory jerked his head up and fixed his flinty gaze on Gavin. "I have a right to question the man who's using my sister. An American, no less."

"Hey!" multiple voices shouted simultaneously. All the Americans in the great hall, except Gavin, had voiced their displeasure at the implied insult — and the Americans outnumbered the Scots in this room.

Gavin thumped his fists on the table, rising halfway out of his chair. "Enough of this bullshit, Rory. You don't hate Americans. You hate me. So deal with me, MacTaggart, and say what it is you really want to say to me. If you've got the balls to."

Rory leaned back in his chair like the lord of the manor addressing a peasant. "Do you think you're good enough for my sister? Trevor Langley has a title and money."

"You b —"

The thwack of a chair striking the floor reverberated in the great hall, and a feminine voice hollered, "Haud yer wheesht, ye bleeding bawbags!"

Everyone swerved their attention to Jamie. She'd jumped up so swiftly her chair had tumbled over backward. Her cheeks crimson with emotion, she flapped her arms and alternated glaring at Rory and at Gavin.

"Nobody decides for me," she said, "who I'm involved with. Trevor is a scunner, and I donnae care how many titles he has. He could be the Prince of Wales and I wouldnae want him."

Rory opened his mouth, but his baby sister silenced him with one finger jabbed in his direction.

"Donnae be flapping yer gums, Rory," she snapped. "Gavin is my boyfriend until I say otherwise, and you have no say in it."

Again, Rory opened his mouth.

"Haud yer wheesht," Jamie said. "Ahmno finished."

Rory raised his hands, palms out, surrendering to his sister.

Why did it seem like Rory's lips inched upward at the corners? And was that humor in his eyes?

Had Rory planned this whole incident to make Jamie finally stand up to him?

Nah, that was crazy.

Rory rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers.

His lips definitely kinked that time.

Jamie failed to notice. She was on a tear, and nothing would stop her.

Damn, she was hot when she got pissed off.

"For the record," Jamie told her brother, "who I shag is none of your business, Rory. You fuck your wife in every room in this castle, and the outdoors, and the backseat of your Mercedes when it was parked in downtown Loch Fairbairn."

Lachlan and Aidan burst out laughing.

"She's got ye there," Aidan said. "My wife and I are witnesses, along with half of the villagers. I had to cover Calli's eyes. She's too innocent to see that sort of debauchery."

Rory's expression blanked. "We were parked in an alley."

"But ye weren't quiet about it," Aidan said. "Your wife's screams could be heard in Ballachulish."

Emery grinned. "We did have fun that day."

Rory's hands fell to his lap. Rather than seeming embarrassed, though, he smirked. "Emery is rather vocal in her passion."

His wife poked him in the side. "Like you aren't."

Jamie pounded her fist on the table, rattling silverware all the way down to Rory's end. "Quiet! I'm talking to Rory."

Silence.

"I'm listening," Rory said.

Jamie straightened, smoothing her dress and tugging her cardigan back into position. "I am with Gavin. When or if we get married is our decision, not yours. I love him, and you will not chase him away. Not if I have anything to say about it." She jabbed that finger at Rory again when he seemed about to speak. "And I do have a say. The only one that matters. Keep your opinions to yourself, Rory. Gavin is my boyfriend until I decide otherwise."

She held her ground, unmoving, her gaze nailed to Rory.

No one spoke for a minute, maybe longer.

Then Rory sighed and said, "As you wish."

Jamie's eyed widened for a fraction of a second like she couldn't believe she'd won the argument. "Thank you."

Another minute or so elapsed with Jamie not moving and everyone growing uncomfortable, fidgeting in their seats and exchanging confused glances.

"Are you planning to stand for the whole meal?" Rory asked mildly.

"No." Jamie chewed her bottom lip. "But I need a piss."

She trotted out of the room.

Gavin hesitated for about a second before he excused himself and took off after her.

And he swore Rory smirked.