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

Chapter Thirty-Six

Rory gestured for Gavin to join the crowd. Iain stepped aside to make room for Gavin amid the many MacTaggarts. Meanwhile, Rory and Lachlan conferred in hushed voices about the impending haggis-hurling match. Lachlan, his expression tight, listened with intent interest as Rory explained who-knew-what. Lachlan nodded, then waved for Aidan to approach. After more hushed and serious conversation, Aidan sprinted toward the castle wall and vanished through the garden doorway.

Trevor waited halfway between the wall and the crowd, set apart, sneering at no one in particular.

"What's going on?" Gavin asked Iain.

"Setting up the match," Iain explained. "Aidan must be gathering the supplies. They'll need some haggis, of course, and it must be cooked. A platform is usually required too, with whisky barrels as the common choice."

"I have to stand on a whisky barrel?"

"Yes. I hope you have a good sense of balance."

Gavin observed Lachlan and Rory, who still conversed but seemed more relaxed now that they'd sent their younger brother to fetch the necessary items. "You said the haggis has to be cooked. Does that mean Rory was planning this all along? I don't mean like he's in league with Trevor, but he must've thought about doing some haggis hurling. Right?"

Iain scratched his chin and nodded slowly. "Rory believes in being prepared. If he thought he might want to hurl haggis, he would've made sure to cook some beforehand."

"All part of his test for me."

"Take it as a compliment," Iain said, smiling in that Iain-like, subdued way. "Rory never bothered to test any of Jamie's previous boyfriends."

Gavin figured he ought to be flattered, but Trevor's appearance had turned this simple test of his determination into an all-out war. If Trevor won this goofy haggis-hurling thing, the English Ass would crow about it forever and probably move to Scotland exclusively to keep on crowing about it, even though the guy hated this country. What was Trevor's game? Not haggis hurling. He had something way slimier up his sleeve.

Aidan trotted out the garden doorway, steering toward his brothers. The youngest of the Three Macs carried a small whisky barrel in one hand while he carted a plastic sack over the other shoulder. Two lumps weighed down the sack. When Aidan reached his brothers, he set the barrel on the ground and dumped the sack beside it.

The brothers engaged in more hush-hush discussion.

Lachlan gave a sharp nod and retreated to where his wife stood with their son in her arms.

Aidan said something to Rory that made the solicitor's brows shoot up. Rory almost smiled, then slapped his brother on the shoulder. Aidan hustled over to his wife and child.

Calli waved one finger to catch Gavin's attention. She gave him a thumb's-up sign and mouthed, "Good luck."

He mouthed, "Thanks."

Jamie wended her way through the crowd to Gavin. She planted a quick but firm kiss on his lips, and said, "Beat him. In any and all senses of the word."

"Will do."

She took up a position beside Emery, and the two women linked their arms.

Rory cleared his throat loud enough to make everyone fall silent. "Gavin Douglas, come forward. Trevor Langley, come forward. The haggis hurling is about to commence."

Gavin and Trevor approached Rory, and both eyed the whisky barrel.

Trevor smirked.

A lot of nasty words popped into Gavin's head, but he stopped short of spewing them. There were kids in the vicinity. Besides, he wouldn't give Trevor the satisfaction of pissing him off.

Instead, Gavin cracked his knuckles and said, "Let's do this."

Rory dumped the contents of the plastic sack, picked up a haggis, and tossed it to Gavin. "The American goes first."

Trevor's mouth pinched into a petulant expression.

Gavin didn't bother suppressing his self-satisfied smile. He had no qualms about liking the Englishman's annoyance.

"Stand on the barrel," Rory said, "and hurl away."

"Man, you better be careful saying that to an American. We have a different idea about what hurling means."

Rory glanced at Emery where she waited beside Lachlan and Erica. "I'm aware of that."

Gavin hefted the large, rock-shaped sausage in his hand, testing its weight. "Aw, even a girl could throw this. Guess that means Langley's in trouble, seeing as he's in the kiddie weight class."

Trevor's nostrils flared, his lips warped into a nasty expression.

Okay, yeah, Gavin could admit he really liked pissing off the English Ass.

Gavin stepped onto the barrel, elevated maybe a foot off the ground. He bent his knees for stability, trying to gauge how much the barrel might move. Satisfied he wouldn't tumble over backward, he drew his arm back as if pitching a baseball.

He hurled the haggis.

The lump of sausage plopped down a good distance away.

Iain raced out to measure the distance. "Twenty-eight point one."

Cheers erupted behind him, and he heard Calli shouting, "Go, Gavin!"

Someone whistled. Probably Aidan.

Gavin hopped off the barrel and spotted Jamie with her fingers in her mouth, preparing to whistle again. Not Aidan after all. Emery's mom had taught Jamie how to whistle that way at Thanksgiving. Jamie gave up whistling and clapped furiously, her face alight with joy.

He winked at her.

Trevor stalked past him, bashing his shoulder into Gavin's on his way to the barrel. He threw Gavin a nasty glare.

Sir Pissy snatched up the other lump of haggis and flung it.

The barrel teetered, and Trevor tumbled ass-first to the ground, letting out an explosive grunt.

Everyone watched the haggis fly through the air to whump down on the grass.

Iain jogged out to measure. "Twenty-six point three."

Trevor scrambled to his feet, hair mussed, eyes wild. "We do it again."

Jeez, the guy sounded as frazzled and desperate as he looked.

"You lost," Gavin said, trying to sound conciliatory. "Get over it and move on."

By the expression on Trevor's face, Gavin knew the guy understood he'd meant Trevor lost more than the haggis-hurling match.

Trevor stabbed a finger in Gavin's face. Spittle sprayed as he hissed, "We go again. And again. And again. Until I say we stop. A Langley does not lose anything to a bloody American."

"Enough is enough," Gavin said. "I flung a frigging sausage to make you happy. I don't owe you anything, Langley, and I'm done playing your juvenile games."

"Langleys do not accept defeat or degradation."

Rage distorted Trevor's perfect features.

With an epiphany that hit him like a bolt of lightning, Gavin finally got it. Trevor had never tried to woo Jamie, though he claimed to want her back. He'd harassed her even after she told him off — more than once. The jerk had done everything he could to make both Jamie and Gavin miserable, to drive a wedge between them. Splitting them up had seemed way more important to Trevor than winning back his so-called lost love. When he'd called Jamie a slag, that should've tipped Gavin off. Part of him just couldn't believe anybody could be such a slime.

Wrong . Trevor Langley was made of slime. The putrid, puke-green kind.

"You're not trying to win Jamie back," Gavin said. "You want revenge on her for having the nerve to dump your ass five years ago."

Trevor glowered at Gavin, teeth grinding, breaths gusting out of his nostrils.

"Go home," Gavin said. "And find a good therapist."

A roar erupted out of Trevor. The man hurled his own body at Gavin.

With one arm, Gavin deflected the Englishman's assault and sent him tumbling to the ground.

Trevor lay there flat on his back, dazed.

Aidan piped up. "With all the work you've been doing for me, you've got more than enough muscle to skelp that scunner."

"I don't want to beat him up," Gavin said. "He's not worth it."

Trevor pushed up onto his elbows, brows furrowed. His attention swerved to Aidan, and the Englishman flattened his lips.

Gavin scrutinized Trevor, hit by a sudden certainty the guy was up to something. Nobody got that kind of look on his face unless he was plotting.

A smile of pure satisfaction spread across Trevor's face.

Oh, that was not good. Not good at all.

The English Ass struggled to his feet, dusted himself off, and nodded as if he'd reached a decision. "You're right, Douglas. My task here is done."

Trevor Langley rushed through the garden gate and disappeared.

Everyone watched him go. Then, one by one, they all focused on Gavin.

He hunched his shoulders. "Don't ask me. I've got no clue what that guy was talking about."

"Forget Langley," Rory said. "We have a prize for you."

"You don't have to do that."

"It's already done." Rory nodded to Lachlan who trotted off through the garden door. While his brother disappeared inside the castle walls, Rory fixed his inscrutable gaze on Gavin. "You are an intelligent man. I'm sure you've deduced the reason behind all of this — except for our unwanted visitor's behavior, that is."

Gavin stayed silent for a moment, considering the test and Rory's actions leading up to today. "I have an idea, but I'm not positive about it."

Rory waved a hand in a go-on gesture. "Share your deduction."

"Well," Gavin said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "I can't figure out why, but it seems like you've been trying to make me man up and stop acting like a dumb-ass, to get me to face up to my fears and get over them."

"Very good." Rory rested one foot atop the whisky barrel. "Anything else?"

What the hell. Gavin had no reason not to forge ahead and blurt out everything he'd figured out today. "At first, I thought it was Calli's sneaky idea to have me stay with Iain, a guy who let the love of his life get away. Then, I decided it must've been Emery. Now, I'm thinking it was your idea."

"Another wise deduction," Rory said. "Emery had wanted you to stay with Lachlan and Erica, thinking my brother might tell you how he overcame his fears. I steered my wife in the direction of Iain because I believed he had the story that would help you the most. Iain never shared the details with me, but I suspected the local gossip had it right, at least the fundamentals of it. You weren't afraid because of a bad marriage as Lachlan and I were. You had different fears that threatened to derail your relationship with Jamie. Iain seemed the perfect friend for you."

Emery hurried up beside her husband, hooking her arm under his. She spoke to Gavin. "I had no idea at first why Rory wanted you to meet Iain, but I knew he must have a good reason. When I finally wheedled it out of him, I was very impressed with my hubby's sneakiness. He's come a long way from the repressed solicitor who couldn't admit he had feelings for me. Now, Rory MacTaggart meddles right along with me."

Rory laid a hand over Emery's where it curled around his bicep. "My wife swears she never meddled until after she married me." He gave Emery a sarcastically reproving look. "I think she might have massaged the truth a bit."

His wife poked him in the side. "I never needed to meddle until I met you. If I hadn't shoved my nose into your business at every turn, we never would've stayed married."

"Yes," Rory said, gazing at his wife with an almost dreamy expression, "you always know what's best for me, mo gaoloch ."

Jamie sidled up to Gavin, resting her head on his upper arm and looking at him the way her brother was looking at his wife. Gavin kissed the top of Jamie's head.

"I'm assuming," Gavin said to Rory, "the bromancing thing was all your wife."

Rory feigned a wince, his mouth twisted in mock disgust. "Only Emery would come up with an idea sure to make any man feel like a jessie."

"No one would ever mistake you for a weakling," Emery said, nudging her husband with her whole body. "My idea worked, didn't it?"

"Aye, it did." Rory bent to kiss his wife full on the mouth in a lingering lip-lock. "I will never again doubt the wisdom of my darling wife."

Lachlan jogged out of the garden doorway straight to Rory, handing him a soft-looking package wrapped in plain brown paper. "Here it is. Should we have a formal ceremony for this? Dunk his head in holy water, maybe?"

Rory sighed. "No, Lachie, it's not a baptism."

His older brother squinted at him with feigned indignation. "Maybe I should dunk your head in holy water, to exorcise the demon that makes you keep calling me Lachie when ye know I'll skelp ye for it."

"Nah, Lachie," Aidan chimed in, "you're no rabid wolf. You're a fluffy little puppy, especially when your wife smiles at you."

Emery laughed. "And Rory's a big old teddy bear. What about you, Aidan? Calli, what sort of unmanly thing is your husband when he thinks nobody's watching?"

"Donnae trick my wife," Aidan said, "into calling me anything but a randy bull."

Calli grinned. "He's a bunny rabbit. Sweet and soft and adorable, and lovely to pet."

Gavin couldn't help laughing softly even as he told Rory, "Your family's weird. Sounds like you're all into bestiality."

"Not in the least," Rory said. He slapped Gavin on the back. "You're a part of this family now, so if we are perverts, you're one too."

"As long as Jamie doesn't call me a trout, I'm okay with it."

"No," Jamie said, "you're a wild mustang stallion."

Lachlan made a rude noise. "Why does Gavin get a macho animal for his alter ego, but the rest of us are puppies and kittens?"

"Because ye are, Lachie," Rory said. He offered the paper-wrapped package to Gavin. "Your prize for overcoming your fears and earning a seat at the MacTaggart clan's table."

Gavin peeled away the brown paper. When he realized what he held in his hands, he glanced up at Rory, then back down to the item. Lifting the folded fabric, he studied its colors — blue and green with threads of orange.

"This is —" Gavin cleared his throat and straightened. "Is this the MacTaggart clan tartan?"

"It is. And that is your kilt."

"My… kilt?" Gavin blinked some more, having a hell of a time grasping what was happening. "You're letting an American wear your family's tartan?"

"Yes." Rory cast a suggestive glance at his wife. "I let my wife wear my kilt, after all."

Jamie squeezed Gavin's arm. "This means you're one of us. You have a family, Gavin."

He wasn't an orphan anymore, that's what she meant. He hadn't thought of himself that way in a while. The more he worked to get in good with the Three Macs, the less he felt like an abandoned child all alone in the world. He'd always had Calli, even after she moved to Scotland. Nothing would ever take her away from him, not in the ways that counted. He'd acquired a bunch more sisters and brothers too.

Most important of all, he had Jamie.

He bent to murmur so only she could hear. "What would you think about starting our own branch of this family tree as soon as we're hitched?"

The smile that lit her face illuminated his heart too. "I'd love that."

"Come," Rory said in a booming voice meant to reach every last MacTaggart gathered on the green. "Let's go to the great hall and celebrate our newest clan member with plenty of whisky and, as my wife would say, lots of gooey goodies."

Gavin draped the plaid kilt over his arm and led the woman he loved through the garden door. Everything was perfect, more than he could've hoped for a couple months ago, and yet one thought niggled at him.

What was Trevor plotting?