Page 109 of Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt

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?

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Gavin got his answer four days later when a letter arrived in the mail, delivered to Iain's house and addressed to Gavin. The letter came from the Home Office, a department of the UK government. Gavin didn't quite understand everything the Home Office did, but he knew they had domain over immigration matters.

He read the letter three times, growing more numb with each pass.

After the third time, he stumbled into the living room and fell onto the sofa. The paper crinkled, and he glanced down to find he was crooking his fingers into the letter. He barely registered the fact Iain had walked into the room, even when the other man sat down beside him.

"What is it?" Iain asked. "You look ill."

Gavin held the letter out to Iain. "Administrative removal."

Iain frowned, etching lines across his forehead. He took the letter and read it. "You're being deported? That can't be. There's a process, you get a chance to defend yourself, but this says you have no recourse except to leave voluntarily or wait to be deported."

"Yeah," Gavin said, his voice barely a whisper. "I violated the immigration laws by engaging in work while claiming to be on vacation in the UK. I misrepresented my reasons for being in the country."

"Talk to Rory. This is a mistake."

"You can't fight the government, in any country."

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