Page 73 of Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt

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 —"

Thethwackof 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.

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