Page 89 of Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt

With a curt nod, Rory disappeared into the first floor.

Gavin set Jamie down on her feet, gave her ass a quick squeeze, and kissed her forehead. "You don't need me to protect you, but it's nice to know you appreciate it if I do."

"I love you even more for it."

He strode up the stairs with the love of his life gazing after him like he'd turned into Superman. A minute later, he walked into Rory's office, the old castle library furnished with a huge wooden desk. Rory reclined in a leather executive chair behind the desk.

"Sit," he said, gesturing toward one of the lesser chairs in front of the desk.

Gavin took a seat. "About what happened down there…"

"I'm certain Trevor Langley deserved it." Rory tilted his chair back slightly. "Frankly, I would've loved to do that myself."

"Thought you liked the guy. He sure thinks you do. Told me you're investing in his new business."

Rory grunted. "The man is an erse and an eejit. I listened to him prattle on and on for an hour, telling me about the wondrous opportunity I have to invest in his dimwitted scheme to turn a tiny, ramshackle distillery into a tourist mecca. If he assumed my silence indicated interest, he's mistaken." Rory turned his eyes heavenward and exhaled a long sigh. "I hadn't realized what a right bore the man is. When he was with Jamie, I rarely had contact with him. I can't imagine how my sister could've agreed to marry him."

"She made a mistake. I'm sure he can be suave when he wants to."

"Yes, he can." Rory rubbed his forehead. "He fooled me at first."

Holy mackerel. Rory MacTaggart had admitted to Gavin, the American interloper, that he'd made an error in judgment. Maybe the tide had turned, but he could still drown if he didn't step carefully. "Look, I wanted to apologize for not being real friendly to you and your brothers. I'm sorry. Could we maybe start over?"

Rory studied him without expression for several long seconds.

"I suppose," Rory said at last, "we could do that."

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it."

Rory's lips ticked up at the corners, but he didn't quite smile. "I owe you an apology as well. I haven't been particularly welcoming to you, and what I did at Thanksgiving must've seemed odd to you."

"Yeah, but I get the feeling you had a reason for doing that."

"I should explain."

Gavin held up a hand. "Let me go first. I know it seems like I've been stringing Jamie along, but I wanted to marry her the day we met."

"An inclination I can understand." Rory hooked one ankle atop the other knee and began to rock his chair gently. "I proposed marriage thirty-six hours after meeting Emery. But I'm sure you've heard the stories about our arrangement."

"Kind of hard to miss it splashed all over that dinky little tabloid. What was it called? The Loch Fairbairn Enquirer?"

"Loch Fairbairn World News. Fortunately, the vile toad who owned it has moved on to greener pastures in Liverpool." Rory smiled with a vengeful satisfaction Gavin could relate to. "I hear Graham Oliver has taken up pig raising. Knee-deep in the shit, as always."

"Poetic justice? Gotta love that." Gavin relaxed into his chair, feeling less anxious with Rory sitting there in such a relaxed pose discussing the jerk who'd wronged his wife and gotten his comeuppance. "I used to think you hated me."

"And now?"

"I don't think you hate me, but I can't figure out what you're up to." Gavin paused to think about what to say next, how much he needed to share with Rory. "Look, I've figured out lately why I couldn't make a commitment to Jamie even though I wanted to be with her. I felt like your brother stole my sister, stole my family, and I was like an orphan chucked out on the streets. It was easier to blame you and your brothers for my problems with Jamie than to admit I'm a lame-ass moron who felt abandoned. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

He hadn't realized how embarrassing his confession would be until the words came out of his mouth. His skin crawled, and his throat had gotten tight. He fought the urge to scratch until he drew blood, but the longer Rory sat there staring him down the harder it got to keep from scraping his skin raw. He'd informed one of the most stoic and confident men on earth that he'd felt like an abandoned orphan. Maybe he should give in to total humiliation and start sucking his thumb.

"That must have been difficult to say," Rory told him, "especially to me. I admire your courage."

Admire? Courage? Gavin must've misheard the guy.

"Yes," Rory said like he'd read Gavin's mind, "I've admitted to admiring you. A wee bit. Donnae let it go to your head."

Rory's mouth curved upward into a…Holy shit. The guy was smiling. The closed-mouth expression represented the first time ever Rory MacTaggart had done anything other than glare at Gavin. He considered pumping his fists in the air and hooting, like a goofy victory dance, but he tamped down the impulse.

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