Page 98 of Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt

Rory swung the hammer up between them and let it fall again. "That's an odd choice of attire for a Highland games tournament."

With a shrug, Gavin hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. "You got a problem with holiday spirit?"

"On the contrary, I appreciate the history and tradition of Santa Claus." Rory thumped the hammer on his palm. "And I admire your bravery in standing before the entire family dressed that way."

Gavin nodded toward Emery. "Your wife is dressed like a Times Square billboard on Christmas Eve."

"Emery is the bravest person I've ever known."

"No argument here." Gavin folded his arms over his chest, partly obscuring Santa's face. "Whatever you need to do to me today, go on and do it. I'm in this one hundred percent."

Jamie raced out of the garden door to Gavin, breathing hard like she'd run to get here. "I missed Emery in the house. Has the test started yet?"

"Not yet. Your brother's too busy mocking my Christmas spirit."

Rory twirled the hammer. "If ye cannae handle a bit of mocking, ye'll never survive in this family."

"Oh, I can handle it."

Jamie's eyes flitted from Gavin to Rory and back again. "Gavin, I told you before, you don't have to do this for me."

"I'm doing this for me." Gavin looked Rory square in the eyes. "Ball's in your court."

Rory squinted at Gavin, twirling the hammer in a circle again, almost like a gunfighter.

The action was supposed to intimidate Gavin, but he was so beyond intimidating these days. He'd come to terms with his past, with Jamie's patient and loving help, which left one task on his to-do list. Make peace with Rory. It would be done today even if Gavin wound up bloodied and disgraced.

Emery sprinted up to her husband, laying a hand on his arm. "Put down the dangerous implement, please."

Rory cast her a sidelong look, one brow arched. "Why? He seems to want me to skelp him good."

Emery sighed and leaned in to press her body against his. She murmured, "If Rory baby wants to get lucky tonight, he'd better stop threatening to beat his sister's soul mate into a bloody pulp. That's not part of the test."

Rory baby? Gavin snickered. Tried not to, really, but he couldn't help it.

Okay, maybe he hadn't triedthathard.

Rory's lips twisted into an approximation of a smile — a reluctant one. He dropped the hammer onto the ground.

Emery kissed his cheek. "Good hubby."

Her "hubby" rolled his eyes, barred his arms over his chest, and faced Gavin. "You said anything I want."

"That's right."

Peripherally, Gavin spied Jamie's worried gaze trained on him.

Rory's lips arched upward in an expression laced with menacing glee. "The games it is, then."

"Don't forget," Emery told her husband, "Gavin's never thrown a hammer or tossed a caber before."

"He said he'd do whatever I want." Rory picked up the hammer. "This is what I want. Are you suggesting I go easy on him because he's an American?"

Rory must've realized the instant he said it he'd made a grievous mistake using the word American as an insult. His wife punched him in the arm, though the action proved ineffectual. Her slender hand couldn't make a dent in her husband's massive bicep. Still, Rory aimed a chagrined look at her.

Emery whispered something in his ear.

His lips formed an expression Gavin could describe only as supreme amusement mixed with steely menace. This must've been what Iain meant when he said Gavin might wish he hadn't come up against Rory's sense of humor when the man finally unleashed it.

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