Page 20 of A Merry MacNaughton
“Nay, I like Malachi and willna go back on my word. The peace will be profitable for both clans. But Peigi doesna ken that.” He grinned. “So, make a plan, Son. Make a plan. Ye only have until the Englishman’s Twelfth Night.”
“Oh, my dear.Such a harvest for the hall. They’ll be lovely over the hearth and window casings.” Ailish beamed as her son entered the kitchen with his arms loaded, smelling like Scotch pine. “Enid, get the boy some sustenance for his hard work.”
Calum dropped the greens and holly onto the trench table as his motheroohedandahhedover the clumps of white and red berries. “I’d prefer some of Enid’s special rub to get the sap off my hands. I swear I could lift this table with my palms just from the stickiness.” He unclasped his plaid and let the top portion fall, shaking the snow onto the floor and ducking Enid’s mock blows. Black Angus imitated Calum and shook his great wiry coat, sending a spray of moisture across the floor and the occupants.
“Och, ye mangy mongrel. Out of my kitchen, out!” Enid pointed to the door and the hound lay down, whining. “Crying willna help ye, ye wet beast. Go.”
The dog stopped just outside the door, sat down, and began to howl.
“Now ye’ve done it, woman.” Calum grabbed a piece of mistletoe from the collections of holiday greens. “Let me take that scowl off yer face.” He pulled her close, laughing as she clutched at the kertch threatening to fall from her head. He gave her a loud smack on the mouth.
“A devil, ye are! I’m too old for this foolery.” But her eyes said she was pleased.
“Ah, but ye love me, Enid, my dear. I ken ye do.”
“Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.”
His mother lent her clear voice to his.
“Then, heigh ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.”
“Ye seem verra cheerful this day,” observed Ailish as he shook the rest of the snow from his voluminous plaid.
“Stop dirtying my floor and try one of these biscuits. I added currants and need to ken if it’s sweet enough.” The cook wiped her hands on her apron and cut a wedge of the still warm treat. She popped it into his open mouth. “Well?”
His face a mask of mock thoughtfulness, Calum chewed, then declared, “The only thing sweeter would be my favorite cook, Enid.” He smacked his lips and pinched her plump cheek.
“Stop that sweet talking. What are ye wanting?”
Ailish, hands on her hips, studied him with narrowed eyes. “Ye figured out what to do, then?”
He nodded and gave Enid another side-glance. “I’ve come up with several ideas this week, but I think only one will work. If Enid’s willing, I’ll be leaving in two days.”
“I dinna agree to anything that takes ye away from us on the holiday.” She waggled a plump finger at him. “And what in heavens would I have to do with it?”
“I need twenty of yer Scotch buns.”
The gasp was followed by incoherent mumbling and a few choice curses involving a donkey. “Ye’ll no’ take half my buns just before Hogmanay. I’ve been baking for weeks.”
“What if ye replaced some of them with the best biscuits in Scotland?”
The cook blushed but eyed him suspiciously. “Tell me yer plan and I’ll think on it.”
Ailish sat down at the scarred kitchen table and poured tea for the three of them. “It’s about time. I feared ye’d changed yer mind about her.”
“Ye ken the Craiggs canna give out gifts this year. So, I shall arrive at the stroke of midnight and be the First-footer, laden with gifts for the clan members. She willna want to turn away such an offer. But it will come with a price.” He grinned and cocked his head, waiting for a response.
“Marriage?”
“Aye.”
Ailish clapped her hands. “I almost feel sorry for the poor thing. She willna stand a chance.”
Enid sighed. “Weel, I suppose I could split those buns in half, pass out smaller ones to the families, and make extra biscuits.” She laughed. “But I want to hear the bellowing of a bairn by this time next year! And bring that handsome father of hers with ye.”
