Spellbound Falls (51 page)

“I wasn’t thinking,” Duncan said. “I manhandle dozens of children every time my family gets together. Everyone looks out for everyone’s kids, making sure the little heathens don’t kill themselves or each other. Hell, that’s the definition of
clan
.”

Duncan tugged his collar away from his neck as he eyed the widow Thompson leading her gaggle of children back to their table, each trying to reach it without spilling their plates of food. He sighed, figuring he probably better apologize to her again, seeing how she owned the only working gravel pit in the area.

Just as soon as Mac had hired him to do the resort’s site work, Duncan had started calling around to find the closest gravel pit to Spellbound Falls. He would eventually dig his own pit farther up the mountain, but he needed immediate access to gravel to start building the road. Duncan had been relieved to discover that the Thompson pit was just a mile from where the resort road would start, and that it had a horseback of good bank run gravel. He’d also learned Bill Thompson had been killed in a construction accident three years ago.

Which is why a feather could have knocked him over this morning as he’d stood beside his truck in the parking lot changing his shirt, when he’d finally put two and two together and realized he’d just pissed off the person he wanted to buy gravel from. He hoped she’d still sell to him now. And then even if she did, he’d likely be paying an arm and a leg for every last rock and grain of sand.

“Which branch of the military were you in?” Trace asked.

Duncan looked down at himself in surprise. “Funny; I could have sworn I left my uniform in Iraq.”

Trace chuckled. “You forgot to leave that guarded look
with it.” He shrugged. “It’s common knowledge that every MacKeage and MacBain serves a stint in the military.” He suddenly frowned. “Only I’ve never heard it said that any of the women in your families have served.”

“And they won’t as long as Greylen MacKeage and Michael MacBain are still lairds of our clans,” Duncan said with a grin. “It’ll take a few more generations before we let our women deliberately put themselves in harm’s way.”

Trace shook his head. “You really are all throwbacks. You must have a hell of a time finding wives. Or is that why some of you resort to kidnapping?”

Duncan decided he liked Trace Huntsman. “There’s no ‘resorting’ to it; we’re merely continuing a family tradition that actually seems to work more often than it backfires. And besides, it beats the hell out of wasting time dating a woman for two or three years once we’ve found the right one.”

“You don’t think the woman might like to make sure
you’re
the right one before she finds herself walking down the aisle, wondering how she got there?”

Duncan shifted his weight off his knee with a shrug. “Not according to my father. Dad claims time is the enemy when it comes to courting; that if a man takes too long wooing a woman, then he might as well hand her his manhood on a platter.”

Trace eyed him suspiciously. “Are you serious?”

“Tell me, Huntsman; how’s courting Fiona been working for you?”

“We’re not talking about me,” he growled. “We’re talking about you MacKeages and your habit of scaring women into marrying you.”

“I did notice you managed to get an engagement ring on her finger,” Duncan pressed on. “So when’s the wedding?”

Trace relaxed back on his hips and folded his arms over his chest with a heavy sigh. “You don’t happen to have an available cabin in Pine Creek, do you?”

Duncan slapped Trace on the back and started them toward the refreshment table. “Considering Fiona is Matt Gregor’s baby sister, I think you might want to look for a
cabin a little farther away. Hell, everyone within twenty miles of Pine Creek heard Matt’s roar when he learned she was openly living with you without benefit of marriage.”

Trace stopped in front of the large bowl of dark ale and glared at Duncan. “A fact that has brought us full circle back to women being warriors. The only reason I’m still alive is because Fiona puts the fear of God into her brothers if they so much as frown at me.” He looked at Peg Thompson, then back at Duncan—specifically at the scratch on his cheek. “Trust me; the strong-arm approach won’t work on any woman who can handle children. Not if a man values his hide.”

Duncan refilled his tankard. “Which is exactly why I’m still a bachelor,” he said, just before gulping down his third kick-in-the-ass like a true highlander.