Or preferably, off them.
“Aye, Rosie will do that,” drawled Hawk.
Rourke shook his head. “It’sDemonwho’ll chop those toes off if ye’re no’ careful. Did ye really agree to visit every Sunday? He was bragging about that.”
Crowe slapped Rourke on the shoulder. “Dinnae mock him. Ye’ll feel the same way when yer Lizzie falls in love.”
It was difficult to tell, but the solemn duke paled slightly. “Dinnae be stupid. She’s only a bairn—barely a lassie. She’s no’ getting married.”
“Anytimesoon, ye mean?” offered Sebastian, whose own daughters were whirling around the dancefloor with Thorne’s twin sons and Rose’s younger brother, who had returned from school for the occasion. “No’ getting marriedanytime soon?”
“No’ getting married atall,” growled Rourke with an expression that Bull had seen before. “Ever. She’ll live happily at Exingham and paint doilies, or whatever, and no’ think about how disgusting men are.”
As the rest of them laughed, Bull felt someone clap him on his shoulders, and turned to see Thorne beaming at him. Grinning, he accepted the older man’s hug and congratulations. The Duke of Stroken had always been one of his favorite people—Thorne had been the one to teach him sleight-of-hand, all those years ago, and they’d long shared an affinity for fashion and flirtation.
“Whatareye wearing laddie?” Thorne demanded, holding Bull at arms’ length. “Today is the most important day of yer life, and I would’ve thought ye’d wear some outrageous color combination. Chartreuse and magenta?”
“Remember that peacock get-up he used to be so proud of?” Rourke asked reminiscently. “Teal and…purple? With stripes?”
“First of all…” Bull scowled at the chuckling men. “That was abrilliantcombination, very on-trend with the European fashions none of ye dobbers ever paid attention to.”
“I do trust him when it comes to cuts and colors,” interrupted Hawk faithfully.
“Thankye.” Bull nodded regally. “And second of all, chartreuse and magenta dinnae coordinate, and I cannae believe ye think they do.”
“Is chartreuse no’ a pinky-purple?” Thorne muttered to Crowe. “It has the mouth-feel of a pinky-purple.”
“It’s a green, ye complete cabbagepatch,” Crowe scowled in return.
“Green?” Thorne blinked. “Are ye certain? And have ye been taking lessons from Demon on cursing?”
Demon…or Rose. Bull’s grin grew as he thought of his wife, who was ‘circulating’. He ought to be by her side. “It’s a yellow-green, doesnae go with magenta, andgood God man, ye’ve lost yer touch.”
“No’ so much that I cannae admit I’m genuinely impressed to see ye in a kilt and formal togs.” Thorne announced with another squeeze of the shoulders. “Ye look magnificent. But the colors…”
Since now they were all frowning down at Bull’s crotch, he handed his full whisky to Thorne and stepped away fromtheir group. With his arms out, he did a little spin to show off the kilt.
“I designed it. Lindsay colors.” He nodded to Rourke and Sebastian and Crowe, who were related to his father’s family. “And the MacIver colors.” His mother’s new family name. “Which just so happen to include the design of the Cummings and Hayles.” He nodded to Thorne, then jerked his head across the room to where Demon was lurking behind a fern.
“Good God, lad.” Thorne’s eyes were wide, his voice raspy. “Ye invented yer own plaid? That’s…remarkable.”
It had taken Bull a bloody long time to design the tartan, but it had been worth it. Worth it to combine all the colors of the people who had made him who he was today.
Worthy.
“Nay.” Rourke cleared his throat, and lifted his own glass. “Ye’reremarkable, Bull.”
“Hear, hear,” came the chorus from the throats of the men Bull held dearest, and he doubted his smile could grow anymore.
Then Hawk nudged him again. “Yer wife looks lonely. Go be remarkable with her, eh? I want yer brothers to tell me more stories about ye as a wee rascal.”
Laughing, Bull waved to the little group and turned to find his Rose.There. She was speaking with Griffin and Rupert.
Bull slid his arms around her, and smiled as she leaned back against his chest without pausing her conversation with his stepfather and stepbrother. She looked incrediblein the green gown she’d eschewed tradition to wear, one he’d designed himself.
Another perfect day with his woman. And there would be plenty of perfect days to come.
The future wasn’t clear. He hadn’t exactly closed the doors of the Bull Lindsay Detective Group, but with only the two of them, he knew they would have to take fewer cases. Healsoknew that he wouldn’t be taking a casewithoutRose; she was his other half, his better half, the woman who saw things he couldn’t see. They made a brilliant team, and he would use that, going forward.
