Aiden sighed. “Nae that I can recall.”
“See? All that lovely jealousy, wasted,” she teased. “I am nae Duncan’s type. He likes plump, buxom lassies. Short ones. Nae me.”
“Aye, aye, very well,” Aiden conceded, turning to face her.
Slipping an arm around his waist, he pulled her to him. They were close enough for a kiss, but Hannah tipped her head back, lips just out of his reach. The slow smile on her face told him that she was teasing him.
“Wee wretch,” he breathed.
She giggled. “We cannae get distracted yet. Ye have one more toast to make, remember?”
“Oh, aye. How could I forget? Then we slip off upstairs and let the party go on without us, aye?”
“Aye,” she confirmed, rising on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.
Hand in hand, the pair moved over to the feasting table. Clambering onto the Laird’s chair, Aiden caught the eyes of the musicians and gestured for them to stop. The music slowed to a halt, and so did the dancing. Faces turned his way inquisitively.
There was Daisy and Duncan, dancing too closely together for propriety. Violet stood hand in hand with a dark-haired man. Lucas prowled around the dance floor, ever watchful. A red-haired lass trotted after him, chattering. She might just be a friend, of course, but by Aiden’s reckoning, that girl was hinting at being asked to dance. Poor lass. Lucas was all business, focused on keeping his eyes peeled for threats.
I must tell him to ease off. Relax. Eat some chicken. Have a wee dance. It’s a wedding, after all.
To his surprise, the neighboring Lairds were on the dance floor too. Laird and Lady Ainsley stood by a pillar, shoulder to shoulder, watching the dancing contentedly. Laird and Lady MacNairn apparently hadbeen dancing, before leaving the floor to attend to one of their children. And there was Laird Drummond, whispering into the ear of Lady Drummond, the two of them giggling like schoolchildren.
Glancing down, Aiden found his own Lady staring up at him, warmth and softness in her eyes. His heart swelled.
I am a lucky man.
“Ladies, Lairds, dear guests,” he boomed, when an expectant silence finally fell over the hall. “I am glad that ye could be here to celebrate our wedding. I ken there was talk in the Highlands that I’d never take a wife, so let us hope that we’ve put paid to those rumors today.”
A good-natured cheer went up, along with a smattering of applause.
Once more, Aiden glanced down at his wife. After a pause, he extended a hand. She took it, lifting an eyebrow, and clambered up beside him. There was just enough room for the two of them, towering well over the heads of the other guests. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close.
“We all love whiskey,” he continued, glancing over the crowd. A roar went up. “Aye, aye, settle down. Perhaps I am biased, but I think that Hannah’s distillery makes the best whiskey in the whole bloody world.”
Laughter and applause broke out. There were some fervent nods in the crowd, while others shouted out the names of their own favorite whiskey.
“But daenae take me word for it,” Aiden called, laughing.
He gestured to the steward hovering in one of the doorways, and a queue of servants immediately trotted out, bearing large glass bottles and small whiskey glasses carved from smooth wood.
“Here, I can offer ye a wee token of the celebration here today,” he continued. “Each one of ye take a wee wooden cup—me initials and Hannah’s are carved on the bottom—and fill up those cups with a dram of our new whiskey. Brand new, mind. Nae available to buy yet; this is the first time anyone besides us and the distillers has tasted it.”
A buzz of excitement rippled through the room. People moved eagerly, helping themselves to a cup and a dram. They sipped meditatively, swirling the taste on their tongues, savoring it.
Somebody passed up a cup each to Aiden and Hannah. Aiden grinned at her, holding out his cup. She knocked hers against it.
“Slàinte Mhath,”she murmured.
He echoed the toast and drank back the whiskey in one gulp.
It was the most delicate flavor yet. Tinged with honey, lavender, and a strange undertone of sea salt, the taste and scent mingled together to create something deep, flavorful, and memorable.
A good whiskey, in short.
He swallowed it down and broke into a smile. Glancing over the crowd, he saw approving nods and gestures for the servants to return and pour another measure.
“Hannah named this whiskey,” he called, cutting through the new buzz of conversation. “We are going to call it Calder Whiskey.”
