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"Enough, Rory," Lachlan says. "We're taking you upstairs to sleep it off."
"Sleep what off?"
Aidan clamps a hand on my shoulder. "You'll thank us for this in the morning, sweetie-pie."
"Willnae do that, ye kitchen."
"Do ye mean cacan, Rory?"
Isn't that what I said?
Lachlan gestures to someone.
Gavin Douglas trots over here like a good puppy. "What's up?"
"Tell Emery her husband is buckled," Lachlan says, "and we're taking him upstairs to their bedroom."
"Sure thing." Gavin gives me a strange look, then hurries away.
My brothers each grasp one of my arms and half-drag me out of the long gallery and up the stairs to the third floor. By the time we reach the bedroom door, I'm only half-conscious. I hear Lachie and Aidan talking, but I cannae understand any of it.
"We thought to drop him on the bed," Aidan says.
Someone's shoe drums on the floor. "I'd say dump him on the floor, it's what he deserves for this. But put him on the bed."
Is that Emery?
With a bit of grunting and huffing, my brothers heft me onto the bed.
"Should we, ah… undress him?" Lachlan asks.
"Don't bother," my wife says. "You can go. Thank you."
Footsteps recede, and the door thunks shut.
And I pass out.
