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Davina frowned. “What about the kiss?”

Aileen’s expression softened. “Overjoyed when her son was resurrected from the dead, Frigga decreed that mistletoe would never again be used as a weapon. She further declared it to be a symbol of love and vowed to kiss all those who passed beneath it.”

Davina shared a smile with his mother and sister. “I like a tale that ends well.”

“Aye, those are in truth the best kind,” Aileen agreed, a trace of laughter in her voice.

“Enough of legends and stories,” the McKenna said.

“We need music. Someone fetch old Ross.”

At the urging of the crowd, old Ross took his place on the dais, fiddle in hand. Two other musicians joined him—one with a drum, another with a flute. The lively music echoed through the great hall, and many started clapping their hands and stomping their feet.

James found it no surprise that his parents were the ones to start the dancing. His mother moved with grace and agility, while his father, well, what the McKenna lacked in skill, he more than compensated for with enthusiasm.

Other couples joined in the merriment and then James saw Malcolm move around the high table and approach Davina. Taking her hand, his brother placed it upon his arm and gently pulled her to her feet. Davina ducked her head shyly, yet allowed herself to be led into the middle of the dancing.

Malcolm stared at Davina like a starving man gazing at a loaf of freshly baked bread. Jealousy burned in James’s veins, making him short-tempered and edgy. A serving girl placed a fresh pitcher of ale in front of him and James almost growled at the lass.

James remembered the first time he had spoken with Davina. She had been shy, hesitant, and oh, so young and innocent. Yet after that brief encounter he had believed that his future rested with her—though he could never say why.

The troubadours sang of love striking without warning, often when an unsuspecting lad caught his first sight of a woman. James had never believed there was any truth in the notion, until Davina had come into his life. Yet the emotions he felt for her, the regard he held her in, had ripened over time, until they became a certainty in his heart.

They were meant to be together.

Now he felt the fool for ever believing it—and more the fool for allowing himself to remember it. Yet as he watched his brother tease and flirt with her, a powerful sense of ownership invaded his soul.

Davina belongs with me!

James saw the two of them share a laugh, then realized that Malcolm was trying to steer an unsuspecting Davina beneath the mistletoe. God’s teeth! The man was relentless. James felt his temper begin to rise. His eyes bore into his brother, but Malcolm was unaware of the scrutiny. He was concentrating much too hard on creating the chance to steal a kiss from Davina.

James stood. ’Twas his worst fears coming to life—watching his brother openly court his former love. He could feel his self-control slipping as he moved off the dais and approached the crowd of dancers, yet he could no more stop his movements than hold back the sea.

Though he had drunk more ale than usual, James’s steps were steady. He slapped his brother on the back, momentarily startling him. But when he moved to place himself in front of Davina, Malcolm balked.

“Ye have to wait yer turn, little brother,” Malcolm said pointedly, steering Davina beyond James’s reach.

James ground his teeth together, fighting to keep his temper. “The dance has ended and another begun. ’Tis my turn.”

“Crusaders like to dance?” Malcolm’s face twisted into a comical grin. “I dinnae realize.”

“There’s much that ye dinnae know,” James said through set teeth, bringing his hand down on Davina’s shoulder in a possessive gesture.

Malcolm’s smile disappeared. Expression tightening, he pushed Davina behind him and moved to stand toe to toe with his brother. James was pleased to note that while Malcolm was slightly taller, his older brother no longer towered over him. The similar height made him feel as though they were on more equal footing.

Both men stared at each other, neither prepared to give an inch. James could see Malcolm’s hands open and close at his sides. He leaned forward, daring his brother to take a swing.

But Malcolm refused to take the bait. He refused, also, to relinquish Davina.

As they started arguing again, James saw Davina flinch. He extended his arm in a gesture of contrition, but she backed away from his grasp, placing an obvious distance between them. Her eyes were wary, her discomfort clear.

But even more upsetting was the fact that she hid behind Malcolm. His brother tucked her hand tenderly in his own, causing a fresh wave of irritation to wash over James.

Why is she so damn comfortable in Malcolm’s presence and so skittish around me?

“Find another lass to dance with, James,” Malcolm commanded. “I’m certain if ye ask politely, there are one or two lasses that would be willing.”

Anger and annoyance flared inside him at his brother’s mocking words. “I dinnae want another lass. I want Davina.”