Chapter 21 Quinn
The community center was packed to the rafters with folks.
Usually, we announced ourselves to our audience, but Aodhan wanted us to start playing as soon as we hit the stage.
We weren’t playing the music for the ceilidh dancing, only opening the social event.
Aodhan had hired a folk band from Scaris who played the accordion and fiddles for the traditional Scottish dance music.
The main hall was dressed for the occasion with banners showcasing heraldic badges of local clans with swathes of Glenvulin tartan fabric draped across the walls.
As snare drummer and the equivalent of our pipe band’s major, I took the stage first and stood central to Ramsay, Laird, Murray, and Forde.
Folks milled around the bar area and sat at the tables positioned on the edges of the room, but there were so many people attending the end-of-games ceilidh that they were spilling onto the main dance floor.
They had drinks in hands, laughing and chatting as they gathered in kilts and tartan dresses and skirts.
My gaze swept the room and I spotted my sister. She stood at a table with a tray of drinks in hand, surrounded by the usuals—Taran, Tierney, and London. The wee jump in my heart rate at the sight of the gorgeous brunette at my sister’s side was now a familiar and regular occurrence.
Straightening my shoulders, I positioned the sticks over my snare drum and began our performance, beating traditional windmills.
I started basic with a flam right beat with my right hand, miss with the left, and it was loud enough to draw the attention of those nearest the stage.
I built the tempo, switching to flam right left, then flam right left right, and as Forde joined me on his tenor drum, the crowd began to quiet.
Just in time for Ramsay and Laird to join in with the bagpipes.
Finally, Murray’s bass drum joined, a booming thrum echoing across the hall.
It was an intro piece that we quickly switched into “Scotland the Brave,” a firm favorite of pipe band audiences. Sure enough, cheers rent the air at the familiar melody.
I grinned at Forde because truthfully, I loved performing and feeling the way our sound reverberated through a crowd, stirring their spirits.
It was Forde who had gotten me into the band.
When we were kids, he’d learned the drums, and my maternal grandmother had taught me piano, so we both knew how to read music.
Forde started learning the tenor drum in the hopes of starting a local pipe band.
In a way, it was his version of playing out his rock star dreams. At first, I just needed an excuse to get out of the house and away from my marriage—as terrible as that sounded.
However, soon I’d fallen in love with the snare drum.
The Scottish snare drum was constructed differently from a regular snare drum, and that’s what gave it that buzzy rolling sound.
Laird and Murray were already a piper and drummer from their days in the school band, so we’d enlisted them. And when Ramsay arrived on the island with a background as a military piper, I’d worn him down until he joined too. The five of us together were known as the Leth Sholas Pipe Band.
Aye, we all accrued a wee bit extra income for performing, but that’s not why we did it. It was literally a band of brothers. We’d seen one another through the worst of times.
Flashes from cameras went off, and I knew wherever those photos ended up, they’d be gone once Ramsay’s tech person found them online.
He’d mentioned he might start wearing one of those masks that render faces undetectable, but I didn’t know how he’d explain why to the other lads.
I chuckled to myself at the thought as we marched around the stage switching up our formation, our kilts kicking around our thighs.
Since we were pretty informal, we didn’t wear the full pipe band regalia.
Instead, we wore our kilts with hiking boots and T-shirts with our band name on it.
Our kilts were made with Isle of Glenvulin tartan, which was a deep forest green with navy and dark pink plaid and white stitching.
Forde winked at an unfamiliar but attractive brunette as he moved into his new position, and quirked a brow at the way she almost swooned.
He saw I’d caught the interaction and grinned like a cocky teenager.
I shook my head at him as he eased back in position, slowing his tempo to a complete stop along with Laird and Murray, leaving me and Ramsay in front.
We let only a second of silence reign before I began a new tempo on the snare.
A hush fell over the crowd again as Ramsay joined me in the opening notes of “Highland Cathedral.” After a minute, Forde entered the fray, and then Murray and Laird.
Halfway through we switched to “Mairi’s Wedding,” a very up-tempo piece of music.
Our audience tapped their feet, clapped their hands, and banged on tables to keep the beat with us, and it only made us play harder, feeding off their energy.
When we finished, the guests treated us to a roar of applause.
I waited for the clapping, cheering, and whistling to stop before I projected loudly from the stage, “Fàilte gu Glenvulin! We’ve been the Leth Sholas Pipe Band.
To continue festivities and begin the dance, let’s welcome to the stage the Scaris Troubadours! ”
As we exited to let the ceilidh band set up, I felt an insistent itch to get to Taran. Since her break-in, I’d worried constantly about her, even though she’d made it clear she didn’t need me to.
Once we’d locked our instruments in the community center office, we headed back out into the party. Forde smacked Ramsay on the back. “What’s wrong with you, you moody bastard?”
“Let me ask you something—do I seem like a man who ceilidh dances?” The look he gave Forde would have felled a lesser man.
Forde, however, couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off his face. “Is Tierney making you stay?”
“Making me stay …” Ramsay scowled. “She wants to dance. I only dance when it’s imperative.” While our mates might not understand his meaning, I did. He’d only danced in the past when it was part of his cover as an operative.
“Which means tonight.” Laird chuckled as he pushed past us. “It’s always imperative when our women ask it of us.”
“I’ll dance with Silver,” Forde offered.
“Try, and you die. And don’t call her Silver. She’s Tierney to you.” Ramsay shoulder-checked him as he stalked off, the crowds naturally parting for the large man.
I chuckled at Forde’s disbelieving look. “When did he become a territorial bastard?”
This time I snorted. “Eh, this is a man who is so territorial he bought his own island.”
“Aye, that’s true. I can’t see Tierney putting up with that shite, though.”
“Ach, Ramsay’s got his demons. I think Tierney knows that and works through it with him. Let’s get a drink and go join them.”
“Speaking of … how are things with Taran?” My friend had to lean in so I could hear him over the noise of the partygoers.
I grimaced. “Not great. Limbo!”
He gave me a commiserating look. “Well, at least your sister isn’t dating that wee creep anymore.”
I side-eyed him as people greeted and let us through to get to the bar first out of courtesy and thanks for the music. “What was your problem with Greig?”
“Dunno.” Forde shrugged. “Just got bad vibes off him. Can’t explain it.”
When he wouldn’t meet my eyes, I sighed inwardly.
I had my suspicions why Forde got bad vibes from Greig.
Suspicions that went back to well before Greig even entered the picture.
But if Forde didn’t have the balls to go after Cammie, then he didn’t deserve her.
She deserved someone who would fight for her.
Like Taran deserved someone who would fight for her.
She thought I hadn’t.
And if I could admit my worst failing to myself, I knew I hadn’t. I’d chosen my fears over her. I’d regretted it ever since.
It was time to fight.
After we got our drinks, we moved through the crowds to a table at the back where Taran sat with Laird, Finella, Cammie, Tierney, Ramsay, London, and Murray. Waiters had already been out to lay platters of food in the center for people to eat from buffet style.
Even as my attention locked onto Taran, who looked at me and quickly glanced away, I asked Cammie, “Where are Mum and Greg?”
Cammie nodded toward Laird. “She offered to babysit Finn and Aird tonight.”
“And Akiva,” Tierney piped in. “Turns out Akiva likes kids.” She leaned into Ramsay, who looked at her with very obvious intention.
My attention turned to Taran again.
She avoided me as conversation bounced across the table and the food quickly disappeared.
When the first chords of the ceilidh music struck, it was the familiar melody of the Gay Gordons. Laird stood and held out his hand to his wife. She beamed, apparently delighted, and he escorted her onto the floor as other couples joined them.
Ramsay grunted at Tierney’s wide-eyed pleading but reluctantly led her onto the dance floor. Before I could convince myself not to, I rounded the table.
Taran narrowed her eyes as I approached, but I kept going until I stood by her chair, holding out my palm. “May I have this dance, Taran?”
“Go on.” Cammie nudged her.
With a sigh of exasperation, she pushed back her chair and stood.
I swallowed hard at the sight of her in her dress.
The end-of-games ceilidh was always a mix of dressy casual with tartan as a major theme.
Taran exuded that in a sleeveless tartan dress.
While it had a high round neck, it wasn’t as modest as perhaps she thought it was.
It molded to every curve and slope of her gorgeous body.
As I followed her to the dance floor, I muttered a curse under my breath. Her arse was perfection, and the hem ended mid-thigh, so her legs went on for days, even in the low-heeled ankle boots she wore.