24. Edie #2
“That’s a good way of describing it,” says Jamie. “But don’t get him started or we’ll be here all night hearing about phenols and complex flavour profiles.”
“She might be interested,” Finn says.
“I am.” I take another sip.
“A woman who likes a decent malt.” He looks at Rory, who’s looking at me with an expression I can’t quite figure out. His features are composed, but his grip on the glass tightens just a fraction.
The door opens and Gregor appears, a linen cloth over his shoulder.
“Good to see you, Finn.”
Finn stands and shakes his hand. I wonder how long it is since he’s been back here – I know that Rory said he didn’t come back for the funeral, but before that – has it been months or years?
“Nice to be kept on my toes. Anyway, just a quick run-down of the menu for this evening.” Gregor looks as if he’s won the lottery.
I guess it must get boring not being able to stretch your culinary muscles.
I half listen as he’s detailing the menu, watching the three brothers and taking it all in.
It’s the sort of food you’d get in a fancy Scottish restaurant, and knowing Gregor he’ll be having a ball knocking it all up with no notice.
He loves a challenge, and my stomach is growling at the sound of it all, even the ridiculously named Cullen Skink, which has to be the worst name for fancy fish soup ever.
“And then a loin of venison with a berry sauce and braised red cabbage,” Gregor says, looking pleased with himself. “And then for pudding?—”
Jamie does a drumroll on the table with his fingers.
“Aye, you’ve guessed it. Cranachan, of course. Edie, have you tried it?”
“Years ago.” I think it’s something to do with whisky and cream and oatmeal. Like a fancy breakfast, only alcoholic.
Jamie’s studying his glass as if he’s half expecting it to come to life. He squints for a moment, then inhales deeply.
“It’s good, Finn.”
He sounds surprised. Given that Finn’s at the helm of the fastest growing new whisky brand in the world, his brother’s lack of conviction makes me smile. This is what it’s like to have siblings, I guess.
I glance up at Rory. The corners of his mouth are turned downwards as if he’s trying not to laugh. He fixes me with a look, and I feel my pulse rushing in my ears. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen him since that night in New York.
Finn lifts his chin and regards Jamie steadily. “Good?”
“Complex,” says Jamie, uncharacteristically serious. “Brooding. A bit like you, actually. But with a better finish.” He gives me the ghost of a wink and laughs.
Finn looks across at me, resting his chin on a finger for a moment before he speaks.
“Ignore him,” he says gruffly. “He once tried to pair a priceless malt with a bag of jelly babies.”
“Once,” says Jamie, chucking his balled-up napkin at his brother, “and they were wine gums, actually.”
Rory gives a long-suffering sigh, but I can see that he’s enjoying the three of them being together. He’s still watchful, but there’s something else there. I shift in my chair, feeling like a spare part.
“So, what d’you think, Edie? How would you describe it?” Finn surprises me with a question. Maybe under that gruff exterior there’s some empathy after all.
“I—”
Jamie takes the bottle and leans over tipping another measure into my glass. “In case you need more inspiration.”
I’m going to be plastered before dinner is served at this rate. I take another sip and hold it in my mouth for a moment. “Like a bonfire… wrapped in a silk dress.”
Jamie gives a low whistle. Rory looks across at Finn, who tips his head and raises his glass.
“If you can make the old man’s ramblings sound even half as good, I’ll be impressed.”
Gregor interrupts us with the first course, and as the wine is poured their tongues start to loosen and the family anecdotes flow .
“Remember that time we nearly drowned Rory?” Jamie grins as he spears a piece of asparagus.
“You pushed him, you mean,” Finn says.
Rory meets my eyes and shakes his head, laughing.
“Just think if you’d copped it,” Jamie says thoughtfully. “You’d be in charge of all this, Finn.”
Finn sits back at the table and shakes his head slowly and emphatically. “Board meetings about biomass boilers and showing face at the local school to keep the community on side and listening to tenant farmers complaining? No chance. I’d be out of here before you could say?—”
“I think we’ve all worked that out,” Rory says, looking at his brothers from the head of the table. “You’re a boat crossing away, and that’s if the tide’s behaving itself.”
“Would have been a hell of a lot easier to get to the island if we’d kept the helicopter,” Jamie says. “I met Brice Aaronson up on the moor at the beginning of the week and he was smugly pointing out how handy it was to have one.”
“The last thing I want,” Finn says grim-faced, “is people popping in, by helicopter or otherwise.”
“Charming.” Jamie grins.
Martin slips in and discreetly removes our plates, darting between us. I give him a quick smile, and he goes pink and fumbles the dish he’s holding. So much for showing a bit of solidarity.
Rory shrugs. “For one thing it was a rapidly depreciating asset, and for another?—”
“You realise how ridiculous you sound? You’re a bloody duke, sitting in a castle, talking about watching the purse strings.” Jamie picks up the wine bottle and scans the label as he speaks.
“We all know you’d blow through the inheritance in two months.” Finn snorts. “Wine, women and God knows what else.”
“I’m a reformed character these days,” he says, earning a bark of laughter from Rory. “I am. I’m flat out sorting out the rewilding. I’ve got thirty thousand acres to plant up this year, and we’ve got eco warriors on our back protesting about the lack of wolves.”
Finn frowns.
“Long story,” Rory says.
I’ve read all about the helicopter, of course. It’s weird to hear them discussing it like it’s a spare car on the driveway nobody wants to use, but they didn’t want to sell.
“I’m just saying,” Jamie says. “How am I supposed to keep my flying hours up?”
“My heart bleeds for you,” Rory deadpans.
After the main course, Janey pops in to say hello.
It’s a welcome shift in the energy, adding another woman to the all boys together atmosphere.
I catch her watching me for a moment as she’s chatting to Finn, scolding him lightly about never coming to visit.
I’m surprised to see him take it in good part.
By the time the cranachan appears the wine and whisky have gone to my head, and I can feel my cheeks are flushed from laughing at the three Kinnaird brothers.
I’ve learned that Jamie once broke a wrist trying to surf down the grand staircase, and that Finn built a still and was almost arrested for brewing his own vodka.
And that Rory – proving that the other side of him I saw wasn’t just a one off – once got caught skinny dipping in Loch Morven with the daughter of a visiting French ambassador.
Somewhere between all that and coffee, I stand up to excuse myself.
It’s been fun, but there’s a vague unease somewhere at the back of my mind – I’m sitting here in an environment so far removed from my own life, and all of the conversation tonight has just underlined it.
I’ve got more in common with the staff than the three men sitting around the table.
They talk about inheritance. I talk about overdrafts, and the only silver service I’ve ever seen is in charity shop windows.
I step out into the corridor and take a breath.
I can hear the rattling of dishes and music coming from the kitchen, and I know that Gregor and the others are in there clearing up.
I’m caught between two worlds, and I don’t belong in either of them.
And Anna’s going to be here soon, and she’ll add a whole new layer of stress.
My heels click on the wooden floor as I cross the huge entranceway and head for the staircase.
“Edie.”
Rory’s voice is low. It’s not a command, but a question. I stop and turn, my hand resting on the polished wood.
He crosses the hall to join me, the top buttons of his shirt loose and his hair mussed, as if he’s run his hand through it one too many times. The usual version of him – tense and guarded – seems to have gone.
“Well done for surviving that,” he says with a half-smile. “Trial by fire. Finn doesn’t like anyone, and you seem to have won his approval.”
“Glad to hear it.” I tip my head in acknowledgement. “Although it’s probably the whisky.”
I’m standing on the first step, and we are almost eye to eye. There’s something between us, like an electrical current.
“I don’t think it’s the whisky,” he says quietly, and the words seem to hover somewhere between a compliment and a confession. Something inside me responds with a flicker of heat I can’t quite contain.
There’s a long pause. It’s not awkward, more… weighted. I should move back, step out of his presence, but I don’t.
His eyes drop to my mouth for a second and I feel my chest rising and falling. He leans in, a breath closer. It’s enough. I don’t know if he’s going to kiss me, or if I want him to, or if I’m even imagining the whole thing. I’m not even sure I’m ready for?—
And then there’s a creak in the hallway behind him, and footsteps. I hear Jamie’s shout of laughter and Rory straightens immediately. I take a step backwards onto the second stair.
“I should…” I murmur, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the stairs.
“Yes.” He nods. “Goodnight.”
I climb the stairs. I don’t turn around, but I’m almost certain that his gaze is on me. I can feel it burning through the silk of my dress, but I keep walking. I don’t dare look back.