Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cairstina
Leith is troubled, I know it. The men are having a hushed conversation when we come in the house, and they quickly clam up when we enter the kitchen.
“Come here, doll,” Leith says, beckoning to me. He takes me beyond the kitchen to a quiet nook, alone.
I walk over to him, and he takes my hand. “What’d you do with that book you were reading?”
I text him.
I finished the first one and shelved it in the library. I’m on the second now.
He nods. “Good girl.”
Going to give it a read?
“Yes, actually,” he says soberly, and at first I think he’s joking, but I can tell he’s actually quite serious.
I cover my mouth in a silent giggle.
Maybe you’ll get some ideas?
He reaches over and gives me a teasing smack to the arse that makes my cheeks flame. I quickly admonish him in a text.
You can’t do that here! What if someone sees you?
He gives me a mock sober expression. “Then they’ll see what happens to cheeky lassies.”
I roll my eyes, which earns me another swift spank.
Well we don’t have time for you to turn me on.
That definitely gives me the upper hand in this conversation, for his eyes grow heated and I can tell he’s affected. He comes closer to me and reaches for my hair, winding it around his fingers as he drags my ear to his mouth.
“Does it turn you on, Cairstina? When I promise to punish you?”
I shiver visibly and nod. Aye, it sure as hell does, and I don’t know why. I know I love the loss of control. I know that it makes me more vulnerable, and I love that I can trust him not to hurt me. But would he hurt me? I can't imagine that he would.
He’s stern and uncompromising, but the most loyal protector of the lot. His mouth still at my ear, he whispers, “Then you’d better behave yourself today, or there’s a certain chance you’ll find yourself in a heap of trouble with that smart mouth of yours.”
I reach for my mobile.
Outrageous accusation! I can’t speak, and you’d have me believe that it’s my mouth that’s getting me in trouble?
He smirks, and says with mock sternness, “Now, now, you know how to communicate snarkiness perfectly well, doll.”
We hear footsteps nearby, so he releases me and holds onto my hand. Tate and Mac enter the foyer, with Lachlan and Clyde close behind.
“Definitely nothing there,” Tate says, shaking his head. “They did a thorough sweep.”
Leith’s lips thin. “Are you sure?”
“Just got off the phone with Tully. He was nearby, and said that that house is abandoned.”
“Can’t believe it was a fucking set-up,” Leith mutters, shaking his head. He turns back to me. “Cairstina, you’ll stay here today. I’ve an errand in Inverness again.” He curses under his breath. “The most bloody time I’ve spent in town in ages.”
I send him a text.
It’s okay, I understand. Come back to me tonight, and I’ll be sure to misbehave so you have to punish me. Then we’ll have a nice snuggle by the fire, hmm?
He smirks, and sends me a text back.
If you misbehave on purpose, this becomes very real, and you find the sharp end of my palm across your arse.
He slides his mobile back in his pocket and leaves me with a stern look. My heart hammers in my chest.
Did he just gain the upper hand?
Flora watches as the men leave, and sighs.
“Well, that leaves us two then. The girls are going to Fran’s to study, but I think the car’s full up, and it might be taxing for you to go with them.
They’re practicing debate for Islan’s class.
” She smiles at me sheepishly, as if she’s embarrassed that the girls aren't taking me with them.
I'm not going to lie, my heart hurts a little bit at this. Am I not their friend yet?
“Cook with me again, Cairstina?” Flora smiles.
I nod. I love cooking with her in their large, airy kitchen, with the fire burning at the hearth and the smell of freshly baked bread and stew filling the air.
“Making Leith’s favorite,” she says with a smile. “Do you know how to make a scotch pie?”
I shake my head. I’ve had all the Scottish traditional foods my entire life. Haggis and sausage, blood pudding and stew. Shortbread and fruitcake, and the like.
But scotch pie’s something I’ve never made before.
I write on a slip of paper, I’d love to learn.
Is it only in my imagination, or is she teaching me how to do this because it is Leith’s favorite? Does she think that matters? Maybe it's important for me to learn how to make his favorite foods, because if there is anything at all between us, maybe I'd like to make it someday…
Or maybe this is all just my imagination.
Again. I’m so used to making things up in my mind, that I'm not very good at differentiating between the truth and what's only made up in my head.
Still, I need something to do today, and I think this might be at least something that will pass a few hours before Leith comes back to me.
Should I even be thinking that way?
Back to me.
He isn’t mine.
Flora rolls out pie crust, while minced lamb, spices, and onion sizzle in a frying pan. My mouth waters. She tells me about how he was as a child, a veritable force to be reckoned with, sounds like.
“And we tried to train that boy to watch his temper, but it’s who he is. His father was hard on him, so hard, trying to get him to master himself. You know. You can train a child only so far, as their personality is deeply embedded in them.”
I think on this as I help her spoon the cooked meat into the pastry dough. She shows me how to fold the edges and pinch them together. I don’t like thinking of his father being “hard on him.” I like the rest of the family, but I am not a fan of Bram Cowen.
She looks at me quietly for a moment, not speaking. “I can tell that something’s on your mind,” she says. “Can you share it with me?’
I take a piece of paper and jot it down.
It’s just that sometimes it’s personality—nature, as it were—and sometimes it’s nurture, not nature. My brother was kind when he was little. He learned hatred and bullying from my father.
She smiles sadly. “Isn’t that the truth?” She stirs the large pot of tatties on the stove. “Can you fetch me the salt, love?” she asks, gesturing to a shaker to my right. I hand it to her, as a door clangs and a booming voice yells to us.
“Flora! Where the hell are you?”
It’s Leith’s dad, and he’s in a right state.
Her body jolts, and she drops the pepper grinder with a clang on the counter. She looks around the kitchen and points to the pantry.
“Go in there,” she says. “He won’t hurt you, but if he’s in a mood, it’d be best if you’re out of sight.” Heavy footsteps come toward us. “Go.”
I’m startled by her reaction. I don’t like Leith’s father, but I didn’t suspect he was the type one would have to hide from. I crouch in the pantry, and shut the door just as he enters the kitchen.
“You feeling better, then, Bram.” I imagine Flora continues peeling vegetables as he comes in.
“Aye,” he says. “Bit better.”
“Why are you so riled up?”
“Because I just found out that Leith didn’t have the fucking bollox to do what he should have.” Something crashes to the floor, and I’m grateful I can’t scream, because I know I’d give myself away. I cringe. What will he do if he finds me here? And why’s he so angry at Leith?
“Now, Bram,” Flora says calmly. “You appointed him Captain. It isn’t healthy for you to question why or how Leith does anything, and you know it.”
Something else slams to the ground. “Don’t give me that, woman. As Clan Captain, I’ll always do what’s right, as I’m always a Clan Captain. You know appointing Leith wasn’t my choice.”
It wasn’t? Then why did he do it?
Flora doesn’t respond at first. I imagine she’s steadily preparing the meal and avoiding his wrath. I definitely can relate to that.
“Where’s the mute?”
I cringe. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, but I haven’t heard it since I came to this house.
“Not sure what you mean,” Flora says coolly. “Surely we don’t refer to handicapped people by their handicaps, Bram? Is this the Middle Ages?”
Good for her.
She isn’t afraid of him, then. She’s afraid of him for me.
He grumbles. “Where’s the imposter girl? Is that better?”
Oh, God. No. No, it isn’t much better.
“Oh, not sure,” Flora says. “Spoke with her a little while ago. Did you hear back from Mac yet? Any word on the Aitkens?”
“Fucking Aitkens,” he mutters. “Aye. They’ve been caught carjacking along the road to Inverness, suspect they’re trying to find someone out, but they’ve not been back to the church. I know the boys went into town on a lead but they haven’t filled me in on that either.”
“Well, that’s good, anyway, ‘bout the Aitkens.”
“Good? Are you mad? They probably know it was our boys that roughed them up and killed one of their own.”
“You think?” She doesn’t sound worried at all. I wonder why she’s so nonchalant.
“Who bloody knows, with the way they fuck things up? Dinnae ken, Flora, sometimes I think the only son I had that wasn’t a right blather—”
“Don’t say it.” Her voice is pained as she pleads. “No, Bram. It isn’t true.”
I’m on my feet before I know it. I shouldn’t interfere.
I shouldn’t let him know I’m in here. My hand is on the doorknob.
I want to scream at him, shake him by his shoulders and tell him that Leith is as good a son as anyone could ever hope for.
That he’s smart and loyal and kind, that he’s witty and intelligent, and so good to me I want to pinch myself sometimes.
I want to tell him it’s his fault that Leith is down on himself, because he fancies he’s never good enough, like Tavish.
And I want to tell him that's all his fault.
I freeze with my hand on the doorknob as they continue talking. She might suspect that I’m on the verge of leaving my hiding place, because I hear her put the vegetable peeler down and her voice turns away, as if she’s heading to the doorway.
“Now, Bram, let’s get a cuppa in the library and finish the bookkeeping that we started last night, eh?”
“No, I’m not in the mood to do numbers,” he mutters, like a spoiled toddler who doesn’t want his milk. “I want to know why they went into town.”