Chapter 2 Arro
ARRO
“You seem a little happier,” Arran observed as we danced to a slow Idlewild track.
“Happier?” I frowned, swaying to the slow rhythm. “Really? Because I was just thinking this song is depressing.”
The folk band had finished their set of energetic, enthusiastic music that had gotten everyone on their feet. The deejay then took over and was playing a selection of Robyn and Lachlan’s favorite songs.
“Stop avoiding the subject.”
“What subject?”
“The subject of your mood. I know things are a wee bit tense between us all since I got home, but something else is going on with you.” Arran bent his head to force me to look into his eyes, the same shade of blue as Lachlan’s.
All my brothers were blond and blue-eyed, but while Lachlan and Thane were a rugged, rough-around-the-edges kind of handsome, Brodan was classically good-looking.
Arran was just a younger, smoother version of Lachlan.
While Lachlan and Thane couldn’t understand Arran’s need to be so far from us all the time, I tried to.
Growing up, Lachlan had been like a father to me, and Thane was a typical overprotective big brother.
Brodan and Arran, however, had been my friends as well as my big brothers.
Especially Arran. He’d been dreaming of adventures for as long as I could remember.
He just didn’t seem to have it in him to stand in one place for too long.
Truthfully, though, his prolonged absence had hurt. And it made little sense. Arran was a wanderer, but he’d made it clear, until a few years ago, that his family was still a priority.
“Where have you been?” I turned the tables on him.
His hand tightened in mine. “I’m sorry I stayed away too long.”
“Arran,” I said, leaning in, not wanting to be overheard, “someone tried to kill Lachlan. A man tied up your niece and nephew and used them to terrorize Regan. Do you understand all that?”
He blanched guiltily and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Just tell me why,” I pleaded. “Why didn’t you come back when we needed you?”
Something hardened in his expression. “What’s going on with you and Mac?”
I tensed. “Nothing’s going on.”
Arran smirked unhappily. “Then I guess there’s no good reason I didn’t come home until now. I’m just a bit of a prick.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Then your belief is wrong.” He looked away, the muscle in his jaw popping with his agitation. His hand tightened in mine again as his eyes narrowed. I followed Arran’s gaze, my brows raising to find it had landed on Eredine as she danced with Brodan.
Brodan held Ery awfully close as he murmured things to her that made her smile shyly.
I’d suspected Brodan had a thing for Ery for a while now, but for whatever reason, he hadn’t made a move. Ery was so closed off, I wasn’t sure a move would be appreciated, anyway. Yet sometimes I caught her watching him in a way that suggested maybe he fascinated her too.
Frowning, I glanced up at Arran. He didn’t know Eredine that well, hadn’t been around long enough to get to know her.
But it didn’t surprise me he’d noticed her.
One, she was a knockout, an attractive mix of soft-spoken kindness and dry wit.
Not that she showed the latter until she was comfortable with you.
Two, the entirety of their youthful romantic lives (i.e.
, from the time Arran was ten—he and Brodan matured quickly in the girl department), my brothers had vied for the same girls.
Their tastes were worryingly similar. They’d put their competitiveness with girls aside; however, when Arran slept with Brodan’s best friend, Monroe Sinclair, they’d had a big falling-out after that.
While Brodan insisted he was angry Arran had crossed the line by sleeping with a girl they’d agreed was off-limits, I always believed there was more to it, that perhaps Monroe had meant more to Brodan than he’d acknowledged.
Anyway, Monroe left my brothers, Ardnoch, and her family behind after that, and Arran and Brodan finally mended their rift.
They never went after the same woman again.
“She’s beautiful, kind, witty, guarded, difficult to get to know. I’m her closest friend here, and even I don’t really know her.”
Arran frowned, his attention still on Ery. “What?”
“Eredine.”
He looked at me now. “What about her?”
“She’s off-limits,” I warned, “to both of you.”
Arran’s lips quirked. “Dearest, darlin’ sister, I have no intentions toward your friend. Can’t a man enjoy looking at a woman without ulterior motives?”
“As long as that’s all it is, fine.”
“You know,” he said, swaying me with exaggeration now, “of all the people I expected to be nice to me when I came back, you were the one.”
“I am being nice to you. We’re dancing, aren’t we?”
“A pity dance,” he teased, eyes twinkling boyishly. “I can tell.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I muttered. “I’ve had to put up with women falling all over my brothers my entire life, and tonight is no exception. I’m surprised someone hasn’t clawed our hands apart to get to you.”
“It’s not our fault we’re cursed with good looks and animal magnetism.”
I gagged, pretending to vomit, and he laughed.
Something caught his eye behind me, and a look I didn’t like entered it. “The Adair men aren’t the only ones popular with the guests. Mac is certainly enjoying the attention.”
I froze, refusing to look around.
“Oh, aye, I think his speech inspired a few blue beans tonight.”
I smacked Arran only half playfully across the head.
“What was that for?” he whined like a little boy.
“Don’t talk like that to me. I’m your sister. Show some respect.”
“Pfft, I think that was more about Mac than me,” he grumbled. “I think you knocked my eye loose.”
“It was barely a tap. Stop being a baby.”
“Good idea, Arro.” Lachlan and Robyn had danced up to us, and he reached out and smacked Arran across the back of the head harder than I had. “That’s for making me worry about you for two years.”
“Fuck.” Arran released me to rub his head. “Was that necessary?”
“Aye. And I feel loads better. Be prepared, I’m telling Thane how cathartic it is to hit you.” He grinned wickedly, dancing Robyn away.
“Is he kidding?” Arran looked around warily, seeming much, much younger than his thirty-five years.
Laughter bubbled on my lips. “I’d stay alert for the rest of the evening if I were you.”
“Home sweet home,” he muttered.
I’d just returned to Eredine’s side with a fresh glass of champagne when a man who looked vaguely familiar, and thus I was sure was an actor, approached. He gave us both a nod of hello and me a smile as he held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
An Adele song played.
“Go.” Eredine took my glass and nudged me toward the familiar stranger.
Why not? I thought.
I smiled at the American and put my hand in his. As we strolled across the room, he introduced himself. “I’m Gray. I worked with your brother on a movie about fifteen years ago, and we became friends.”
Now that he’d said his name, I knew who he was. He wasn’t an overly well-known actor, but I’d heard Lachlan speak of him. “Grayson Evans?”
“That’s me.” He grinned as he pulled me onto the dance floor, taking my hand in his and placing his other on my waist. “And you’re Arrochar. It’s weird I’ve known Lachlan this long, but never met you.”
“I’m not in the film industry.” Nor would I ever want to be.
“You should be. You have the looks for it.”
My answer was a tight smile, my gaze moving over his shoulder.
“Not that … I mean, obviously you could bring more to acting than that.”
I snorted as he realized his error. “I highly doubt it. I’m more suited to forest engineering than acting.”
“You’re a forest engineer?” He gaped, shocked.
His surprise, unfortunately, was something I’d had to deal with my entire career.
I worked in a male-dominated industry as the one in charge on-site, the one responsible for drawing up the maps of topographical features of a timber-harvesting area and planning and directing construction of roads and rail networks needed to transport the logs from the harvest area to a safe storage and loading area.
I was the one who ensured the safe and efficient removal of the logs by planning and overseeing the construction of campsites, loading docks, bridges, equipment shelters, and water systems. The one who selected the methods and equipment we’d use for handling the logs, and the one who ordered around a bunch of guys to do it.
Let’s just say I’d faced my share of battles with misogyny.
“Yes,” I answered shortly.
“Sorry.” He winced. “I’m not coming across right. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve just never met a forest engineer before. I don’t even know what it is, really.”
I softened, a little guilty for being snippy about it, which wasn’t like me at all, and explained my job to him.
“Wow. You have an actual job.”
I laughed softly. “Don’t you?”
“Other people don’t think it’s an actual job.”
“It’s an actual job,” I assured him. “I know from Lachlan how hard you all work.”
Gray grinned. “Thanks for saying so.”
“I can’t believe Galbraith is Robyn’s father,” a woman said beside me, drawing my focus from my dance partner.
I saw it was the English actor, Angeline Potter.
I didn’t recognize the man she was with, but they both stared at Mac where he danced with Jasmine.
He hadn’t been short of partners all night, but at least I knew Jaz was off-limits.
The rest had sparked an indignant flare of jealousy I couldn’t believe I could still feel.
“I know. No wonder people always tell them he doesn’t look old enough,” her American partner observed.
“I wonder how old he was when they had her. Thirteen? He can’t be much older than forty, right?”
“That would make Robyn only twenty-something, and I’m sure she’s thirty.”
Twenty-nine, actually, I thought. Thirteen, indeed!
“You’re looking at him like you want to fuck him.”