Chapter 8 Arran
ARRAN
It happened slowly. My personal dark cloud appeared above my head and stayed there over the subsequent days. At first I barely noticed it, but as the weeks passed, growing closer to the anniversary of a time I’d like to erase from my memory, it grew heavier and darker and harder to bear.
I could’ve become an actor like my brothers, for I shrugged on the part of carefree Arran and no one seemed to notice the grim clutch of the past dragging down my shoulders.
Except Eredine.
We’d switched roles. Gone was her distraction in place of mine. The last few days on our runs along Ardnoch Beach, she’d asked several times if I was okay. I’d flirted in return, evading her concern.
Part of me couldn’t believe it had been four years since that tragic night in Thailand.
Horrible fucking coincidence it fell on the night of Ardnoch’s anniversary ceilidh.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, taking in the kilt with the Sutherland tartan the Adairs wore.
The dark green plaid with red, black, and white accents had been worn in this family for generations.
While Clan Adair was actually from the Lowlands of Scotland, our particular offshoot of the Adairs had migrated north and broken away from the clan.
We became more involved in the politics of Clan Sutherland, and our ancestors had opted to adopt the Sutherland tartan in lieu of the tartan worn by Clan Adair, which was actually Maxwell tartan.
I came from a long line of Scotsmen who left their home to start anew.
Only problem was, I’d eventually regretted my choice, missing my family. Missing Ardnoch. I wondered if any of my ancestors had missed their clan in the Lowlands.
The jacket I wore was dark gray to match my brothers’ kilts. I looked the part.
But that cloud above my head felt almost unbearable tonight.
I grimaced at the mirror, trying to force a smile.
Fuck.
I barely drank these days, and tonight it seemed like a poor decision to do so, but maybe a glass or two of whisky would loosen me up. It would all be fine.
Thane and Regan were bringing the kids to the ceilidh, and my niece and nephew looked adorable.
Lewis wore a wee kilt to match ours, and I managed a genuine smile when Regan took photos of us.
Eilidh was on cloud nine wearing what she called a princess dress that matched the color of Regan’s much sexier dark green gown.
“You look absolutely gorgeous,” I told Regan truthfully.
“Stop flirting with my wife.” Thane stepped between us to grab his car keys, giving me a warning look.
Affronted that he was genuinely annoyed, I scowled. “Not your wife yet, brother.”
His eyes narrowed. “As good as.”
“It was just a compliment, handsome.” Regan patted her fiancé’s arm while offering me an apologetic look.
Whatever Thane saw in my expression caused remorse to flicker across his. “Sorry. You and Brodan are just so similar that sometimes I forget you’re also not.”
“What does that mean?”
Instead of answering, Thane ushered the kids into the hall while Regan stayed behind to tell me quietly, “Brodan deliberately flirted with me to get a rise out of Thane when we first started dating.”
That didn’t sound like Brodan, but then again, he was all over the map these days. “What a prick.”
Regan chuckled. “Yup.”
Still, a wee dark part of me wondered if Thane’s annoyance with me wasn’t based on my own past mistakes. After all, I’d slept with Monroe, and even though she and Brodan weren’t together when it happened, I often suspected my family saw it as a betrayal. Would they ever forgive me for it?
Deciding to curb my instinct to flirt, I got into the back of the SUV with the kids while Thane helped Regan into the passenger side.
“You do look beautiful, Mo leannan.” I heard him murmur to her before they kissed softly.
“Yuck.” Lewis wrinkled his nose, watching his parents.
Chuckling, I nudged him. “One day you’ll want to kiss someone, and it won’t be yucky to you then.”
“I doubt it.” He shot me a world-weary look. “And who would want to when I’m wearing a skirt?”
“Kilt,” Thane and I said in unison, somewhat belligerently.
“As a Scotsman, you have to respect the kilt,” I told my nephew with a grin. “And any non-Scot who calls it a skirt should fear for their life.”
Regan groaned, “Arran, stop.”
“It’s true,” Thane agreed. “No one calls a kilt a skirt in this family.”
“Why can’t I wear a kilt?” Eilidh asked, fluffing the layers of her dress’s underskirt.
“No one is stopping you, sweetheart,” Thane told her as we pulled away from the house. I noted Lachlan and Robyn’s vehicle was already gone. “Next year, you can wear a kilt if you want.”
I watched as Eilidh comically eyed mine and Arran’s kilts and then her own dress. Her gaze shot back and forth in open contemplation. Then she abruptly decided, “Nah. You’re fine.”
Laughter shook my shoulders as my niece grinned, and I swear to God, for just a second, she blasted sunshine through that cloud over my head. It shamed me I hadn’t been in their lives for as long as I should have.
The town hall was on the street behind Main, a late-nineteenth-century building with a great room that catered to events like the ceilidh with its vaulted ceiling and big windows.
Lachlan’s team had transformed the drab space into an explosion of Scottish tradition with tartan and heather and the scent of whisky heavy in the air. One room off the main hall served as the bar while a buffet-style spread was available in the other.
A ceilidh band owned the stage, and the main floor was perfect for dancing.
Laughter, conversation, and rhythmic clapping rose over the music as we entered the packed space. Suddenly, it felt very claustrophobic as people greeted us and I had to turn on the charm. The energy it took for what usually came so naturally was phenomenal.
A glass of whisky was definitely in order.
Lachlan approached with his arm around Robyn, and while she looked stunning, I stopped myself from saying so. My brothers and their fucking caveman possessiveness.
Mac and Arro found us seconds later, but instead of greeting them, I asked, peeved, “Where’s Ery?”
“She just went to the restroo—”
“I’m here,” Eredine’s voice cut Arro off, and I whirled to face my friend.
Yet as I drank in the beauty before me, I felt anything but friendly toward her.
Ery’s curls were smoothed into shiny, dark waves that tumbled down her shoulders. Instead of a dress, she wore a cropped, dark pink top and high-waisted, dark pink trousers that showed off a sliver of her toned stomach. In her high heels, she was maybe even a little taller than me.
She looked glamorous and heartbreakingly out of reach. Tonight, for many reasons, I was reminded that Eredine was too good for the likes of me.
That didn’t stop me from wanting to touch every inch of her soft golden-brown skin.
I wanted to daily, and I’d seen her bare stomach plenty of times in her yoga tops …
but in this situation, that flash of skin was more enticing than ever.
I had to force my gaze to her eyes because I was immediately fantasizing about covering her stomach in kisses as I made her come with my fingers.
Fuck.
Swallowing past a lump in my throat, I said, “You’re stunning.”
Ery gave me a shy smile. “Thanks. You look handsome. Everyone looks great.”
Reminded we were not alone, I turned as Ery joined our circle and noted Lachlan, Thane, and Mac scowling at me like they were Eredine’s overprotective fathers. Regan smirked knowingly, Robyn seemed contemplative, and Arro worried her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Why is everyone staring at Uncle Arran?” Eilidh piped up, and everyone dropped their gazes to where she held Thane’s hand. Lewis stood at Regan’s side. When I first moved back to Ardnoch, Lewis’s utter dedication to his soon-to-be stepmum made me warm to Regan immediately.
“Aye, why is everyone staring at Uncle Arran?” I chirped, probably a little too enthusiastically to cover that I was dying inside. “Probably because he needs a drink. Anyone else?”
I took their orders, trying not to dwell on Eredine’s beauty, and failing immensely.
A third whisky was in my hand as I watched couples take to the dance floor.
I’d danced the “Gay Gordons” with Eredine and “The Dashing White Sergeant” with Eilidh before hiding in the bar area for a while.
The hooting and hilarity brought me back out, though, hoping against hope that the levity and joy of those around me might burst that damn cloud over my head.
Unfortunately, my mood only worsened as I watched a guy I didn’t recognize ask Eredine to dance.
And she said yes.
I could tell by the look on Arro’s face that she was surprised too.
The guy was good-looking. I could see that objectively.
Bloody hell.
Who was he?
My eyes narrowed as he smoothed his hand over Ery’s lower back, his fingertips almost touching her arse. That wee fucker …
“Jared McCulloch.”
I blinked, turning to look down at Regan, who’d appeared at my side. “What?”
“Eredine is dancing with Jared McCulloch. Collum’s grandson.”
Collum McCulloch was a local farmer, and he had a problem with the Adairs because he swore our ancestors had taken land from his family. I’d grown up avoiding the miserable auld bastard—he always had a harsh word for me.
I knew his granddaughter worked at Ardnoch Castle as a housekeeper, but I hadn’t known there was a grandson.
“He moved here a few years ago to help Collum.”
“Has anything …” I took another sip of whisky. “Ery and him?”
Regan shook her head, expression much too knowing. “He actually asked me out last year.”
I thought of Thane snapping my head off earlier. “Does my brother know?”
“Yeah. He wasn’t too happy.”
“Don’t let him push you around by being a possessive arse,” I muttered. I loved my brother, but he didn’t own Regan.
“He’s not like that, I promise. We both have gotten jealous in the past, but we feel secure with each other now.”
“So, what was tonight? A special treat just for me? The untrustworthy black sheep of the family.”
Regan frowned. “No, no, Arran. I think he just can’t see when you’re being charming and when you’re being genuine.”
“I don’t know if that’s an insult,” I murmured with a smirk. Then my gaze hardened on Ery as she laughed at something Jared said. He’s too short for her, I thought immaturely. They didn’t look right together at all.
“It’s not an insult. An observation. See, to the casual observer, you are flirtatious and charming with all women. But if you look closely enough, it’s obvious there’s only one woman you’re interested in.”
Ery laughed again, and jealousy cut through me.
Was she interested in this guy? I’d only ever seen her laugh like that with Brodan.
My mind raced as the dark cloud began to drip, drip, drip on my head, every hit of its cold misery telling me I wasn’t good enough for Eredine, anyway.
I threw back the rest of my whisky. “I’m getting another drink. You want one?”
“No, I’m—”
But I was already walking away before Regan had finished talking.