Chapter 13
Thirteen
FYFE
The combined noise of the fiddle, accordion, guitar, bodhran drum, and flute filled the village hall as Lewis’s family, friends, and neighbors danced with abandon.
My best friend’s face was lit with laughter and happiness as he spun his bride out and pulled her back against his body.
Callie’s head tipped back, her laughter ringing out above the music.
She was beautiful in her wedding dress and all eyes were on the blissed-out couple.
Well, not all eyes.
Mine kept pulling toward the maid of honor.
I sipped at my whisky, watching as Eilidh showed Morwenna the steps to the ceilidh music.
Not everyone was proper ceilidh dancing (including the bride and groom), but some were.
Eilidh looked beautiful and relaxed, and Mor lit up under her big sister’s attention.
I’d noted a marked difference in their relationship, how close they seemed now, and I was glad for Eils.
What I wasn’t glad for was this continued distance between us.
So much distance, even though she assured me we were fine after our kiss. That moment between us seemed like a fuzzy dream and not reality.
Because I’d never get to touch her like that again.
And apparently, I was never getting her back the way I had her.
That now-familiar burn scored across my chest.
I wanted to leave.
As much as I was over the moon for Lewis and had stood proudly at his side as he and Callie got married across the street in Ardnoch Church earlier today, I wanted to get away from this thing that was slowly turning into agony.
Everyone’s eyes had been on Callie as she’d walked down the aisle toward Lewis. I’d had to force my gaze to her because Eilidh had walked down the aisle before her in her maid of honor gown, and I could barely hear anything over the sudden rush of blood in my ears.
She’d worn a pale green silk dress with thin straps, and the top part of it seemed almost corseted, pushing her breasts up.
It skimmed her figure, tight at the waist and hips but then flowing loosely around her ankles.
I thought bridesmaids weren’t supposed to be sexy so they didn’t pull attention from the bride.
But that color against Eilidh’s dark hair and olive skin was striking.
It was like seeing one of her red-carpet moments in real life. Untouchable Eilidh Adair suddenly at my fingertips.
I watched now as she hopped easily on her high heels, her arm around Mor’s shoulders.
Mor giggled as she attempted to copy her big sister.
Eilidh seemed the happiest I’d seen her in a long time, and the immensity of my relief was a balm to my agitation.
Smiling over my glass of whisky, I noted the tendrils of dark curls falling loose from Eilidh’s updo.
I imagined all that hair spilled across my pillow, her lying breathless on her back beneath me, her dress bunched up to the waist, and her breasts shaking with the fierceness of my thrusts into her.
Fuck.
I should leave. Go to my American. She knew the score. What we were. And what we were was extremely far from complicated. Which was what I needed.
It was getting too hot in this fucking kilt anyway.
I wore the Sutherland tartan, which was what the Adair family wore.
A dark green with red, black, and white accents.
All the Adair men wore a black evening kilt jacket with regulation doublet and vest. White shirt beneath.
Black bow tie. Sporran. Socks. Dress shoes.
The whole works. Lewis stood out in his biker boots instead.
A kilt was hot, though. Time to divest of the jacket at least.
“You, Fyfe Moray, should be dancing.” Lewis’s mum appeared at my side.
She took the glass out of my hand, rested it on a nearby table, and then tugged me out onto the dance floor.
We ended up next to Eilidh and Mor, and my heart lurched when Eilidh beamed up at me.
Now Regan was attempting to show me the ceilidh moves, but I didn’t care because Eilidh joined in, her hands touching me, her perfume filling my senses as her laughter filled that empty place inside me.
Not long later, so aware of her every move, I saw Eilidh duck out of the village hall by herself.
Unable to resist, I followed her. The chilly October air pierced through my shirt and I welcomed it.
Though I’d shrugged off the kilt jacket a while ago, I was still fucking roasting in this getup.
The cool air blowing up my bare legs was welcome too.
After a few seconds of searching, I found Eilidh down the narrow lane between the hall and the building next door.
Barely a shaft of moonlight lit her as she braced against the side of the village hall, her chin tilted as if she was looking at the slice of sky she could see above her.
“Hey.”
She jerked, pushing off the wall at my approach. “What are you doing here?”
“Just checking in with you.” I stopped, searching her expression, blurred by the darkness though it was.
“I’m fine. Just hot.” She chuckled, and a strand of hair that had fallen loose cascaded over her shoulder.
Instinctually, I reached out to tuck it behind her ear, and Eilidh sucked in a breath.
Her awareness sent a jolt of sensation to my dick. Maybe I’d had too many whiskies, after all.
She stepped away, pressing against the building. “I just needed a breath of air. I’ll see you back in there.”
I smirked at her attempt at dismissal. “I’m not leaving you out here alone.”
“It’s Ardnoch, Fyfe.”
“Aye. But once upon a time, this place was considered the crime capital of the Highlands.”
Eilidh chuckled. “It’s been quiet for a long time.”
“Has it? Because I thought Carianne had to run down a bloke to save Callie from being shot in the face last year.” I referred to the mess Callie’s French ex had sucked her into and how my high school ex had surprised us all by extracting her from that situation.
Carianne was at the wedding reception earlier but left with some bloke.
Last month she’d moved to Inverness with her new partner, and I doubted we’d see much of her going forward.
Callie mentioned Carianne had thrown herself into her relationship with this single dad and wasn’t interested in anything or anyone else now.
We’d exchanged a few words. I was grateful for her and how she’d saved Callie, but that was the extent of any feeling between us.
“Fair enough.” Eilidh snorted. “But before then, it was quiet for a good while.”
I settled next to her against the wall. “You happy, Eils?”
“Happier than I have been in ages. I’m so glad Lewis and Callie found their way back to each other.”
I nudged her. “You know Lewis told me that you’re the reason they did. Apparently, you invited them to the same party in London and it was deliberate.”
“You have to remember that I was still friends with Callie. I could tell, despite her gorgeous French boyfriend, that she was changed by losing Lewis. That she hadn’t gotten over it.
And Lewis …” Eilidh pushed off the wall, turning to face me.
“My God, how many times did you catch him creeping on Callie’s socials? ”
I chuckled. “Aye, more times than was healthy.”
“Right. And they wouldn’t tell anybody what happened between them and I thought if it was so awful, neither of them would still be hung up on the other. So I took the risk and shoved them together.” I could see her cheeky grin in the dark. “I didn’t think they’d sleep together and get pregnant.”
I gave a bark of laughter. “Then you don’t remember how horny for each other they were as teenagers.”
She wrinkled her nose adorably. “Do not say the word horny when talking about my brother.”
Unable to stop myself, I reached out to stroke a thumb over her smooth cheek. There was that rushing sound in my ears again and a foggy need blocking out my rationale. “It’s so fucking good to see you like this.”
“Fyfe—”
I crashed my mouth over hers, swallowing her words, my hand sliding around the nape of her neck to hold her where I wanted her.
She tasted of champagne and something that was all Eilidh.
Her whimper made my blood flush even hotter as I turned and pressed her up against the building, pushing my body into hers.
Her tongue licked at mine, her arms around my back, fingers curling into my shirt as she moaned and arched her hips against me. I pulled at the silk of her dress, trying to get under it. To feel her wet heat, to sink inside her.
Aye.
Fuck. Aye. I needed that. I wanted it so badly, my heart felt like it was about to explode.
“Eilidh!” The young female voice cut through the haze in my head. “Eilidh!”
Then Eilidh was pushing at my chest.
I forced myself to release her, stumbling back. She stared up at me in shock, lips swollen from my kisses. “That’s Mor,” she whispered.
Shit.
Oh my fucking … what the hell was I doing?
“Eilidh …” Her name came out thick and hoarse as I shoved a hand through my hair and stumbled back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve had too much to drink. That won’t happen again.”
Hurt tightened her features. “Really? You’re pulling the ‘I’m drunk’ card again.”
“Eils—”
“No. You know what? Fuck you, Fyfe Moray.” She pushed off the wall, her heels clicking on the cobbles as she hurried away.
Panic suffused me. “Eilidh!”
I moved to go after her but then saw Mor appear at the end of the lane. Halting, I watched as Eilidh reached her, put an arm around her sister, and pulled her away before she could see me.
“Fuck!” I collapsed against the wall, scrubbing a hand down my face.
In that messed-up moment, something became very clear.
For Eilidh’s sake, I needed to stay the hell away from her.