Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Cairstina
I don't even know what to do with myself. My attraction to Leith baffles me, but it’s something so refreshing, so exciting, I don’t want to overanalyze it to death.
I want to enjoy it, for what it is, for however long this lasts.
I shouldn't be attracted to this man, but how could I resist someone like him?
It isn't just that he's hot. I mean, I’m a typical red-blooded female and even the most discriminating would find it hard not to find that large, powerful body and dark, brooding eyes sexy as hell. He’s intriguing and complex, and I knew it from the very first moment I met him.
People like me learn to observe, to really truly see people.
He wars within himself, so much so that I wonder why no one else seems to notice. He's torn between his duty and wants, between what he should be doing and what he wants to do. He's curious about me, but hesitant. I wonder why. Is he afraid? If so, what is he afraid of? That he’ll hurt me?
Wounded people recognize one another. We know when we look into the eyes of someone who’s been hurt, and deeply. And I know, without a doubt, that Leith is wounded… like me.
It's almost like recognizing someone from your home country when traveling abroad. Because you speak the same language, even when no words are spoken aloud. Because you understand each other's language, when others around you don't.
“I believe I don't need to tell you how you are expected to behave down there,” he says, resuming his naturally stern demeanor and expression.
I barely refrain from rolling my eyes as I shake my head. I’m not sure what he thinks I would do, but “misbehaving” isn’t really my thing. I give him a grim smile and send him another text.
I’m mute, remember? Not sure how I’d misbehave.
He gives me a wry smile. “That’s almost too bad,” he mutters. “Because wouldn’t I bloody love another opportunity to punish you.”
Heat skates across my skin at his words, at the memory of being punished by him. If punishment from Leith feels like that, I may have to learn how to “misbehave.”
We walk down the spiral staircase but he doesn't take me to the dining room. We go to the large, sturdy table in the kitchen. A fire burns in the hearth, the scent of home-cooked food permeating my senses. His sisters are already there before us, and they smile when we enter.
Paisley is obviously the youngest, and more intimidated by Leith than Islan. She closes her mouth abruptly when we enter the room, stopping mid-sentence. Islan, however, is not as bashful.
“Ah, would you look at you!” she says, her eyes dancing. “The clothes fit perfectly. Do you like them?”
I nod eagerly, wishing I could gush about the softness of the sweater, the pretty color of the dress, the generosity of it all.
“Not much of a question,” Paisley says with a grim smile. She looks at Islan, not me or Leith, when she says wryly, “The better question is, did Leith like them?”
“That’s enough, Paisley,” Leith says, his eyes darkening again. Why must he take everything so damn seriously? She hushes, but when he turns to pull the chair out, I see her roll her eyes at Islan.
“Do you read, Cairstina?” Islan asks me.
I nod eagerly.
“Of course she can fucking read. Just because she’s mute doesn’t mean she can’t bloody read.”
I look at him in surprise, but she only laughs him off. “Relax, Leith, I only meant does she like to read.” She turns to me. “Paisley and I have been devouring this series of romance books. Almost as good as those chocolates in the shops in town, aren’t they Paisley?”
Paisley smiles bashfully. “Not sure I’d go that far.”
Islan laughs as she continues. “They’re Scottish mafia, can you believe it? And so well done you won’t be able to put them down, though I daresay I have to force myself to remember this book isn’t written about my bloody brothers.”
Leith scowls. Why is he angry about her talking about a work of fiction?
Scottish mafia…
Scottish mafia? Like, organized crime?
Reality dawns so brightly I’m nearly blinded. I blink in surprise.
The Scottish mafia. I look from Leith to Islan and begin to piece everything together. Oh my God.
Oh my God.
Are they… is this family related to the mafia?
They each have their own private chalets.
They definitely seem to be related, I figured that much out.
The men all have the same kind of tattoos all over their necks and arms. And why were they at the church to begin with?
They’re obviously wealthy and influential…
“Be quiet, Islan, Jesus,” Leith says, but she only laughs.
I point to my mobile and then hers. She frowns, then looks to Leith.
“Is she allowed to text anybody else?"
He scowls. “I’ll think about it.”
She rolls her eyes, but before they can continue the conversation, an older woman with short gray hair enters the room. She’s dressed smartly, and is so energetic, I feel the very lights in the room burn more brightly. His dad follows behind her, so I’m assuming she’s his mum.
“You must be Cairstina,” the woman says with a smile. She extends her hand. “Name’s Flora. Welcome.”
I take her hand and shake it, then smile at her as Leith pulls a chair out.
“Sit,” he mutters. I sit.
“She doesn’t speak, Mum,” he says, as the staff fills our water glasses and plates of food.
“Doesn’t speak?” His mum looks at me curiously. “Why not?”
“She’s mute.”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment. I wish I could explain, but I’m not sure I’d want to tell the entire table.
Islan quickly changes the subject.
“Mum, I was telling Cairstina about those books that we found at the bookstore, do you remember?” Islan pulls one out of her bag. “They’re wildly amusing.”
“Och, aye,” their mum says with a twinkle in her eye. “I’d definitely call them that.”
“Not sure why you girls need to fill yer heads with such nonsense,” Leith says, taking a roll out of a basket and handing the basket to me.
“Oh, like you’ve got no better use of your time, eh?” Islan rolls her eyes. “So much more wholesome chopping wood and the like instead of reading a book of fiction?”
Leith butters his roll and points to her with his butter knife for emphasis. “Precisely.”
I immediately imagine him out in the woods, an ax in hand, as he swings it powerfully, the wood splintering with one fell swoop.
Oooh, chopping wood. I want to see him chop wood. That sounds like the sexiest thing ever.
I blink in surprise at myself. Who am I, and why are these crazy thoughts coming to me out of nowhere?
He’s muttering about unrealistic expectations and fantasy, and he’s annoying the hell out of me.
I pull out my phone and send him a text.
Romance novels are every bit as valid as regular fictional novels, thank you very much.
His eyes dance with amusement, a sight I’d pay good money to see more often.
“Cairstina’s joined the argument,” he says, a note of humor in his tone that’s rare. He repeats my text.
Islan grins. “She’s quite right, of course, and only little men with little—”
Paisley elbows her and their mum stifles a giggle.
“Only small-minded men think little of romance,” she finishes with a flourish. “Honestly, though, Mum, the story’s almost uncanny.” She shakes her head. “It sometimes feels like the author herself is sitting right here among us, but that isn’t possible…”
Leith glares at her, and she drops the subject. Does he think I’m fool enough not to put two and two together? What does it mean if he’s part of the mob?
Do I care?
Should I?
“We have work to do this evening, son,” his father says, and they go on to talk about all sorts of things that interest me, but I have a hard time following. And a little part of me’s disappointed. Didn’t Leith say he and I would spend the evening together tonight?
“Aye, Dad, we’ve work to do, but not tonight,” Leith says, and my heart soars. “Cairstina and I have much to discuss.”
Islan and Paisley look at each other and burst into giggles. Leith rolls his eyes and exhales, as his brothers enter the room.
“Sorry we’re late,” Mac says, “but you’ll want to know what it is we’ve found.”
I’ve got a forkful of carrots halfway to my mouth when I freeze, mid-bite, at his next sentence.
“Ran into a certain Dougal Reilly in town today.”
My brother?
I drop my fork onto my plate with a clatter.
“Is that right?” Leith asks, his dark brows drawing together. My heart beats a little faster. I’d love for my arsehole of a brother to come toe to toe with Leith when he looks like that.
“Aye,” Mac says. “Pumping petrol, and he had the nerve to come up to me and accuse me of stepping too close to his bloody car.”
“Really?” Leith is clearly interested, and the look on his face makes me feel as if he’s thinking about how he’d handle someone who provoked him on an errand.
“Are you older or younger than your brother?” Flora tips her head to the side curiously. I look to Leith, hoping he’ll give me some guidance on how to respond.
I text him and he translates for the rest of them. “She’s younger, by four years.”
Their mum nods. We all take hearty portions of Scotch broth, a savory soup with leeks and turnip floating in a rich broth. I eat every single blessed bite. It warms me through, my belly pleasantly full.
Paisley clears her throat. “And now I’d like to propose a trip next weekend. Leith’s expressed some reticence, but I’ve already made my plans.”
Leith’s eyes darken. “Where to?”
She holds her head high. “Paris.”
“No fucking way.”
“Leith!” his mum says, but he ignores her and shakes his head.
“You’re not going that far when our Clan could be in danger, Paisley.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but he pushes on.
“I agree,” their dad says, frowning as he takes another bite of his food. He nods. “Leith is right, it’s too risky right now.”
Paisley’s cheeks flush pink and her eyes look bright. “When aren’t we in danger, hmm? Honest to God, it’s always something, isn’t it?”
“Aye, I agree,” Islan says. “You should let her go.”