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“For the love of God,” Tate says to Leith. “You don’t have to be so strict, Leith. You’re worse than Dad was.” Their father grumbles at this.
“But I fucking do,” Leith says, glaring at him.
“Why?” Mac says, frowning. “She’s not a bloody prisoner.”
Leith glares, clearly outnumbered. “Need I remind a single bloody person at this table what happened to Tavish?”
His mother gets up from the table and rushes out after Paisley. Islan shakes her head, stands, and hands me the paperback book. “Here, love,” she says. “Could keep you entertained when my fuckin’ crabbit of a brother isn’t.”
She stalks off before he can respond. I look down in surprise at the book, and blink at the cover. Wow, that guy on the cover is hot, all sweat-slicked muscles and strength. I look from the book to Leith and back again, before I quickly hide it on my lap. I don’t want him to get all weird about it, and I really would like to have a look at it.
“Sometimes, you have to make hard decisions,” their dad says. “I know it isn’t easy, son, but it’s part of your responsibility.”
Leith shakes his head. “Don’t I know it, Dad.”
They talk about a few more things I can’t quite follow, and Mac chuckles heartily at a joke Tate makes. Without the other women in here, it’s a more rowdy meal, but they get along well. Shortly after the women leave, the staff brings in a tray of dessert.
“Trifle, ma’am?” one asks me, holding a tray of glasses piled high with chocolate and whipped cream. My mouth waters.
I wish I could tell him how delicious everything is. Instead, I thank him with a nod and take a little glass dish, grateful for a chance to eat while the men discuss everything.
I pay attention when they talk about my brother and their plans to scout him out. “I’ll join you of an evening and we’ll pay him a visit,” Leith says.
“What’s your purpose, son?” his dad asks.
Leith scowls. “It’s personal.”
I look at him curiously my spoonful of trifle halfway to my mouth. Why is he interested in my brother?
We leave a little while later, and when Leith stands up from the table, he takes my hand.
“Thanks for dinner,” he says. “I’m taking her home, and I’ll see you in the morning. Mac, how have your dealings with the Irish gone?”
“Smashing,” he says with a grin, and his voice shifts. He sounds like an American gangster with his accent. “Cormac McCarthy met me at the border this morning, made me a deal I couldn’t refuse.”
“Good men, the McCarthys,” Leith says, when one of the house help comes into the dining room.
“Very best there is, sir, if you don’t mind me saying so myself.”
Leith nods at Mary. “Don’t mind at all, Mary. I know they were good to you when you visited. Anything changed in Ballyhock? Have you spoken to your sister?”
“Aye, sir, I have, and not much has changed except she’s expecting another child.”
Tate grins. “Those McCarthys will be taking over all of the fucking east coast if they keep it up.”
They chatter a bit longer until I yawn, and Leith takes me by the hand. “Let’s get you home,” he says, a note of warmth in his voice.
I’m curious why he calls it home to me. It’s his home, I know, but I’m only a visitor.
I nod and follow him, as his mum comes down the stairs. She looks as if she’s been crying, her cheeks a little bit flushed and her eyes red-rimmed. I want to hug her.
“Y’alright, Mum?”
“Aye,” she says, forcing a smile. “Had a wee bit of a chat with Paisley. I said it before and I’ll say it again, Leith, you must stop being so hard on her.”
Leith blows out a breath. “It just isn’t safe for her to travel like that, Mum. I don’t mean to be too hard.”
Her voice wobbles when she speaks. “Did you have to bring up Tavish?”
What happened to his brother? I want to know.
His eyes gentle, but his voice is firm. “Yes, I did. I know we don’t want to talk about it, but it’s no safer for her now than it was then.”
She sighs. “I know you’re right, I just worry.”
“I know,” he says, reaching for her hand and giving her a little squeeze. “Tell you what, I’ll talk to her in the morning and see if we can’t come up with a bit of a compromise, alright?”
My heart warms. Maybe he isn’t the arsehole some of them think he is.
Hell, I know he isn’t. I wonder, am I the only one who can see this tender side of him? Do the others know that his fierceness comes from the need to protect?
His mum nods. “Fair. And you take care of this girl.” She points to me and smiles, then her voice grows a little wistful. “Something tells me she’s special.”
