Page 48 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

Booths ran all the way towards the back, and tables and chairs were clustered close together.

There was a makeshift stage several feet in front of us, on which Dane was testing the microphone and the other band members were getting themselves arranged with their instruments. The clinking of glasses could just be heard over the sound of chatter and laughter.

Dane’s fellow band members of Disciple all had the same look, with their snake hips and longer hair.

Dane adjusted the microphone stand, spotted me, grinned and winked. I found myself blushing, grinning and waving back.

Evan’s expression darkened, but he didn’t say anything.

Then Dane noticed his brother beside me, and his brows shot up in surprise.

‘I’ll get the drinks,’ said Evan, setting off towards the bar.

‘No you won’t,’ I protested. ‘You and your parents are putting me up in that gorgeous house. The drinks are on me.’

Evan gave me a long look. ‘You’re very determined.’

‘Pig-headed, some say.’

‘I thought that as well, but I didn’t want to be rude.’

‘Hasn’t stopped you before.’

‘I’ll go and get them then,’ said Evan.

I thrust a twenty-pound note into Evan’s reluctant palm and requested a white wine. He ventured into the pub crowd and made his way towards the bar.

‘Hey, Daisy. Wow. You look stunning.’

Dane had bounded off the stage, his loose, blond hair flying behind him. I felt myself glow under his compliment. He was like a firework that you couldn’t help but admire. He jerked his head in his brother’s general direction. ‘Am I hallucinating, or did I just see Evan with you?’

‘No, you’re not hallucinating. Evan wanted to come along.’

‘Evan?’ he repeated. ‘Wanted to come to one of our gigs?’ Dane folded his arms. He was wearing several leather bracelets. ‘He doesn’t usually come along. He never has before.’ His lips twitched at a smile through his fair stubble. ‘Snow Patrol and Bastille are about his limit.’

‘Dane. You ready?’

One of the other band members, a tattooed guy in a red Alice Cooper T-shirt signalled from behind where we were standing.

‘Yep. Just coming, Jay.’ Dane bathed me in another of his flashing smiles. ‘If you’re lucky, I might dedicate one of our songs to you.’

I grinned back at him. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls.’

‘No, I don’t. Well, only the most stunning ones.’

Then he was off, striding back towards the stage as though he owned the whole pub and everyone in it.

‘What did Barbie want?’ Evan handed me my glass of white wine.

I arched one brow at him. ‘That’s your kid brother you’re talking about.’

‘I know. Don’t remind me.’

I took a savouring mouthful of the crisp, white wine. What was going on between Evan and Dane? They were forever sniping, trying to get one up on each other, scrambling to come up with snarky comments to fire in each other’s direction. Any more thought about their fraught relationship was brought to an abrupt end by Dane’s gravelly voice booming into the mic. ‘Good evening, folks. We are Disciple.’ He craned his neck across the top of the heads of the applauding and cheering crowd. ‘And this first song is for the beautiful girl over there in the pink top. This is just for you, Daisy.’

It took me a moment to realise that Dane was referring to me. The blood rushed to my face as a number of curious heads turned to look in my direction. A couple of girls in leather jackets scowled over at me.

Evan muttered something under his breath which sounded like ‘Prick.’