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"Not just any whisky." I lift my chin. "Scottish whisky. A single malt distilled on a mystical island where the ancients held their mysterious rituals to commune with the gods."
"How will a history lesson make me like the booze?"
I huff. "Will you not let me tell you about the whisky? I'm trying to paint a picture for you."
"I'm sorry, really. You're creating a wonderful picture for me, but I doubt anything you say could alter my taste buds." She eyes the bottle with sarcastic suspicion. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. MacTaggart?"
"Don't need to get you drunk to have my way with you." I tip the bottle to one side. "Will you try it once?"
She considers the bottle for a moment. "Okay. One sip."
I can't help the grateful smile that curves my lips because this is oddly important to me. I pluck up the whisky glass I'd hidden too and open the bottle, struggling in the effort. Is Talisker always so hard to get open? I've never drunk it before, so I don't know. I'm not picky about whisky, but Lachlan is the only one in the family who drinks Talisker. Finally, I get the bloody thing open and decant the liquor into the glass, filling it with one inch of amber liquid.
I offer her the glass. "Taste the legend of Skye."
She gives me a playful smile. "You're starting to sound like a Scottish tourism brochure."
"Taste the bloody whisky."
"Yes, sir." She lifts the glass, sniffing the drink. Her nose wrinkles. "Smells like bad vinegar."
Mhac na galla. My lips tighten, and I squint at her. Bad vinegar? It's a high-quality single malt. I manage to regain my composure, though, and curl my lips into a sensual expression. "Take a sip, let it slide down your throat, and feel the whisky penetrate your body."
Iwant to penetrate her body, but right now, I'll settle for watching her experience her first drink.
She dips her nose to sniff again.
I slap a hand over the glass. "Drink, don't smell."
"Okay, okay." She waits for me to remove my hand, then lifts the glass to her mouth. "Here goes."
She takes a dainty sip—and gags.
Calli splutters and coughs and nearly spits out the whisky, but then seems to decide she needs to swallow it to get rid of the stuff. Her eyes flare wide, then she winces as she shoves the glass at me and uses her shirt to scrub her tongue while a coughing fit overtakes her.
I stare at Calli, my face slack, the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other. No woman has ever reacted to whisky that way. I've never fed a lass Talisker, but I have offered them other kinds of Scottish single malt.
As she recovers from her coughing fit, she clears her throat several times in quick succession. Her voice comes out hoarse when she declares, "That's the most awful thing I've ever put in my mouth."
I cannae understand this. Calli hates whisky.
Defeated, I collapse against the sofa, facing forward. The bottle rests between my thighs, but I hold the glass on my lap. How can she hate it? I meant to arouse her with Talisker, but instead, I've probably convinced her I'm the worst eejit on earth.
"Cannae believe it," I mumble. "This worked for Lachlan."
"Was this another thing Lachlan did with Erica?"
"Aye," I admit miserably, rubbing my forehead. "It's how he started his seduction. She loved the whisky."
Calli cringes a wee bit, like she feels bad for hating the drink. "Two days ago, you wouldn't play a board game with me because Lachlan and Erica did that. Why are you back to reenacting their affair?"
"Wanted to do something special, but I couldn't think of anything. Seemed like a good idea until you drank the whisky."
She lays a hand on my arm. "I was kind of obnoxious about that. Can you forgive me?"
"Aye, it's not your fault." I let my head fall back. "I'm the eejit who keeps trying to re-create my brother's affair. I figured if it worked for uptight Lachie, then it has to work for me."
"I'm not Erica, and you're not Lachlan. How about we try being ourselves? You don't need to win me over with liquor and flowery descriptions of an island. I like you, Aidan. I'm here with you, not your brother."
