That didn’t sound like Brodan, but then again, he was all over the map these days. “What a prick.”
Regan chuckled. “Yup.”
Still, a wee dark part of me wondered if Thane’s annoyance with me wasn’t based on my own past mistakes. After all, I’d slept with Monroe, and even though she and Brodan weren’t together when it happened, I often suspected my family saw it as a betrayal. Would they ever forgive me for it?
Deciding to curb my instinct to flirt, I got into the back of the SUV with the kids while Thane helped Regan into the passenger side.
“You do look beautiful, Mo leannan.” I heard him murmur to her before they kissed softly.
“Yuck.” Lewis wrinkled his nose, watching his parents.
Chuckling, I nudged him. “One day you’ll want to kiss someone, and it won’t be yucky to you then.”
“I doubt it.” He shot me a world-weary look. “And who would want to when I’m wearing a skirt?”
“Kilt,” Thane and I said in unison, somewhat belligerently.
“As a Scotsman, you have to respect the kilt,” I told my nephew with a grin. “And any non-Scot who calls it a skirt should fear for their life.”
Regan groaned, “Arran, stop.”
“It’s true,” Thane agreed. “No one calls a kilt a skirt in this family.”
“Why can’t I wear a kilt?” Eilidh asked, fluffing the layers of her dress’s underskirt.
“No one is stopping you, sweetheart,” Thane told her as we pulled away from the house. I noted Lachlan and Robyn’s vehicle was already gone. “Next year, you can wear a kilt if you want.”
I watched as Eilidh comically eyed mine and Arran’s kilts and then her own dress. Her gaze shot back and forth in open contemplation. Then she abruptly decided, “Nah. You’re fine.”
Laughter shook my shoulders as my niece grinned, and I swear to God, for just a second, she blasted sunshine through that cloud over my head. It shamed me I hadn’t been in their lives for as long as I should have.
* * *
The town hall was on the street behind Main, a late-nineteenth-century building with a great room that catered to events like the ceilidh with its vaulted ceiling and big windows.
Lachlan’s team had transformed the drab space into an explosion of Scottish tradition with tartan and heather and the scent of whisky heavy in the air. One room off the main hall served as the bar while a buffet-style spread was available in the other.
A ceilidh band owned the stage, and the main floor was perfect for dancing.
Laughter, conversation, and rhythmic clapping rose over the music as we entered the packed space. Suddenly, it felt very claustrophobic as people greeted us and I had to turn on the charm. The energy it took for what usually came so naturally was phenomenal.
A glass of whisky was definitely in order.
Lachlan approached with his arm around Robyn, and while she looked stunning, I stopped myself from saying so. My brothers and their fucking caveman possessiveness.
Mac and Arro found us seconds later, but instead of greeting them, I asked, peeved, “Where’s Ery?”
“She just went to the restroo—”
“I’m here,” Eredine’s voice cut Arro off, and I whirled to face my friend.
Yet as I drank in the beauty before me, I felt anything but friendly toward her.
Ery’s curls were smoothed into shiny, dark waves that tumbled down her shoulders. Instead of a dress, she wore a cropped, dark pink top and high-waisted, dark pink trousers that showed off a sliver of her toned stomach. In her high heels, she was maybe even a little taller than me.
She looked glamorous and heartbreakingly out of reach. Tonight, for many reasons, I was reminded that Eredine was too good for the likes of me.
That didn’t stop me from wanting to touch every inch of her soft golden-brown skin. I wanted to daily, and I’d seen her bare stomach plenty of times in her yoga tops … but in this situation, that flash of skin was more enticing than ever. I had to force my gaze to her eyes because I was immediately fantasizing about covering her stomach in kisses as I made her come with my fingers.
Fuck.
Swallowing past a lump in my throat, I said, “You’re stunning.”
Ery gave me a shy smile. “Thanks. You look handsome. Everyone looks great.”
Reminded we were not alone, I turned as Ery joined our circle and noted Lachlan, Thane, and Mac scowling at me like they were Eredine’s overprotective fathers. Regan smirked knowingly, Robyn seemed contemplative, and Arro worried her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Why is everyone staring at Uncle Arran?” Eilidh piped up, and everyone dropped their gazes to where she held Thane’s hand. Lewis stood at Regan’s side. When I first moved back to Ardnoch, Lewis’s utter dedication to his soon-to-be stepmum made me warm to Regan immediately.
“Aye, why is everyone staring at Uncle Arran?” I chirped, probably a little too enthusiastically to cover that I was dying inside. “Probably because he needs a drink. Anyone else?”