When we finally sit down to dinner, I see that she’s been placed to Da’s right at the head of the table, and I’m next to her. I’m tempted to change seats and give her a buffer, but she handled Ma and the girls so well. I know Da won’t be cruel to her.
“This rib roast is from our fold at our farm in Duirinish,” Da says to Isla, carving the meat.
“I am trying to picture you all as gentlemen farmers,” she says, chuckling a little.
“Och, please!” Da snorted, “This lot? They’ve spent some time mucking out the stables-”
“Because it builds character,” Cameron and Lachlan said in unison.
“But the gentleman part?” Da laughs, “I’m sure you already know the answer to that.”
“I am a perfect gentleman!” I say, hand over my heart. My wounded act is spoiled when my sisters-in-law laugh raucously.
Squeezing her thigh gently, I kiss the side of her head. “Doing all right, my wife?”
“Aye.” She smiles up at me and I know it then, with utter certainty. I love this woman. I want her to become part of this family. I want her to feel safe here.
Da quietly asks her questions about her life, careful ones that skirt around the enmity between our families, and by the time Cranachan is served for dessert, she’s laughing and chatting like they’re old friends. While Da may look fearsome, and his terrifying reputation was well-earned, within his family - with the women at least - he is invariably kind.
Isla is trying to scrape the very last bit of custard and raspberries from her goblet and I slide mine over to her.
“You might think that I will refuse your kind offering,” she says, digging her spoon into my dessert, “pretending to be a lady with a delicate appetite.”
We already had this discussion,” I remind her, “I can’t stand it when women pick at their food like birds. But I will catch just that bit-” I kiss the corner of her lush mouth, licking away the cream, “-right there.” I lick my lips, enjoying how quickly her face flushes pink. “Delicious.”
“Hush now!” she whispers.
When everyone’s relaxing with after-dinner drinks, Morana turns to Isla. “I know you must have been worried about your reception here tonight,” she says quietly, “but I promise you, whatever is happening between your clan and ours is nothing compared to what my father’s Bratva was part of.”
My wife’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard the stories about the Stepanov Bratva, I assumed most of them were overblown?”
Morana nods to me with a grin. “Ask your husband there. He was the one to blow the compound to bits after rescuing the trainload of women and girls.” Her smile fades. “Including me.”
Impulsively hugging her, Isla says, “I am so happy you are here and safe. For all those girls who made their way home.”
Cameron’s watching his wife and mine with a soft smile, giving me a wink when I catch his eye.
Tapping my glass to his, I let myself relax. Just a bit.
Chapter Twenty-Five
In which Dougal gives his wife the best wedding gift ever. Firearms.
Isla…
“I think it’s time.”
I look up from my lobster, hoping the butter sauce isn’t dripping down my shirt. “Time for what?”
We’re having lunch out on the terrace at the lodge, and Tasgall has outdone himself with the lobster, fresh-baked bread, and a huge potato salad.
“Time to move into my flat in Glasgow,” Dougal says casually, popping a bite of bread in his mouth.
“I thought your home base was in Edinburgh?”
“It is,” he shrugs, “but there’s plenty of business to keep me busy in Glasgow right now. I’ll make sure you can see your father and brother, even if we have to meet in a bank vault with an army surrounding you to keep you safe.”
Damn him! How can I hate him when he’s this kind to me?
