“Hello there, boys,” she says with a smile.
Has she heard any of our conversation? Bloody hell.
I can tell already she’s got something up her sleeve by the look she’s giving Leith. Islan’s not one to interrupt a quarterly meeting with pleasantries, so I suspect she’s trying to butter him up. He’s ridiculously dedicated to safety, so she rarely asks for much. Every once in a while, though…
“What is it, Islan?” Leith asks. She’s recently turned twenty years old, though she’s acted like she was going on her twenties for the past few years. Tall and willowy, she’s got our mum’s high cheekbones and vivid, mischievous blue eyes. Unlike Mum, though, she’s still unafraid of the ways of the world, still enamored by what the world has to offer her.
“Was just thinking, Leith,” she says in a sickly sweet voice. “I heard that Mac and the boys were heading to Paris on one of your little mission trips.”
How the bloody hell did she hear that? It’s a good reminder that nothing we’ve said is really private, not when we’ve got sisters that listen in on every damn thing.
“How’d you hear that?” I ask, fixing her with a stern look. She only looks abashed for a fraction of a second before she flashes me a grin.
“I have my ways.”
I growl at her, shaking my head. “It’s none of your business, Islan.”
She holds her head up higher with an air of superiority. “What is and is not mybusinessisn’tyourbusiness, Mac.” She turns back to Leith. “So. Paris.”
A muscle ticks in Leith’s jaw, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s called one of the biggest potential moneymakers of our lives our “little mission trip” or because he knows where she’s going with this. I lean back in my chair and watch what’s sure to be a bloody good fireworks show.
“And I was wondering if you'd let me and the girls tag along with you,” she finishes. She bats her eyelashes so innocently, I half-wonder for a minute if he’ll cave.
“Is that all?” he asks. I watch her eyes light up with false hope. There’s no way he’ll allow the girls to travel with us, especially because one of them will most certainly be his wife Cairstina.
“Aye,” she says. “That’s all. I know that Paisley’s been dying to get to Paris, and you know I’ve never been. It’s such a shame, so close to us, yet so far away…”
I roll my eyes. Paris is hardly “close” to us. It’s a good fifteen hours by car from Inverness, which is half an hour from here, and just over three hours by plane. Her voice trails off in a sigh, and I can’t tell if she’s trying to get him to be sympathetic and feel badly for her, or if she really is wistful.
I honestly feel badly for her, even if she ought to know better than to stick her nose in our work. While my brothers and I travel quite frequently, it’s always for business and hardly a joyride. The girls, on the other hand, are frequently secluded in our mountain dwelling, deep in the Highlands of northern Scotland, and are lucky if Leith allows them to shop in Inverness with their bodyguards.
Leith picks up a sheaf of papers, looking suddenly so similar to my father it makes me wince a little. He isn’t my father, though, something we all need to remember. He taps the papers on the table, straightening them up. When he looks at her, he almost looks sorrowful. I think being married to Cairstina has softened him up a bit.
“Not this time, Izzy.”
Tate looks at me, and we share a look. He hasn’t called her our childhood nickname,Izzy,in so long… not since our eldest brother Tavish died, if I’m not mistaken.
She pouts at this and flounces into a chair. “Then I’m not leaving your super- secret sanctuary meeting,” she says, tossing up air quotes with her fingers, “until you actually cave this time.”
I make a sound of warning she doesn’t heed. Little brat.
Leith’s jaw firms even more, and he shoots her a withering look. “Really? We’re playing that game now? You know we won’t allow it, so you might as well move along.”
If Leith thought patronizing her further would actually work, he was wrong.
I decide it’s time to intervene, to try another tactic, since clearly intimidation isn’t working. She knows how we bloody well adore her and Paisley, and she’s using that to her advantage. She gives me a doleful look, pouting, and I sigh. I can’t help but be affected by it.
“Listen, lassie,” I say, reaching my hand out to pat her knee. “We’ve got more than one trip to Paris planned, I guarantee it. Just be patient until the time is right, and soon enough I’ll know the lay of the city well enough I can take all of you for a real trip. Can you just be patient a wee bit longer?”
Leith scowls, likely unhappy with both her pouting and my interference, but I have no regrets. Maybe the girls ought to be able to get out once in a while.
“Islan!” Mum’s voice sounds outside the door. There’s a knock, then she pushes it in and smiles when her eyes alight on our sister. “There y’are. Come, will you, Paisley’s got her dress and needs a good fitting. We want your opinion.” The girls are in their friend Fran’s wedding, and have to do a “fitting,” whatever the hell that is.
Islan pushes to her feet with an impressively dramatic sigh. “Fine, then,” she mutters. She turns and shoots daggers at Leith. “This conversation isn’t over.”
He smiles. “Ah, but it is.”
Mum looks from one to the other in surprise. I only shrug and smile back at her. Islan throws up her hands in frustration and leaves with Mum.
