“Cuppa tea, lass?” I ask, when Aisla, one of the younger members of our staff, comes to the table with a steaming teapot.
“Aye, please,” Bryn says, holding her cup up.
“Milk, no sugar,” I tell Aisla. I feel everyone’s eyes on me, silently questioning. I know the way the lass takes her bloody tea. What else do I know?
“Thanks for that.” Bryn takes her cup and sips it eagerly, as if she’s grateful she has something to do with herself.
There’s a sound of heavy footsteps behind us. Everyone goes still.
I jerk my head at the door and ignore the way everybody looks at me. I need to find out why she's gone so still, what exactly is on her mind. At the kitchen entrance, I hear Dad’s voice.
“Who the hell brought her here?”
His eyes are furious, his entire face mottled with rage. For Christ’s sake. He was there when I decided that I was going to seek vengeance by going after a member of the Aitkens clan. He knows this was part of the plan. He may not know that I was planning on bringing Bryn here, but he knew it was a possibility. But his memory’s failing him, and he doesn't often remember details.
But he remembers how to give a verbal lashing. He remembers his biting tongue. And he may be older and frail, but it doesn't mean he still can't do irrevocable damage.
“I did,” I say to him, my voice loud and clear, carrying across the suddenly silent kitchen. “She’s my guest.”
“She’s a fucking Aitkens.”
I can feel Bryn trembling beside me, and in that moment, I feel like I could protect her against anyone. No one is going to hurt her. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't help it. She's depending on me to take care of her, to protect her, and I can't let anyone threaten her.
“And who bloody cares?” I challenge him across the room, with everyone’s eyes on me. “We were never part of your brawl withAitkens. You buried that hatchet, and I won’t be the one to stir up old grievances.”
It’s a lie, though, a bloody lie.
He takes a step toward us, and I push myself to standing to my full height. Last year, when Leith was in town, before he married Cairstina, my father put his hands on her.
If he tries that with Bryn, I’ll kill him.
“Bram, enough.”
Mum’s on her feet, her own eyes blazing with fury. There was a time when my father would intimidate even Mum, but not now in his older age and frailty. He looks sharply at her, shaking his head.
“Our son brought a guest in this house, and I don’t care who she is or what her surname may be. She’s a guest, and as such we will treat her as one.”
Paisley turns from the stove, glaring at Dad. “We will.”
“Aye,” Islan says, clenching her fists while she stares at him. “Agreed.”
Leith looks at all of them in surprise. He's usually the one that tells everyone the way things are going to go down, but he doesn't intervene, because clearly if the girls have it under control there’s no need.
“Are you bloody joking?” my father says, and his furious eyes turn to Leith.
“Not sure even the Captain would be smart to go against every damn one of the Cowen family women,” Leith says quietly. A warning.
But Leith is playing the part very well. He knows why she’s here, why I’ve brought her, and he doesn’t bloody care if he has to go against a legion of women or men, he’ll do what he thinks best regardless. Because he knows why she’s here, though he wants to throw my father off.
“Fine, then,” Dad says, turning away from everyone. “The bloody lot of you can do whatever it is you like.” He glares at the staff. “Bring me my fucking dinner, and be quick about it.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
He storms off, the sound of the cane he uses to steady himself clomping on the hardwood floor as he mutters and fumes on his way out.
There’s silence in the room for a few moments after he leaves. Then Mum turns to Aisla.
“No need to bring Mr. Cowen’s meal up to him,” she says with a grim smile. “I’ll do that myself.”
