“Cairstina,” he says. It’s the first time he’s said my name out loud, and my heart does a little somersault. Hearing him say my name in that voice of his, the thick brogue of the north with the rolling r’s, all growly and rugged and masculine. I swallow hard, wishing him to say it again, and as if hearing my thoughts, he does.
“Cairstina.” He frowns at me. “It’s a beautiful name.”
Thank you.
He looks down at the page, then nods.
“Last name,” he says.
Reilly.
He reads as I write, then shakes his head. He’s not heard of my family, then. Very few have, so I’m not surprised.
Islan stands, reading over his shoulder and chuckles to herself when she does.
“See? Knew it. You could do all you want to her to make her speak and you’ll get nowhere. Go ahead, Leith. Tie her up. Torture her. See how far you get.”
“That’s enough, Islan,” he says with that quiet authority that I’ve come to expect. She stops.
He turns to Mac. “How do we know if she’s lying?”
Oh no. Does he seriously think I’m making this up? Good God, how will I ever convince the man?
He gets to his feet and shrugs. “Oh, I’ve a few ideas.” He beckons to me. “Come here, lass.”
I look to Leith for permission, as I know he wouldn’t let me go to his brother unless he allowed it. His jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed and angry when he responds.
“Go on, then. But don’t you forget whose she is.” My heartbeat spikes with fear. Why is he giving him that warning?
His brother looks at him with wide eyes, as if he’s astonished that he’d ever think of doing anything but performing completely on the up and up. “Now, Leith, I’d never dream of doing anything disrespectful toward you, brother.”
Leith nods at him, giving me permission to go to Mac.
Mac leads me away from the table and off to the pantry. I look at the shelves of the pantry eagerly, since I’ve never seen anythinglike this before. What on earth? Shelf after shelf, teeming with food as far as the eye can see.
Non-perishable goods, rows of crackers and tinned things, spices and jams and jellies and pickles.
“Now, lass, look over at Leith,” Mac says with surprising calm. I look over at Leith, who’s looking at me as puzzled as I am. What is Mac playing at? But before I can formulate a response, a large bang sounds, and a huge crashing sound makes me jump nearly out of my skin. I open my mouth in a silent scream, and turn around to face him, absolutely shocked. Of course, I don't make a noise. My heart pounds, slamming against my rib cage with the fear.
“Solved that, then,” Mac says with a wink. “She didn’t make a bloody sound.”
Leith’s on his feet, walking my way as something cold and wet pools at my feet. I look down in astonishment at a huge jar of pickles broken on the tiled floor, the yellowish-green liquid seeping around my feet as the smell of garlic and vinegar reaches my nostrils.
“Honest to fucking God, you couldn’t have clanged a bell or something?” Leith asks, though he doesn’t look as angry as I’ve seen him before. Staff rushes over with a mop. Leith jerks his chin at Mac. “Hand it to him,” he says to the staff. “Don’t you dare help him clean it up.”
Mac only shakes his head with a chuckle, clearly pleased with himself, but not at all deterred by the dressing down of his older brother. He must be pleased he was the one that’s proven my disability. Fucking bully for him.
“And you,” Leith says, holding me by the elbow. “You’ll come with me.” He brings his mouth to my ear. “Now that I know how to communicate with you, we’ve got much to discuss, don’t we?”
Well. We’ll see about that. I only nod.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Leith says to his father. “I’m going to ask her some questions, and I’ll be back later.” Tate walks into the room as we’re leaving. “Tate, call the others and tell them we’re meeting at noon. I want everyone prepared with their quarterly reports as well.”
The quarterly reports thing throws me a wee bit. He’s an interesting sort, half gangster, half businessman. What on earth does he do? Who is this family, that they have this reclusive lodge, apart from all people and nearly completely detached from all civilization? Who did I fall in with? I’d ask myself how do I get out of it, but I have no interest in doing so quite yet.
Eventually, I’ll get there. Right now, my curiosity’s a bigger pull than the call for freedom.
We leave the kitchen and don’t head upstairs like I expect, but down a hallway that leads to another room. I inhale deeply as we walk, enjoying this so much. The staff is cleaning, and the scent of pine and wood polish fills the air, mingled with the scent of woodsmoke from various fires. The one in the kitchen, one in a sitting room of sorts, giving the home a cozy atmosphere.
