Her eyes twinkle when she looks at me. Fran just giggles. “What?”
“It’s nothing like that.”
She rolls her eyes. The bloody sass.
“Sure, lad. Sure.”
We reach the back door, and it opens when we draw close, Mum standing inside the door. She blinks at us in surprise before she quickly schools her features. If there’s anyone in the entire house I can count on not to ask questions or pry, it's Mum.
“Come in, come in,” she says, ushering us in. “It’s nasty out there.”
“Eh, just a wee bit of snow, the trees just dusting things off as it were. Should be clear soon enough,” Nan says. “A little birdie told me the staff was making Dundee cake today, and you know I don’t miss that, Flora.” Nan has a taste for the dense, fruit-laced concoction.
“Don’t I know it. I asked them to make me two.”
“Ah, good lassie you are, Flora.” Nan gives Fran a wink and Fran gives me a look that plainly says, “See? I love your family.”
She loves some of them, alright.
We enter the house. The kitchen’s bursting with life and energy, the cooks bustling about with aprons and pots and pans, the huge wooden table, crafted by my father’s own hand when he was much younger, filled with my Clan brothers and sisters.
Fran smiles at Paisley and does a quick nod. Paisley lets out a breath.
What’s that all about?
Islan looks from me to Fran with mild surprise, nods to greet us, then goes right back to a lively discussion with Cairstina.
They may not know why I have Fran here with me, but they’re staying discreet about everything.
For now.
I sit right in the middle of the table so Fran can sit beside Paisley and I can sit beside Nan. I need her next to me, and I don’t want anyone asking questions if I don’t let her sit with her mates.
“Morning,” Leith says, his gaze probing. He’ll have questions to ask.
“Morning.”
He looks to Fran, then back to me. Silently, he pours cream in his tea and grabs a scone from the plate in the center of the table.
“You eat yet?” he asks.
“Aye.”
There’s a quick pause in the conversation from the girls, but Islan picks it up again and they resume discussion.
“We need to talk,” Leith says.
“Right now?”
He glances down the table at Fran and lowers his voice. “Can you leave her here alone?”
I look at her then back to him and shake my head. He frowns, nodding. “When?”
I look across the table. “Just a minute. Clyde, a word.”
Clyde leans over, and I whisper in his ear. “Keep an eye on Fran. She isn’t allowed to leave, understood?”
“Aye,” he says, but he doesn’t ask any questions.
