Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I give a little start, when I realize she asked me a question and I haven’t answered. I shrug. I don’t know if I like to cook or not. I’ve never really had the chance.
“Islan enjoys it, but Paisley…” She laughs as she slides the tatties from the cutting board onto a roasting pan. “The girl is lucky if she doesn’t burn her toast.”
I smile, my thoughts going to Paisley. What will the brothers discuss today when they meet? Are Leith and the others going to seek revenge? Will they kill the men who hurt Paisley? I remember the graveyard. Leith’s strong hands on the man’s head, the sickening snap, the way his body slumped to the ground.
Why is it so easy for him to take the life of another? Should he hesitate?
I see how a look comes over him, sometimes… it’s like a lens is flicked, and his vision becomes blinded with another reality. This one, where he has friends and allies and a reason to laugh. The other, where everyone’s an enemy and everyone he loves is in danger.
He needs more than a woman like me, who has her own broken past and handicaps. He’s used me to warm his bed, and I won’t lie and say I haven’t enjoyed being with him. No one’s ever made me feel like he has, but I don’t know how the two of us could ever be more than two ships passing in the night.
I suspect he’s satisfied I won’t snitch or cause trouble, but the question remains, what next?
“There now,” his mum says, nestling the lid on the heavy pot to bring the tatties to a boil. “It’s a good bit of food, but the boys work hard, and they eat like bloody truck drivers.” She gives me a wink.
The door to the kitchen swings open, and Islan enters. “Hey, Mum. Oh, hi Cairstina.” She’s got Bailey on a leash, and my heart soars. The moment he sees me, he runs to me. I drop to my knees and give him a huge hug, and he licks at my face.
“Och, someone misses his mom," Islan says. “I wonder if my brother will let you have him back yet.”
I don’t ask, not sure why I wasn’t allowed Bailey to begin with. For now, as long as Bailey’s happy and here, I’m happy.
"We've been taking the very best care of him that we know how," Islan says. "But he does spend a lot of time at the windows, presumably looking for you." She scratches behind his ears affectionately. "Dad's never let us have a dog, even though we've been asking for years. So many thanks for circumventing that one."
Bailey lays down by my feet and looks up to me with large, doleful eyes.
I wave to Islan and gesture to my bag. I show her the book.
“Almost done, then?” she says with a smile, and I nod eagerly.
Flora seasons the roast, smiling, but her brows draw together with concern. “I finished the first book and started the second. Did you, Is?”
“Aye,” Islan says. “But bloody hell, Mum, I don’t know if I can talk about them with you. That scene in the little woodshed by the graveyard…” she cringes.
Flora rolls her eyes. “Och, aye, lass, I gave birth to six children by immaculate fucking conception.”
Ha. I like this woman.
Islan winces and shuts her eyes, speaking in a heated whisper, “My mum didn’t just say that. She did not!”
I can’t help but smile to myself as I sit at the large kitchen table and open to the part where I left off.
“It’s just… well, it’s disconcerting, isn’t it?”
Islan nods. “I know exactly what you mean. It’s like you can’t help but wonder how the writer knows so many things about…” her voice trails off, and she bites her lip as she chooses her words. “Like, what it’s really like, you know?”
“Aye,” her mum says, wiping down the counter and loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “Do you know who she is?”
“That’s the thing, Mum,” Islan says, her eyes widening as if she’s got a brilliant secret to tell her mom. "No one knows who she is. She's completely anonymous. Not a picture online, not a single identifying characteristic but a pen name. I suppose romance writers use pen names so they can have some privacy. I mean you probably don't want someone reading about your orgy in the middle of a vineyard, and then talking to you about it when you're in the schoolyard picking up your kids from school.”
I feel my cheeks heat. Did she really just say orgy in front of her mother?
But her mom just laughs. “Aye, I know, lass. Been reading these things since you were a wee bairn, and it’s always been the way of anonymity. I can relate, since you know the Clan has always sought to be anonymous as well.”