“God, this is delicious,” I tell her. “Our staff makes good food, but this scone’s amazing.”
It turns out this is the right way to change the subject. Paisley's eyes light up, and she begins to tell me about all of her baking lessons the staff has recently given her.
Flora shakes her head. “Now the only reason why you girls have this notion of love in your heads is because of those novels you’ve been reading.”
“Novels?” I ask, curious why she’d blame the hope of love on a novel.
Islan snorts. “Now, don’t you go lecturing us for reading romance novels. You know as well as us that you’ve read every single damn one of them. Haven't you?" She gives her a teasing look, and Flora actually smiles.
“Well, of course I have," she says. "But at least I have the ability to discern between fiction and reality. These novels don't give you an ideal view into what actually happens in a marriage, do they?"
“Of course they do.” We look up to see the door swinging open, and an older woman with her gray hair pulled into a knot at the back of her head comes waltzing in. “Och, we’ve got fresh scones and muffins and a guest. Looks like I’m just on time.”
Mac takes a seat beside me. “Nan, meet Bryn. Bryn, Nan.”
“Pleased to meet you, Nan,” I say, extending my hand. She waves me away.
“No need for formalities, lassie, you have a seat beside your man. Bryn… what a bonnie name for a bonnie lass. Dinnae ken when I heard such a lovely name, do you, Flora?”
Flora’s eyes dance. “No, I don’t.”
“Now, then,” Nan says with a smile. “Were we talking about those romance novels? I’m a bit disappointed we haven’t had a new one since last fall. I mean, if a lass can’t get a real-life snog, she can read about it, hmm?”
Even Mac’s shoulders shake with laughter at this, and he shakes his head.
“Not sure Leith was too keen on you girls reading those, no?”
Leith rolls his eyes. “Gave up that battle. And I have no objection to the reading, it’s just that…” he looks to me, and changes the subject. “I have my reasons. You girls can read them if you’d like.”
“There’s nothing to read,” Islan says. “We finished the last one the day after it came out and there’s been nothing else since.” She looks on the verge of pouting.
“Maybe someone finally found out the author, then?” Paisley asks, her eyes wide.
I’m dying to know.
“So what’s the big secret?” I’m curious and can’t help but ask.
Mac clears his throat, and gives Islan a warning look, but she ignores him. "The boys have it in their minds that somehow the book’s written about us.” She rolls her eyes and makes a face. “But honestly if they actually read the books, they’d see that there's no way the heroes of those novels are my manky brothers."
I laugh out loud at the sound of outrage all three men make in unison.
“Manky my arse,” Mac mutters, getting a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Ask the women they’re with if they agree.”
“No, thank you,” I say, my cheeks flushing. Paisley snorts with laughter but quickly covers her mouth. Islan winks at me, clearly loving taking the piss out of her brothers.
“Has it occurred to you girls that the author of the books has gotten a warning of sorts? Perhaps the real source of where she gets her information found out, and asked her to stop idolizing what they did. Perhaps they want her to stop painting an unrealistic look into the lives of those men."
“Or perhaps,” Islan says, getting to her feet, “no one thinks as much about those men as they do themselves.” She rolls her eyes. “Have you read the Clan Chronicles, Bryn?”
“Can’t say that I have.” Can’t say that I’m not dying to now, after this row.
“For the love of God,” Mac mutters. “Do you have to convert every woman we bring through these doors to your ways? It's like you have a direct reason for pushing these books, like you get a royalty share every time..." Then he goes very quiet. “Islan…”
She rolls her eyes. “We've gone over this, Mac,” she says impatiently. “There's no way I'm the one writing about my brothers the way the author of these novels writes about them. There's no. Fuckin’. Way.”
“In my day, wee lassies didn’t have the mouths of a Highlander,” Nan says sternly, but Islan’s already left the kitchen. Cairstina sidles up to me, holding a sweet, bonnie baby to her chest, and pulls up her phone.
“You’ve got a mobile?” she whispers.
I nod. “Aye, of course.”
She shows me an app on her phone. “Read the digital copies,” she says with a wink. “You won’t be disappointed.”
Mac stands up and heads to the back door with Leith and Tate. “I’ve an errand to run in town with Bryn in a short while, after I help Leith and Tate. Until then, you girls take good care of Bryn, will you?”