“I need to phone my lawyer. Can you send me a photo of the results?”
“Of course.”
“Then I need to let Lachlan know.”
“Good. Yeah, he’ll be so relieved.”
“And then I’m coming home for lunch so I can celebrate with you. In my bed.”
Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes but grinned. “It seems to be your favorite form of celebration these days.”
“Oh, it absolutely is. And be prepared. Good news makes me energetic.”
“Is that a promise?”
“You fucking know it, mo leannan.”
And three hours later, I discovered that wasn’t a false promise.
31
Regan
The Tuesday before Christmas, I got my first taste of what living in Ardnoch would be like during the summer. While I’d caught only a few glimpses of famous actors in the village over the past few months (and it was never not weird!), Robyn had warned me that summer and Christmastime were when the paparazzi arrived because that was when a lot of members descended upon the club.
And the paps were particularly interested in one of Hollywood’s current golden boys, Brodan Adair. That he was spotted at Inverness Airport had signaled he was returning home, and the vultures chased after him.
Brodan and Lachlan had to set up security at the bottom of the country lane into our homes to deter the paparazzi from coming near the houses. They camped outside the castle to catch glimpses of celebrities coming and going. Very few guests ventured into the village, however, when the paps swarmed.
It was crazy, though. I didn’t like it at all. The village took on a tense vibe. Everyone was in guarded, protective mode, and I wished the assholes would just leave. Thankfully, school finished up the day after Brodan arrived, so we only had one morning where the paparazzi surrounded the SUV and had to be pushed back by the security team.
Still, the flash of camera lights into the car was blinding, and I told Eilidh and Lewis to cover their eyes. The kids handled it better than I did, having grown up with this and understanding (Lewis more so than Eilidh) that their uncles were famous. They were too young to see any of their movies, though, so I think it was still an abstract idea for them.
That Wednesday night, the whole crew congregated at Thane’s for dinner—Thane, the kids, Robyn, Lachlan, Arro, Mac, Eredine, and Brodan. I noted throughout dinner that Eredine was even more monosyllabic than usual, and Thane’s younger brother’s gaze was drawn to her more than a few times as he answered questions about his latest movie.
I studied them, but Eredine never once looked over at him.
When she insisted on leaving right after dinner, claiming a headache, Lachlan shot his brother a frustrated look before seeing her to the door. Now I was intrigued. While Ery was reserved, she still liked to be around us and usually left when everyone else did. What about Brodan discomfited her so much?
“So … you’re the nanny.”
I turned from my spot in the kitchen where I’d been making hot cocoa for Eilidh and Lewis (a task that multiplied when all the adults decided they wanted their own, with a dash of whisky), to find Brodan sauntering toward me.
A quick glance across the large room told me everyone was on the sectional with the children, laughing and chatting. Thane’s attention, however, was on us in the kitchen.
Looking at Brodan, I quirked an eyebrow. “I am indeed. And you’re the wayward brother.”
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “I am? I thought that was Arran.”
“I think it’s both of you now.”
He frowned and lowered his gaze toward the mugs. “Can I help?”
“You can grab the whipped cream out of the fridge.”
Those pale-blue eyes of his, the same shade as Arro’s, rose to meet mine. His lips twitched, reminding me of Thane. “If I had a penny for every time a woman has said that to me.”
I tried not to smile, but he made it difficult. It was already proven that I was not immune to a charming Scotsman. “Just get the cream.”
“At your service,” he teased as he went to do so.
I looked over my shoulder as he moved across the room to the refrigerator, and I couldn’t help but notice him. Brodan was as tall as Lachlan but even broader in the shoulders, his biceps sculpted and movie-star impressive beneath his formfitting cashmere sweater. His waist tapered dramatically in a perfect Captain America V, and I couldn’t look too long at his ass because it made me guilty for appreciating it. You could crack a rock, never mind an egg, on that thing.
Like all the brothers, Brodan had sandy-blond hair and, like Lachlan, he sported designer stubble.
Focusing on the hot cocoa, I was a little startled to feel the heat of him at my back as I worked.
“Whipped cream, my lady,” Brodan overpronounced the words, making them sound dirty as he placed the can down in front of me. His body brushed my back with the movement.