“They’re across the street,” he said in exasperation as Mac sidled up to Arro. “And they’re absolutely wrecked, singing ‘Flower of Scotland’ at the top of their voices.”
“Dear God,” Robyn huffed, pushing past everyone to storm toward the exit.
We all hurried after her. I’d known something was wrong with those two. Worry made me quick in my high heels as I followed the Adairs outside. It was a still night but chilly enough that goose bumps prickled my skin as we hurried across the street, following the raucous clamor of male singing. They would’ve sounded fairly good had they not been slurring every other word.
Crap.
“Braveheart!” Lachlan yelled, pushing to his feet and almost landing back down on the bench where he and Arran sat. My attention flew to Arran who glowered, eyes half shut, up at Thane as he approached.
“Lachlan, lower the volume.” Robyn hurried to his side to steady him.
He leaned heavily into her, and Mac rushed to hold Lachlan off.
But Lachlan brushed away his friend’s grip and clasped Robyn’s face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. She swayed with him, gripping his arms to center them both.
“Braveheart, I am so sorry,” he said mournfully, drunkenly. “I am such a prick.”
“Yeah, you can be,” she agreed, though tenderly. “Let’s get you home.”
“You know I’m happy we’re pregnant, right?”
We all tried to look anywhere but at the couple as their conversation turned private.
“Lachlan—”
“No, let me say this. I adore you and I adore this baby, and that’s why I’m a prick.”
I glanced back at Robyn and saw her lips twitching. “That’s a weird reaction to loving someone,” she teased.
“I can’t lose you.” He buried his head in her neck, and I ached for him. He murmured something else into her skin, and I shared a glance with Arro.
It was horrible to see Lachlan so vulnerable. He was always the one in charge, taking care of everyone and everything.
“You will not lose me. I’m the most stubborn person you’ve ever met, remember? And I have no intention of going anywhere.”
He lifted his head, swaying harder. “Promise?”
“Yes.”
“I love you so much, Braveheart,” he said a little desperately, and then he wobbled into her and Mac pulled him back.
“C’mon, bud, let’s get you home.”
“We’ll get Arran,” Thane said, and we watched as Mac, Arro, and Robyn walked a wasted Lachlan to the parking lot on the other side of the building.
Then I turned to my other friend, who I was equally concerned about.
“Right, wee brother, let’s go.” Thane slid an arm under Arran and tried to pull him up.
But Arran used all his weight to stay down. “I likesh here,” he slurred, even more unintelligible than Lachlan.
I lowered before him, drawing his gaze, and his expression softened but remained sad.
“Hello, gorgish,” he said with a head wobble before patting the space beside him. “Sit wif me.”
Giving him a coaxing smile, I took his hand in mine. “Why don’t you come home and let me make you something to eat and get some water in you?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll come home wif me?”
“To take care of you, yes.”
“Take care of me.” His eyes closed abruptly, and he slumped.
I looked up at Thane. “Did he just fall asleep?”
Thane snorted and stood. “I don’t know how we’re going to fit everyone in the car.”
I bit my lip. “I should have gone with Robyn.”
“It’s fine. I think it’s good you’re here. Just give me a second.” With an abrupt nod, Thane jogged across the street and disappeared behind the town hall.
Arran slipped toward the empty side of the bench, so I hurried to sit beside him and hold him up. He immediately wrapped his arm around my waist and burrowed his head against my chest with a groan of pleasure.
He smelled pleasantly of cologne, but then he’d breathe and I could smell just how much whisky he’d consumed. A large bottle of Clynelish lay empty on the street beside the bench. I reminded myself to collect that before we got in the car.
Arran moaned and bussed his cheek against me.
My skin flushed hotter as his lips grazed my nipple. Dear Lord. Where was Thane?
Thankfully, I didn’t have to endure Arran’s cuddling much longer because Thane pulled up beside us. Regan was in the passenger seat, and Eilidh and Lewis were squished together in the back.
It looked like I was going to have to endure more Arran cuddles.
Endure probably wasn’t the right word.
With some effort, Thane and I wrangled Arran into the car, and thank goodness he had decided not to attend the ceilidh as a true Scotsman because his kilt did not want to stay down. I got a flash of muscular thighs dusted with light golden hair, and despite the circumstances, my body reacted.
Ignoring my attraction, I concentrated on getting Arran into the car beside me without hitting his head. I concentrated on my worry for him.