Leith (Mountain Men 1)

It's almost like recognizing someone from your home country when traveling abroad. Because you speak the same language, even when no words are spoken aloud. Because you understand each other's language, when others around you don't.

“I believe I don't need to tell you how you are expected to behave down there,” he says, resuming his naturally stern demeanor and expression.

I barely refrain from rolling my eyes as I shake my head. I’m not sure what he thinks I would do, but “misbehaving” isn’t really my thing. I give him a grim smile and send him another text.

I’m mute, remember? Not sure how I’d misbehave.

He gives me a wry smile. “That’s almost too bad,” he mutters. “Because wouldn’t I bloody love another opportunity to punish you.”

Heat skates across my skin at his words, at the memory of being punished by him. If punishment from Leith feels like that, I may have to learn how to “misbehave.”

We walk down the spiral staircase but he doesn't take me to the dining room. We go to the large, sturdy table in the kitchen. A fire burns in the hearth, the scent of home-cooked food permeating my senses. His sisters are already there before us, and they smile when we enter.

Paisley is obviously the youngest, and more intimidated by Leith than Islan. She closes her mouth abruptly when we enter the room, stopping mid-sentence. Islan, however, is not as bashful.

“Ah, would you look at you!” she says, her eyes dancing. “The clothes fit perfectly. Do you like them?”

I nod eagerly, wishing I could gush about the softness of the sweater, the pretty color of the dress, the generosity of it all.

“Not much of a question,” Paisley says with a grim smile. She looks at Islan, not me or Leith, when she says wryly, “The better question is, did Leith like them?”

“That’s enough, Paisley,” Leith says, his eyes darkening again. Why must he take everything so damn seriously? She hushes, but when he turns to pull the chair out, I see her roll her eyes at Islan.

“Do you read, Cairstina?” Islan asks me.

I nod eagerly.

“Of course she can fucking read. Just because she’s mute doesn’t mean she can’t bloody read.”

I look at him in surprise, but she only laughs him off. “Relax, Leith, I only meant does she like to read.” She turns to me. “Paisley and I have been devouring this series of romance books. Almost as good as those chocolates in the shops in town, aren’t they Paisley?”

Paisley smiles bashfully. “Not sure I’d go that far.”

Islan laughs as she continues. “They’re Scottish mafia, can you believe it? And so well done you won’t be able to put them down, though I daresay I have to force myself to remember this book isn’t written about my bloody brothers.”

Leith scowls. Why is he angry about her talking about a work of fiction?

Scottish mafia…

Scottish mafia? Like, organized crime?

Reality dawns so brightly I’m nearly blinded. I blink in surprise.

The Scottish mafia. I look from Leith to Islan and begin to piece everything together. Oh my God.

Oh my God.

Are they… is this family related to the mafia?

They each have their own private chalets.

They definitely seem to be related, I figured that much out.

The men all have the same kind of tattoos all over their necks and arms. And why were they at the church to begin with?

They’re obviously wealthy and influential…

“Be quiet, Islan, Jesus,” Leith says, but she only laughs.

I point to my mobile and then hers. She frowns, then looks to Leith.

“Is she allowed to text anybody else?"

He scowls. “I’ll think about it.”

She rolls her eyes, but before they can continue the conversation, an older woman with short gray hair enters the room. She’s dressed smartly, and is so energetic, I feel the very lights in the room burn more brightly. His dad follows behind her, so I’m assuming she’s his mum.

“You must be Cairstina,” the woman says with a smile. She extends her hand. “Name’s Flora. Welcome.”

I take her hand and shake it, then smile at her as Leith pulls a chair out.

“Sit,” he mutters. I sit.

“She doesn’t speak, Mum,” he says, as the staff fills our water glasses and plates of food.

“Doesn’t speak?” His mum looks at me curiously. “Why not?”

“She’s mute.”

My cheeks flush with embarrassment. I wish I could explain, but I’m not sure I’d want to tell the entire table.

Islan quickly changes the subject.

“Mum, I was telling Cairstina about those books that we found at the bookstore, do you remember?” Islan pulls one out of her bag. “They’re wildly amusing.”

“Och, aye,” their mum says with a twinkle in her eye. “I’d definitely call them that.”

“Not sure why you girls need to fill yer heads with such nonsense,” Leith says, taking a roll out of a basket and handing the basket to me.

“Oh, like you’ve got no better use of your time, eh?” Islan rolls her eyes. “So much more wholesome chopping wood and the like instead of reading a book of fiction?”