As the striking blond pulled back, she and Mac exchanged a private look before Arrochar focused on me. “Robyn, you look amazing.”
She hugged me, and I returned the embrace. “Thanks. You too.”
And she did. Because I’d only seen Arrochar in sweaters and jeans and muddy boots with very little makeup, it was interesting to see her dressed up. Her smoky eye shadow made her pale eyes even more stunning, and she’d slicked her hair into a high ponytail much like mine.
It seemed the Adair men weren’t the only ones with lethal sex appeal. I’d previously noted Arrochar’s unique beauty, but I hadn’t really paid attention to the way she carried herself. Confident. Self-assured. And with her way of staring like she was seeing right through you, I imagined she might intimidate some people.
“It’s good to see you two together.” She touched Mac’s arm, looking up at him without hiding how happy she was for him.
My God.
Couldn’t everyone else see it?
Pulse racing, not quite sure how I felt about what I sensed between them, I was thrown even more when the man at Arrochar’s back cleared his throat.
“Oh.” Her smile was sheepish as she retreated from Mac and put an arm around the man’s shoulders. In her high heels Arrochar was about five eleven, six feet. The guy who I assumed was Guy Lewis, the castle chef, was a little shorter than Arro was in her heels. He was pretty-boy handsome with a small nose, pouty lips, and long-lashed eyes, but there seemed to be an effort to dilute his prettiness with his unshaven cheeks and unkempt dark hair.
“Robyn, this is my boyfriend and the chef at Ardnoch, Guy. Guy, this is Mac’s daughter, Robyn.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said in a thick Aussie accent. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Can’t believe Mac’s old enough to be your dad, though.”
I flicked Mac a look, and we shared a smirk. I guess we’d just have to get used to everyone saying that to us.
“Yeah,” I replied, reaching out to shake Guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
Guy cut Mac a quick look before glancing away to take a swallow of the pint in his free hand.
Arrochar shifted uneasily and threw me a strained smile. “Well, we better go say hello to the others.” She dragged her boyfriend away to greet Lachlan and company, who I noted were surrounded by people.
Mac watched Arrochar walk away. When he eventually turned back to me, he found me staring at him in silent curiosity. I didn’t ask. I didn’t pry. I just squeezed his arm and said, “I’m starving.”
He grinned, his shoulders relaxing. “Then let’s feed you, wee birdie.”
* * *
A few hours later, I was a little sweaty, full of food, and tipsy from the cocktails Lucy fed me. I wasn’t a big drinker, so I still had two untouched old-fashioneds sitting at the table we’d claimed farthest away from the band.
Lucy, Eredine, and Arrochar talked me into ceilidh dancing, and I’d done what I could without flashing my underwear at everyone. It was great fun. But not wanting to leave Mac at the table alone all the time, I made excuses to rejoin him. It turned out he was never alone. Thane, who did get a babysitter, barely left Mac’s side, and they sat talking, drinking, and laughing together most of the night.
A couple times, Lucy coaxed Thane up to dance, and as soon as he was gone, Arrochar was at Mac’s side, their heads bent together as they chatted and laughed. In those moments, I searched for Guy but couldn’t find him.
Lachlan and Leighanne danced a few times, with each other and with our friends and the villagers. Lucy was right—the villagers treated her and Lachlan like ordinary people. Lucy’s grin was so wide, her cheeks must have ached. It was wonderful to see her like that.
I wandered around the room with my phone because I didn’t have my actual camera, but the photographer in me itched to capture the evening. In between snapping photos, I spoke with villagers I knew—Suveer and Moira from the chocolate shop, Morag, and Janet.
Suveer introduced me to a Polish woman called Zuzanna and her Scottish husband Prentice. They owned the outdoor clothing and sports store in the village. Suveer also introduced me to Chen and Wang Lei who owned a Chinese restaurant and takeout that several people had already told me I needed to try. Chen was second-generation Malaysian, and Wang’s family had owned the restaurant in Ardnoch since his grandfather emigrated to Scotland in the 1950s. The fact the restaurant had been in the village that long was impressive and telling. I couldn’t wait to try his food.
I chatted awhile with the couple, and Wang offered me some great insight into places I might want to photograph in the Cairngorms National Park. When he and Chen were dragged away into conversation by another villager, I continued to walk around the ceilidh with my camera phone.
Taking candid photos of folks, I got some great shots—Lucy and Eredine laughing so hard at something, they were bent toward each other, mouths open, eyes almost shut, clutching their bellies in a way that was almost cartoonish; Mac and Arrochar smiling intimately into each other’s eyes as if they were alone on a private island, not surrounded by a joyful rumpus; Thane standing with a few villagers I didn’t know, clapping his hands in time with the amazing fiddler; Lachlan standing off to the side, watching Lucy and Eredine enjoy themselves with a subtle but undeniably affectionate look on his face.
“Put the phone away and come dance.”
I glanced up and found Gordon, owner of the Gloaming and my trailer, standing over me. He was a big, burly Scot with hardly any hair on top of his head but a massive, bushy gray beard. His kilt was a different tartan from
