Page 85 of Sins of a King
When the two men pulled back, Flynn turned to me and said, “Malcolm, let me introduce you to Barrett Schaefer, my girlfriend.”
I flashed what I hoped was a winning smile at the gruff man, but Malcolm didn’t thaw. “So nice to meet you,” I said.
Malcolm said something to Flynn in a thick garbled tone.
Gaelic.The man actually spoke Gaelic.
Flynn answered in the same language, shooting me a meaningful look. Perhaps Flynn was attempting to remind Malcolm of his manners.
Flynn’s godfather stared at me for a long moment, his dark gray eyes surveying me. Even though this man was important to Flynn, I was tired of the bored insolent look he was giving me. I glared back at him and then moved into Flynn’s side. Suddenly, Malcolm smiled, and I didn’t understand why.
He slapped Flynn on the back. “I’m ready for a drink,” he said, switching to English, heavy on the Scottish brogue.
“Let’s sit,” Flynn said.
He signaled the maître d’, and a moment later the three of us were nestled into a private dark booth. I reached for the menu, just to have something to do, still trying to understand Malcolm’s sudden change of heart.
“The usual, Malcolm?” Flynn asked. Malcolm nodded. “And for you, Barrett?”
I smiled but didn’t take my eyes off Malcolm. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Lass, I’m going to be drinking single malt scotch. Are you sure you don’t want something a bit more…subdued?”
“If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.”
The craggy face of the old Highlander cracked into humor, and he let out a booming laugh. “I think you might give me a run for my money.”
During the meal, conversation was easy, bouncing around from one topic to the next. Our glasses were never empty. As dessert was being cleared from the table, the men enjoyed an after-dinner brandy. I was certifiably drunk. I’d insisted on attempting to keep up with Malcolm, if only to prove to him that I wasn’t some wilting flower he could tread all over. It was stupid since the man was more than twice my size. I couldn’t help myself from leaning against Flynn’s suit-clad arm. He smelled so good, felt so warm.
“I think I’m ready for bed,” I admitted, my eyes closing.
“I’ll help you upstairs,” Flynn said, rising from his seat so I could scoot out of the booth.
“No, you don’t have to—”
He pretended like he didn’t hear me when he said to Malcolm, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Malcolm got out of the booth and pulled me into a tight hug. “Thank you for making this the most enjoyable meal I’ve had in a long time, lass.”
I kissed him like I would my own grandfather. “It was my pleasure. I’ll see you soon.”
Flynn held my hand as he escorted me to the private elevator, but as soon as the doors closed, he pulled me into his side.
“Malcolm likes you,” he said.
“Does he? I couldn’t be sure.”
“He’s a hard sell.”
“I didn’t know you spoke Gaelic,” I murmured into his chest.
The doors opened, and he helped me into his suite. I kicked off my shoes on the way to the bedroom while Flynn explained, “Malcolm lives in the Highlands—it’s where I grew up. There are still pockets of places that speak only Gaelic, and the street signs are written in Gaelic and English.”
“It’s hot, you know,” I said, turning around, struggling out of my dress.
“Yeah?”
I could hear the smile in his voice. He pulled back the covers of the bed and I slipped into it, moaning at the feel of cool satin against my scotched skin.
