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Lachlan’s lips twitch. “She’s convinced they’re going to eat her.”

“Well, maybe ifsomeonehadn’t implied that the very first time I saw one…”

His mouth curls into a full-blown grin now. “Can’t help it that you’re so gullible, princess.”

I narrow my eyes at him, wanting to chide him about the dumb nickname, but unfortunately, it’s started to have the opposite effect on me. Now instead of filling me with flushed irritation, it warms me for a different reason altogether. Reasons we’d probably beexploring right now had he found me in his bed instead of my grandparents’ kitchen table.

“I was scared of the cows when I was a lad,” Brodie tells me. “Course, I thought they would trample me. I eventually grew out of it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re on my side or not,” I say grumpily.

Brodie shrugs. “I’m on no one’s side. Just making conversation.”

Lachlan is eyeing my cousin with a look that barely contains his wariness, and I remember how he’d said he’d consider it, the idea of letting Brodie help us. We haven’t talked about it since that day behind the pub, and I wonder if now is a good time to warm him to the idea.

“Has Brodie told everyone about his side project?”

Rhona turns from the stove to eye us from over her shoulder. “What?”

“He’s been researching the MacKay family tree,” I clarify.

Brodie blushes slightly, averting his eyes. “S’just a silly way to pass the time.”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea!” Finlay exclaims, ever the optimist. “There’s all sorts of good stories from our family.” He nudges Lachlan in the ribs gently, chuckling. “Why, Lachlan’s family and ours used to be mortal enemies once upon a time!”

I try to contain my wince as I watch Lachlan’s expression go blank, like he’s forcing it. This definitely backfired quickly.

Lachlan’s voice is flat when he says, “Is that so?”

“Oh, aye,” Finlay barrels on. “Don’t know the details meself, but my grandpa told me a story once of some skirmish over land. Apparently, the first parcel the MacKays settled on was Greer land at the time!”

Lachlan’s jaw ticks, and I know he’s doing his best to contain hisdiscomfort, given that it’s obvious Finlay has no idea what sort of wound he’s poking at, and knowing that makes my stomach clench in sympathy.

“I’ve heard something similar,” Brodie comments.

Trying to save the situation, I chime in, “It’s too bad Lachlan’s family records burnt up. It would be neat to know the real story.” I pause a beat, trying to appear casual as I add, “I wonder if there are MacKay records that would clarify?”

“I haven’t seen much mention of the Greers in what I’ve been able to get my hands on,” Brodie admits.

“Could be a fun side quest for your project,” I urge. “Maybe we could take a trip to Inverness! Do some digging.” I smile in Lachlan’s direction, noticing his face is still carefully blank. “Would be very Indiana Jones of us.”

Brodie shifts in his chair, clearing his throat. “I don’t think there’d be anything there I haven’t already sorted through,” he says. “Besides, it’s a very boring place. Don’t know if it would be worth the trip.”

“Still, you never know. Maybe there’s something you missed? A fresh set of eyes always—”

“Not really up for travel right now,” Brodie cuts me off stiffly. “Sorry.”

I rear back at the slight harshness of his tone; Brodie has never been anything but friendly with me, so this sudden burst of clear irritation with my prodding comes as a bit of a shock.

Brodie’s mouth parts in surprise as if realizing the same thing, frowning right after before rising from the table. “Sorry. Still feeling a bit peely-wally. Think I should probably go lay down for a spell.”

We’re all quiet as Brodie leaves the room after stowing the carton he’d been nursing back in the fridge, and no one speaks until the sounds of his footsteps climbing up the stairs can be heard.

“Forgive him,” Rhona says after a beat. “I think there’s been some tension at his job. He’s never come out and said, but he never seems keen to talk about it.”

“He did say he was on sabbatical,” I say.

Rhona nods. “I suspect there’s more to that story than he lets on, but I don’t want to press him. He’s always been a soft boy, Brodie. Clung to his mother’s legs like a wee limpet, that one did.”