Page 60 of Duke It Out
Finn huffs out a noise of derision, somewhere between a snort and a laugh.
“Charming as ever,” Jamie says, lifting his glass in the direction of his brother. “You could try not to terrify our guest.”
“I’m merely observing thatlovelyisn’t what I’ve been working towards.”
“It’s hard to describe,” I say. “I always think that proper whisky is more of a feeling than a taste.”
Rory and Jamie exchange glances. Finn’s expression shifts down a notch from thunderous to moderately unfriendly.
“That’s a good way of describing it,” says Jamie. “But don’t get him started or we’ll be here all night hearing about phenols and complex flavour profiles.”
“She might be interested,” Finn says.
“I am.” I take another sip.
“A woman who likes a decent malt.” He looks at Rory, who’s looking at me with an expression I can’t quite figure out. His features are composed, but his grip on the glass tightens just a fraction.
The door opens and Gregor appears, a linen cloth over his shoulder.
“Good to see you, Finn.”
Finn stands and shakes his hand. I wonder how long it issince he’s been back here – I know that Rory said he didn’t come back for the funeral, but before that – has it been months or years?
“Nice to be kept on my toes. Anyway, just a quick run-down of the menu for this evening.” Gregor looks as if he’s won the lottery. I guess it must get boring not being able to stretch your culinary muscles. I half listen as he’s detailing the menu, watching the three brothers and taking it all in. It’s the sort of food you’d get in a fancy Scottish restaurant, and knowing Gregor he’ll be having a ball knocking it all up with no notice. He loves a challenge, and my stomach is growling at the sound of it all, even the ridiculously named Cullen Skink, which has to be the worst name for fancy fish soup ever.
“And then a loin of venison with a berry sauce and braised red cabbage,” Gregor says, looking pleased with himself. “And then for pudding?—”
Jamie does a drumroll on the table with his fingers.
“Aye, you’ve guessed it. Cranachan, of course. Edie, have you tried it?”
“Years ago.” I think it’s something to do with whisky and cream and oatmeal. Like a fancy breakfast, only alcoholic.
Jamie’s studying his glass as if he’s half expecting it to come to life. He squints for a moment, then inhales deeply.
“It’s good, Finn.”
He sounds surprised. Given that Finn’s at the helm of the fastest growing new whisky brand in the world, his brother’s lack of conviction makes me smile. This is what it’s like to have siblings, I guess.
I glance up at Rory. The corners of his mouth are turned downwards as if he’s trying not to laugh. He fixes me with a look, and I feel my pulse rushing in my ears.This is the most relaxed I’ve seen him since that night in New York.
Finn lifts his chin and regards Jamie steadily. “Good?”
“Complex,” says Jamie, uncharacteristically serious. “Brooding. A bit like you, actually. But with a better finish.” He gives me the ghost of a wink and laughs.
Finn looks across at me, resting his chin on a finger for a moment before he speaks.
“Ignore him,” he says gruffly. “He once tried to pair a priceless malt with a bag of jelly babies.”
“Once,” says Jamie, chucking his balled-up napkin at his brother, “and they were wine gums, actually.”
Rory gives a long-suffering sigh, but I can see that he’s enjoying the three of them being together. He’s still watchful, but there’s something else there. I shift in my chair, feeling like a spare part.
“So, what d’you think, Edie? How would you describe it?” Finn surprises me with a question. Maybe under that gruff exterior there’s some empathy after all.
“I—”
Jamie takes the bottle and leans over tipping another measure into my glass. “In case you need more inspiration.”
