Page 68 of The Violet Raven

His kilt fluttered higher and the crowd would cheer out!

“Oh, where’s my kilt? Oh, where could it be?

I had it last night after pint number three!

I searched high and low, but to my dismay,

My kilt up and vanished at the break o’ day!”

At last, dear Lach, with a desperate heave

Caught hold of his kilt, then he started to leave.

He threw it back on with a grunt and a spin,

And vowed he’d no’ drink so much ever again!

“Oh, where’s my kilt? Oh, where could it be?

I had it last night after pint number three!

I searched high and low, but to my dismay,

My kilt up and vanished at the break o’ day!”

Now Lach wears his kilt wi’ a belt o’ strong leather,

And ties it on tight in all kinds o’ weather.

So shed not a tear for the skin he was showin’,

For the lasses come flocking, bright smiles a glowin’.

“Oh, there’s my kilt, right where it should be

I lost it last night after pint number three!

I searched high and low and found it at last,

And thanks to misfortune, I’m no longer chaste!”

As the last verse rings out, I can’t help but laugh as the crowd’s cheers ring in my ears. Performing with Casey and Bran feels as if I’m reclaiming a piece of my childhood—a moment of unbridled joy. This is a memory I’ll hold on to forever.

Others take the position around the fire to play their own music once more, allowing us a moment of reprieve.

Couples spin and twirl, creating a whirlwind of flashing kilts and skirts, stomping boots, and the rhythmic claps of dancers mingling with the lively tunes that fill the space. The firelight flickers off the stone walls, casting golden hues on faces flushed from joy and whiskey.

Casey gives Bran a playful shove, both of them laughing, getting along as if they’ve known one another for years. It warms my heart to see how easily Bran has fit in.

I am still soaking in all the sights and sounds when I feel a presence approach me from the side. He steps into my line of sight, exuding a confidence that borders on intoxicating.

“Triona,” he begins, his voice a velvety timbre that wraps around my name like a caress. The way it’s said sends a flutter through me. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier.”

His gaze holds mine with a smouldering intensity that sends a flush creeping up my neck. I nod for him to continue.

He sighs, a slow, deliberate sound, his fingers brushing the back of his neck in a gesture so casual yet irresistibly magnetic. When his eyes meet mine again, they smoulder with a heat that feels both dangerous and enthralling. “I said things to your brother… out of frustration. I did it knowing it would upset him.”

I arch a brow, intrigued despite myself. “Is that so?”