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Tonight we played “Scotland the Brave” and the tourists, shaking off their confusion, clapped along, and the awkwardness from earlier dissipated for the most part. I was glad to see Cameron smiling and laughing with the girls. Some of the locals still looked put out and uncomfortable, but I didn’t care. Allowing their neighbors to treat Cameron like shite was almost as bad as doing it themselves. She was one of them. She would protect them with her life, and they had not proven to offer her the same loyalty.

So fuck ’em.

Now they knew if it happened again, they had us to deal with, and I was okay with that threat hanging over them.

After we’d finished our set, we put our instruments in Aodhan’s office and Laird had just bid us good night (he was always the first to leave so he could get home to his wife and sons) when Aodhan appeared. “Was that necessary?”

“Aye.” Quinn glowered. “Aye, Aodhan, it was. My sister is a bloody hero for what she did, and the bastards are treating her like a pariah. If it had been a man who’d done the same, do you think for one second they’d treat him like that? Would they? They’d be treating him like a god.”

Aodhan sighed heavily. “Och, I know. Do you not think I’m just as disappointed in them? But the tourists almost walked out.”

“But they didn’t.”

“Aye, fine, fine. I can’t say I don’t understand. But none of that again, all right. And no starting fights out there.”

“We said our piece.” I clapped him on the shoulder as we walked past him out of the room.

In the barroom, we got another wee smattering of applause from the tourists as we strolled by, but I only had eyes for Cameron.

Quinn beat me to the table, pressing a kiss to Taran’s head before he settled into a seat next to her. His gaze landed on his sister. “Next time I want to hear it from you if someone insults you like that.”

I sat down next to Cameron, and she didn’t even look at me. “You have enough going on. Christ, Taran’s got to be carrying triplets in there.” She gestured to Taran’s belly.

Taran’s lips parted in indignation. “Thanks.”

“Are you?” London squeaked with surprise.

“No, my sister-in-law is just being a cheeky wee shite. I am perfectly aware of the massiveness of my belly. My back and legs and tits are all perfectly aware, and I do not need it to be pointed out at every turn. Ten people today—ten!—told me my belly was huge, like I was somehow unaware of it. Trust me, I know!”

My lips twitched against the laughter that I was smart enough to contain.

Cameron was not. She sniggered helplessly beside me.

Taran pointed a finger at her. “You’re lucky you’re having a hard time right now or I’d sit on you.”

Cameron’s shoulders shook. “I’m … I’m sorry.” She tried not to grin and failed. “But you’re really very funny when you’re pregnant and angry.”

Taran whipped her head at Quinn who had been caressing her belly in soothing gestures. “This is your fault. You’re fucking mahoosive.”

He did amazingly well at keeping a straight face. “I am. I’m sorry.”

“This baby is going to come out bigger than Angus is right now because of you.” She referred to Quinn’s son from his previous marriage. Angus was twelve years old and on course to be tall like his dad.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” he reassured his wife.

Cameron threw up her hands. “Oh, bloody hell, if you don’t want me to laugh, you need to change the subject.”

Amused tenderness warmed me.

“Any word from the police?” Murray offered a subject change. At the downturn in mood, he grimaced. “Too far of a subject change?”

London pressed her lips together to stifle a smile as reached up to stroke her husband’s face. He leaned into it, offering her a look of gratitude and something much bigger that used to make me uncomfortable to witness. It didn’t now. Now I watched the couple, feeling more than a prick of envy.

Cameron waved off his apology. “It’s fine. Aye, they’ve been in touch regarding the legal stuff. So has the procurator fiscal.”

“Same.” I leaned forward, offering her the reminder that I was in this with her. “But I don’t think that will ramp up until next year as we get closer to the trial.”

Cameron tensed at my side but nodded along. Then she changed the subject again. “Murray, are you doing storytime at the games next week?”