“But yer poor bairns. To be without a mother….” There was sorrow in Aila’s voice — a shock, as he wouldn’t have taken her for the sympathetic sort. “Would ye care to talk about it?”
She’d asked the same question of Ian. “Talk about what?”
“Yer feelings? Sometimes it helps to—”
Finn cut her off. “Nay, I wouldnae care to talk about myfeelings.”
What nonsense she’d suggested. He’d rarely managed an intimate conversation on the matter with his closest friend. Why a perfect stranger thought he’d share such a thing befuddled him. Bloody hell, but she’d be the last one with whom he’d share his emotions. If he were inclined to talk about them at all. What kind of man would he be if he confessed his weakness? What kind of man wouldsheconsider him if he did?
“Blast it, why would ye suggest such a thing?”
“Sharing yer thoughts can help ye relieve undue anxiety in—”
“I’m no’ anxious!”
“Dinnae yell at me!” Aila emptied her glass of wine and pushed back her chair. “Heaven forbid a man express his emotions.”
Finn rose as she did out of habit and stood with his fists on his hips, face lifted to the ceiling. Praying for patience. What right did she have to sound so offended when she was the one who trod beyond polite conversation? When she was the one who dared to question his nerve, his manhood? He’d dealt with it quite nicely on his—
“Please extend my apologies to Ian for upsetting him.”
“Ye can give them yerself.” He opened his eyes at the softly spoken question to see that the flush of irritation that suffused Aila’s cheeks and flashed in her eyes moments before gone. His had yet to fade. “Though he’ll be nursing a thick head in the morn, unless I miss my guess.”
“I won’t be here to do so. I’m leaving, remember?”
“Are ye? Ye allowed my bairns to carry yer dog off to bed, remember?”
Another curse fell from her lips. Another unlike any lady of his acquaintance would vocalize. The ease in which she uttered them in the same soft burr that had impressed him with quick and intelligent responses to Ian’s many questions astonished him. Such vulgarity was at odds with the ladylike demeanor she displayed. He couldn’t help but wonder how she’d come to adopt it, though being descended from a long line of sailors might account for it.
“I should hate to upset them by dragging Rab away,” she conceded. “It can wait until morning.”
Finn sighed with relief. His daughter was young enough to have no memories of the skirmishes against the Redcoats in support of Prince Charlie. No sorrow over the destruction or despair in the days following the Scottish defeat on the Drummoise Moor. She was happy enough, yet he hadn’t seen her smile as much as she had today in a long while. Since Marta had died. She’d talked about that dog for an hour or more that afternoon, then cuddled it as it were a lifeline to that happiness. If nothing else, he hated to see that go.
If nothing else.He scoffed inwardly. Aye,thatwas the reason he didn’t want Aila to leave.
Even when he knew she should.
The way her eyes leapt hither and yon about the hall as if searching for an escape told him she felt the same. Choosing a direction, she made haste toward the passage that led back to her bedchamber. Shoulders straight, skirts swishing in a seductive countermotion to the sway of her rounded hips. The pendulate motion mesmerized him, beckoned him to follow. At the entrance to the hallway, she hesitated. With a prayer for strength on his lips, he strode after her.
“Allow me to lead the way.”
Better to be in front of her than behind, he thought. As they progressed down the hall, he found the position no more favorable. Her breaths teased him, turning to soft pants as they climbed the tight spiral of the stairs from one floor to the next. He imagined what they would sound like as gasps of passion against his lips.
“That pup of yers,” he said, groping for a topic to distract him. “I’ve no’ seen an animal of such breeding since I traveled the Continent as a youth. Even then, those hunting breeds I saw in Bavaria and Austria were no’ so large as this one. Nor as friendly. Where did ye get him?”
“A friend gave him to me.”
She offered nothing more as they reached the final landing and she brushed by him toward her room. With a stifled groan, Finn shifted his trousers, thankful for the dim light. He’d spent the entire meal awash with aching desire so distracting he’d hardly been able to manage to hold any semblance of conversation, much less partake of the meal. He’d tasted none of what he had eaten. His only hunger had been for her.
She shoved her key into the lock and turned the handle. The door swung open, however, instead of disappearing through the portal, she turned to him. “Goodbye, Mr. Keeley.”
“Is it goodbye then? I thought ye might reconsider my offer and stay.” His desire for her was contradictory to his purpose here. Finn asked himself again why he couldn’t simply stand by and let her go.
A snort of humorless laughter escaped her. “As yer nanny? As I said, nae thanks.”
“I dinnae ask to pigeonhole ye or whatever nonsense ye were havering about.”
Irritation rekindled in her eyes. “Havering, am I?Havering?”
