“There, now that I’ve set the ball in motion, I’m going to pay my son his due visit.” Ian strode to the door. “Meet ye downstairs for our meal shortly?”
Finn managed a grim, uncomfortable nod and stifled the urge to punch his friend for his blatant matchmaking as he shifted in the portal to let Ian pass.
“Dinnae muck it up,” his friend paused to murmur under his breath. “If ye can manage that, gi’ two thumps on the floor so I ken ye’re no’ in need of rescue.”
Finn did punch him then, a half-hearted slug to the shoulder. He also made a point of leaving the door open as Ian strolled down the hall with a chuckle. He’d not have his life ruled by the whims of his oldest friend.
Nay, nor would he be ruled by the whims of his cock.
The door would stay open…unless Aila chose to close it.
The crackle of the fire and a dog’s elongated yawn when he was nudged off the bed were the only breaks in the silence as he watched her put the bed in order. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence so much as it was expectant. He was incredibly aware of her, the way her slender arms swept back and forth and her palms skimmed the bedding as she smoothed away the wrinkles. Erased the evidence of their torrid night. The sway of her skirts as she shifted from foot to foot. If he were to sidestep to the left, he imagined he’d achieve a delightful perspective from which to view the swell of her cleavage when she bent to tuck the sheet at the foot of the bed.
He stayed put, content to enjoy the view from his current angle. The simple pleasure of domestication long absent in his life. The pleasurable indulgence of smoldering desire before it ignited into a consuming blaze.
He’d always longed for moments like these. The realization straightened his spine. The awareness of why he’d never have them was a hard nudge to remind him of his purpose.
“With my bairns nae longer underfoot, I had a productive day,” he said, breaking the silence as he squatted to pet her dog, who’d sprawled out before the fire. “Thank ye for taking the position.”
“Keeping ye free from distraction, ye mean?” Aila cast a knowing smirk over her shoulder as she finished straightening the bed. “Out of sight, out of mind?”
That would have been nice. Alas that wasn’t the case when it came to the most conspicuous distraction of them all. Not that he would admit to it.
“Aye, and they tell me they had — and I quote my son — ‘a most educational day,’” he said, determined to negate her bedevilment, be it by misguidance or blatant lie. “He said ye went to the mill?”
She faced him, head cocked to one side. Her lips quirked ever so slightly as if she knew what he was about. “We did. Mr. Boyce was cleaning today so we’ll return tomorrow to watch him work.”
“They will enjoy that.” Silence prevailed. “The weather has been decent. For both work and for their enjoyment.”
“Aye, it has.”
“Ye’re doing well in yer new position, then?”
Her lips pursed then eased once more, though not into the smile he’d been hoping for. “Well enough.”
Social pleasantries exhausted and no invitation for anything more intimate, conversation or otherwise, Finn gestured to the door. “Shall we to supper?”
At the mention of the word, the dog scrambled to his feet and dashed out the door. With a nod, Aila stepped into the hallway then locked the door after he closed it. She was close enough for him to catch a trace of her intoxicating scent, and he had to stifle the urge to lean in for more. Perhaps close enough to kiss her neck.
Och, she’d been as plain as day about her desire the previous night. He knew her to be bold enough to be forthright on the matter if she wanted him still. He could only hope she hadn’t had enough of him. He hadn’t had nearly enough of her. Despite the way he’d leapt upon her that morning, the gentleman in him prohibited him from asking outright.
As he followed her toward the stairs, Finn berated himself as he had before, for taking up a position behind her. She was bewitching as a will-o’-the-wisp and just as likely to lead him astray.
He could have sworn she did it on purpose.
When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, she paused, her expression more somber and far less teasing than he’d anticipated. “May I be honest with ye?” At his nod, she hesitated as if reconsidering before continuing. “Yer children are in desperate need of structure.”
“Structure? I dinnae ken what ye mean.”
“A schedule. Schooling. Discipline.” She ticked off the points on her fingers. “Nae offense, but from what I can see, ye spoil them rotten.”
The criticism stung. “They’ve had a troubling few years. If I’ve coddled them…”
“Ye have. Right to the brink of making annoying little blighters of them.”
“Now see here —”
“Dinnae get me wrong, Finn.” She softened the interruption with a beseeching look. Stepping forward, she took his hand. “I like them, I do. They’re inquisitive and engaging children. But they’re inquisitive, engaging, andboredchildren with nae outlet for their creative minds other than to think up the next bit of trouble they can make.”
