If he wanted to.
That choice would mean giving up his plans, however. Relinquish his one last chance for revenge. He wasn’t sure he could do that, no matter how much he wanted to.
He took another sip from his glass with no greater effect this time than the last. He should take the example Ian set to heart. Ian drank copious amounts to try to forget his wife. He got drunk with the effort but with no success. No amount of alcohol could burn a woman from a man’s mind.
Finn set the glass aside. “How can I? I ken nothing about her. She shies away from most personal questions. I ken she’s lying to me or at least hiding something.”
“Are ye certain? I would argue that ye huvnae shown the best perspicacity when it comes to discerning the truth.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ian shrugged away the question and returned to the previous topic. “Ye told me Aila said she wanted a fresh start. A new beginning.” Ian retrieved his hand and played a card on the table. “There’s a past she runs from, perhaps? Does it matter? Ye knew Marta for years. Did that make ye any happier? Yer card, by the by.”
Finn flicked the corner of his outer card with his finger. Did it matter what he knew and what he didn’t? He might not know specifics, but even so he’d learned a lot about her these past days in close quarters. The person she was beyond the fine details.
“Are ye going to play or are ye going to keep looking at the clock?” Ian needled him further. “Ye’re counting down the minutes before ye feign fatigue and likely make some comment about how ye long for yer own bed after so many nights confined to the nursery. All so ye can creep down the hallway past yer own door and through hers instead.”
Finn slammed his cards down on the table. “I’ll no’ have ye —”
“Dinnae get yer back up.” Ian held up a hand to forestall his threats. “There has rarely been a lass to garner my respect more than Aila. Her sass notwithstanding, she’s proven herself a kind and caring lass. She’s bonny, intelligent, and makes bloody good conversation. She makes ye laugh. Hell, she makesmelaugh. If she dinnae look at ye like ye were a bloody god, I’d have her for myself.”
Hot seething jealousy sprang up in him.
“Ha, and ye think ye dinnae care?” Ian laughed. “I’m surprised ye dinnae see it yerself. She cares about ye already, too.”
The words could have been a lightning bolt to the chest given the impact they had. A painful clench followed by radiating warmth. He thought he’d seen as much for himself, then feared it might be wishful thinking on his part.
It might well be. Aila, in the whole of their conversations over the past days, never mentioned the future. Never hinted at a connection between them. If she was angling to become his bride, she hid it well.
Was that what he hoped for? Wanted? Waited for?
How could he think to the days and years ahead, when it was those behind him that dictated his life?
Ian, as always, proved himself perceptive to Finn’s thoughts. “Ye think of Marta? Does she even signify any longer?”
“Ye ken she does.”
“Ye’ve built her up to be a saint in yer memories, my friend. I can assure ye, she wisnae. She’s no’ worth the sacrifice of yer future.”
“Wheesht.”
“I agree wi’ Aila. I dinnae much care for being shushed. Especially when ye ken I’m right and ye merely want to deny it.” Ian set his cards down on the table.
“I cannae set the past behind me yet,” Finn argued. “Ye ken why.”
“Finn, I consider ye like a brother. We were raised together, played together, drank together…fought together. And we’ve hated together. I took my revenge and behold.” He sat back and spread his arms wide. “What has it done for me?”
Finn didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Though they never spoke of it, he knew Ian hadn’t found the peace he’d been seeking when he’d killed the man who fired upon his castle and killed his loved ones in the process. He hadn’t found satisfaction in the act or joy in his life since. It had brought him nothing but misery to heap upon a plate of the same.
Ian nodded, cradling his drink once again. “Aye, ye see it dinnae ease my grief. It dinnae appease my anger. Now, for me, that hate will never die. It will be my bedmate until the day Beelzebub greets me at the gates of hell. I’d wish a better ending for ye. A bonnier one. Give up the past, my friend. Live for the future. Ye have a chance.” He drained the remainder of his whisky and leaned forward to smack it down on the table between them. “And if ye dinnae take it, I swear, I will bloody well hate ye forever, too.”
* * *
“Ye’re such a good dog.” Aila tweaked Rab’s ear and took the sponge he’d fetched for her. “Ye’re a canny lad to be sure. I’ve never kent a dog so smart.”
The dog rolled on to his back and presented his belly for a good rub.
“Or one who could be such a sweet dork,” she added. He bent his neck at such an unnatural angle to look at her he might well have been made of rubber. His tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth. “There, ye prove my point. Let me finish my bath first, ye greedy bastard.”
