Damn Donell and his hidden agenda. Surely he would have — should have — mentioned something like this? Aila was tempted to return to the whisky shop and wring the answers out of him, however she had no desire to see the old man again after how thoroughly he’d played her. There was only one other person who might be able to answer her questions, and if young Doc Doom was right, not much time to find them.
“Can I see my…er, father? Ye said he hisnae got long. I’d like to say goodbye.”
He cleared his throat as if he’d only realized the proper sequence of things in that moment. “Of course. We can talk afterward.” He picked up a phone and asked someone to join them. “You should know he’s a bit delirious. The fever perhaps? He keeps asking who we are.”
I’ll bet he has.
Aila nodded and followed the attendant who came to fetch her to a room where poor Boyce lay, hooked up to a dozen machines with tubes everywhere. Screens with bouncing lines. Little, nerve-grating beeps that hailed life and death. God, she really hated hospitals.
Pulling up a chair beside him, she took his hand and managed a smile when he opened his eyes. “Hello again.”
A hot tear splashed on her cheek. Poor, kind man. He didn’t deserve such an ugly end. Alone in a strange place with no one besides a near stranger to see him through his final hours. Boyce’s sons should be ashamed of themselves for not checking in on him. For leaving him alone. Aila had been at odds with her mother for years and still came when she was ill.
His fingers spasmed weakly around hers. “Och, thank the good Lord. I’d thought I’d gone to hell already.” His watery eyes swept around the crisp white room then closed again. “What is this place?”
Was there a good answer? She decided to cut to the chase, though the truth cost her. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Boyce. There is nothing more that can be done to help ye.”
“Dinnae fash, lass. Whit’s fur ye’ll no go past ye.”
How fatalistic he was. Whatever is meant to happen to you, will happen to you? Aye, maybe, but it wasn’t as though this was an act of God.
“I’m sorry I dinnae figure out what was making ye sick before.”
His cold fingers tightened ever so lightly around hers and a tear slipped out of the corner of his eye. “’Tis no’ yer fault.”
Perhaps. Why hadn’t she made the connection before when it might have helped? When there might have been a chance to save him. Her chest burned with sorrow and regret. There was nothing more she could do for Mr. Boyce. Hopefully she could figure out a way to prevent others from suffering the same way. Avenge him, if possible. “The doctor says ye were poisoned. Do ye ken anyone who would want to do ye harm?”
His head twitched to the side before changing directions. “Aye, the truth will prevail.”
Surely she couldn’t have heard him right. “What did ye say?”
His eyes blinked then closed as if it were too much effort to keep them open. “My Da knew. Figured it out. Fire at…mill. He saved the duke. Before Da was mur— mur—”
“He was killed?”
That faint assent again. “Aye, Da kent what it was…why it was hidden. Promised to…same. Never tell anyone. Made me…. Nae one can….”
Aila felt her jaw sag. “Ye mean the treasure? It’s real?”
“’Tis…truth.”
“The truth?” Aila squeezed his hand to rouse him. “What truth? Mr. Boyce?”
His eyelids fluttered. “The key?”
“Aye, I found the key. What is it for? What should I do with it?”
“Unlock…the truth.”
Chapter 26
Late September 1748
Inveraray, Scotland
Finn could have sworn it had been Aila he saw. No one other than his fiery vixen had hair that color around here. It had taken mere seconds to reach the house, yet she was nowhere in sight. Since Boyce wasn’t at home either….
He scratched his jaw trying to figure it out, then shrugged. There were few options other than to return to the castle and await her return.
