Enough whiskey for me, I think. I’ll just finish the glass, of course. It’s only polite. Cannae leave the liquor sitting out for hours, can I?
He took another long sip, closing his eyes. That was another mistake. When he closed his eyes these days, images ofherwoulddance behind his lids, as if engraved there.
That particular problem had plagued him for a while, but lately, the thoughts had become worse. Persistent.Hungry.
I shouldnae have tasted her.
Shuddering, Aiden curled his fingers into fists, keeping them determinedly on the arms of his chair.
The fire crackled before him, a red-orange glow that he could sense even with his eyes closed. The heat prickled over his skin. He was too close to the fire and ought to move back. The room behind him was cold, of course. Such that his back and the nape of his neck were chilled.
He didn’t move back from the fire.
The story of me life, eh? Cannae keep away from the flames. The light, the heat… It’s mesmerizing. Nay wonder I’ve been burned before.
A memory threw itself up behind his eyes, competing with the images of Hannah smiling at him, her eyes heavy with desire and expectation. He saw himself as a child, probably too young to remember the memory. He could see it all playing out before him like a scene in a play.
There was the child, crawling toward the fire, eyes huge and fascinated. A log had rolled out of the grate, landing with a shower of sparks on the heavy hearth. It wasn’t ablaze, thankfully, but the wood was cracked and glowed from within, smoldering furiously. The child didn’t understand. Of course, he didn’t.
He stretched out his hand, entranced. It was only his fingers that were burned, in the end. Just the tips. That mere brush was enough for even a naive child.
Aiden screwed up his eyes, recalling the searing pain that shot through him like nothing he’d ever felt. There was laughter, too. Through tears and a flurry of frantic servants coming to help him after he screamed, the child turned to see his older brother standing by the door, arms folded, laughing. He’d watched the whole thing, seen him inch toward the fire, hands outstretched, and let it happen.
Maybe that hurt more than the fire.
Aiden’s mouth curled into a tight smile.
Nay, nae more than that first burn. It was like nothing I’d ever felt.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the familiar pull in his back, the branded skin refusing to stretch the way skin was supposed to. He was used to it by now, but the strangeness remained.
So did Hannah.
He opened his eyes, blinking in the firelight after the darkness behind his lids.
I cannae get her out of me mind.
There was something inevitable about that thought, as if it had just been waiting for him, laughing at him all this time. As if it were obvious, and he was the fool for not having seen it.
I am a fool.
If he’d stayed too long in her presence, no doubt his self-restraint—or what was left of it—would have snapped. He’d have pulled her to him, kissed her again, perhaps taken her right there and then.
That seems like a fine way to earn meself a punch on the chin.
He allowed himself a tight smile. Oh, yes, Hannah was well able to stand up for herself. She was no fool, no pushover. She could speak up for herself, fearlessly when necessary. She could shove him away if she wanted to, tell him to stop, and he’d listen.
But would she say it?
Sometimes it seemed as though they were on opposite ends of a long string, and that string was slowly but surely shortening, pulling them closer.
I’d say it was fate if I believed in that.
He took another slow sip of his whiskey. It burned again, a pleasant ache at the back of his throat. Closing his eyes, Aiden tipped back his head, letting the heat from the fire play over his face.
The burns on his fingertips from that childish desire to touch the fire had long since disappeared. They left nothing permanent, except, of course, the memory. The pain, the echo of his brother’s laughter, and something else.
The something else, of course, was the undeniable rush of triumph at having done it.
