Chapter 23
ONE WEEK LATER
Calder Castle
Clack.
A glass of whiskey landed on the table in front of Aiden’s blank gaze, making him jump.
“Well, now I ken ye arenae yerself,” Lucas remarked, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest. “Never would ye have let me sneak up on yer before.”
Aiden scowled at him. “Very funny. If ye must ken, I have a lot on me mind.”
“Aye, I bet ye do.” Lucas pursed his lips, watching him reach forward and pick up the glass.
Aiden took a long sip. It was the same whiskey he’d served Hannah that night seven days ago.
Why did ye think of that memory, fool? he chastised himself, scowling.
Clearing his throat, he glanced up at Lucas. “Pour yerself some. It isnae like ye to be backward in coming forward.”
Lucas gave a wry huff. “Be that as it may, there’s none left. That’s the last of it.”
Aiden stared down at the amber liquid, still rolling the flavor over his tongue. “Oh,” he murmured.
“So…” Lucas hooked an ankle around a nearby stool and pulled it close. He sat down with a thump. “Why daenae ye tell me what’s wrong?”
Aiden took another long sip, before he reminded himself to savor the drink. That was the last bottle of this particular whiskey, after all.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered crisply.
Lucas’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. “Is that so? Because ye have a face on ye like somebody shat in yer porridge.”
Aiden sucked in his cheeks. “What a lovely image.”
“It’s an accurate one, I can promise ye. Ye have spent the last week stamping around the place, scowling and snapping at anyone who passes by. It’s ridiculous.”
“I have a lot on me plate. I’m Laird MacBain, in case ye havenae noticed. A great deal rests on me shoulders.”
“That it does,” Lucas agreed. “Fortunately, yer shoulders are broad enough to take the weight. And, if I might remind ye, ye did recently deal with a serious threat. With Theodore gone…”
Aiden bit the inside of his cheek. “I daenae want to talk about him.”
Lucas sighed, face softening. “I’m nae here to scold ye, me Laird.
I’m nae here to make ye feel bad about yerself.
Ye appointed me as yer man-at-arms to replace Theodore, and I intend to do a proper job.
I am here nae as a councilman, but as a friend.
Are ye going to hear what I have to say or nae? ”
A long silence stretched out between them.
Aiden stared down at the whiskey in his glass. “It isnae as good, this whiskey,” he mumbled.
Lucas frowned. “What?”
“This whiskey. It isnae as good as Hannah’s stuff. It’s decent. Tasty. Drinkable, to say the least. I imagine that if ye had never had her whiskey, ye would love it. But I have had her whiskey. I ken the taste. I ken the smell, the thickness of it. Now, I cannae go back.”
Lucas said nothing. Perhaps he understood his meaning.
After a moment, he shuffled closer and braced his elbows on the desk.
“There’s been nay more poisonings,” he said.
“The bandits are being driven off the roads. The patrols ye set up are doing well to keep the peace. Already, things are getting better. People are relaxing. Travel is safer. The big villages are safe already, and smaller villages and more remote ones are feeling the benefits. According to our informants, bandits are either being dispersed, killed, arrested, or driven toward the mountains. Ye have done it, Aiden. Ye are a great laird. A good man.”
Aiden sniffed. “Working out a plan to dissuade some bandits is hardly the mark of a great laird.”
“Ye are too hard on yerself.”
“Actually, I think that I’m just the right amount of hard on meself.”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “It’s like banging me head against a stone wall with ye.”
“Ye ken what they say about banging yer head against a stone wall,” Aiden shot back, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Daenae say it,” Lucas hissed. “Daenae—”
“It feels wonderful when ye stop.”
Lucas heaved a long sigh, covering his face in his hands. “Ye are determined nae to take me seriously.”
“On the contrary, man. I take ye very seriously when we are discussing matters of business or something that would affect the clan. But I can sense that ye are about to scold me about me personal life, which ye really should have nothing to say about.”
He lifted his head. “And that’s what ye think? That I’m here to scold ye?”
“Then what are ye here to say?”
“I’m here to figure out why ye have been walking about with a face like thunder for the past week.
Let me put the facts in front of ye, aye?
Ye have unearthed a plot to unseat ye. Ye killed the perpetrator and rooted out a traitor.
Ye dealt with a mob without shedding too much blood.
Ye have earned people’s love without resorting to making them fear ye.
Word of how ye crushed that mob has spread, ye ken. ”
“I killed a man.”
“Aye, in defence of one of their own. Hannah Leon is well-ken and well-liked.”
“They called her a whore!”
“Folks are fickle,” Lucas insisted. “It’s blown over, believe me. There’s even talk of having the clan renamed Clan Calder. Ye have never been MacBain anything, me Laird.”
Aiden tilted his glass, toying with the liquid. He would let it run almost to the rim, as if he were going to let it spill out, then tip it back into the glass. He swirled it round and round.
Was it Hannah who’d taught him that trick? To swirl the whiskey to get air into it? Air changed the flavor, apparently, but only a refined palate like hers could taste it, no doubt. He took an experimental sip.
Aye, that’s right, he thought grimly. Nay different. Still nae good enough.
“So ye have achieved all of this,” Lucas continued, leaning forward and catching his eye. “But ye are still nae happy.”
Aiden met his gaze. “Who says I’m nae happy?”
“Me eyes say it. And I’m nae the only one. Folks have remarked upon it.”
“Am I negligent in me duties? Am I?”
Lucas groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Of course nae. Lad, I am nae speaking of yer duties. I am speaking of ye. I am nae Theodore. I am yer friend, and I want ye to be happy.”
His voice echoed through the room. Even he seemed surprised to hear it. Perhaps he hadn’t been expecting to hear his own voice raised in that way.
Aiden didn’t immediately answer, and Lucas didn’t prompt him.
Only one mouthful of the whiskey remained. Swallowing hard, Aiden closed his eyes. The taste of the whiskey, poor as it was compared to Hannah’s, reminded him of her.
When he’d kissed her that last time, he’d tasted the whiskey on her tongue. The heavy, warm scent of it clung to her breath when she gasped or moaned. If he let himself sink, he could imagine the feel of her skin, warm and soft beneath his palms. Yielding but not too pliable.
How often had he gone over the memory of that night?
Only a week ago, and yet it seemed like an eternity.
Her pushed against him, her body warm, her ribs shivering as she breathed in and out a little too quickly.
The way her thighs shivered, her wet heat, the scent of her hair tangled against his cheek.
He thought of her smile, the way it widened slowly at first and then all at once.
He thought of her crooked canine and the way her eyes crinkled.
His fingers tightened around the glass. He made no move to take the last sip.
In his mind, her lips and hands ghosted over his ruined back, tracing his scars almost reverently.
And then, in a powerful image wiping out all those other images, he saw her face right before she closed the door behind her.
Right after she left, after he’d told her that he was leaving and that he wouldn’t reconsider.
And, of course, she was entirely too proud to beg. He would never have expected it of her.
His hand tightened. The glass squeaked, and the whiskey inside sloshed wildly.
How could I have turned me back on her? The look in her eyes, the devastation, the misery… I let her down. Of course, I did. I let everybody down.
Nay, that isnae true. I am a good laird, nae like Faither. Nae like Magnus. A really good laird. Efficient. Kind. Fair. But as a man…
As a man, I’m nae good enough. Nae good enough for her.
Maybe it’s good, then, that we parted ways.
She’ll go her own way. She’ll marry someone else.
Maybe Duncan will finally break down her walls, get her to look twice at him.
He’s the sort of man a lass like Hannah should marry, is he nae? Decent, dependable, boring…
Crack.
The sound echoed, and it seemed to come from far away. Aiden blinked, wondering where the noise had come from.
Lucas sucked in a breath and rose to his feet. “Good God, Aiden! Yer hand! The glass!”
Aiden blinked down at the hand that had been holding the whiskey glass.
Shards of broken glass lay scattered over the desk, enveloped by a growing pool of whiskey.
A curved piece was stuck between his thumb and forefinger, a reminder of how the glass was broken.
Glittering pieces shone on his palm, caught in the creases.
A shard had pierced the meaty part of his palm, and dark blood welled up lazily.
He sighed. “Did I do that?”
“Aye, ye did, and now ye are bleeding. Here, let me help.”
Lucas rose to his feet, drawing a strip of gauze from his pocket. He seized Aiden’s hand and turned his palm over to inspect it for embedded shards.
“Let me do it,” Aiden muttered, snatching the gauze and pulling back his hand. He bandaged the cut roughly, tightening the knot just a little too much.
“Ye are good at that,” Lucas observed. “Bandaging with one hand.”
“Call it a hidden talent. Now, are we done here?”
Lucas stared at him for a long moment. “I thought ye would be thrilled. Instead, ye are moping around like—”
“If ye say like someone shat in me porridge again, I’m going to slap ye. With me bad hand, so ye end up with a bloody handprint on yer face.”
“Charming.”
Another silence.
Aiden shifted, waiting for Lucas to grow tired of the quiet. Surely, at any moment, he would get up and storm out. That was the fair thing to do.
Instead, he remained.
He sighed and began to carefully sweep the glass shards into a handkerchief, then tied up the ends once most of the glass was gone.
“Ye will want to use a brush for the rest,” he commented, sitting back. “Be careful. Bits of ground glass in a wound—”
“Ach, spare me the lecture, Lucas.”
Lucas pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll tell ye what else I heard,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Do enlighten me.”
“I heard that Duncan was planning to propose to Hannah.”
Aiden went still. “What?”
Lucas shrugged carelessly. “It’s just what I heard.
After what she’s been through, I daresay the woman wants some security and safety.
The rumors about her and ye have been put to bed—no pun intended—but her reputation is on shaky ground.
And that means the distillery is on shaky ground, too.
Marrying a man like Duncan would be good for her. ”
Aiden cleared his throat, shifting. “Well, I ken she doesnae care for him.”
“What, she hates him?”
“Nay.”
“I heard that they were friends.”
He ground his teeth. “They are friends.”
“Well, there are worse foundations for a marriage to be built on than friendship, aye? If I were her, I’d take him.”
Aiden rose to his feet and strode over to the window. That was useless, of course. It was dark outside, so all he could see in the glass was his own reflection, illuminated by the firelight behind him. His own sour face glared at nothing.
“Ye arenae her, though, are ye?” he grunted. “She willnae wed him.”
Lucas shrugged. “Well, if ye are sure. But the gossips seemed fairly certain. And if she’s just had her heart broken…”
“Oh, enough, Lucas. Enough!”
“Nay, it isnae enough,” Lucas shot back, rising to his feet.
“Ye listen to me, Aiden. I daenae try to tell ye what to do. Ye ken yer own heart and mind, and I ken that ye can manage yer own life. But if ye sent her away with nay indication that anything more will come of what’s between ye, then why should she nae seek solace elsewhere?
It’s a story that has played out over and over again. ”
Aiden clenched his jaw until he could hear his teeth squeak. He balled his fists, jolting when a hot sting from his cut shot through his arm. Opening his palm, he eyed the fresh bloom of blood thoughtfully.
I had better be careful with that. Wounds can get infected. And there’s nay one to succeed me. I cannae let me people down. Best nae to die for a good long while yet.
Lucas stood before him, staring at him. Waiting expectantly.
Aiden drew in a breath and met his eyes. “Duncan cannae have Hannah,” he said, slowly and carefully.
“And why’s that?” Lucas scoffed
Aiden lifted his chin, lip curling. “Because she’s mine.”
Lucas pursed his lips, eyeing him. His eyebrows twitched in a way that was almost approving.
“Is that so?” he said. “As far as I recall, ye sent her away.”
Aiden closed his eyes. “I had to.”
“Did ye?”
“Aye!”
Lucas grunted and crossed the room to the whiskey cabinet. After opening it, he rifled through it, humming to himself. He took out two glasses and poured a generous measure of whiskey into each.
Aiden frowned. “Is that… Ye told me there was none left.”
“Aye, there’s plenty.” Lucas chuckled. “Nae a patch on Hannah’s stuff, eh?”
“Nay,” Aiden agreed mechanically, watching him swirl the liquid in the glasses.
Turning, Lucas offered him the larger of the two glasses. “A peace offering,” he murmured, with a faint smile. “I suppose I was too sharp with ye. I just cannae stand ye being so miserable, lad. We have always been friends. And matters of the heart can be… can be bad.”
Aiden opened his mouth, and Lucas waved away whatever he was going to say with a dismissive hand.
“Aye, aye, ye are about to tell me that yer heart isnae involved. And I’ll accept it.
Ye ken yerself whether it’s right or wrong.
I willnae argue with ye. But do what ye must to make yerself happy, Aiden. Ye deserve it.”
He took a swig of his own whiskey and gestured for Aiden to do the same.
Aiden stared into his glass for a long moment. Then, slowly, he shook his head.
Lucas arched his eyebrows. “Nay?”
“Nay,” Aiden echoed. “I need a clear head to ride. Nay more whiskey.”
Lucas’s eyes widened. “Ride?”
“Aye, ride. Get me horse saddled and ready, Lucas. I am going to pay Hannah a visit.” Aiden paused, smiling wryly, feeling hope and excitement bubble up inside him. Maybe it was a mistake. Either way, he intended to find out. “She still owes me something.”