Chapter 7
It was always odd seeing the Sinner in daylight.
He could pick out flaws that seemed erased in the dark—sagging wooden rails, and worn-away stone steps leading up to the door. Flaking paint on the walls, a crack in a windowpane.
None of these were terrible flaws, but still. Thomas thought it was like seeing someone in blank, vivid sunlight. The sun was unrelenting, highlighting every flaw, every wrinkle, every spot of discoloration. Somebody may not look their best in the sun.
But as always, what mattered was the inside. The inside of the Sinner was completely different from its humble outside, and he couldn’t wait to get in.
It felt like coming home.
He tied up his grey stallion outside and shouldered open the door.
They weren’t technically open yet, so the pub was nice and quiet.
There were some changes, too, changes that Thomas hadn’t noticed earlier when the place had been packed.
Colored fabric hanging at the windows—curtains, brightening the space.
A few fresh coats of paint. A vase of wildflowers on a windowsill.
A woman’s touch. So, he had Colby’s wife, Veronica, to thank for the changes.
“Thomas! There ye are! Come on over here and have some ale, eh?”
He spotted a familiar face behind the bar, all black curls and large brown eyes crinkled up in a smile.
“Hello, Colby,” he said, grinning. “It’s been a while, eh?”
He hurried over, giving his old friend a quick hug. It had been a long time. Thomas found himself searching his friend’s face for changes, signs that he was older or more stressed or that something was different.
“Dom is in the back, worrying about ledgers or accounts or something,” Colby said, his arm slung around Thomas’ shoulder. “In the meantime, let’s have a tankard of ale, ye and me. Not the cheap stuff we sell in the pub. The good stuff that I save for myself. Veronica’s home-brewed ale.”
Thomas rolled his eyes, a grin breaking out on his face. “What will we do with ye, Colby?”
“Who knows? Wait here.” Colby laughed and patted him on the shoulder. He turned to pour out the tankards of ale, humming to himself.
Thomas watched him with a smile.
Ale would be good. It would take away the wretched taste of aniseed in his mouth. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to take one. He knew that he didn’t like aniseed or fennel, or licorice root, or anything like that.
Emma liked it, though.
He shuddered, remembering the way she’d closed her eyes in bliss and placed the comfit in his mouth. There’d been something in her expression that had snagged his gaze and stopped him from looking away.
What else might make her pull that expression?
His mouth suddenly became dry.
Well, at least he knew that lack of desire wasn’t his problem. Perhaps Astrid just wasn’t the sort of woman he liked anymore. If he could feel desire for Emma then, of course he could feel it for someone else.
Then, Colby turned around with three tankards of ale, and Thomas hastily put all thoughts of Emma, Astrid, and aniseed comfits out of his mind.
“There,” Colby said, putting down a foaming tankard in front of Thomas, somewhat pleased with himself. “Drink up.”
Thomas did, relieved to finally wash away the taste of anise. “So,” he asked, swallowing, “why did ye drag us all here?”
“He didn’t need to,” Dominic said, striding through from the pantry. “He just wants to have the girls’ birthday party here. See? Nothing worth worrying about.”
“Ye spoiled the surprise, Dom,” Colby grumbled. “But aye, he’s right.”
The girls in question were Colby’s nieces, whom he and his wife raised as their own children. They were troublesome little minxes, although Thomas was reasonably fond of them. From a distance, of course.
“That sounds nice,” Thomas said. “Just the family, then?”
“Aye, and some friends.” Colby paused, glancing nervously at Dominic. “Ye won’t kick up a fuss like last time, will ye?”
“If that’s about wretched Agnes Black and her daughters, then—”
“She just thought ye would get on well together,” Colby chipped in, obviously trying to signal to Dominic with his eyes, requesting help.
He was not receiving it. Dominic seemed more amused by the proceedings than anything else.
“If I choose to marry, it’ll be on my terms,” Thomas stated firmly. “I’ll not marry one of Agnes Black’s brood just because she was persistent.”
Colby sighed, shaking his head. “Ye are stubborn, Thomas. Trust me, marrying Veronica was the best thing I could have done. I’m lucky to have her.”
“Aye, ye two love each other. But I’ve never… never felt that pull around someone else.”
There was a little silence after that. Thomas wished he hadn’t spoken. Colby seemed shocked and a little dismayed, and Dominic looked… Well, nobody could read Dominic’s expression at the best of times, so Thomas didn’t even try.
“Well, why not just pick someone?” Dominic spoke up at long last. “I’ll wager that yer advisers are terrified ye will die without an heir. That won’t be good for yer clan, will it? Just choose someone that ye like well enough and take it from there.”
“He can’t do that!” Colby exploded, outraged. “Marriage is a sacred union and love—”
“Remind me again, what qualifications ye had in mind for a wife?” Dominic shot back, glaring. “A mother for yer children. As if all women are natural-born mothers.”
“Well, it worked out with me and Veronica.”
“Aye, and it might work out with Thomas too. What say ye, Thom?”
Thomas glanced between the two of them as they argued.
They both made solid points, but he had no intention of marrying someone simply for the sake of being married.
Unfortunately, nobody at Colby’s nieces’ birthday party would understand that.
He’d be a target for every single woman under the age of thirty and her parents, too.
He was Laird MacPherson, and that made him a fine catch, indeed.
It was difficult to reject their clumsy overtures without offending them, and these people would be Colby and Veronica’s guests.
But it’s my pub, too. Why should I bite my tongue and smile sweetly when they tell me I’m wasting my best years and ought to marry their daughter at once?
No, this time, he would do something about it. An idea was forming in Thomas’s head, swirling around like a cloud of glittering dust. Like one of the cyclones he’d once read about in an old book.
For all his best efforts, Emma Gallagher was at the heart of it.
“Thomas?” Colby repeated, cutting into his thoughts. “Are ye coming, at least?”
“Coming? To yer nieces’ birthday party? Of course, I am, don’t be foolish. I might be bringing someone, though.”
Colby pricked up like a bloodhound picking up a scent. Dominic, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Who is she?” they asked at the same time.
Thomas smiled smugly, getting to his feet. “None of yer business, eh?”
He picked up his tankard, draining it to the bottom.
It really was strong stuff, much stronger than what they would usually serve to their customers.
That wasn’t out of penny-pinching meanness, but more out of concern for their customers, who would mostly end up drunk after a tankard or two of that.
He shook his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and set down the tankard with a clank. He turned to grin at his two friends. “Lads,” he said, still standing, “do ye ever get dry patches?”
Eyebrows were raised.
“Dry patches? Ye mean, like, dry skin?” Dominic asked, then immediately narrowed his eyes again as Thomas began to laugh.
“No, Dom, I don’t mean that.”
Colby drew himself up primly. “I am married, Thom.”
“So, that’s a yes, then?”
“Ye wretch!”
“Where is this going, Thomas?” Dominic interrupted. “I’d like to get home before midnight.”
“Why? Do ye have a special someone at home, Dom?”
“Mind yer business.”
Thomas chuckled. He could almost feel the ale going to his head. “I don’t know what it is, but lately, no woman has been able to tempt me. All lovely women, of course. The problem isn’t with them, though. It’s with me. I just don’t feel drawn to them. Do ye ever get that?”
“I’m too busy to gawk after women,” Dominic replied staunchly.
“None but my Veronica for me,” Colby said, and he sounded entirely sincere.
“Well, I’ve had a lonely few months, and I couldn’t figure out why,” Thomas continued, picking up his tankard and swilling around the dregs.
He thought about asking for a second helping but decided against it.
“I don’t want to risk facing all these lovely single lassies and their pushy parents while I feel like this, do ye understand? ”
“I understand that ye are a weak-willed fool,” Dominic muttered in that dry way of his that should sound like an insult but was usually meant to be affectionate.
Usually.
“So, to avoid accidentally agreeing to marry some pampered little miss, there’s something I need to take care of first,” Thomas said, making a flourishing bow. “I’m afraid I can’t stay and drink with ye tonight, my brothers.”
“Whatever will we do?” Dominic moaned in mock despair.
Already, the ale was going to his head and Colby’s, too. Colby was giggling. Giggling.
Thomas himself felt light-headed like he was flying, untouchable.
Veronica’s home-brewed ale, indeed. This is the stuff that’s almost killed her husband and his two friends.
Thomas made a flourishing bow again, grinning at his friends, and retreated across to the door.
Now that he’d decided what he was going to do, his blood was ablaze with excitement.
He was keen to get back to the Keep and get it over with as soon as possible before the warming effects of Veronica’s shockingly potent ale wore off and his unearned confidence faded away.
That would only leave him with his usual levels of unearned confidence, which may not be enough.
Humming to himself, he shouldered open the door and stepped out into the night.
The cold night air did a fabulous job of sobering him up.