13. Night of Many Changes #6
I feel my breath catch at his words, the weight of them settling over me like a warm cloak. I can’t deny the pull between us—inescapable and undeniable—and moments like this threaten to undo my resolve.
He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Triona, you have long held my heart—since the moment I first laid eyes on you. Everything I do is for you, because you have become the centre of my world, the only thing that truly matters.”
I cross my arms over my chest, hoping to convey with body language that I’m in no mood for his coyness. “Tell me what you said.”
“They did not tell you?”
“I told them I’d hear it from your lips, or not at all. I wanted you to tell me.”
“Your brother told Finn about that kiss in the woods, and I just got so protective of you... over that special moment. Then he—”
I hold up my hand, hearing enough. “I can’t believe you’re both still going on about that. ”
His words are careful, as if he is weighing each one before speaking. “I meant no disrespect. I only intended to rile him up, and things got out of hand, and that is my fault. But believe me, Triona, I should have handled things better, especially for your benefit. I truly care about you.”
I’m unsure what to say, still feeling uneasy about it.
His words, so effortlessly polished, leave me torn.
They’re like honey—sweet and golden—but laced with something sharper, something that both captivates and unsettles me.
There’s a charm to him—one I’ve never denied—but tonight, something feels rehearsed. “I appreciate your words, but—”
“Wait,” he interrupts, flashing that devastating smile that seems capable of disarming even the fiercest resolve. “Allow me to prove my devotion, not with empty words, but through actions that reflect just how profoundly you have touched my life.”
He steps into me, his hand gentle as it cups my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin with such tenderness.
“May I have this dance?”
I hesitate for just a moment, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me. But the inviting spark in his eyes, the way he looks at me, makes my steadfastness waiver. With a deep breath, I nod, allowing him to pull me toward the circle of dancers.
The music picks up, lively and full of cheer, and as we move together, I try to focus on the rhythm, the hum of the strings, and the energy of the surrounding crowd.
Marcus’s hand is warm and steady on my waist, his touch igniting a thrilling current that seems to spark through every fibre of my being as he guides me effortlessly into the dance.
He leans in, his voice a rough murmur meant only for me. “When I am near you, the rest of the world fades into insignificance. In your presence, there is only us, and I would traverse seas and scale mountains to preserve that.”
Fuelled by the sweet caress of scotch, I find it easier to push aside my lingering doubts. I allow myself to be swept up in the music, his words, and the intoxicating warmth of his presence.
Finn
I stand in the shadows, arms folded across my chest, watching the scene unfold. My usual, affable grin is nowhere to be found. Instead, my jaw is clenched as my gaze darts to Marcus, who is pulling Triona close in a slow, intimate sway.
His hand lingers at the small of her back, and my blood boils.
Triona tips her head back, a soft smile teasing her lips as Marcus leans in—too close, too familiar—murmuring something in her ear.
There’s a looseness in her movements, the kind that says she’s had a drink or three.
She laughs, light and unguarded, unaware or unwilling to care who’s watching.
He pulls her in, nuzzling her hair as they sway to the lively beat.
James’s words from earlier replay over and over in my head every time I want to grab hold of her.
‘We’ve a lot to discuss, and little time to do so. So for now, we need ye both to keep yer eyes open and yer mouths shut.” ’
I need something to occupy my mind—anything—or I’ll go mad. Deciding on more drink, I turn to refill my cup, but before I can take another step, Colina steps into my path, blocking the way.
“Finn, dance with me?” she pleads, her eyes bright with determination.
I give her my best smile. “Aye, let me just put my cup down.”
She grasps my hand, leading me out to the centre of dancers. The lively music wraps around us, the rhythm infectious and lighthearted. I move easily with the steps, though the pull of Triona and Marcus lingers in my mind like an invisible tether.
“Why do ye look so sombre, then?” Colina inquires, her voice soft against the backdrop of the laughter and chatter. “Ye should be enjoyin’ yerself! Gods know ye’ve overworked yerself wi’ all that ye’ve been doin’. ”
“Aye, well, I’m glad I took a page from yer book to join in the revelry,” I reply. “Maybe this is exactly what I needed.”
“Ye deserve some happiness, Finn,” Colina replies, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What if I told ye that I could be that happiness?”
Colina’s gaze softens as she twirls in front of me, her laughter light and melodic.
“Have ye ever considered,” she begins, attempting to steer the conversation, “that ye’d be a good fit for someone like me? Ye’ve got a way about ye, Finn. I’m sure there are many women who’d be lucky to have ye, but none to service ye like I could.”
I hesitate, every instinct screaming at me to keep my distance. “Colina, ye’re a fine lass, but I—”
“—Have been too focused on Triona,” she finishes, her tone teasing yet insistent. “But she’s with Marcus now. What about ye? Ye want someone who appreciates ye, no?” She presses as tightly as she can, feigning seduction.
The warning bells in my mind grow. “I appreciate yer kindness, but I’m not lookin’ for that, at present,” I say, trying to sidestep her advances. “I’ve my own—”
“—issues to deal with, I ken.” She interrupts, stepping closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I could help ye with that, Finn. Just think of what we could accomplish together.”
I feel the heat rising in my chest from the tension. “Colina, really, I think you should—”
Before I finish, she leans up, attempting to kiss me, but I shift at the last moment. Her lips brush my cheek instead, and I can see the flush creeping up her face, mingling with satisfaction.
“Colina, I—” I begin, but the urgency in her gaze makes me wary. She isn’t giving up easily, and the realisation settles heavily in my stomach.
“Just tell me what ye want,” she presses, her voice low and sultry. “I can be what ye need. I can be better for ye than she ever could. I’d satisfy all yer needs.”
I take a step back, creating a space between us. “I can see ye’ve been drinking, which explains a lot of this.” I say, gesturing between the two of us with a finger. “I’m not interested in marriage with anyone, includin’ Triona.”
That lie feels like ash on my tongue.
“She’s like family, and ye’re mistaken.” The words, a shield, but the way Colina’s eyes narrow, suggests she won’t relent .
“Look, come to me tomorrow, and we’ll talk then. Not around pryin’ eyes and listenin’ ears. Let’s discuss this alone, just you and I.”
Her face lights up, her eyes alight with triumph. “Ye feel it too, then?” she whispers, voice dripping with a relieved sort of victory, as short-lived as it may be.
Refraining from an outright lie or deception, I keep firm. “Tomorrow, Colina.”
“Tomorrow, then. Just the two of us.”
Keeping the ruse, I commit to another dance or two.
The music shifts, laughter rises, and just as I start to drift toward the edge of the crowd, James, already a few drinks deep, claps a hand on Triona’s shoulder.
“Sing for us, lass!” he shouts, eyes bright with excitement.
Triona moves from Marcus’s hold, catching her breath, and glances at Casey and Bran, who nod enthusiastically. “ériu’s Promise,” she calls out, earning cheers from the crowd.
Colina reluctantly steps away to listen, her fingers trailing down my arm in a lingering caress. I suppress a shudder at the unwelcomed touch.
Triona closes her bewitching eyes, letting the lilting melody of the old song wrap around her voice, delicate and haunting, her words carrying the weight of promises made in love and sorrow.
My gaze softens as I watch her, chest tightening with emotions I don’t want to acknowledge.
Her voice is that of a siren’s call, goading gooseflesh along the surface.
The last note of the song fades, and James breaks into a raucous cheer.
The music surges, the temporising, and within seconds, Marcus finds Triona’s waist—his hands returning to their favoured place of the night. The ceilidh reaches a fever pitch.
A circle forms once more, the musicians driving the rhythm faster; the cadence climbing with each passing second.
Feet pound against the cold ground, matching the heartbeat of the tune.
Couples spin, faster and faster, skirts flaring, hands clasping and releasing as bodies weave through the dance in a dizzying, breathless blur.
I catch sight of Triona as Marcus spins her, the two of them moving as one. The music fades into a distant hum as I watch Marcus pull Triona from the crowded circle of dancers, his grip firm on her wrist.
I feel a dull ache settling deep in my chest, twisting with something I can’t push away. I finally lose the will to stand idle in the madness. Looking away, I catch Bran’s eyes, a single question swimming in their depths, as if he, too, can feel the weight of this burden I carry.
I stare down at Colina with obvious distress on my face. She frowns as she attempts to lift a hand to my cheek. “What-”
“I… I need a moment.”
I turn abruptly, pushing through the dancers, the laughter and joy a cruel mockery of my inner turmoil.
It was supposed to be a good night. It was supposed to be easy.
Colina calls after me, her voice laced with concern, but I barely hear her over the pounding in my ears.