He got to his feet too, head pounding. The headache had come from nowhere, landing squarely between his temples and banging insistently there. Any thoughts of a nightcap or a lastdrink before bed had faded. Dominic wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and lay his head on a soft pillow.
"He's dead, Dominic," Catriona said abruptly, making him flinch. "Yer da is dead. Gone. Not coming back. Whatever ye felt about him, ye cannot let him ruin your life. Think of how he'd like that – destroyin' everythin' we've worked for from beyond the grave. It would be the most impressive thing he's ever done."
Dominic clenched his teeth, lifting up his chin.
"As ye so nicely put, Ma, I'm nae me faither. So, there's nae need to worry about it."
Catriona held his gaze for a long minute, eyes sharp and unblinking, searching Dominic's face for something. He forced himself to meet her eye and not look away. What was she looking for in her son? Did she find it?
At last, she sighed, shaking her head.
"Right. Well, I'm goin' home. It's late, and cold, and I'm tired. I'm too old to be gallivanting about the countryside at this hour, and so is Rob. Now, Dominic, ye can start by coming back to the Keep more frequently. Ye cannae rule a clan at a distance."
"I think I'm doin' a good enough job so far."
She eyed him tiredly. "Are ye comin' back to sleep in yer room tonight, or are ye dossin' it down in this smelly old pub?"
Dominic winced theatrically. "I'm sleepin' in the smelly old pub, Ma."
She rolled her eyes. "Aye, well, when ye are me age and ye joints are all frozen up and wrecked, daenae come crying to me. Nae that I'll be around, then. Good night, Dominic. Sleep well."
"Same to ye," Dominic replied, the words tasting like cotton in his mouth.
Catriona made her slow, laborious way to the door. She was supposed to walk with a stick, the healers had recommended it several times, but she had refused. It made her look like an old woman, she said. Dominic's heart skipped a beat once or twice when his mother missed a step or rested a gnarled old hand against the wall to balance herself.
I should be there,he thought, guilt clawing its way up his throat.
Rob, faithful as always, was at the door waiting, and offered Catriona his arm. She took it – much to Dominic's surprise – and was soon bundled safely up inside the carriage. He watched the carriage bob and bounce over the hills, a blocky, dark shape on the horizon that soon vanished altogether.
He closed and locked the door, breathing slowly and deeply. His mother's visits always unsettled him, leaving him feeling... well,wanting,somehow.
The fire in the hearth was entirely gray and cold now, the last embers snuffed out. A chill was starting to creep up through the floor. For some reason, the cold seemed worse tonight.
9
"Another ale, Rufus?" Paisley asked, flashing a smile at the wobbling drunk man in front of her.
At this time of day – barely one o' clock in the afternoon – customers inTheSinnerwere few and far between. Mostly, there were just old drunks, men with no work to go to and families all grown up and left home, with little else to do but loll around all day and drink themselves silly.
Paisley had been braced for unsavory comments, for fending off amorous drunkards, and many general humiliations.
She was pleasantly surprised.
The old drunks were chatty and friendly, acting like wobbly, smelly gentlemen. When Paisley ventured a slightly off-color joke – learned from Ava, of course – they all roared withappreciative laughter, and Paisley found herself blushing and grinning with pleasure.
It's not all bad working here.
Aside from the drunks, there was little else to do. There was no sign of Dominic, and she hadn't seen him all morning. In fact, Brodie had been the one to unlock the doors and let her in, mumbling something about cleaning and seeing to what few customers there were before darting away.
So, Paisley had made herself busy. She'd always prided herself on not being one of those dull ladies and gentlemen who needed to be told everything – the ones that would sit on a sofa patiently for hours and hours, waiting for their host to reappear and suggest that they do something more interesting.
No, she was entirely capable. So, Paisley had swept the pub floor as thoroughly as possible, ending up with a large pile of grime, dust, dead leaves, and assorted rubbish at the threshold, which she swept out into the courtyard. She dusted where she could reach and wiped down the sticky tables and pub counter.
But there was really only so much she could do in the main pub to clean. Now, Paisley was reduced to hovering behind the bar counter, bored. The drunks in the corner seemed to be nursing their pints for now, so she had nothing really to do.
What if Dominic came back and found her idle?
Paisley couldn't help but shiver at the thought of him. It wasn't an unpleasant shiver, more like an anticipatory ache. Really, this whole business would be easier if he were unattractive. The man had no right to be so brooding and alluring.