Alistair hadn’t considered settling in one place. Not recently. Before Sara’s death, he’d always assumed one day he’d return to England and live in the village where he’d been born. But that day had never come. To stop traveling now felt like a dismissal of the woman he’d married. A rejection of the only thing she’d asked of him.
He recognized the fallacy of the argument. His desire to continue his work had nothing to do with his affection for his late wife and not finding a place to call home wouldn’t bring her or his daughter back. But telling himself that and believing it weren’t the same thing.
“I’m not ready,” he admitted, recognizing that eventually he would like to be in one place. Put down roots. Not in England, he thought. That would be uncomfortable. His young brothers were more connected to the title and the community there than he had ever been. Let one of them deal with all that went with being an earl.
“When you are, call me,” Simon told him. “I want the first shot at convincing you to move here.” He picked up his brandy. “Where are you off to next?”
“Australia. Sydney, then Melbourne. I’m giving several seminars in each location. From there, I’ll spend three months in Thailand. I haven’t decided where to go after that.”
Paige would enjoy Australia, he thought. While he was lecturing, she could explore the area. He would have days off where they could go places together.
He shook off the idea nearly as soon as it crossed his mind. Paige barely knew him. She had her own to destiny to fulfill. She wouldn’t want to be tied to someone like him when she could be free. Or was that just an excuse? A reason not have to face the bone-crushing guilt he carried with him?
Because the truth was that while he’d loved Sara, he’d never been in love with her.
He’d known how she had felt for years, had known she was waiting patiently for him to return. She had always been there. A part of his life in England. In truth, he’d secretly been pleased when she wouldn’t travel with him. He’d been able to go off and do what he wanted. Oh, there hadn’t been other women. He had no interest in cheating on her and had believed in the importance of honoring his wedding vows. Instead, he’d been able to take the dangerous assignments to the most interesting places. He’d often said he didn’t have a choice, but he did. He’d been gone more than he needed to be.
He could have been home when she died.
He’d taken on the extra work, had stayed longer than necessary. Because he hadn’t been ready to go back to the quiet village. Chatting with neighbors and setting up a home had seemed boring and unimportant. Now that he’d lost both, he knew he’d been wrong.
“You’re gone again,” Simon said quietly.
“I’m thinking about Sara.”
“Feeling guilty?”
Alistair stared at his friend. “How do you know?”
“I know you. You blame yourself for not being there. What you’re forgetting is that you couldn’t have stopped her from crossing that street.”
“I might have.”
“I doubt that. It was her time, Alistair.”
“An acceptance of fate?”
Simon shrugged. “Perhaps.” He raised his arm, the one covered with scars left by an abusive and destructive mother who had deliberately pushed her only child into a fire. “I believe things happen for a reason. Had I not been injured, I would never have studied medicine, never have become a surgeon. I wouldn’t have found my destiny.”
He smiled. “That sounds dramatic and I don’t mean it to.”
“It sounds honest,” Alistair told him. “I knew what I was supposed to do with my life as well. At an early age. Sara never understood how important my work was to me. She was content with the tiny sphere in which she lived.”
“You never were.”
“No.” He sipped his brandy. “The fault is mine. I shouldn’t have taken the easy way out, marrying her.”
“She was in love with you.”
“I took advantage of that.”
“You gave her what she wanted. She was happy.”
Alistair wasn’t so sure. “I could have done better. Been there for her more.”
“Then you wouldn’t have been the man she loved. Your remoteness was part of your appeal.”
Alistair raised his eyebrows. “Have you been reading women’s magazines, old man? Your insight is disconcerting.”
Simon laughed. “I have been blessed with the love of a woman who exceeds me at every turn. She surprises me and delights me.” He raised his glass. “I could never leave her.”
Alistair wasn’t surprised. While Simon had always been a caring individual, he’d kept that side of himself locked away. Few had known the gentle soul trapped behind the scarred and gruff exterior. He’d held himself apart from those around him—choosing a solitary existence over ever belonging.
Somehow Montana had changed that. She’d drawn him in and allowed him to express his true self. He was a different man now. Much like the infamous Ebenezer Scrooge, Simon had discovered the joy of loving life.