Chapter 8
Finlay whirled on her, anger coursing through him. “Are ye mad? Why would ye say all of that nonsense about me havin’ the maid write that letter?”
“Because I didnae want them to ken that Daisy was the one who wrote it,” Thalia replied.
She pressed herself into the nearest corner as if she wished she could disappear.
“Daisy isnae yer responsibility. She’s me daughter, and I’ll handle the situation how I see fit,” Finlay said, looming over her. “Unless this isnae about Daisy.”
Thalia glared up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Maybe ye’re tryin’ to take advantage of her wee joke and trap me into marriage,” he suggested.
“I wouldnae do that.”
“Nay?”
“Daenae flatter yerself!” Thalia pushed past him, storming further into the room as fury engulfed her. “Maybe if ye would think about someone other than yerself for a moment, ye’d see that this wasnae a joke to her. She’s just a wee girl who’s lonely and scared.”
“And how does lying to yer uncle help her?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“She just wants someone to keep her company,” she said.
“Aye, and she’ll start a war to get it.” Finlay pinched the bridge of his nose. His anger was subsiding, but not completely gone. “Ye ken I never want to marry. Yer uncle kens. Everyone in the Highlands kens.”
Thalia looked down, biting her lip. “Ye’re right. I… I daenae ken what I was thinkin’. I was just scared.”
“Scared?” Finlay asked. “For Daisy?”
“Aye… and for meself.”
Finlay thought about what she had told him, about how Laird MacGibbon had threatened her, and his anger flared again.
Except this time, it was aimed at the men who had barged into his castle uninvited.
He briefly let himself entertain the thought of going back down there and throwing them both out, or better yet, driving his sword through each of them, but that would only cause more problems.
“Are ye really that scared of him?” he asked instead.
“I hate the way he looks at me,” Thalia snapped.
“How does he look at ye?”
She met his gaze and jutted her chin. “Like he wants to own me. Like I’m a horse that he cannae wait to break. But I’m nae a horse, I’m a woman.”
“Aye, that ye are.”
Finlay couldn’t help the way his eyes roamed over her body. She shifted under his gaze, and he could see her breath quickening in the rise and fall of her chest. The chest that was still squeezed into that too-tight dress.
He approached her, and she stepped back into the desk. There was no fear in her eyes now. There was only curiosity and a hint of excitement.
“So ye would rather have me than him? Is that right?” he asked, leaning in so that her back pressed into the edge of the desk.
“Aye. I’m nae scared of ye.”
“Nay?” He moved closer, testing her resolve, wanting to know just how far he could push her until she pushed back. “And ye think I wouldnae want to own ye? I wouldnae want to possess ye, body and soul?”
She swallowed, and he watched her throat bob. He smirked. Her cheeks were flushed, but still she did not move away.
“It wouldnae be a problem with ye, because we wouldnae actually marry,” she claimed.
“Ah, a fake betrothal then? Is that what ye want from me?” he drawled, leaning in closer still.
“Aye, ye could call it that,” she whispered. He was so close to her now that it wouldn’t take much for either of them to close the distance between them. “Just to get them to settle.”
He could feel her breath against his lips. There was a sweetness like honey on her mouth. He wondered if she’d ever been kissed before, and he wondered if she would taste as sweet as she smelled.
“Nay,” he whispered.
The door to the study creaked open, and they both leaped apart as if they’d been burned by a hot pan.
Daisy poked her head in, her eyes wide. “Faither? Have the Lairds left yet?” she asked.
“Daisy! I told ye to stay in yer room,” Finlay said, walking over to her. “Where’s Rowena?”
“She had to go to relieve herself, and then I snuck out,” she explained. “Am I in trouble?”
He knelt down so that they were at eye level. “It wasnae a very smart thing that ye did. And it seems that yer jest wasnae taken very well.”
Daisy looked away sheepishly. “I didnae mean it to be a jest.”
“Sweetheart, we willnae get married. Ye ken that,” Finlay said gently.
She looked back up at him. “Then why did ye look like ye were goin’ to kiss her?”
Thalia squeaked in surprise, and Finlay tried to keep a straight face as he said, “Well, ye see—”
“He did what?!”
Laird MacFinn appeared in the doorway, followed closely behind by Laird MacGibbon, who looked murderous.
Finlay pulled Daisy behind him, resting one hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Is that true?” Laird MacFinn barked. “Did ye ask for a minute with her to mock us?!”
Finlay glared at him. Laird or not, he hated being disrespected in his own castle, especially by someone who was not even a guest of his. He had every right to cut the man down.
He tightened his grip on his sword, his eyes flickering for a moment to Laird MacGibbon to assess whether he needed to attack him as well, but the man’s attention was fixed on something behind him.
Finlay followed his gaze to Thalia. She was still standing by the desk, gripping the wooden edge tightly with her hands. She looked terrified. He thought again of his sister, of the way she had looked the day her lover had made sure she died just because he didn’t want her anymore.
He sighed, loosening his grip on his sword as his resolve shattered.
I’d better nae regret this.
“Nay. To tell ye the truth, Thalia and I are gettin’ betrothed.”
“Ye are?” Laird MacFinn asked, confused.
“Ye are?” Daisy echoed excitedly.
Thalia only stared at him in shock.
“Aye, we are,” Finlay said, turning his attention back to the men in front of him. “Ye both are welcome to stay for the cèilidh next week.”
Laird MacGibbon glowered, stepping forward as if he were going to charge at him, but Laird MacFinn put up his hand.
“I see. Well, this certainly does change things,” he said.
“Daisy, go back to yer room, and stay there this time,” Finlay commanded.
She shrank under his gaze. “Aye, Faither.”
She skirted around the men in the doorway and raced back down the hall.
Finlay felt like he was close to bursting. Between Daisy, the Lairds, and Thalia, he had had enough.
“Excuse me. I have to attend to other matters,” he said through gritted teeth as he stalked out of his study.
He needed a moment alone. If he had stayed there one more minute, he would have really made a mess of things. His body thrummed with too much energy, and he was either about to punch one of the Lairds, or he was going to go back to Thalia.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him when he heard footsteps following after him.
“Finlay! Finlay!” Thalia called. “Finlay, wait!”
He kept walking until he had reached the front door and stepped outside. His goal was to make it to the stables, hoping that if he continued to ignore her, she would stop. It didn’t seem to be working.
“Finlay! Where are ye goin’?”
“To the stables!” he shouted back.
“Why?”
“Because I couldnae stay in that room for a single second more!”
He entered the stables, and a few of the servants scrambled up.
“Out!” he bellowed. “Everyone out!”
They all left hastily.
He stalked over to his horse, a beautiful black stallion who could sense his master’s unease. The horse stomped impatiently at the ground as Finlay set to work saddling him up. A long, hard ride was exactly what he needed.
Thalia entered just as he was finishing.
“Finlay! Finlay, will ye please wait?” she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“What is it now?” he growled, turning to her.
She gaped at him. “Why did ye accept?”
“Would ye rather I had cut yer uncle down?” he hissed. “Because that was me first plan.”
She gasped, looking away and blinking rapidly. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I… I didnae mean to take things this far.”
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Aye. I almost wish I had thrown ye out when ye showed up at me door yesterday.”
“Ye do?” she asked quietly.
“I said ‘almost’, did I nae?”
She laughed softly, relaxing at the reassurance. “I promise I’ll make it up to ye somehow, Finlay.”
“Oh, I ken, me Lady.” He smirked, thinking back to that moment before they were caught. “I’m confident ye’ll make it up to me.”