Chapter 10 #2
He walked back to his bed, and Thalia took in the scene around her. The exhaustion in his body, the whiskey bottle and empty glass on the table, the bed that looked hardly touched. He must have been up all night.
Was it because of everything she had done? The betrothal she had forced him into?
Guilt gnawed at her stomach.
“I’m sorry,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “This is all me fault.”
“Will ye stop bloody apologizin’?” he snapped, slamming his hand down on his bedside table and sending his glass rattling.
She flinched at the sudden action, and his eyes softened.
Sighing, he sat down on the edge of his bed, running a hand down his face.
“If there’s anyone to blame, it’s yer uncle.
If he hadnae tried to ambush ye, if he’d taken into account yer wants and desires, maybe none of this would have happened.
” He chuckled. “Or ye can just blame me for goin’ along with this whole thing even though I think it’s a bad idea.
I just daenae want to hear the words ‘I’m sorry’ from ye ever again. ”
Thalia stepped further into the room, moving to stand in front of him. “So I’m to never apologize for anythin’ ever again? Is that what ye’re sayin’?” She gave a small smile, trying to ease the tension between them.
Finlay smirked, and she felt a thrill at her success in cheering him up.
“Only when it comes to our fake betrothal,” he conceded. “I suppose I will need an apology for bursting into me bedchamber uninvited.”
His eyes glinted with mischief in the candlelight, and Thalia’s face warmed. Her eyes flicked to his chest again as if drawn there, and she hastily turned her attention to the carved wooden bed frame in a bid to distract herself.
It was a canopied bed, and the four posters were intricately carved to give the illusion that they were twisting around themselves. A curving, tangling serpent was carved into the headboard, its labyrinthian body stretching across the entire back, with its head and tail meeting in the center.
“I ran into Daisy this mornin’,” she began. “Tryin’ to run away again.”
He shook his head. “Oh, that lassie. She’s goin’ to send me to an early grave, I ken it.”
“I caught her. Convinced her to go back to bed.” She hesitated, crossing her arms over her chest. “She overheard ye talkin’ to Caden last night.”
His body straightened as if pulled taut by a string, any fatigue or teasing gone again from his expression. “What did she hear?”
She waved her hand. “Somethin’ about how ye never want to get married, and how ye’re trappin’ me here and ruinin’ me life. It doesnae matter. What matters is that every time somethin’ goes wrong, Daisy finds a way to blame herself, and she decides she needs to run away.”
“I ken that. But I daenae ken what to do to make her stop,” Finlay huffed.
“I think ye just need to have a talk with yer daughter,” Thalia suggested. He looked as if he wanted to argue, so she continued. “If ye would just talk to her, try to explain that ye love her even when she makes mistakes. I think that would make a big difference.”
“Two days, and ye’re already an expert?” he grumbled.
“Ye forget that I’ve been helpin’ me sisters with their kids,” she pointed out. “So I do think I ken what I’m talkin’ about.”
“Aye. Thank ye for the advice.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I still havenae quite figured out how to be a good faither to her.”
“I daenae think ye’re a bad faither. The opposite, in fact. Sometimes, children just need to be told things. Even if ye think it’s obvious, it’s nae to them,” she explained.
Finlay sighed in resignation and leaned back on his hands.
The action caused his shirt to fall open wider, and Thalia could now see the ridges of his chest more clearly.
Broad, hard muscles from years of battle, with raised white scars as further reminders.
Brown, spindly hairs dusted his chest, particularly around his nipples.
The hair traveled further down his stomach, below his navel to—
She halted that train of thought. While she was not familiar with what lay between a man’s legs, she was not completely ignorant. She knew what happened between a man and a woman, but it had never interested her before.
Until now, that is.
Thalia forced her gaze back up and found Finlay looking at her expectantly. Two heavy heartbeats passed before she realized he had asked her a question and was waiting for a response.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head indignantly as she remembered his request to stop apologizing. “I wasnae paying attention. I…” she trailed off as warmth spread across her cheeks, and she looked down. “Ye were right. I shouldnae have burst in here so early. I’m nae… I’m nae feeling well.”
Finlay pushed to his feet in one swift motion, towering over her with great intensity.
“Nae feeling well?” he asked, a hint of curiosity and something else in his voice. “Aye, ye do look a bit flushed.”
Thalia kept her eyes on the floor, refusing to look back up. “I think it’s best that I go back to me room.”
Despite her words, her body remained rooted to the spot, refusing to cooperate.
At his continued silence, she finally risked a glance at his face.
The desire in his eyes was hot enough to burn her alive.
Her entire body was being consumed by flames, and the only thing that could douse them was Finlay.
She breathed in his smell: sweat and whiskey, and a muskiness that was uniquely him.
“Thalia, if another woman had barged into me room wearing nothing but a shift, and was looking at me the way ye are looking at me now…” His eyes roamed over her again with a hunger that sent a shiver down her spine.
“What would ye do?” she asked, so softly the words were hardly more than a breath.
“I’d throw her down and take her.” His voice lowered to a growl.
“But nae me?”
She could barely hear his answer over the blood rushing in her ears as he said, “Nae ye.”
His hands, large and rough with calluses, cupped her face. Then his lips descended on hers.