Chapter 18
Finlay drew small circles with his thumb on her back. She hummed against him, the vibrations resonating deep in his chest as she lay draped over him.
She was completely naked, while he had discarded his shirt and waistcoat when the heat became too much. The plaid belted across his waist had remained on as more of a reminder than a precaution.
It had taken all of his restraint to focus solely on her pleasure while ignoring his own. He would find time later to relieve the pent-up tension. The memory of her sweet little sighs and cries of ecstasy would be forever seared in his mind.
Thalia shifted slightly, and she sighed again as her eyelids drooped.
“Nay, lass,” Finlay scolded gently. “If ye want to sleep, we should head back to the castle.”
“I daenae want to move,” she whined.
Finlay gave a hearty chuckle. He must have truly worn her out if she was acting like this. Perhaps he did get carried away, but she had been so enthusiastic that he could not bear to stop.
He was glad that the first time had been in a much more private location than the castle, where anyone could have heard her cries.
His fingers stopped their movements. The first time? Why was he thinking that, as if there would be a next time? This was the first and only time that this would ever happen. He had kept control this time, but there was no guarantee he would be able to do it again. The risk was too great.
He sat up, jostling Thalia off of him in his rush to get away. She blinked up blearily, as if confused by his sudden rush.
“We should get back.” The words came out quickly, and they must have sounded harsher than he meant, for she shrank back.
“Aye, of course.”
He sighed and then softened his voice. “I just want to make sure that Daisy and Peter got back safely. And that Daisy made it back to bed.”
That explanation seemed to satisfy her. She looked at him again and nodded.
Finlay stood, gathering her discarded clothes that lay beside the bed. She followed him, and he helped her dress.
Her cheeks were still flushed from their earlier encounter, but she did not seem as shy as she had been when they had first started. He helped pull the shift over her head, followed by the rest of her garments.
“Do ye need help tying it?” he asked.
“Nay, I think I can manage it,” she replied.
He nodded, then turned to find his own clothes, which lay crumpled on the floor near the foot of the bed. He could feel her eyes on him as he pulled on his shirt. Her piercing gaze was one of the things that drew him the most to her, and he couldn’t help but meet it now.
She stared openly at his chest, as she had wanted to do ever since that morning when she had burst into his bedchamber. When she saw that he had noticed, she turned away, but she had a small smile on her face as she finished lacing up her dress.
That smile was dangerous. It made him want to grab her, kiss her, and pick up where they had left off.
“This, uh, fake betrothal,” she began. “I must say it’s been very eye-opening so far.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Has it?”
“Aye.” She turned to him again, now fully dressed.
Her hair hung wild around her face, both from their ride over and their bedroom activities. It made her look like a madwoman, but Finlay liked it. He liked seeing her free and unburdened from her troubles.
It was that fondness that made him ask, “And ye enjoyed havin’ yer eyes opened, did ye?”
“Very much,” she giggled. She bit her lip and looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes as she continued. “Will there be more… eye opening in the future?”
The question made him hesitate. He knew what his answer should be, but he doubted that even the strongest man would be able to resist the look she gave him now.
“As long as our betrothal remains fake, I might be able to open yer eyes about other things, too.”
She nodded, seemingly pleased with the answer. “It’ll only be a year, right?”
“Right,” he confirmed.
The disappointment he felt only increased his guilt. He had just convinced himself to accept this being the one and only time he could be with her, and yet here he was agreeing to more. He was weak and reckless. He doubted he could hold himself back from taking her for an entire year.
He fastened his sword to his waist before going to the fireplace. The fire he had built earlier was now a much smaller inferno. One of the larger logs was still burning steadily on one end, while the other end remained intact. He reached his hand in, carefully grabbing it and pulling it out.
Thalia gave him a questioning look as he held the burning log in his hand.
“We can use it to light the way to the horse,” he explained.
Her eyes widened as if she had forgotten that Peter and Daisy had taken the lantern with them.
“Aye, good thinkin’,” she remarked.
Finlay led her out of the cabin and back down the familiar path.
He had made this trek many times now, and the path that had been overgrown when he had first arrived at the cabin was now beginning to clear again from the increased traffic.
He could hear Thalia’s steps behind him and the snap of twigs beneath her boots.
They walked in silence for a few minutes before Thalia finally spoke.
“Finlay? I never asked…”
“About what?” He turned and found that her shyness had returned.
She looked away from him, her hands fiddling with her skirts. “This year—during our fake betrothal, I mean…” She flushed a red so deep that he could see it even in the dim light. “Will ye be visitin’ other lasses in their beds to… um… open their eyes?”
He took a step closer to her. “Why are ye askin’?”
“Mere curiosity,” she answered.
But Finlay knew what this was. He had seen it before with the dozens of women he had bedded. She was interested, and she wanted to know if she was the only woman he was seeing.
He could tell her the truth. Would that truly be so bad?
He could admit that she was the only one he wanted, the only one he might ever want for the rest of his life, and then he could take her as his wife.
Daisy would have the mother she always wanted, Thalia would have the protection she needed, and he would have her.
That dream was shattered as the image of his sister flashed in his mind’s eye.
Finlay knew that if they were to wed, it wouldn’t be long before she was carrying his child, and he would have to watch her wither away like his sister had. It would be more than he could bear.
Ye’re much better than that arse. Ye wouldnae treat Thalia like that.
Thalia’s eyes flicked up to him. The fire from the log flickered in her blue eyes, reflecting nothing but utter trust. In him.
His free hand twitched beside him, wanting to reach for her, but he clenched it into a fist instead. He could not risk being with her, not if it meant risking breaking her.
“Nay, lassie,” he finally said. “I couldnae take another woman even if I wanted to.”
Even if he hadn’t ruined her, she had very much ruined him. There would never be another woman for him, and he was beginning to suspect that none but her would ever satisfy him again.
Her face fell, losing the warmth that had been there just a moment ago. He didn’t quite understand the reason until she said, “Right. Because ye’ll start a war, possibly two if anyone were to find out.”
She thought that he would not take another woman for fear of her uncle or Laird MacGibbon finding out. Did she truly not know how he felt about her? Hadn’t he told her that he couldn’t stop thinking about her? How he wanted to possess her?
Despite his words and actions, she still seemed to believe that his feelings for her were not so strong.
Well, if that’s what she wanted to believe, he would let her. It would be easier for both of them if she only thought of him as the Wolf, as someone who took what he wanted for his own selfish reasons.
“Come on, lass.” He turned back towards the path. “It’s gettin’ late.”
They walked the rest of the way out of the forest in silence.
His horse stomped its hooves when it saw Finlay and Thalia step off the path. Finlay held out his hand to help her mount the horse, and she took it. He then put the burning log on the ground and quickly stomped out the flame.
“Ye daenae need the light back?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nay, I didnae want ye holdin’ the log all the way. There’s a greater risk of ye gettin’ burned. Besides, me horse kens the way home.”
Once he was satisfied that the flame was properly out and would not ignite again, he untied his horse and mounted it right behind Thalia.
Her hair brushed against his nose, and the scent of lavender assaulted him again. It brought him right back to the cabin, right back to the feel of her squirming beneath him. He adjusted himself, making sure that her body would press against his as little as possible, for the sake of his sanity.
He snapped the reins of his horse, and they rode back to the castle in a steady gallop.
The journey back took far less time than the trek to the cabin, and when they finally arrived back at the castle, it was dark and quiet as if the chaos of the evening had not transpired.
Peter stood with a few guards near the front entrance, and Finlay raised his hand in greeting as he drew his horse to a stop.
He dismounted effortlessly and reached out a hand to help Thalia down. She took it after a moment of hesitation. She slid off the horse, her skirts riding up to her thighs for just a moment, but it was enough that Finlay was thinking about nothing but touching her there again.
“Welcome back, me Laird, me Lady,” Peter greeted with a smile as he approached them. “Ye took so long that we thought we might have to send another search party.”
Finlay knew his man-at-arms was only jesting, but Thalia’s face turned the color of a tomato, and her eyes widened in horror.
“Nay! We were simply… That is…” she stuttered.
Finlay would have found the whole situation amusing if he weren’t so drained from the night’s events.
“Daisy is back in bed where she belongs?” he interrupted almost harshly.
“Aye.” Peter nodded, turning his attention back to him. “Went right to sleep, and I added a few more men to the shift tonight just in case.”
“Thank ye,” Finlay said. He glanced back at Thalia, who had taken to staring at the ground in an attempt to save face from her earlier embarrassment.
“We should be gettin’ to bed ourselves. ‘Tis been a long night. Peter, we shall meet tomorrow to continue discussin’ our plans for the upcomin’ cèilidh. ”
At the reminder of the celebration of their fake betrothal, Thalia’s head snapped up. “We were to go to Inverness in the mornin’ for a dress.”
Finlay shook his head. “Nay, we shall go the day after.”
Thalia nodded, and a flicker of what looked like disappointment crossed her face. “Of course. Then I’ll be biddin’ ye both good night. Me Laird, Peter.”
“Good night, me Lady.” Peter bowed his head.
She trudged back towards the entrance.
Finlay couldn’t help but watch her leave. A part of him hoped she would look back at him, but she kept looking ahead until she disappeared inside. Frustration ate at his insides. He was frustrated with himself, with her, with the entire world for putting him into this impossible situation.
Peter crossed his arms, and Finlay returned his attention to the man. He wore a knowing smirk, and it was obvious that he had drawn the correct conclusion as to why Finlay and Thalia had returned so late.
Finlay straightened and narrowed his eyes, daring his man-at-arms to question him.
Peter chuckled, unimpressed by the display. “If I may say one thing, me Laird?”
“Tread carefully, Peter,” Finlay warned in a gravelly voice.
“I like her,” Peter admitted. “And I think she’d be good around here.”
“Her family is trouble,” Finlay grumbled.
Her uncle, in particular, was a large thorn that he was unable to remove from his thoughts.
“And wouldnae marryin’ her solve that problem?” The question was innocent enough, but Finlay’s face twisted into such a dark glare that Peter held up his hands in surrender. “All right, I willnae speak about it anymore.”
“Good night, Peter,” Finlay grunted, making his way to his room to attempt a full night’s sleep. He doubted he would get it.