CHAPTER 11 #2
In the morning, Margaret felt tired and unsettled. Strange how she slept so well on the boat, despite the storm, but last night she couldn’t settle down and tossed and turned half the night. It was almost as if she missed having Finn’s arms around her while she slept.
“We’re nearly to Huntly Castle. It’s just on the other side of this wood,” Finn told her after they had been riding a couple of hours. “Before ye know it, you’ll be back in Edinburgh.”
She knew he meant to reassure her, but the prospect of reaching their destination so soon only made her feel more on edge.
“Moray promised me you’ll be treated as an honored guest, as befits your station,” Finn said. “So you’ve nothing to fear.”
She thought she had hidden her unease, but Finn seemed to be able to read her better than anyone, except her sisters.
He was wrong at least in part, however, about the reason for her disquiet.
What had her stomach tied in knots was the prospect of parting from him.
She tried telling herself it was only because she’d grown accustomed to him and she was about to be thrown into an unfamiliar situation with strangers.
But it was more than that. She felt safe with Finn. Not just safe from outside dangers, but safe to be herself. In truth, she’d never felt so at ease with a man. With Finn, she did not to have to be careful of every word she spoke. She could even tease him. And he made her laugh.
She would miss him. And what about Ella? He’d won her fearful little daughter over entirely.
“Will ye remain with us at Huntly for a time?” she asked him.
“Nay,” Finn said, dashing her hopes. “I’ll head north to Sutherland as soon as I can.”
More than anyone, she could understand that he was anxious to settle onto his new lands. Like her, he longed for a home of his own and the independence that would give him. Even though she could not have that for herself, she was happy he would.
But she was not ready to part with him. It should not be that, after knowing him for so short a time, the thought of bidding him farewell forever made her chest hurt.
“Could we stop and have an early lunch before we get there?” she asked, keeping her voice light and cheery. “Ella’s hungry.”
That was a white lie, but hungry or not, the child would eat when food was put in front of her. It broke Margaret’s heart to know it was probably because she had not always had enough to eat. She wished she had realized how dire Ella and Brian’s circumstances were and done more to help them.
Finn spread their blanket amidst the bluebells on the forest floor.
The smell of spring filled the air, dappled sunlight filtered through the new leaves on the trees, and a burn gurgled a few yards away.
After they finished their simple lunch of oatcakes, dried venison, and apples, Margaret and Finn sat in silence while Ella played with her doll.
Margaret ran her gaze over Finn’s now-familiar features—the strong jaw, broad cheekbones, black slash eyebrows, and the shadow of a beard that made him dark and dangerous.
When he passed her his flask, their hands touched, sending a jolt of awareness through her. She rarely drank whisky, but she took a long drink and felt the burn down her throat. The first drink did nothing to ease the tension bubbling inside her, so she took another.
Finn helped her up and started to pack up their things. She loved the way he moved with such confidence and ease, whether it was a simple task like this or dangling a huge sailor over the side of a boat.
“Ach, Ella has fallen asleep,” he said, smiling down at her daughter. “I hate to wake the wee thing. Shall we let her nap a bit longer?”
“Aye.” Margaret felt relieved and yet uneasy.
If she was honest with herself, unease did not accurately describe this feeling gnawing at her gut. But what was it? The realization hit her with the force of blow. Regret. That was what she felt.
Regret that she had not let him touch her like he wanted to. Though he never asked in so many words, she saw the question in his eyes every time he looked at her, felt the desire vibrating off him whenever he was near her.
Regret that she did not know what it felt like to rub her palm against his rough cheek, or drag her fingers through his black hair, or run her hands over his chest.
She did not know what to do with all the emotions swirling inside her—regret mixed with this painful longing.
To cover her confusion, she stooped and picked one of the bluebells.
The color matched his eyes. When Finn took the sprig from her and stuck it in her hair, her gaze fixed on his full, sensuous lips.
She wished she knew what it was like to be kissed by that mouth.
When she lifted her gaze and their eyes locked, it was as if a flame shot between them, connecting them with a ribbon of white-hot fire. Her chest felt too tight to breathe, and she asked herself what would happen if she ignored the voice that always warned her be cautious, be careful, be safe.
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The desire Finn had been resisting since the first moment he laid eyes on Margaret Douglas burned through his veins like whisky on an empty stomach. It was wrong to want her like this when she was his prisoner. It would be worse still to act upon his desire.
When the longing in her eyes told him she wanted him too, that nearly did him in.
But Margaret had such a kind and gentle spirit that he feared he would sully her by the violence of his lust for her.
It was lucky for them both that they would part today.
He could not last much longer without giving in to the need building between them.
He ought to be galloping to Huntly with her now.
Delay was dangerous. And yet he found himself incapable of moving with her standing so close and looking at him with such longing in her large brown eyes.
Even if he could pry his feet off the ground, he could not bear to cut short this last hour he would have her to himself.
After today, he would never see her again.
“We won’t be alone again,” she said, echoing his thoughts.
He saw her intention in her eyes even before she moved, and he could have turned away.
He knew he should. But when she took a step closer, his resistance melted like candle wax to a hot flame.
Then Margaret rested her hand on his chest, a light touch that had the force of a ten-foot wave crashing him against the rocks.
“Kiss me,” she said, looking up at him with her lips parted.
One kiss. Surely there could be no harm in one kiss freely given. He knew that was a lie even as he lowered his mouth to hers. Though he barely brushed his lips against hers, a jolt of need shook him to his core and made him forget any thought he had of taking just one sweet kiss.
He lifted her off her feet and crushed his mouth against hers.
When he thrust his tongue inside, she responded with a moan that sent him reeling.
If she’d only pushed him away, he would have stopped.
Instead, she wound her arms around his neck, spread her fingers in his hair, and kissed him back with a fervor that sent all his blood to his cock.
Lust blinded him to all reason and consequences. He backed her against the nearest tree. He ran kisses along her jaw and sucked on her neck while his hands feverishly sought the soft curves and dips of her body, as he had in his imagination a thousand times.
“O shluagh, ye feel even better than I imagined,” he moaned in her ear as he cupped her breasts. But she had on far too many clothes. “I need to see you.”
Somewhere in the far recesses of his mind he knew that if they took this any further, there would be no turning back, but his whole body pulsed with his need for her.
He jerked her bodice down, revealing two small, perfect breasts with rosy tips begging to be touched.
When he paused to drink in the sight of them, Margaret suddenly went rigid and crossed her arms over her chest.
He leaned his forehead against the tree trunk, panting, and squeezed his eyes shut.
He could almost feel the soft mounds and hard nipples of her breasts against his palms. Slowly, he lifted his head to look into her face and try to understand what had suddenly gone so wrong.
Her lips, red and swollen from their kisses, were as inviting as ever.
But when his gaze reached her eyes, the fear in them stopped him cold.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you, leannain,” sweetheart. He cupped her cheek and ran his thumb across it. “I would never hurt you.”
“I’m the one who asked ye to kiss me,” she said, dropping her gaze.
“And that’s all ye asked for,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pushed ye for more.”
“Ye didn’t push me.” When she lifted her gaze again, her eyes no longer held fear, but regret. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I just can’t.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ve known from the start.”
Some nobleman with vast lands and wealth would make her his wife and the lady of his great castle, while Finn had nothing to offer her but an afternoon of pleasure.
That would never be enough for Margaret.
For the first time since he was a lovesick lad of sixteen, Finn was not certain it would be enough for him.
Luckily, they would part today, and he would never know the answer to that question. Still, he suspected it would be a long, long time before he forgot Lady Margaret Douglas.