Chapter 3
“Iwill change my father’s mind. By any means necessary. I swear it.”
Thalia jolted awake with a start, her sharp inhales catching in her throat as her body lurched upright. The sound of her own gasping breaths filled her ears, mingling with the reminder of Herbert’s last words to her.
“Finn!” she said to the empty room, and the blankets gripped her damp limbs as she thrashed around them to tear free. Her bare feet stung on the cold stone ground, but she ran around the bed and wrenched her door open.
“Cùm ort, a nighean,” Cillian said as she ran headfirst into his broad, rock-like shoulder.
“Oh!” Thalia replied quickly as she recovered. “Uh… Coom ort uh nee-an, to you too?” She aped his pronunciation which made him laugh.
He shook his head and finally relented a response. “A nighean,” he repeated and pointed to her. “Gille,” he said and pointed to his chest.
“I see,” she said, nodding slowly and impatiently. “I am ‘a nighean’, and you are ‘gille’.”
Cillian nodded and then waited for her to continue with whatever she was going to tell him when she burst out of her bedroom. “A h—uile càil ceart?”
I really need to pick up Gaelic; this just will not do…
Not knowing what Cillian just asked, Thalia steeled herself to reply. “I, um, need to see the Laird.” Her fingers pointing to her eyes to emphasize the filler word ‘see’.
“Laird Crawford?”
“Yes! Please. Thank Christ you are here. I’d get lost in this castle.”
“Aye,” Cillian said with a hint of a smirk.
Thalia turned to face the man. His clear, unaccented response reminded her of their first encounter in the woods. “Wait a minute! Do you — Do you speak English, Cillian?”
He smiled and said, “A little, aye.”
“Sweet bloody hell! Do you Highlanders just relish in experiencing my discomfort, then?” Her hands found her hips, and he smiled again.
“Ye never asked, lass,” he shrugged.
“I — You’re right, I guess I didn’t ask. Though I did intend on asking when we were in the woods, but I got —”
“Distracted by the Laird?”
“Precisely,” she said indignantly.
A balloon-like silence grew between them as Cillian’s eyebrows lifted. “So, ye need to go see the Laird tonight, then?”
“Yes.”
“It’s late. Neo-iomchaidh.”
“English, please, Cillian.”
“It’s late, lass.”
I’m pretty sure that’s not the word for lass. It was ‘a nighean’.
“Please take me to see Laird Crawford, Cillian.” Thalia repeated herself, unsure of whatever it was Cillian was insinuating.
“Do ye wish me to grab ye a blanket?”
“No? Why would I do that? I’m perfectly fine as I am.”
He held his hands up in feigned innocence. “Alright, lass. If you say so. Follow me.”
His large frame took up over half of the hallway as he led Thalia through the passageways to Finn’s chambers. The cold hair swirled up the staircase and played with the hem of her nightgown. The realization of his teasing finally started to set in with each step closer to their destination.
I really should have taken him up on that blanket…
They stopped suddenly at the large ornate door. Thalia crossed her arms over her chest as Cillian stepped aside. His knowing smile taunted her in the torchlight which frustratingly caused her to blush though she hoped he didn’t see.
“That’s about enough of all that, Cillian.” Thalia rolled her shoulders back, resolutely, and knocked loudly on the door.
She felt Cillian’s gaze shift from Finn’s bedroom door to her reddening cheeks and then back to the door. His chuckles loosed through his nostrils as he bit his lip to silence them. Thalia huffed impatiently and started knocking on the door repeatedly.
“Really, Cillian, enough…” she hissed, growing angrier at his ceaseless snickering.
Cillian squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back to silence his laughter.
She glared at him before knocking again. “You are so infuriating, just go!” Her arm flailed out before she could think, and he held up a hand to block her from his view. Mortified, she snapped her arms back around her body. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“It really isn’t amusing, Cillian,” she said through gritted teeth and then proceeded to knock against the door persistently. In her peripheral, she noticed his chest convulsed faster and heavier as time continued to pass.
“Open, open, open…” she repeated quietly with each fist fall, only egging on Cillian’s laughter. Just as she was about to call out his name, Finn wrenched the door open furiously.
His glare landed on Thalia first, ignoring his man who was almost snorting with laughter. She watched as his anger briefly yielded to concern and then back to anger.
Prepared to combat his fury with explanation, Thalia opened her mouth to protest when he shifted his weight behind the most intense glare directed at Cillian.
Not able to quit laughing fast enough, Finn launched into a harsh verbal lashing.
What sounded like a brutal chorus of Gaelic curses echoed throughout the empty hallways, and Thalia waited silently until it was over.
Her arms tightened around her chest and stomach, grateful that this monstrous fury was not directed at her.
Better him than me, seeing as I was the one who probably woke him…
A calm in the storm passed, and Finn’s rough voice caressed the space between them. “Are ye alright, lass?”
She stood straighter, surprised at how quickly he was able to shift his tone and mannerisms. He was brutal, and yet he let none of his ire spill over into his address and be misdirected.
A glint of silver caught her eye, and they fell to land on his exposed hip where the blade was stayed.
Her eyes quickly shot back up to his for explanation, “I am all right. I just need to speak with you on a matter of urgency. And I do apologize for the hour.”
“I’ll just be go—” Cillian started to say, laughter somehow still on his voice before Finn and Thalia both looked at him incredulously. Her eyes went wide with shock and impatience at his delay.
Are you insane? Go!
“Aye. Now.” Finn snapped sharply, and Thalia watched almost breathlessly as he shot daggers at his comrade with his furious auburn eyes. His broad shoulders seemed to grow in density as he inhaled and then refocused on her.
Oh my, that was… something, wasn’t it?
Finn opened the door wider and stepped out of the way wordlessly for her to enter the room ahead of him.
The chambers were large and spacious, almost three or four times larger than her room. His bed was not even situated in this first room where the fireplace was. Finn passed her, shirtless, and lazily stoked the embers to rekindle the fire.
She watched him as the flames grew, and her skin pricked as she became acutely aware that they were both partially dressed and alone in his chambers.
His scarred face was twisted into a scowl with exhaustion and something else.
Her eyelids went heavy in the warm, low light as she saw the muscles in his arms and neck move together with a practiced fluidity while he fed the flames three large logs.
As the fire licked hungrily at the lumber, cracking and popping until finally taking hold, she felt a growing, unfamiliar tightness in her core.
It was only after the fire grew to its strongest and most vibrant point that Thalia saw the unfathomably pronounced slash that ripped down the length of his torso.
Seeing the gnarled gash launched her from the state of sated distraction, and her mind bounded through conclusions.
Was that a dagger that did that or an animal? No man could have done that, surely…
The mark was jagged and raised to a nearly uncomfortable height. He had been carved him from his collarbone to the opposite hip bone, a horrific injury.
How in Christ’s name did he even survive that?
Finn stood, proud of his work, and then turned to meet her intense gaze.
Thalia was vaguely aware that he had gestured to the chair across from him.
Her feet moved, lead with an untapped desire to be closer to him.
This was her first time seeing a man in this state of undress and carelessness, and her thoughts were uncontrollably jumbled.
Oh… my…
The sight of his muscular build up close was almost too much for her to comprehend. The man was cut from marble, and the scars he bore only projected strength… and violence.
If he survived such a heinous injury, maybe he could help me?
The man was firm and unmoving in the yellow light; the lines on his face softened, and a weathered grin lifted the corners of his full lips.
She chewed on her cheek as she closed the distance with slow, dream-like steps, her eyes never leaving the deep slash on his chest. The light draft caressed the heat between her legs as her night shift swayed with each step.
He could definitely help against anything my uncle threw at me, but would he?
Finn’s body language shifted uncomfortably under her unwavering gaze.
Before she could adjust her stare, he reached out, snatching her chin so that her eyes finally met his.
Thalia flushed, instantly embarrassed that she had been caught.
His previously warm demeanor had shifted to the stern, impatient, and cold attitude he carried before in the woods.
“What did ye want to talk about?” he hissed and dropped his hand from her face. The absence of his touch left a burning sensation that lingered in her cheeks and down her neck. They sat across from each other as the fire roared between them.
Her eyes remained on his, and words poured out of her like rushing water.
“As I told you before, my father was the Viscount of Pemberton. What I didn’t tell you is that my father had amassed a great wealth for himself and our family.
Before he left us, he put all of that wealth in me and my sisters’ names. ”