30. Bold and Unyielding #2
Bran’s grin widens, practically vibrating with anticipation. “Well, don’t just leave me hanging, man. Spit it out!”
I shake my head. “We didnae speak for a whole day, and it was drivin’ me mad.
Then—” I let out a breath, a slow smile creeping in.
“Then she stormed into my room, fire in her eyes, after findin’ out I’d been leavin’ primroses on her bedside table.
She stood there, all flushed and expectant, and I just…
I had to tell her. A more perfect moment would never exist.”
Bran’s grin falters for a second, and he holds up a hand. “Hold on—back up. You’ve been doing what?”
I blink. “I’ve been leavin’ primroses for her since—well, since not long after I met her. She never knew it was me until yesterday.”
Bran just stares at me, his expression shifting into something utterly spellbound. Then, with a slow shake of his head, he bursts into a grin. “Finn, my dear lovesick fool, this is spectacular.” Bran’s grin only grows. “So you confessed?”
I nod, the memory washing over me, warming my chest. “Told her everything. Told her I loved her, that I’d always loved her. And she told me she loved me too. And—” I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “Then, when we finally slept together, I told her again. And again. And again.”
Bran lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Mac, my friend, you’re living in a damned romance novel. This is absolute gold.”
“Aye.”
“Her virginity?”
“…Aye. And mine.”
Bran goes utterly still. No laughter, no teasing quip—just silence as he stares at me like I’ve grown another head. His mouth opens, then shuts. He blinks once, twice. Then, slowly, he exhales as if he’s trying to process something truly monumental.
Abruptly, he grips my shoulders, shaking me once as if to make sure I’m real. “You mean to tell me, Finn—”
I frown. “Bran—”
“No, no, no, let me have this moment. This—” He gestures wildly between us. “This is historic. Finnis MacGregor was an innocent man until last night. Gods above, this is better than I could’ve ever imagined. I almost feel privileged to be the one hearing it first.”
He finally releases me, stepping back, hands on his hips as he shakes his head, utterly dumbfounded. “I mean, hell, Finn. I just assumed you were picky.”
“I’ve loved one woman for the better part of my life. Of course I’m picky. There was never even a choice—just her. The thought of lyin’ with another felt wrong on a level I cannae even name.”
He drops his hands from my shoulders, brows drawing together. “So… what’s the trouble, then?”
My smile falters slightly. “She doesnae want me tellin’ anyone.”
Bran blinks. “But you’re telling me.”
I shrug, rolling my shoulders to ease the weight of it. “She means anyone of importance. Like her brothers. Mainly Callan.”
His mock hurt melts into a lopsided grin in an instant. “Harsh, but I’ll let it slide for a lovesick fool.” He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I would not want to be on the receiving end of that blowup. The man’s got a temper like scotch on an empty stomach.”
After a beat, he lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head once more. “Well, you have the girl…”
I huff a laugh, rubbing a hand down my face. “Ye’re not thinkin’ anythin’ I huv’nae already thought of myself.”
Bran chuckles, shaking his head. “I enjoy a harebrained plan, and there’s only one way you’re getting out of this, so you might as well go full throttle.”
He pauses, then squints at me. “How long did she ask you to wait?”
I sigh. “She said a ‘ little while longer’ .”
He raises a brow. “And how long ago was that?”
I glare at him. “Bran. I’m a man of my word.”
He smirks. “You’ve kept your word, as far as I’m concerned. Be honest, Finn. How long are you willing to fight the inevitable before you do something reckless?”
I stand there for a long moment, Bran’s words sinking in.
My jaw tightens, my grip flexing around the hilt of my sword.
I’ve spent so long holding back, waiting for feelings to fade, for the pain of wanting her and not having her to come, only to be met with an undeniable truth.
A truth Triona herself made reality when she came to me.
When she told me she wanted me. To hell with waiting.
The right moment isn’t some far-off thing we wait for—it’s what we claim for ourselves.
I made a vow when I confessed my truth. I have to make damn sure we have what we both want.
I exhale sharply, something fierce settling on my chest. “I hate when ye’re right. Hate it. Worse still, I cannae argue. But if I’m already halfway to damnation, I might as well sprint.”
I’m through holding back.
Triona
The room is alive with chatter and laughter, everyone immersed in their own conversations, but a sudden commotion in the hallway makes the noise falter.
The sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps echo, growing louder with each second.
I turn toward the doorway just as Finn storms in, his presence demanding.
Golden eyes ablaze, jaw clenched with intensity. I can’t help the way my heart races. His presence fills the space, and though a knot of anxiety twists in my stomach, butterflies erupt in its wake. Every step feels like a declaration, and it’s unmistakable—he is here for me.
“Finn—” I start, my voice barely above a whisper, but he doesn’t slow. He doesn’t stop.
Within moments, he’s in front of me, his gaze locking onto mine with a force that robs me of breath. Without a word, his hands cup my face, calloused thumbs brushing tenderly over my cheeks. His touch is possessive, yet heartbreakingly gentle. I can’t suppress the way my breath hitches.
“What are you doing?” I stammer, my voice trembling under the weight of his intensity .
“What I should have done long ago,” he growls, his voice low but loud enough to still the room. Every pair of eyes shifts to us, but Finn’s gaze doesn’t waver. “What I should have done that day at the cliff’s edge.”
“Finn—” I try again, but he cuts me off, his words unravelling any coherent thought.
“You are no secret, Triona,” he declares, his voice fierce. “You are mine, and I am yers. Not in silence or shadow, but boldly, for all the world to see. I’m through denyin’ it.”
His words overwhelm me, and before I can respond, he narrows the gap between us.
His lips crash into mine, fierce and consuming.
It’s not just a kiss; it’s a claim, a confession, a release of a weight he’s carried for far too long.
My knees falter beneath the weight of his ardour, yet his hands at my waist hold me firm.
The room seems to dissolve, leaving only Finn—the heat of his lips, the strength of his touch, the raw, desperate emotion that has us both trembling.
The murmurs of shock ripple through the room, and seem a distant echo. I kiss him back without hesitation, my hands curling into his shirt as though I can secure myself to him, to the raw power of what we’d just claimed. Every thought and worry drowns in the torrent of emotion we’ve unleashed.
“Finally!” Aunt Amelia’s voice breaks through the haze, her exclamation followed immediately by Deidre’s identical one.
The laughter and applause swells, but just as quickly, the room quiets as Callan steps forward.
His nostrils flare, shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths.
His eyes flick from me to Finn, disbelief warring with fury.
His hands curl into fists at his sides, knuckles white.
The room feels too small, too suffocating.
My stomach knots as I feel Finn’s grip on me tighten, his body bracing instinctively.
Then—without warning—his fury erupts.
“Callan, don’t—” I start, panic lacing my tone, but it’s too late.
His fist shoots out, connecting squarely to Finn’s jaw. The sound of the impact reverberates in the suddenly silent room. Finn staggers a step but doesn’t fall, his hand brushing his jaw as he straightens, his golden gaze settling on Callan with a calm, simmering defiance.
The entire room holds its breath, waiting for Finn’s reaction. Casey steps forward as if to intervene, but Finn holds up a hand, stopping him. His eyes meet Callan’s, calm yet burning with resolve .
“Solid blow, Callan.” Finn works his jaw once, then wipes the corner of his mouth where a small line of blood appears. “You get one punch on me. I’ll give you that.”
Callan’s chest heaves as he glares at Finn, his fists still clenched, his anger barely contained. Finn takes a deliberate step forward, still calm, almost unnervingly so.
“But I’ll not let you have two.” Finn’s voice is sharp, eyes narrow, and tone firm. “You can be angry. You can hate me if you so wish. But ye’ll respect what Triona and I have. Ye’ll respect her.”
“That’s my sister, ye feckless bastard! Who are you to tell me what to do?” Callan bellows.
“How long, Finn? How long have ye been hidin’ this from me?”
Callan’s nostrils flare, his gaze burning as he glances between Finn and me. For a moment, I think he might swing again.
“How long?” Callan repeats, his tone dripping with venom.
“I haven’t lied,” Finn says firmly, his gaze unwavering. “But this is… a recent development.”
Callan snorts, his tone biting with disbelief. “Did ye take her to bed?”
Underneath Finn’s calm exterior, a simmering anger boils. “You have no right to ask that. What happens between Triona and me is our business, and no one else’s.”
Callan’s face contorts with rage, his voice rising with a venomous edge. “So ye did... dinnae stand there and pretend to be an honourable man! D’ye ken how humiliatin’ it is to find out like this? My best mate lyin’ to me, treating me like some damned eejit?”
“That is not what is happening!” I snap, pushing myself between them, my voice quivering with a mix of anger and disbelief. “You don’t get to twist this into something it isn’t.”
I step closer still, laying a steady hand on Callan’s arm, my tone resolute. “I love you, Callan, but I’m not asking for permission. This is my choice.”
Callan wrenches himself away from me. “Aye, yer choice,” The spits, then he’s tearing away from the room, leaving a trail of stunned silence behind him.
Casey steps in, his attempt at levity strained beneath tension. “Ye’d best sleep lightly,” he quips, clapping Finn on the back. “Ye’re fortunate he held his second strike,” Casey says with a grin.
Finn smirks. “Aye, but I was ready if he had come at me again. ”
As the room buzzes back to life, my chest tightens with a mix of relief and lingering unease. Callan’s reaction, though predictable, was fierce—too fierce. Even Casey’s laughter echoing through the room does nothing to ease the ache in my chest.
Finn sees it, the worry etched across my face, because he cups my cheek. “I’ll make it right,” he murmurs.
I blink up at him, my brow furrowing. “Finn, he’s furious. You saw him. He—he feels betrayed.”
Finn nods, his expression serious now. “Aye, he does. And maybe he’s right to. I should have gone to him first. Callan’s been like a brother to me, and I’ve no excuse for not tellin’ him sooner.”
He pauses, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on my cheek. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll fix it. There’ll be no bad blood between us, okay?”
“You promised we wouldn’t—” I start, my voice trembling as frustration seeps into my tone, but he cuts me off with a devilish smirk, his hands sliding to frame my face, grounding me despite the fire in my chest.
“I gave you half a day’s mercy, Triona,” he says, his voice playful. “And that was plenty. Any longer and I might’ve gone mad.”
“And in that half day, did you consider what chaos this would cause? Or did you simply think of all the ways to make a grand gesture?” My words cut sharper than intended, but my heart betrays me, twisting as his unwavering gaze meets mine.
His smirk deepens, and his thumb brushes against my cheek, soothing. “I made a promise to be yers first. If waitin’ longer meant pretendin’ not to love you, then no, I couldnae do it. Ye’re mine, Triona. The world needs to know that.”
Without waiting for my response, he lifts me off the ground as though I weigh nothing.
A startled gasp escapes me as my legs instinctively wrap around his waist. My cheeks burn, heat flooding through me as I feel the strength of him holding me so effortlessly.
His golden eyes lock onto mine, searing with an intensity that makes my heart stutter and my breath catch.
“Finn—this is hardly—” I start, my tone somewhere between protest and surrender.
But with a look, he silences me, voice dropping to a husky whisper meant only for me.
“I’ll be takin’ you back to bed to apologise for my brash behaviour.
I intend to lay you out and worship yer body with my tongue until ye’ve forgotten every reason to be angry. ”
My heart thunders as his words settle over me, stealing whatever resistance I might have had.
A small whimper escapes me as I feel his sultry heat against my core.
I tighten my hold on him, burying my face in his neck as the world fades, leaving only Finn, the wicked promise of his words, and the heady pull of everything he is.
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, though my tone holds no real heat.
“Aye,” he admits, as he races us from the room. “And ye’re an impossibility, come true.” My heart swells at the sentiment. I forget the eyes that might be watching, the murmurs trailing behind us, and decide it’s best to beat fire with fire.
Heat coils in me as I press my lips to his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. His response is immediate—a beast-like groan reverberates through his chest, sending a shiver down my spine. The sound fuels the reckless energy between us.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he puts me down just long enough for him to hoist me over his shoulder. In that instant, his strength makes me forget the formidable woman I am, replaced by a yearning to be carried and tossed about by the only man I’d ever let take control of me.
His hand lands on my arse with a sharp, possessive slap, the sting eliciting a gasp I can’t hold back. He strides forward, his voice dripping with dark amusement.
“That was just a wee taste.”
I meet his challenge with a swift, playful smack of my own, surprising him. “I thought you said I was woman enough to take more of you—someone you didn’t need to be gentle with, if I’m remembering correctly? I don’t want a ‘ wee taste ’, Finn.”
My taunt hangs in the air, charged with mischief and defiance. Finn bursts into raw, joyous laughter and dashes off, the sound of our shared mirth filling the room.
“Let’s put that sinful mouth of yours to work them, hmm?”
With. Pleasure.