Chapter 3 #2
The silence stretched, thick and heavy with a strange, sudden mood. Claire felt her breath hitch, her skin tingling under the intense scrutiny. The air between them felt charged, warm and thick, completely at odds with the freezing gale outside.
Why is he looking at me like that? Like he's trying to read the thoughts right out of me head. Christ, it is hot in here.
"English?" Finn asked bluntly, his eyes unblinking.
"Partly."
"Which part matters more?"
The question irritated her instantly, sparking a familiar fire in her chest. She had spent her entire life being told she was too Scottish for London and too English for the hills. "I was raised in London, if that is what ye are asking. Me father is the Duke of Westbrook."
"A Duke's daughter," Finn muttered, a low scoff escaping him as he looked back toward the fire. "Even better. A southern rose dropped into the mud."
"Me mother was Highland," Claire crossed her arms tighter, her fingers digging into the wet velvet of her sleeves as she stepped closer to the flames, refusing to be dismissed.
"Born and bred in the western glens. She taught me the tongue before she passed.
I am nae some delicate flower from the city, sir. I ken how to survive."
"Do ye?" Finn turned his head back toward her, his gaze dropping to her small, soft hands. "Ye have smooth skin, Lady Claire. Nay calluses from a sword, nay marks from labor. The only thing ye've survived is a dull dinner party, I imagine."
"I'll have ye know I once survived a three-hour sermon by the Archbishop of Canterbury without falling asleep," she shot back, her eyes flashing. "That requires a fortitude ye couldnae possibly understand."
She heard how absurd it sounded the moment it left her mouth, but it was the only weapon she had left, and pride would not let her take it back.
Outside, the storm was roaring with renewed fury, a massive gust of wind rattling the heavy shutters so hard that the oil lamp on the mantle flickered violently, threatening to plunge them into darkness.
In the brief shift of light, Claire became fully aware of how alone she suddenly was. The village market was down the ridge, Douglas was gone into the dark forest, and she was trapped in a secluded room with a man who could crush her with a single hand.
If he wanted to, he could throw me over his shoulder, and I couldnae do a single thing about it. Why am I noticing the way the firelight catches the muscle in his forearm? I should be looking for a weapon, nae admiring the local scenery.
Finn did not move to attack. Instead, he leaned one broad shoulder against the heavy oak table beside the fire, crossing his arms over his chest. The position was relaxed, but his eyes remained entirely focused, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the blue silk.
"And where exactly is yer husband, lass?" he asked, his voice a low, teasing murmur that vibrated through the quiet room. "The one ye promised would take the heads from me enemies?"
Claire’s cheeks warmed immediately, a sudden, fierce blush creeping up her neck that had absolutely nothing to do with the heat of the hearth. She looked away for a split second, her throat dry.
"I daenae have one," she said, her voice dropping.
"A pity," Finn murmured, his eyes darkening as they lingered on the curve of her neck.
Claire narrowed her eyes, turning her face back to him, her irritation flaring to mask the sudden, strange fluttering in her stomach. "Why? Does the great Laird MacRae only converse with wedded women? Or are ye simply disappointed ye won't get to fight the imaginary warrior I invented?"
"Because now everyone who heard ye claim me will spread the story," Finn said, his voice losing its teasing edge, his gaze holding hers steadily.
His green eyes were dark and unyielding.
"By tomorrow morning, the western passes will whisper that Finn MacRae has taken a highborn bride in secret.
My neighbors are already looking for an excuse to strike.
If they think I've aligned with an English Duke, they will see it as a threat. "
"They were simple thieves," Claire said, her breath catching in her throat as the political reality of her lie began to sink in. "They willnae care about clan politics."
"Thieves talk more than anyone, lass," Finn said softly, his voice dropping into a dangerous, intimate register.
"They will sell that tale to the highest bidder before the night is through.
And men will begin asking questions. Dangerous men.
Me own council among them. They've been baying for me to take a wife for a year. "
Oh, no. No, no, no. Claire’s mind raced, a sudden wave of panic washing over her.
The council. Finn's council. If they believed he had a wife, if word of it ever reached London, surely Father's arrangement would come undone. Surely Westerly wouldnae want me then. I would be free. But I'd be tied to a devil. A devil of me own choosing.
"Then tell them the truth," Claire whispered, her voice suddenly trembling as the space between them seemed to shrink. "Tell them I am a stranger. A liar who used yer name to live."
"And let them think a woman made a fool of the MacRae Laird?" Finn asked.
Then slowly, dangerously, Finn stepped closer.
He moved around the edge of the hearth, his heavy boots making no sound on the floorboards this time. He closed the distance between them until he was standing directly in her space. So close.
Claire had to tilt her head back significantly just to maintain eye contact. She could smell him now, the scent of cold rain, leather, and a deep, masculine warmth that seemed to radiate from his skin.
Her heart wasn't pounding from fear anymore, but with a different tension.
A breathless sensation that made her entire body go rigid.
She could see the green flecks in his eyes, the slight flex of his jaw, the way his gaze dropped to her lips before returning to her eyes.
The heat between them was palpable, a silent, heavy pull that made the rest of the world fade into the background.
"So perhaps," Finn said quietly, his voice a rough whisper that seemed to echo in the space between them, his eyes locking onto hers with absolute intent, "we should discuss more privately what I could gain from pretending to be yer husband a little longer."