Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Claire woke with a sharp breath, tangled in the warmth of her blankets, her heart already beating too fast.
For one blissful moment, she did not remember where she was.
She remembered only him.
Finn.
The way his hands had settled against me waist.
Her fingertips drifted unconsciously to the place where they had held her. Even through the thick linen of her nightdress, her skin seemed to remember the heavy pressure of his palms, and a deep heat crept slowly into her cheeks.
He touched me as though I was something precious.
She closed her eyes again, surrendering herself completely to the memory.
His broad body had boxed her gently against the cool stone wall of his study. His breath had skimmed the sensitive curve of her throat, warm enough to make her shiver despite the winter chill that had seeped through the castle walls.
She could still hear the rough sound that had escaped him when she had buried her fingers in his hair. It had been quiet, almost unwilling, as though he had forgotten himself for one stolen heartbeat.
Her fingers lifted to her lips.
They lingered there, tracing the soft swell of them.
He kissed me here.
The thought alone sent another flush racing through her chest.
Then her hand slid slowly down the length of her neck, across the place where his beard had brushed her skin, and down the curve of her arm until she hugged herself tightly.
How am I supposed to forget any of it?
A sudden knock shattered the silence.
Claire startled violently, sitting upright so quickly the blankets tangled around her legs.
"Come in," Claire called, though her voice came out much softer than she intended.
The door creaked open, and Molly entered first, her arms full of neatly folded traveling gowns. The maid's usual briskness was gone, her shoulders looking heavy and her mouth pressed into a thin line.
But Claire scarcely noticed her.
Standing directly behind Molly was Finn.
The doorway seemed too small for him as he filled it effortlessly, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the frame. One hand rested against the weathered oak as though he needed something solid to steady himself.
Their eyes met, and the room suddenly felt very small.
Claire searched his face, desperately hoping to find the man who had held her only hours before. Instead, she found a man whose jaw was tight and whose green eyes looked exhausted.
"What is it?" Claire asked quietly.
Molly crossed the room without answering immediately, placing the gowns carefully atop the travel trunk and smoothing the folds longer than necessary. Her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly.
"Yer cousins' guards are here," Molly said, her voice completely subdued.
Claire stared, the words making absolutely no sense to her waking mind.
"They have arrived?" Claire whispered.
"Aye." Molly nodded once.
"So soon?" Claire gasped.
The question barely escaped her lips before the devastating understanding crashed into her. She looked straight at Finn, her pulse stumbling painfully.
He is sending me away.
Already.
The warmth of the dream dissolved completely, leaving only the cold morning pressing in from every corner of the chamber.
"Molly," Claire said, keeping her gaze locked on the doorway.
"Aye, mistress," the maid looked at her immediately.
"Would ye give us the room?" Claire asked softly.
For a heartbeat, Molly hesitated. Her eyes moved to Finn, and something very close to reproach flickered there before softening into deep pity.
"Aye, mistress," Molly agreed, dipping her head. "If ye need me, I will be just outside."
The door closed softly behind her, allowing a heavy silence to settle over the chamber.
Neither of them moved for a long moment.
Claire climbed slowly from the bed, her bare feet touching the icy flagstones, though the cold hardly registered. She crossed the room until only a few feet separated them.
"I cannae leave now," Claire pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Claire," Finn started, his tone rough.
"Nay." Claire shook her head before he could continue. "Nae after last night. Nae after ye looked at me the way ye did. Nae after ye made me believe something had changed."
Finn lowered his eyes for a brief moment before lifting them to hers again, the sorrow in them unmistakable.
"It has," Finn murmured, his voice cracking slightly.
"Then why are ye sending me away?" Claire demanded gently.
He did not answer. The silence hurt more than any cruel words could have. Claire stepped closer until she could see the faint shadow of exhaustion beneath his eyes.
"I woke remembering ye," Claire confessed, a sad smile touching her lips before fading. "I could still feel yer hands. I touched me lips because I could still remember yer kiss. I truly thought I would wake to hope."
Something in Finn's rigid expression faltered, and his broad shoulders sank almost imperceptibly.
"Ye have hope," Finn assured her quietly.
"Do I?" Claire laughed softly, though hot tears already blurred her vision. "It doesnae feel like hope."
"It is," Finn insisted.
"Then why does it feel like goodbye?" Claire asked, a single tear slipping free.
Finn inhaled slowly, every single breath seeming to cost him an immense amount of strength. He took one measured step toward her, and then another, until only inches remained between them.
Claire did not move, and neither did he.
For several long heartbeats, they simply stood there, looking into one another's eyes.
Finn's hand lifted almost reluctantly, as though he believed he had no right to touch her. His calloused knuckles brushed her cheek first, and then his fingers slid gently through the loose strands of dark hair framing her face.
Claire's breath caught in her throat.
His thumb settled against her lower lip, lingering there with heartbreaking care as he traced its soft curve, committing the feel of her to memory.
"I dinnae want to leave," Claire whispered, her voice cracking completely as she closed her eyes. "I just found ye."
Finn's hand trembled, only slightly, but enough that she felt it against her skin. He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes tightly.
The space between them disappeared entirely until their breaths mingled in the quiet room.
Claire could feel the uneven rise and fall of his chest. He drew one slow breath, like he was trying to carry the sweet scent of her with him into the dark.
His free hand hovered uncertainly at her waist before settling there with infinite, protective care.
"I have spent years convincing myself I needed nobody," Finn murmured into the space between them.
"So have I," Claire breathed back.
His green eyes opened, meeting her grey ones, both reflecting the exact same agonizing sorrow.
"If there were another way," Finn said, swallowing hard before his voice failed him. "If I kent another path, I would take it."
"Then dinnae choose this one," Claire begged him.
His gaze softened with such naked, devastating pain that Claire's heart physically ached for him.
"If ye stay, every man who wishes to break me will look to ye first, and we cannae go through with this ruse any longer," Finn explained, searching for words that would not wound her further.
"I dinnae care," Claire said fiercely.
"But I do," Finn whispered, the words so quiet she almost missed them. "I care enough for us both."
Another tear slipped down her cheek, and Finn immediately caught it with his thumb.
"I can fight beside ye," Claire promised.
"I ken." Finn nodded slightly.
"I am nae afraid," Claire insisted, her hands resting flat against his chest.
"I ken that too," Finn replied.
"Then let me stay," Claire pleaded one final time.
His forehead remained resting against hers as his eyes closed once more.
"This is the only way I ken to keep ye safe," Finn whispered, the absolute finality in his tone breaking something deep inside her.
Finn stepped back, his hand falling from her waist. Without another word, he turned and left. The latch clicked softly behind him.
Claire did not turn, standing exactly where Finn had left her, her forehead still bowed as though his remained against hers. The chamber felt unbearably quiet, his lingering warmth already fading from the freezing air.
A tear slipped silently down her cheek, and she brushed it away before another could follow.
"Me lady?" Molly's voice called out gently as the door opened once more.
When Claire did not answer, the older woman entered quietly, closing the door behind her and taking one look at Claire's slumped shoulders. Her face softened completely.
"Oh, sweetheart," Molly murmured.
The familiar, tender endearment broke whatever fragile restraint Claire had left. She turned slowly, the tears she had fought so hard to keep at bay spilling freely down her pale cheeks. Molly crossed the room without another word, simply opening her arms.
She had done this countless times over the years, whenever Claire had cried herself to sleep after her mother's funeral.
Claire stepped into the embrace without thinking, a loud sob escaping her that seemed to echo through the stone chamber.
"Oh, me poor lass," Molly whispered, cradling the back of Claire's head. "Let it out."
"I dinnae want to go," Claire cried, clutching the woman's woolen dress like a lost child. "I have only just found him."
"I ken," Molly soothed, rubbing slow circles across her back.
"I thought," Claire began, laughing weakly through her falling tears. "I truly believed this morning would be different."
"Dae ye think he will truly let me go?" Claire asked, swallowing against the painful ache in her throat.
"I think if he keeps ye here, he will spend every waking moment fearing someone will use ye against him," Molly answered, smoothing a stray curl away from Claire's wet face.
"And if I leave?" Claire asked.
"He will spend every waking moment wondering whether ye are safe," Molly said honestly.
"There isnae a choice that doesnae hurt him," Claire realized, closing her eyes as another tear escaped.