Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
I stir at the sound of the rain drumming on the windows, and the feeling of Finn’s arm heavy on my waist. The bedroom’s still dark, the kind of thick darkness that means it’s either still very early or the weather’s turning.
I don’t care which, because I’m home and safe and wrapped around the man I love.
Finn’s breath is warm against my shoulder blade and when I shift slightly, he tightens his hold, pulling me back against his chest with a sleepy grumble of protest. I wrap my fingers around his broad forearm and wriggle, but I can feel my body reacting to him already, even though I’m still half-asleep.
“Where d’you think you’re going?”
“Nowhere,” I murmur. “Just checking you’re real.”
“Very real.” His hand slides down to my hip, fingertips tracing slow patterns on my bare skin. “Do you want me to prove it?”
I shift back against him, feeling the unmistakable hard length pressing against my body. I arch slightly, drawing a low groan from him.
“Best thirty seconds of my day so far,” he murmurs against my neck.
I turn in his arms to face him. “Your standards have dropped.”
“My standards,” he says, hand sliding between my thighs, “have improved beyond recognition.”
His fingers find me already wet, and he gives a satisfied hum from low in his chest. “Someone woke up in a good mood.”
“Someone,” I gasp, a few moments later, as he circles in exactly the right spot, “has a very talented—”
His mouth cuts me off, kissing me slowly while his fingers work magic between my legs. I rock against his hand, chasing the pleasure building inside me, one hand clutching his shoulder and the other making a fist of the linen sheet.
I’m so close – almost there – when there’s a long, theatrical howl from the direction of the kitchen.
“No,” I groan. “Not now.”
Finn drops his forehead against mine with a curse. “Thwarted by a litter of chaos merchants.”
Another howl, louder this time. He rolls onto his back, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m going to murder that dog.”
“You love that dog.” I prop myself up on one elbow, trailing my fingers to where he’s still hard beneath the sheets. “And you’re not going anywhere like this.”
“Tilda—” His breath catches as I wrap my hand around him. “The puppies—”
“Can wait two minutes.” I slide down his body, pressing kisses to his stomach, his hip bone, the V of muscle that disappears beneath the sheet.
“Christ.” His hand tangles in my hair as I take him in my mouth. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
I hum in agreement, enjoying the way his hips jerk at the vibration. He tastes salt-sweet and I take my time exploring him with my tongue, taking him deep inside my mouth until his breathing goes ragged and his grip on my hair tightens.
“Baby, I’m—” His warning comes before he spills with a groan, my name broken on his lips.
I rest my cheek on his thigh, listening to him catching his breath, and then he pulls me up to kiss me.
“What about you?”
“Later.” I raise my brows. “I can wait. Right now, we need to deal with your offspring before they wake the entire island.”
“Our offspring,” he corrects, rolling over to pull on his boxers.
I grab a T-shirt and slip it on, following him downstairs. He turns, holding onto the banister when I’m on the step above. One hand slides under my T-shirt as he raises the other and puts a finger to my lips.
There’s silence. He pushes me gently back onto the stairs and parts my thighs, surprising me as his mouth meets my centre before I know what’s happening.
I gasp in a breath, and my head falls back against the step, my eyes closing.
One finger, then two. His tongue doesn’t stop working, a relentless steady movement.
My breathing is ragged, and it feels I’m a fire that’s just about to catch.
And then he closes his mouth on my clit and I’m gone, my hands caught in his hair, crying out as the heat spreads through me.
He laughs against my skin a moment later, kissing the inside of my thigh before he looks up, his eyes wicked.
And then the howling starts again.
“Okay,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “Now we deal with it.”
I follow him down into the kitchen.
Flora’s lying in a nest of cushions in the crate we’ve set up, her six puppies – three girls and three boys – tumbling over each other in their excitement to reach us. She looks at us but doesn’t move with the smug expression of a matriarch who’s absolved of all responsibility.
“You, madam,” I tell her, “are getting lazier by the day.”
I fill the kettle and watch as Finn picks up the smallest puppy and cradles her. She’s tiny in his hands and settles instantly against his chest, her nose tucked under his chin.
“Things I never thought I’d see,” I say, watching him stroke her silky head with one finger. “You’ve gone soft.”
“Guilty as charged.” Finn looks down at the puppy with an expression of such tenderness that my heart squeezes.
He glances up at me, a half-smile playing on his lips. “Talking of which, I’ve been thinking—”
“Dangerous.”
“—About the gardens. Opening them up properly – not just for tourists, but for the community. Workshops, maybe. Gardening classes, that sort of thing. I was talking to Jamie about the stuff they’re doing at Loch Morven.”
I lean against the doorframe, studying him. “You’d hate that.”
“I would,” he admits. “But you’d love it. And I love you. And it would be good for the island.”
“I love you, Finn Kinnaird.” I cross the room and kiss him, careful not to squash the sleeping puppy between us. “You really have gone soft.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
Later that morning, we drive down to the village and park by the harbour, letting the dogs run along the beach before we walk back up the steps towards my dad’s cottage.
There’s a young couple waiting by the gate when we arrive – Callum and Meg, with a baby strapped to her chest in a carrier and matching hopeful expressions.
I pass her the keys, and she looks at them as if she can’t quite believe they’re real.
“Thanks so much for letting us in to measure up before it’s officially ours. I still can’t believe we got it.” She jigs back and forth as the baby wriggles, starting to stir. “Everyone said finding a place on the island was getting harder and harder.”
“Oh, it is,” says Finn grimly. “But we’d rather sell to you than take a higher offer.”
Glen Mhor hadn’t taken no for an answer – the agent had held on for a month then returned with another, identically priced offer from a mysterious couple on the mainland. A bit of digging revealed that they were nothing but a front for the multinational. I said no to that offer, too.
“I wanted you to have it,” I say as she opens the door, “because you’re islanders.”
“And the cottage deserves to stay in the community,” Finn continues.
Meg’s eyes fill with tears as she walks into the empty hallway. “Thank you. We’ll take good care of it, I promise.”
Callum grins and I’m reminded of his welcome at the Glen Mhor event. He’s been taken on up at Benruar now, glad to be working for the island, not against it.
There’s paperwork to be done and the missives to conclude, but the place is theirs now, and by letting go of Dad’s place here on the island my roots here are growing deeper.
“My dad loved this place. He’d want it to go to people who’ll fill it up.”
“Oh,” says Callum, pulling Meg close and giving a little smile. “We’ll be doing that sooner than you might think.”
She puts a hand to her stomach and smiles. “Baby number two is on the way already.”
We leave them to explore the house with a promise to hand the keys back to the agent. Finn and I walk back down the familiar path to the shore. The tide is out, the sand dark and damp. The ferry is pulling in from the mainland, white against the grey water.
I think about the first time I arrived here – broke, panicked, trailing a wedding dress I didn’t need and my only plan to get back off the island of Benruar as soon as I could.
Finn slips his hand into mine. “What are you thinking about?”
“How lost I was when I came here.”
We watch the ferry as it shifts with the tide, docking against the harbour.
“And now?” Finn says eventually.
I turn to look at him, reaching a hand up to his face and looking into his dark brown eyes. “Now I know exactly where I am.”
The wind picks up, bringing a scent of the sea and the promise of rain.
In the distance the ferry horn sounds and a group of tourists disembark, cameras around their necks, waiting to be collected by the minibus that takes them up to the distillery.
I spot Dervla in her bright yellow raincoat, organising them with a clipboard.
They’re heading up the hill towards our place, not Glen Mhor.
There might be fewer of them than the organised tours that come from the mainland, but they’re dedicated and keen, and they do a pretty good job of spreading the word about the gin garden and the seal rescue hub and all the other things we’ve built together.
I turn to look back at the cottage. There’s a light glowing in the upstairs window, in the room where my dad slept for all those years, waiting for me to come back and see him. My heart still aches at the thought, but I realise he’d be proud of what we’ve done.
“I think he left me exactly what I needed,” I say, turning back to Finn. “Even if I didn’t know it at the time.”
Benruar has given me everything I didn’t know I was searching for. A home. A purpose. A man who looks at me like I’m precious and rare, and who loves me just the way I am. A community of family and friends that show up with cake when things go wrong and when they go right.
The dogs race across the sand towards us, ready to head back to Benruar House, where the stills are humming and the garden is waiting and Malcolm’s bustling about, whistling as he works.
“Come on,” Finn says, squeezing my hand. “Let’s go home.”
THE END
I hope you enjoyed Whisky and Roses! You can discover the first in the Loch Morven series - Duke It Out is out now!