Chapter 3

3

“ I will 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.”

She continued without even taking a breath but noticed that Finn’s face warmed at the mention of her father and sisters. “I was suspicious of you, at first, Laird Crawford, because my uncle, Maximillian, inherited the title of Viscount of Pemberton but none of the wealth. Ever since we moved in with him, we have been fighting about me marrying his son, Herbert. My uncle is sneaky, and conniving, and our last fight, he threatened me.”

Finn had dipped his chin lower, a silent demand for her to take a breath, and she paused to oblige. She wanted to please him with a show of obedience to stay his anger and also to perhaps make her upcoming request more desirable. Although, when her eyes flicked down on her exhale, she noticed that he extended and then curled his fingers into a tight fist at her last revelation.

Keep going, this has to work…

She rolled her shoulders back and sat up straighter before continuing in her lengthy explanation. “When Herbert and I spoke in the aftermath of the argument with his father, he vowed that he wouldn’t marry me and that he would change his father’s mind by any means necessary. When you suggested it last night, I was instantly upset with you for even thinking that my cousin was responsible, but now that I think about it, he might be the only one with the ability to do all of this.” Thalia gestured around her head and also between the two of them.

“I also think that my uncle has a hand in this —”

Finn’s scowl had only grown deeper, and suddenly, he reached across with both large, calloused hands and grabbed her smooth face. “Miss Sinclair, ye are going to pass out if ye daenae remember to breathe.”

She obliged again, quickly, but his hands remained on either side of her face. “Less words,” he growled impatiently.

His touch seared its mark into her flesh, and the pressure of the simmering heat between her hips made her next breath a laborious one. She tried to hide a squirm with an exaggerated inhale, hoping to quiet the distracting warmth, but his eyes caught the movement. She watched as his dark gaze traced a long line up from her shifting, exposed knees to her racing heart and then back to her eyes.

“Okay,” she managed to say.

“Good,” he replied slowly. “Now, why are ye telling me all of this?”

“It’s just too intricate of a plan to execute without the mind of a snake. He has to be involved.”

His eyes searched hers, and she continued. “I know I can be difficult sometimes and outspoken…” Finn’s playful grin made her breath catch, and his gaze dropped to her parted lips before returning to meet her eyes.

“But — now that I’m out of the way, so to speak, my uncle will try to force my younger sister, Diana, to marry Herbert. She is meek and young, and her life is just starting.” Thalia’s chest twisted, and her bottom lip started to quiver at the mention of her younger sister. She cleared her throat of the lump in her throat and blinked away any trace of tears, and Finn’s gaze never left hers. She couldn’t hide from him.

When he was sure that she was ready to answer him, he pressed her again, “Ye still havenae answered my original question, Thalia. Why are ye telling me all of this?”

The way he says her name sent a shiver down her spine that she could tell he noticed. “I —” She cleared her throat again. “I need your help and protection to go back to England and save my sisters from my uncle.”

The silence rested uncomfortably around them, and Finn finally dropped his hands from her face. She had grown used to the warmth of his touch on her bare skin and instantly missed the connection.

Did I go too far? Surely, he has to help me, right?

“No. Leave me.” He stood quickly and gestured toward the bedroom door.

His abrupt motion drove her to stand as well. “Wait! No, please, Laird Crawford. I could give you money!”

“No, lass. Now leave.” He turned away from her, expecting her to leave on her own as he had demanded.

Obedience be damned, I need this!

“I could give you lands!” she pleaded and started to follow him as he paced around his room.

“I have lands, lass. Just go,” he said over his shoulder through gritted teeth and flailed his arm sideways in the direction of the door. Without thinking, she lunged forward and ensnared his arm in a tight grip. He snapped his head around quickly. His eyes burned a hole through her hand, but she did not let it go.

His glare finally flashed up to meet hers, clearly enraged by her touch which destroyed her resolve. Desperate, she started to beg, “Please? I’ll give you anything you desire. You must help me, Laird Crawford. Please? Did you not hear me?”

Finn’s glare shifted to a look she could not quite place as he exhaled and turned the rest of the way to face her. The confusion of his sudden change loosened her grip, and she felt his hardened muscular arm glide under her soft hand.

He’s… not mad? Or — is he?

His chin dipped; the look he wore was almost sinister in nature. His features darkened, a predator setting his sights on his clueless prey, and she froze. He took a deadly step toward her, and her step backwards was unexpectedly halted by the dark wall; she was trapped.

“I must help ye?”

Her throat bobbed as she gulped and pressed her back against the cold, stone wall.

“ Anything I desire?”

He stood tall, directly in front of her, their height difference more apparent than ever, and he inhaled the raw scent of her sudden arousal. His solid, rough hand cupped her face softly again, but this time, she leaned into the touch without thinking.

A wet heat gathered low and rested between her legs. Her eyelids went heavy and then widened in fear when he moved his other hand to grip her hip. Her eyes flashed up to meet his, a silent plea to halt his actions.

What was I thinking? He could take me right here, and no one would know it. I could scream…

Thalia tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly dry and coarse. Finn’s hold on her was firm, and her eyes bore into his, another silent plea.

Please, no. Not yet…

His large grip traveled from her hip up her side, gathering the fabric of her shift, and she squeezed her eyes closed, hoping he wouldn’t cross that line yet. She sensed him easily when he leaned his face in closer to whisper into her ear, “Do ye have any sense of danger?”

Her breath hitched, and her lips parted at the warmth of his closeness, but she stayed silent. “Do ye ken that I could ask for several things of a woman like ye?”

“I —” was all she could manage to say as he closed the space between them.

“Especially a woman like ye, standing near bare in me rooms this late at night.” The sting of his breath on her neck sent shivers down her spine, and his grip intensified.

If that’s what he wants, and he will help me after he gets it, then he can have it.

Her body was red hot at the implication, and she let the relent escape her parted lips without giving it much more thought, “As I said, Highlander. Anything. ”

She felt his smile grow along the edge of her earlobe before he pulled it into his mouth and gently bit down on it. A challenge.

Instead of shrinking away from it, Thalia leaned into the sensation as if she was resolved to let him have her. Her hands rested on his arms, and her hard nipples pressed into his.

“Leave,” he whispered in her ear and then stepped back. His denial stung, but she instinctively reached out and gripped his arm again.

“No! Wait! Is there nothing that you desire? Truly?” Her desperation was palpable as was her arousal.

Finn’s glare rested on hers as she looked up at him through her long lashes. He inhaled and rolled his shoulders back. Thalia watched as a laundry list of unsaid desires passed across his face until he finally settled on the one that he wished to share with her.

A devious grin played at the corners of his mouth. His features were somehow even darker than before, and her eyes went wide with unease. “I desire an heir, Thalia Sinclair.”