Chapter Twelve

"B rother, ye have returned." Finlay said dryly as Fingal whisked through the front door, Yvette entering right after.

His twin sneered. "And miss my dear brother's pre-wedding dinner party? How could I deny such a request?" Fingal pushed past him and made his way down the hall, Yvette following close on his heels. "Six o'clock, correct? I want to make sure we arena late," he called over his shoulder.

Even though Fingal no longer lived here, his bedroom was still set up for him. Unfortunately for Finlay, Fingal and Yvette took advantage of the space more often than he liked. Once Willamina moved in, he would put a stop to that. They had their own estate, there was no need for a room here any longer.

"Aye," Finlay mumbled. He pushed his hand through his hair as he watched his brother and his brother's wife disappear. His brother's countenance had him concerned. What was Fingal up to? He sighed. He had not the faintest idea, but he was sure there was something up his sleeve.

Mayhap he had come up with another ill-conceived speech. One made to tarnish his reputation in Willamina's eyes. It mattered naught. It was just a way for his brother to gain attention. Mayhap his wife could keep him under control, though Finlay highly doubted it. He could only wish that Fingal's antics did not ruin the whole night.

There were only a few hours left until everyone would gather and Willamina and Gil would arrive. One more night away from her and then she would be here. For good. Living at Rosewood Manor.

He could not stop thinking about their stolen kiss in the carriage the night before. He had left the choice up to her and whether or not she wanted to kiss him.

When she did, his body instantly reacted. It sprang to life as if it had been starving for her very kiss. He wanted to kiss her again. And again.

He hoped she felt the same way. Her reaction last night was sweet. If her late husband was still alive, he would hunt him down and beat the shite out of him for treating her so horribly. How could he deprive her from such pleasures?

Mayhap it was because he was not any good at it himself.

A knock sounded on his study door, and Gunn poked his head in. "Ye ready?"

He slapped the top of his desk, in his mind's eye thinking it was the late Lord Watson. "Aye. Is e'eryone else?"

"Ready as they e'er will be."

The five friends were heading to one of the clubs in the square for a couple of rounds of boxing. He was planning on working out some of his frustrations that stemmed from his brother.

At the club, they had claimed a ring in a room by themselves. The place smelled of sweat and leather.

"Can I just make it clear, gentlemen. No hitting me in the face today, aye?"

"Well, now ye are taking all the fun out of the fight, Primrose." Alexander laughed. "I, personally, would verra much like to punch ye in the face. Your smug look about your upcoming nuptials is tiring," he complained, but the corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk.

"If I recall correctly, 'twas no' that long ago, ye were in the same predicament," Finlay retorted.

"Aye," Nicholas chimed in. "And I really, really wanted to punch ye in the face. Over and over again."

Alexander put his hands up in defeat. "Hey now, your sister loves me. She wouldna have let ye do any such damage."

Nicholas snorted. "She canna stop what she is not around for."

Back and forth, they took shots at each other as they taped up their hands.

"I saw Fingal moping around earlier. He and his wife will be in attendance this eve?" Malcolm asked.

"Aye," Finlay said with a sigh, and finished wrapping the tape around his wrist. He cut the piece off with his teeth and smacked his hands together. "Who is first?"

Alexander hopped up and gave him a light punch in the shoulder. "Come on, pretty lad. I promise I willna mar that beautiful face of yours." His head snapped to Nicholas as the words came out of his mouth and he looked like he wanted to take them back. "No offense brother."

"None taken. But I am glad that I dinna have to worry about hitting ye in the face when my turn comes."

"Great," Alexander mumbled as he climbed through the ropes behind Finlay.

Fists up, they circled each other. Finlay threw out a jab, and then blocked the incoming punch with his shoulder. He returned with a left hook to Alexander's gut.

"Ooof!" He shoved Finlay away and they rounded up again. "Ye ken, I liked it better when I could hit ye in the face."

Laughter erupted in the room as they continued sparring. When they switched out, Finlay still had frustrations he wanted to rid himself of. In the corner, hanging from the ceiling was a punching bag filled with sand. He approached it and pounded the hell out of it. By the time he was done, he was breathing heavily, his knuckles bruised, and his brow sweaty.

His friends looked at him like he had lost his mind. Except Gunn. He looked at him with pride. Not surprising since Gunn was the fighter in the group.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Finlay gave him a curt nod and collapsed in a chair and watched as Alexander and Nicholas went at it in the ring.

"Anything I can help with?" Gunn asked.

"Nay, thank ye though. Just family stuff. That hopefully will be resolved once Willamina and I are wed."

Gunn frowned but did not say anything further.

"Ow!" Alexander snarled as Nicholas connected with a right hook to the jaw. "If my face is all black and blue tomorrow, ye are going to have to answer to your sister."

Nicholas laughed. "Are ye saying ye need your wife to stand up for ye?" He swung again, but Alexander ducked out of the way and countered with his own hook, but Nicholas stepped back and the swing went wide, connecting with nothing.

"I liked ye better when ye werena my brother-in-law."

Peals of laughter filled the air, and Finlay found himself finally relaxing. This was what he needed. An afternoon out with his friends to take his mind off of everything that was happening.

"All right, ye two. Both of your wives will have our heads if ye both return with your faces smashed in," Malcolm called out.

Nicholas jumped out of the ring, swiping the back of his hand against his bloodied lip. Alexander followed, his right eye already starting to swell.

"One final toast before we head back," Gunn announced, pouring a dram of whisky for everyone. "Finlay, may your days be forever happy, and your nights e'en happier. Slainte!"

A chorus of cheers rose up and they all drank.

Finlay was thankful for the day. And the toast. If only his friends knew the truth. They would be trying to talk him out of committing to such a farce.

But no matter what, he would not back out.

And it was not because he needed to marry. That clause had become secondary to what he really wanted.

Nay, everything revolved around Willamina. He would not let her down.

*

Willamina, Finlay, all his friends, their wives, his brother and his wife, along with Gil were all seated at the table in the dining hall. They had just finished dessert which consisted of the most divine pistachio ice that Willamina had ever tasted.

Just as the women were getting ready to step away with a cordial, and the men with their brandy, Fingal stood up, his spoon clinking against the crystal glass he was holding.

"Before we all retire, I thought I would say a word to the lucky couple."

He put an odd emphasis on the word lucky and Willamina sought Finlay's eyes. They were focused on his brother, his brows creased.

"As ye ken," Fingal continued, pushing his chair back and standing. "My dear twin brother is to be married tomorrow."

A cheer rose from the attendees, and he smiled. Not a particularly pleasant smile, Willamina noted.

"And while Lady Watson is lovely, indeed. more than capable of catching the eye of any man in the city, has no' anyone wondered why, Finlay, who has notoriously said he willna marry, has had a sudden change of heart?"

"Brother," Finlay growled.

"Och, brother ," Fingal countered.

Yvette placed a hand on her husband's arm, but he shook it off.

It was like watching a tennis match. Willamina's eyes shifted from one brother to the next. Their identical appearances only differentiated by the complete opposite looks on each of their faces.

"I only think it proper that Lady Watson knows what brought about the change."

"Fingal," Finlay stood abruptly. "That is enough."

Willamina had never seen Finlay's face so red. He was getting most upset. Whatever could Fingal say that could anger him so?

"'Tis no' enough, dear brother. The truth should be brought to light. Lady Watson," Fingal turned and addressed her. "What my brother has failed to tell ye, and is obviously no' wanting me to tell ye either," he smirked at Finlay, an evil, snide smile that made him look positively nasty. "My brother needs to marry ye. Our father has dictated it so."

"Fingal, for all that is holy, that is enough!" Finlay shouted.

Willamina was confused. Early on Finlay had said, well, no, he just said he wanted to be off the market so as to get away from all the meddling mothers. She thought back to their earlier conversations. She had believed there was something he was holding back, but she was keeping her own secret, so she couldn't fault him.

"Without ye, he loses his title."

Willamina sucked in a breath, and a silence filled the room.

Until Finlay launched himself across the table and pinned his brother to the floor. "Ye fucking arsehole." He landed three solid punches to Fingal's face before Gunn and Malcolm pulled him off and held him away.

Fingal just laughed as blood streamed from his nose and Yvette dropped to her knees beside him.

Willamina did not know what to do. Fingal's words played over in her mind.

Even though they both knew their union was a ruse, she thought they had been honest with each other as to the reasons.

Even as she thought that, she knew it wasn't true. They both were hiding things. But using her to keep his title? How was that even possible? How does one lose their title? That seemed like something he should have told her about.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache suddenly making her head spin. She looked around. Finlay was cursing up a storm at his brother, while Fingal just laughed. His friends were trying to calm him down, and Clarissa and Gwen stared in horror.

Willamina backed away from the table. And for once, Gil offered support when he stepped up and guided her to the door.

"Willamina!" Finlay called out. "Let me explain."

She squared her shoulders. "I should verra much like to leave now. I have much to consider."

"Ye canna consider without all of the facts. Please," he begged. The pain on his face tugged at her heart.

There was more to the story than the clipped version Fingal spoke of. But she did not want to hear it tonight.

"Tomorrow morning. Come to Buckwood Manor. Tonight, I would just like to think. Good eve."

And with that, Gil pushed her out the door and into their waiting carriage.

"Cousin—"

Willamina stopped him with a hand up in the air. "Dinna. I dinna want to talk about it tonight." She angrily swiped at the tears that began to fall.

She found it ironic that she had vowed to tell Finlay the truth about her past tonight and she hoped in doing so, that she wouldn't lose him. But in a twist of fate, she found out his truth, and now she was the one running away.

If the marriage was to be on paper only, why did it matter the reason?

And why did the real reason hurt so much?