Chapter Nineteen

W illamina awoke to soft kisses trailing along her neck, and warm hands kneading her breasts. Finlay was behind her, his chest flush against her back. His manhood hard against her buttocks.

"I didna mean to wake ye, lass," he whispered into the faint light in the room, and nipped at her ear.

She smiled. "I believe ye fib, sir," she teased and wiggled her bottom, causing him to hiss in her ear. She moved to turn around, but he stopped her.

"Nay, lass. Stay just like that." He maneuvered his body and entered her from behind.

Her breath caught on a gasp. The sensation from this angle completely different than afore. He buried his face into her neck and nuzzled as he thrust into her.

Once she figured out the rhythm, she gyrated her hips, matching his thrust for thrust. His lips moved to her ear, and he grunted with each pump of his strong hips. His arms were locked around her waist, keeping her in place.

That now familiar feeling began to build. Finlay must have sensed it, too, because he spoke in the darkness. "Come on, Mina. Let yourself go. Join me."

He pumped at a hurried pace, and dropped a hand to her nestle of curls, finding that little nub of sensations and applied pleasure as he rubbed it in fast circles.

Her breaths were short, hot. She was climbing that mountain again. And then his other hand pinched her turgid nipple, and she was gone. Bucking, thrashing her legs out as he continued to drive his hips forward. Calling her name over and over again. Until he was tumbling with her, his body stiffening behind her as he ground out her name one last time.

Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, and she felt him chuckle behind her. "That was verra nice."

She couldn't help but laugh in agreement. "Aye. 'Twas indeed."

It seemed to take them longer to catch their breaths this time, but soon, her lids grew heavy and she slipped into a dreamless oblivion, Finlay's scent and arms enveloping her.

When she woke later, she was unsure of the time. Finlay slept soundly beside her. He was on his stomach, his arm draped around her waist. For a moment, she listened to his soft breathing and studied his handsome features in the waning light of the fire, burning them into her mind's memory. At some point during the night, he must have gotten up and added logs to the fire for it to still be going.

Careful not to wake him, she gingerly extracted herself from his arm and slipped from the bed. Quietly, she gathered her things and dressed as best she could without making a racket and waking Finlay. Pulling her cloak on, she tied it around the neck and grabbed her overnight bag.

Looking back at the bed, her heart threatened to shatter into a thousand pieces. She took a deep breath and grasped the doorknob, pausing for another look. Her emotions warred within her. She was leaving the only man she had ever loved. Aye, loved. She knew that now.

If she didn't walk out the door now, she never would. But it was hard mustering up the courage to walk away forever. She had finally found someone that made her happy, only to have him cruelly ripped away from her. Fate was a fickle thing.

Needing to make haste and worried that she was losing the courage to do what was right, she pushed open the door. The loud creak echoed through the room and she froze, daring a look at Finlay, but he still slept peacefully, undisturbed.

He was going to be so angry when he woke. Mayhap even hurt. But it was the right thing to do. He would eventually find someone to love. The thought made her insides scream, but she couldn't be selfish. She had to do what was right for Finlay.

Closing the door behind her, Willamina made her way down the hall and the two flights of stairs. A wall clock struck six times. She had slept in later than she wanted to. All due to how sated Finlay made her feel. And she would never forget the feeling of sleeping beside him, his strong arms wrapped around her body, his nose nuzzled into her neck.

She shook her head. These thoughts would serve her no purpose right now. The man that had checked them in the previous night entered from one of the back rooms at the sound of Willamina's descent.

"My lady, is something amiss?" he asked, concern creasing his forehead.

"Nay," she answered, shaking her head as she set down her bag. "Do ye have paper and quill, sir?"

"Of course, one moment."

Taking a seat in one of the stuffed chairs, she folded her hands in her lap, unable to stop herself from looking at the stairs. She half expected to see Finlay come running down them.

When the innkeeper returned with the items she'd asked for, she thanked him, and scribbled a quick note to Finlay. She couldn't just leave with no explanation to him. Guilt and shame flooded through her already. She didn't need to add more stress to the situation.

Folding the note in a neat square, she wrote Finlay on the front, then removed a ribbon from her hair and tied it around the paper.

She handed the note to the man and returned the ink and quill. "Can you ensure that Lord Primrose gets this note when he comes down later this morn?"

The innkeeper's eyes narrowed at her request, but he nodded and took the note from her hand, putting it into a nearby drawer.

"Thank ye." And with that, she walked out of the inn, each step taking her further and further from Finlay. From the life they could have had.

The life they should have had.

*

Tears streaked Willamina's cheeks as she opened the door to Warton House. Harold greeted her in the entryway and took her bag.

"My lady, Sir Watson is in the study."

She pressed her lips together and nodded, not trusting herself to say anything. Her eyes darted down the hall that would lead her to Gerard's study. Afore, she had never been allowed in the room. It was his private sanctuary he would tell her.

With heavy feet, she moved down the hall, swiping at the tears. She paused outside the door and took a deep breath. She wanted answers. He didn't want her as a wife, she knew that. He didn't before, why would he now?

Then there was the matter of Lady Esmerelda. Something had been nipping at the edge of her mind about the woman. Had she and Gerard worked together to run her out of the city? To cause such a scandal that she would be shunned?

None of it made sense. There were much quicker ways to get rid of one's wife. It was rare, but there was divorce. He could have shunned her himself instead of planning this ruse.

She shook her head to clear it and straightened her shoulders and with one final deep breath, she pushed the door open.

Gerard's sneer let her know that he was fully expecting to see her. He didn't get up from his desk. He just sat there with that stupid look upon his face as he eyed her up and down.

"Wife," he greeted.

"Dinna call me that."

He had the nerve to look affronted as he grasped at his heart. "That hurts, Willamina. Truly."

"Ye ne'er called me that when we were married, dinna do so now."

"Ah," he stood and came around his desk, stopping in front of her and putting his hands on her upper arms. "See, lest ye forget. We are still married."

She shivered at his touch, disgust plain on her face as she shook his hands away.

"I am no' the woman I was when ye," she searched for the right words, "when whate'er 'tis ye did. I only want to know why. Why such a grand ruse? What did ye get out of it?"

"Ye're right. I ne'er called ye wife, because I ne'er wanted ye as my wife to begin with. Your parents had approached me with the proposition years before. If I had known ye would have grown to be such a bore, I would have rejected the offer straightaway."

His words were like a dagger to her heart, slicing away at the walls she had built around herself in the time he'd been gone. Each word a stab meant to inflict more pain.

"Ye could have divorced me."

He laughed. A deep bellow that echoed in the room. "And lose part of my estate? Absolutely no'." Shaking his head he walked to his desk, leaning on it and crossing his ankles. "Your parents and I had a deal."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do my parents have to do with this?"

"E'erything. They have e'erything to do with this. They helped hatch the plan." He laughed at the shock on her face.

"I dinna believe ye."

He shrugged. "It doesna matter if ye do or no'."

She shook her head, refusing to believe what he said. "Why would they do such a thing?"

"Coin. Your parents were always a greedy lot."

He wasn't wrong there. She and her parents were never close and more often than not they treated her like a bartering tool. She remembered the horror she felt when they told her she would be marrying Gerard. They gave her no choice and forced her into the union. No matter how many times she tried to tell her mother how miserable she was, the conversations went nowhere.

"They were supposed to hold my funds then revert them back to me. Their untimely deaths wrecked that plan. Literally," he chuckled, alluding to their carriage accident.

The man was vile.

"Who knew ye had a long-lost cousin. 'Twould have been so much easier without him and his interference."

"I will go to the courts."

He scoffed. "And say what?"

"I will tell them what ye've done."

"Dearest Willamina. Ye really are a naive twit. 'Tis no' criminal for me to have an accident in the water and wash up on a faraway shore. It took time for me to make my way home. Especially when I couldna recall my name."

"Ye lie."

"Ye have no proof to the contrary."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The past year and a half flooded her mind. Her year of mourning. Her parents' sympathy over the loss of her husband. Their deaths. The medium scandal that forced her to leave. Yet, through it all, she knew he was right. No one would believe her. Her mind wandered to Finlay. He should be awake by now. Her stomach churned at the pain and deceit he was more than likely feeling.

Strong, handsome Finlay. He stood up for her. Actually loved her.

And Gerard had ruined it all.

"Gerard?" A sleepy voice called from the hall.

"Come in, love." His eyes slammed into Willamina's when he called the woman ‘love'. A cruel sneer ticked up the corners of his mouth.

The door opened and the woman that had ruined her life as she'd known it entered. Gone were the ridiculous clothes, and over the top head dress, and gaudy jewelry. There were no billowing robes flowing behind her.

The woman went over to Gerard and kissed him full on the lips, letting her hand flutter over his crotch. He pulled her close and sucked on her earlobe, never taking his eyes off Willamina.

"Willamina, I believe ye've already met Esme."

Willamina jutted her chin out, refusing to let Gerard see how upset she was. "Aye," she snapped back. "Though I believe she went by Esmerelda back then."

Esme, as she was now called, had the gall to laugh. Just threw her head back and laughed at the top of her lungs as she snaked her arms around Gerard's neck.

"I assume ye being a medium was all a ruse as well?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "That seance nonsense is such a scheme. Talking to the dead. I mean, really. 'Twas too easy to draw ye in."

Willamina backed toward the door, shaking her head. She was a fool. A stupid, stupid fool.

*

The early morning light streaming through the drapes and directly into Finlay's face woke him up from one of the best nights of sleep he had had for as long as he could remember.

Memories of the events of the previous night and early morning hours flooded his mind and his body roared to life. He smiled and stretched his arm to draw Willamina close, the need to bury himself deep strong, but his hand found naught but the mattress.

He sat up, looking at the empty bed.

"Mina," he called, gazing around the room. He didn't see her. She wasn't here. He shoved the covers off him and jumped out of bed, checking the floor to make sure she hadn't fallen or something. His breath caught in his throat when his eyes landed on his overnight bag. Only his bag was there. Hers was gone.

"Nay," he said aloud to the empty room as he grabbed his trousers and hurriedly pulled them on. His boots followed, and then his shirt. Where the hell had she gone?

He thought of what happened between them the night before. What they had shared. Had he scared her away? His mind searched for some kind of hint that her plan was to leave all along.

He found none.

Confused and devastated, he left the room, not caring that he certainly looked a mess. He convinced himself that mayhap she was breaking her fast early in the dining room. Though he knew it was a lie. She wouldn't take her bag to eat her eggs.

He practically ran down the stairs as worry edged into his brain. What if something horrible happened to her?

The innkeeper met him at the bottom of the stairs. "My lord. I have been asked to personally deliver this to ye."

Finlay snatched the note from his hand, immediately noticing the ribbon. It was Willamina's. She had worn it on the first day of their trip on the way to Inverness.

Untying the ribbon, he unfolded the paper and read the words that shattered his heart.

Dearest Finlay,

I must apologize for not saying goodbye. I knew if I did, I would never be able to leave. Thank ye for the memories of last night. Thank ye for showing me what it felt like to be loved. I will forever treasure them and ye in my heart and mind. Ye will soon forget about me and find yourself a proper wife, as ye should have done from the beginning. Now ye can do so. Our marriage is void, so 'tis like it never happened. I am sorry for any pain caused, but please know 'tis for the best.

Mina

The roar that burst through his chest had the innkeeper running back into the room. "My lord?"

"My wife. What time did she leave?"

"I-I," the man stuttered.

"What time?" he asked again, his voice deathly low.

"Just after six, my lord."

"By carriage?"

The man shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. "I dinna ken, my lord. I did no' watch her after she closed the door."

"Hold our room until I return. I dinna ken when that will be, but ye will be compensated well."

"Aye, my lord."

Finlay barely heard the innkeeper's answer as he was already out the door, looking down one side of the road and then the other side as if he would get a glimpse of her.

He cursed. He never slept in late. The one time he did was the time Willamina upped and left. She had two hours on him. She had to have gone to Warton House.

Why the hell would she want to go back there? Especially after what Gerard had done to her. But where else would she go?

He called for a carriage and waited for what seemed like hours for it to arrive, though it was only minutes. He rattled off the address to Warton House, telling the driver to make haste, and jumped into the carriage. The whole ride worry for Willamina consumed him. Along with why. Over and over again, his mind kept asking the same question.

It made no sense. She had never loved Gerard.

She never loved him either, he reminded himself. She'd never returned the sentiment when he confessed to her the previous night.

Nay, he refused to believe that she didn't have any feelings for him. She may not have voiced them, but they were there. In the way she looked at him. The way her eyes followed his movements. The lilt to her voice when she spoke to him. The passion in her kisses.

And last night. There was absolutely no way naught of that was real. It wasn't an act.

The carriage jostled along and he willed the horses to go faster.

He just had to get to her. To make her see that the past didn't matter. Gerard didn't matter. Whatever his reasoning was for what he did, it didn't matter. They could move forward and forget about Inverness. Go back to Edinburgh and build a life together.

He pushed his hands through his hair in frustration at how long the ride was taking. Anger and worry consumed him, warring within him. Anger at Gerard, the piece of shite, and worry that Willamina, in trying to fix things, was only going to make matters worse.

What if he got to Warton House and Willamina wasn't there? What then? And it hit him then. No matter how much time he and Willamina had spent together these last few weeks, there was much he didn't know about her. She was still a mystery.

One that he would gladly solve if she gave him the chance. His heart ached. Worse than that. It felt like it had been ripped from his chest.

The carriage jolted to a stop and he jerked forward. Seeing Warton House outside the window, he pushed the door open and jumped out of the carriage. Running to the door, he pounded his fist on the wood, not caring if he woke up the whole damn neighborhood.