Chapter Twenty

A t the sound of banging and then yelling, Willamina looked toward the study door.

Gerard swore and pushed Esme away from him most unceremoniously and left the room, Willamina close on his heels.

Harold was hurrying toward them, and behind him, eyes ablaze, Finlay was charging down the hall. "Mina!"

She couldn't help it. Forget the promises she'd made to herself that she would let him go. She ran to him, closing the distance until he wrapped his strong arms around her and she nuzzled into the warmth of his neck.

He hugged her like she was his world and she clung to him for dear life. Pulling his head away, he assessed her. "Are ye well?" He brushed her hair back from her face, his eyes crinkled with concern as he waited for her to answer.

She nodded. "I am fine."

"Isna that sweet? Get out of my house!" Gerard demanded, pointing down the hall.

Finlay extricated himself from Willamina's arms and held her at his side. "I dinna ken what ye've discussed this morn, but I need to speak to my wife."

"She isna your—"

"My wife," Finlay growled. "I will speak with her in private. I am no' leaving until I do."

Gerard seemed to get his wits about him and nodded stiffly. "Ye may have the library," he finally ceded, before turning on his heel and disappearing down the hall.

"What are ye doing here?" She asked, but he only shook his head as they made their way to the library.

Shutting the door behind them, Willamina didn't know what to say. Or where to look. The pain etched on Finlay's face was heartbreaking. And she got the sense that he was barely containing a simmering rage.

His eyes burned into hers. "Ye left."

Those two words hung in the air. Heavy and sad.

She pressed her lips together, and took a deep breath through her nose, before collapsing into a chair. "I had to."

"The hell ye did," he snapped.

"I left ye a letter," she whispered.

"Och, I got it. I didna understand it." He shook his head. "No' after last night. What we shared. Did it mean naught to ye?" His voice broke with the pain pulsing through him.

"It meant e'erything to me, Finlay. Ye made me feel things I had only dreamt about." She couldn't stop wringing her hands in her lap.

"Then why did ye run?"

The pain lancing his voice was hard to hear. She closed her eyes against it. "For ye. I ran for ye."

He laughed. A maniacal laugh sounding like naught she had ever heard from him before. "Nay," he said, shaking his head. "Ye didna leave for me. If 'twas for me, ye would have stayed."

"Finlay," she said softly, trying to figure out how to explain to him her actions. "Our marriage isna real. We said that from the beginning."

"Things changed between us. Ye canna deny it. I ken ye felt it, too."

Her heart was shattering because he was right. She had. But it didn't change the circumstances they now found themselves in.

"Ye are right. But e'erything has changed now. Our marriage on paper isna e'en real now. It canna be. But," she took a deep breath and continued. "We still accomplished what we planned. Ye have your title. I hope ye are able to keep it. If no', ye are free to make another pact with another woman. 'Tis what ye wanted."

"Damn my title, Mina. 'Tis ye I want. Ye I long for. Ye that I dream about at night."

"But I am already married—"

"There is no' one court in all of Scotland that would consider ye still married to that bastard out there," he spat. "Ye had his death certificate, did ye no'?"

She nodded. "I did. I do. I," she pushed off the chair and began pacing the room, wringing her hands in front of her.

"That is all ye need to prove our marriage is true."

She shook her head in denial. "Why would ye want to continue? Ye have what ye want."

"Nay, nay I dinna. Without ye by my side, I dinna have what I want. Nor what I need. Mina," he approached her and grabbed her arms, forcing her to stop pacing and face him. Forcing her to look into his eyes. "I love ye."

She just kept shaking her head, as her heart shattered ever further. "I have naught to offer ye," she whispered.

"What are ye talking about?" His eyes searched hers and she just wanted to collapse into a heap on the floor and cry for her situation.

"I have no estate. No money. No land. I have naught. With Gerard alive, he regains the notes to e'erything."

He grasped her arms harder, shaking her as if trying to get her to wake up from whatever state she was in. "I dinna give a damn about any of those things. I only need ye. Naught else. Just ye."

She saw it then. Saw the love swirling in the depths of his ice-blue eyes. Felt it in the way he was holding her, and her breath left her in a rush.

"We can go home to Rosewood Manor. To Primrose Castle. They are yours as well as mine. We will speak with Bigsby. Have him draw up the paperwork ensuring that our marriage is legitimate. We dinna need Warton House. Let Gerard have it. Ye dinna need these bad memories. Let us create new ones. Happy ones. Together."

He crushed her in a hug so tight she could feel the beat of his heart through his jacket. His warmth enveloped her, and his arms felt like home. She clung to him like a life line. He was right. She didn't need Warton House. She didn't have anything when she'd married Gerard. And when she thought about it, she didn't want anything that would remind her of him. Of their horrible marriage.

She pulled away and met Finlay's eyes and she saw the worry in them. Guilt flooded her for hurting him so. She really thought she was doing what was best for him. But she saw it now. He was her future.

Lifting on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It was tender at first, before deepening. They let all of their emotions out in that lingering, soul-crushing kiss.

And then she let the words slip from her mouth. The words that she had been thinking, but trying to tamp down. But there was no denying them. Not any longer.

"I love ye, Finlay Primrose."

*

The ride back to Edinburgh was done at their leisure, stopping for two nights on the way to not make the trip as stressful. It also gave Finlay time to show Willamina just how very much he loved her. Which he did, every chance he got.

Right now, they were back in the carriage, and only wicked thoughts were running through his mind. They'd just left the inn they spent their second night in and though they'd hardly slept, his body hungered for more.

Drawing the curtains to block out the outside world, he smiled at Willamina's look of surprise and waggled his eyebrows.

"'Twill be hours afore we arrive home," he said, his voice husky as he slid his hands up her legs, letting his fingertips flit over the soft skin of her thighs.

Her breath hitched as she watched him, her lip caught between her teeth, her eyes hooded and darkening with desire.

Sitting back on the opposite seat, he brought her with him and settled her onto his lap. "Kiss me, love."

A wicked glint lit her eyes and she licked her lips before capturing his mouth in a kiss, her tongue seeking entry into his and he obliged, their tongues twisting together in a wicked dance. His hands squeezed her buttocks through her gown and he ground his hips up, knowing she could feel the hard length of him at the apex of her thighs.

He fumbled for the buttons of his trousers, freeing himself, and then lifted her skirts, shifting their bodies so they aligned perfectly, and then sank himself into her sweet heaven.

She cried out, throwing her head back, her mouth open in ecstasy. He ran his tongue along the column of her neck as she lifted her hips up and down. Riding him, setting an excruciating pace that she knew drove him crazy.

Lips on his again, she ground her hips on him, taking him as far as she could, and he bucked. The little minx. She knew exactly what she was doing. He could tell from her smile that he felt against his mouth. Then she licked his ear, feathering kisses down his neck, and bit.

That was all it took to send him reeling, ready to tumble over the edge. He wanted her there with him.

He bucked his hips up, lifting his buttocks off the seat meeting her thrust for thrust and her whimpering cries let him know she was close. When she started tightening around his cock, he bent his head and sucked her turgid nipple into his mouth, nipping it and that was all she needed. She cried out his name as she stiffened on him and he pumped his hips, getting to where he needed.

Panting as he emptied himself into her. Their breaths ragged. Chests heaving.

Her eyes fixed on his. "Do ye think the coachman heard us?" She asked finally, feigning innocence with a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Och, aye. I believe the wildlife did as well." He winked at her before lifting her off him and straightening her gown as best he could, then tucked himself away and fastened his trousers.

"I've ne'er passed the time in a carriage like that afore. Lord Primrose, ye are opening up a whole new world to me," she giggled, settling beside him after pushing the curtain open so they could once again see outside.

"Always glad to be of service, my lady."

"Now," she said, tapping her chin. "How do we spend the rest of the journey?"

The look on her face was pure lust. "Ye are a wicked one, love. Ne'er change."

"I willna."

"Promise?" He asked.

"With all my heart."