Chapter Twenty
After poring over the books all day, Finlay realized something was still wrong. When he returned from Oxford, he would invite Prudence and his youngest brother for a visit. Then, his sister-in-law could give him more information on Mr. Gerrick. What had she found trustworthy about the man when all he saw was a lying weasel?
Frustrated and not quite able to find the answer, he looked forward to the welcome distraction of dinner with his wife. She’d seemed to have forgiven him despite his Herculean feat to mess things up. He was hopeful she would join him in bed tonight without his having to go in search of her.
Maybe he should make sure he had a key to her room. Better yet, close it in and forget about its existence. Why would his father build such a thing?
He was almost to the door when he spied her coming from the back of the house. Waiting for her to draw near, he noticed she was wearing a gown he hadn’t seen yet—it was the lightest shade of pink. It looked good on her, and he finally felt at peace knowing he was providing for her.
When she reached him, he threaded his arm with hers as they strolled through the already open door. “Ye look lovely.”
“Thank ye.”
“Did ye order some new gowns?”
“Aye, I did, but only a few. I dinnae ken what my budget would be, and I didnae want to spend too much.” Ah, she had heard what he’d said earlier about his allowance disappearing.
“Dinnae worry, ye can buy whatever ye like.”
They were about to sit when Brodie strolled into the room, followed by every other Cameron man who had joined them on the journey. He’d not been aware they weren’t going into the village tonight.
“The gardener came today.” Tristan glanced to Blair as he took the seat next to her.
“Do ye think he will do?”
“Aye, he seemed competent, and better yet, he agreed with the plans I drew up. He’s brought a man who works with vegetables and herbs as well to help Cook with his garden.”
Brodie said to Finlay, “When I was returning from the village today, I met yer father and brother. Is it true ye are going to Oxford tomorrow?”
Finlay glanced at Blair, who stared back at him blankly. “Aye, ’tis true. He wants me there when he seeks an audience with King Charles.”
“I didnae ken.” Blair’s blue eyes frosted over, possibly angry with him, yet again, for his poor timing.
“Nae, I havenae had the chance to tell ye.”
“What do I need to pack?”
“Ye will be staying here.”
Shock registered in her gaze before she averted her eyes and studied her plate.
Hell, this hadn’t been the way he’d wanted to tell her, but he couldn’t explain it all in front of the men. They were going into an area where men were killing each other because of their allegiances. She was safe here.
The meal went by with Blair barely speaking as the men talked about their day and what they had done.
He longed to pull her into his arms, carry her up to their bed, and tell her all, but just as everyone was shuffling through the door, Robbie pulled him aside. “I need to speak with ye.”
“Can it wait until the morning?”
“Nae. It must be now.”
Groaning inside, he remembered the promise to his laird that he would do what Robbie asked without question. He tilted his head to indicate the direction. “In my study.”
By the time he looked up, his wife had fled.
Malcolm, his laird’s brother, followed them into the study, shutting and locking the door behind him. Hurrying over to the decanter, Finlay poured a serving of whisky for each of them then took a seat at his desk, trying to ignore the books taunting him.
Robbie started, “I need to ask something of ye.”
“Go ahead.”
“I need ye to take the priest to Oxford with ye.”
“Won’t he miss mass tomorrow if he goes?”
“I can lead it for him.”
“I don’t like it— It will probably slow us. But my laird has instructed I do whatever ye wish, so ’twill be done.”
Robbie nodded, relief washing over him as he took a large gulp of the amber liquid in his hand. It was the first time he’d seen the young man with a stout drink.
“Can ye trust me with what ye are doing here?”
“Ye are loyal to King Charles?”
“Aye.”
“Would ye lay down yer life to protect him and his family?”
He answered without hesitation, “Aye, ’tis my sworn duty.”
Robbie stood and squared his shoulders. “My true name is Robert Stuart, son to King Charles Stuart and his wife, Henrietta Maria.”
“How?” Finlay was certain his eyes were as round as the moon and his jaw was slack.
“You ken my mother is Catholic.” Robbie waited for him to respond, so he nodded. “My parents made an arrangement when they wed. Their second son would be raised in my mother’s faith. I am the twin to Charles II. I was born three minutes after him.”
How could this be true? He glanced to Malcolm.
“Aye, ’tis true,” Malcolm backed the words of the youth who stood before him.
“My mother’s faith is not welcome in England, so they sent me to where they believed I would be safe. I have not seen them in years, but they saw to it that the church cared for me until it was no longer safe.”
Finlay gulped.
Robbie continued, “There are a few who have discovered my existence. Do ye remember the day Lachlan found me?”
“Aye.” Finlay was with Lachlan when they came upon the charred remains of a church. They had discovered Robbie holding a priest who had been left for dead in the assault that had taken place before their arrival.
“The priest was killed because he didnae divulge where I was hidden away. If Conall had known who I was, he would have waited for me to return to take my life, or worse, hold me as leverage against the king.”
The man who had attempted to kill Lachlan was in league with the Covenanters.
“Ye were fortunate to no’ be home the morning of the attack.”
“I have found a home and safety with the Camerons, but I miss my family. Please have the priest deliver the message for me? It’s too dangerous to put my request in writing.”
“Aye.” He knelt. “Yer Royal Highness.”
“And ye must never call me that again. It puts us all in danger. No one can ken who I am. Not even Blair. She is safer if she doesnae ken my true identity.”
Rising, he nodded. Robbie told the truth—if word of his presence and his religion got out to the people, they would swarm his estate and kill anyone in residence.
He wanted this whole journey over. He wanted Robbie back on Cameron lands, and he wanted his wife out of danger, because they were all at risk with his presence here.
“Can the priest be ready to leave after breaking his fast?”
“Aye, I will be certain he is.”
Once the men were gone, Finlay finally breathed again and calculated what needed to be done to complete this mission. Then, he poured another dram of whisky before settling at his desk to try one more time to make sense of the letters and numbers in the journals before him. Just ten more minutes, then he’d seek out his wife.
Two hours later, his study door slowly creaked open.
…
After stomping into his bedchamber, Blair slammed the door. She’d thought they had made progress today, but her husband still thought it not necessary to tell her he was going to desert her in a place she knew very little about, where everything kept going wrong and she had no access to the accounts.
Pacing the room, she wondered what she could do.
It was too early to go to bed. Besides, she was so angry she couldn’t have slept if she wanted to. She was not going back down to see her husband when he didn’t have the decency to tell her what he was up to. Their relationship would only become strained if she closed herself off. She didn’t want to end up living separately like his mother and father had.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” she called out as she continued to pace the large master bedchamber.
Jenny walked in. “Good evening, my lady.”
“Good evening. How did it go with the new servants?”
“They are going to do nicely, and one has a sister who is trained as a lady’s maid. I told the lass to send her tomorrow so you can see if she will suit.”
“Wonderful.”
“I heard Mr. Cameron won’t be in tomorrow. I’ll have Father cancel the interviews he had scheduled.”
“I didn’t know he had made appointments.”
“Oh, yes. He had several lined up to go over repairs for the house with the Cameron men and a fellow from the village.”
“Do not cancel them. I can work on it with them. I’ve overseen some work at my father’s castle, and ’twill no’ be a problem.”
“Yes, my lady. Do you need anything else tonight?”
“Nae, och, well, may I have a glass of that spiced wine brought up, please? Thank ye.”
A little while later, she was pulling off her gown and hanging it. She’d been hot all day, and it still seemed quite stuffy inside with no breeze blowing, so she switched into the lightest, softest shift she had then picked up a candle and the glass of wine Jenny had brought.
Slipping through the dressing area and into the lady’s chamber, she ambled to the nightstand to set down her wine then slinked over to the trunk. She pulled open the lid, and the scent of the long-ago lavender wafted up. Despite its age, the plant sprigs had been well cared for. She took out the first letter and carried it to the bed.
Carefully, she peeled open the page to find a lovely, scrolling text. She felt a tinge of guilt for interloping, but maybe his parents’ relationship would give her more insight into the man who was now her husband. How was she to prevent the same thing from happening to them if she didn’t read it?
After placing the letter on the bed, she took a sip of her wine as a tear trailed down her cheek. Despite how hard the confession must have been for Finlay’s mother—knowing nothing could change the course of events—she still had told the earl the truth.
Folding the letter and placing it back in the trunk, Blair returned to Finlay’s bedchamber, brushed her hair, and decided to let go of the resentment. She wanted to know that kind of love for her husband, and if it was to happen, she needed to tell him the truth.
If he didn’t know how important it was to her that she be useful, he would never give her the chance.
It was late enough that everyone should be in bed. She didn’t bother changing into a gown, because she had to do this before she lost her nerve. She didn’t even stop to don slippers before she was navigating the dark hall and descending the steps.
As she pushed in the door, she almost stopped, panicked by the sudden fear Finlay might laugh at her like the men and her father had at her mother that day in the hall. But she had to do this now, before he left.
Finlay looked up from his desk. She averted her gaze and noticed he’d been studying the books again. If she was able to take a peek, she might be able to make a comment and show him how competent she was.
“I thought ye were in bed.” His ragged voice traveled over her.
“Nae, I have something I need to tell ye.” After sliding fully into the room, she shut the door behind her and moved toward the big wooden desk that made her feel miles away from Finlay.
“Wait.” He indicated she should sit as he rose and came around the desk, easing into the chair next to her. “Let me apologize. I didnae want ye to find out the way ye did that I would be leaving. I wanted to tell ye myself.”
“Why didnae ye?” She scrutinized the hands she’d folded in her lap, afraid of what he’d say, but then thought herself silly and reinitiated contact.
“I thought we would be alone tonight, and I could tell ye over the meal.”
“Why do ye no’ want me to go with ye?” Her heart lurched, and she realized she was hurt that he’d want to leave her. Not only did he not trust her with his books, but he didn’t have faith in her to be a good ambassador to the king.
He took her hand. “I do want ye to come, but ye cannae. ’Tis no’ safe in Oxford. This area is relatively peaceful, but the English are in the midst of a civil war, and ’tis raging on to the south.”
She didn’t say anything—she was torn between feeling cherished and too sheltered.
“I want ye here, where I ken there are people to take care of ye if something happens to me.”
But what if something happened to him? Her pulse quickened. “Why do ye have to go?”
“My father and the king wish it, but I promise I will be there and back quickly. I willnae dally anywhere, because I have ye to come home to.” Tugging her hand, he drew her toward him, pulling her out of her seat and into his lap, his arm coiling around her to pin her to his chest. His free hand landed on her thigh. His head nuzzled hers. “I dinnae want to leave ye, and I’ve got so much here that needs to get done.”
Warmth radiated from his hand into her leg, and she shivered at the feeling that began to take bud in her core. “Promise ye will come back to me soon, and I’ll promise ye to take care of things here for ye.”
“Aye, ’tis a deal.” His smile was genuine.
“And before I forget,” he continued, “please dinnae go out on the grounds without someone with ye.”
“Why?”
“I dinnae ken our neighbors yet, and with this war going on ’tis hard to ken who is friend or foe. I just want to ken you are safe until I return.” His brow creased, and she found herself wanting to erase the worry that had settled into his eyes.
She was about to tell him she could manage the estate in his absence, but his head tilted and his lips claimed hers, and she turned her whole body into the embrace. Her chest tightened. The peaks of her breasts became engorged and full, seeking out the friction of his hard muscles. Everything but his touch receded from her mind.
Their tongues met in a clash of need and something more than desire—it was stark and tangible, a feeling of trust and an odd acknowledgement of a new fear…being without each other. It was as if they had to soak up this moment because any time apart was too long, like they wouldn’t be able to breathe without each other until they were joined again.
As his tongue swirled around hers, mingling and stealing her senses, Finlay’s hand drifted down the soft material of her shift. When he reached the hem of the material, his fingers slipped beneath, and she sighed at the connection, but it wasn’t enough.
He broke the kiss.
When she opened her eyes, his gaze immersed in hers. She was captivated by the rapture his dilated hazel eyes promised in their depths.
“I want to be inside ye, wife.” His husky words sent need coursing through her, and all she could do was nod that she desired the same.
Without releasing his hold on her, he stood then gently slid her to the floor. Unbelting his plaid, he let it fall, then kicked off his boots and removed the rest of his clothing while she stood and watched the sculpted body that had taught her true pleasure could be had between a man and a woman.
But they were in his study. “We dinnae have a bed.”
His grin was slow and mischievous, making gooseflesh rise on her fevered flesh. “’Tis nae need.”
“What?” she asked, but his hands were on the material at her waist, pulling up and drawing the shift over her head. He tossed it to the ground. She really had to do something about how careless he was with their clothing.
His mouth was on her neck as his hands closed around her waist, pulling her up and against his body. Their flesh touched, igniting the part of her that didn’t give a damn about what was on the floor.
She felt as if she were falling into him until she realized he was sitting back in the chair, pulling her along with him. She was in his lap, but this time nothing separated their skin as it touched so intimately. Prying her legs apart, he let his fingers slide up her thigh and delve up to her apex. One finger moved in circles on the sensitive nub above her slit. She bowed into the touch as his lips came crashing down on hers.
His finger dipped into her slick opening, coaxing that odd mewling sound from her that she couldn’t control. He pulled out, slow, once, then in and out again. Then two fingers were inside her, pumping ever so casually as his thumb came up to touch her nub and circle again.
Sensations of pleasure bursting from his attentions, she was about to fall into oblivion when he removed his hand, and she was left wanting while he continued to caress her mouth with his.
Drawing back, she let her heated gaze fall on him. “Please,” she whispered.
His smile indicated he knew what she needed, but instead he loosened his grip, and she wanted to cry.
“Put one leg on each side of me.” He lifted her with both hands as she swung a leg around to straddle him. He drew her close once again, her wet passage flush to the base of his penis. She was almost eye level with him in this position, but he still had to dip slightly when his lips sought out her neck, closing down on the sensitive flesh and sucking.
She felt the sigh in her throat as she buried her breasts in his chest, seeking more, seeking everything. He bit down, scraping his teeth lightly against the place where her pulse throbbed and heated, then he sucked again, and she moaned aloud.
Hands tightened on her hips, and suddenly he was lifting her. His cock sprung out, and he lowered her slowly onto it, stretching and filling her until she rested in his lap, and he impaled her so deeply she thought it might be too much.
Instead of moving, his hands pinned her on him. His eyes met hers, and what she saw there was a need that must be reflected in her own gaze. Something deep in the core of her heart called out “yes,” said that this was where she belonged and her husband owned her in a way no other ever could.
His hips rocked from side to side, and as he moved inside her, the sensitive spot above her opening rubbed against him. Then she was rocking, too, her hips circling his as she held onto his shoulders. The ride pulled her under a tide of desire, making the world blur, and then it went black until colors and sensations burst in her head. Flinging her head back, she inhaled sharply as the ecstasy peaked, and she screamed, “Finlay.”
The waves still crashed around her as hands grasped her rear and pulled her closer and closer. He continued to pump into her, and then he was panting and gasping like she had been. His staff throbbed inside her as her channel clenched, milking him and sating them both.
Resting her head on his chest, she was boneless and spent. She hugged him with one arm, while her other hand slid through the dark curls on his chest.
“I’ve become accustomed to being beside ye at night.”
A contented sigh escaped her throat at his heartfelt words. “I dinnae want ye to go.”
“I don’t want to leave ye, but I promise, ’twill no’ be gone too long.”
She nodded, but she couldn’t shake the apprehension the thought of his absence brought.