Page 11 of Highland Wishes And Dreams
Andrew merely clamped his fist around the ring. “Has your mother even asked if Emily wants this ring? It means more to me than any of you.”
Andrew made sense. Finn doubted Emily would ever wear, or even want the ring, certainly not after it did nothing but bring bad luck to Wen. But his mother…
“I’ll talk to mother. Perhaps she can be made to see sense. I’m sure it’s just her grief which is seeing her want it back. Like you, it makes her feel closer to Wen. A child is not supposed to die before a parent.”
He rose to take his leave when Andrew’s next words stopped him cold. “You do that. Make your mother understand. You can’t have both. If you take the ring, I keep Galina for as long as I need her. You know with only a few words I could make her stay. Her compassion, and love for Jake and I, will see Galina do her duty.”
With barely concealed rage he uttered softly, “Her duty? Her duty? Where is your duty to her? She’s already older than your wife was when she gave birth, and now you want to ruin her happiness.”
Andrew thumped the arm of his chair. “Happiness. I’m barely managing to keep living.”
“That is not fair. It’s not Galina’s fault, nor mine. Nor my mother’s.”
His so-called friend merely emptied his whisky glass in one gulp and then said. “If you love her enough, you’ll choose her. It should not even be a difficult choice. I’d have not even needed to think. It would have been Wen—always—Wen. From where I’m sitting you don’t deserve Galina.”
Finn walked and leaned down so he was in Andrew’s face. “I shouldn’t have to choose. You should do what’s right and give my mother back the ring that belongs to her and you should be happy for Galina and I.” He stepped back before his fists did the talking. “My sister would not recognize the man I see sitting in this chair.”
With that he stalked from the room. He didn’t want to do anything or say anything that would destroy years of friendship, and he had to keep remembering Andrew was destroyed by Wen’s death. He just prayed his friend would recover. Andrew would put himself in an early grave if he carried on drinking while filled with such anger.
He definitely had something to talk to Galina about now. He would never let her brother emotionally blackmail them both. Waiting the twelve months would be hard enough.
Chapter 7
Galina could barely keep her hands from shaking as she pulled her slippers on her bare feet. She had left her hair down, and she’d brushed it a hundred times until it shone. She wore no jewelry, merely a sheer linen night rail and a silk robe. She felt daring and wanton.
As she snuck through the darkened halls of Banff Castle, she shook, but not from cold. Butterflies rioted in her stomach and eagerness was swimming in her veins. Tonight she would learn the secrets of love. Wen had told her it was like touching heaven. Just being with Finn was like a dream come true.
She needed no candle because she knew these halls backwards. It took her only a few minutes to reach Finn’s bedchamber. She stood outside his door and wondered if she should knock. Realizing that might alert someone to her presence, she took a deep breath and lifting the latch she slipped into his room.
She didn’t know what to expect, perhaps Finn already in bed, or sitting on the bed in a robe, or better yet naked for her to peruse, but instead she found him sitting fully clothed staring into the fire. He hadn’t even noticed her entrance. So much for the idea of turning his head.
He didn’t see her until she dropped to her knees at his feet. Slowly he looked up. They stared at each other, and time seemed to slow to a halt.
He reached out and ran his fingertip slowly down her nose over her lips and down her chest. “You will be mine.”
“I’m already yours. You’ve held my heart for years. That’s why I have never wed. How could I, unless it was you?”
She watched as Finn shivered, his blue eyes darkening in answer to the searing awareness between them. He bent his head slowly and pressed those magic lips to the curve of her neck.
Her whole body quivered with the most thrilling response. He whispered, “I want you so much, and we will share pleasure, but I will not make you fully mine. We cannot marry until we are out of mourning for Wen because you could get with child.”
“Just being here with you is enough for now. I’ve waited a long time; I can wait for more.”
He laughed. “Well, I bloody can’t,” and he stood, collecting her in his arms, and laid her on his bed.
Finn’s heart slammed in his chest as he pressed her down on the soft mattress. His member throbbed like it would burst from the sight of her creamy skin visible through the fine linen of her night rail. She was beautiful. Sinking onto his knees before her, he was stunned by the unexpected reverence for her. He stroked a hand over the linen shielding her breast from his hand.
He watched her as she held his gaze and he began kissing her chest all over, nuzzling her round, lovely breasts through the linen. “You are so beautiful.” All the while, he caressed her shapely legs and sleek hips while gathering up the linen as his hands trailed up her thighs.
Starring at her in wondrous delight, he bent lower and kissed her knee.
“Ooh,” she sighed as she tipped her head back, reveling in his attentions. Her pale skin became flushed, and her lips begged for his kiss.
A light, breathless laugh escaped her as he skimmed his lips slowly up her silken limbs, leaving a love bite on the soft flesh of her inner thigh. If he could not make her his then he would at least mark her so she would think of only him for the duration of his stay at least.
Pushing away thoughts of their upcoming separation, he let his mind focus back on the succulent feast of flesh before him. He touched her dewy core with his fingertip, reverently parting the delicate fair curls that veiled her womanhood. His body ignited on the knowledge he was the first, and by God he’d be the only man to look upon her this way.
Arousing, intoxicating, her scent drew him closer. He could not stop the trembling in his limbs. Before he totally lost control, he spread her thighs wider and bent to taste her. Smooth, sweet, and pebble-hard he ran his tongue over her fiery center, adoring her innocent gasps and little cries, losing himself in the bliss of introducing her to passion.
