Page 81 of Deception and Desire
His jaw clenched.Colin!“Aye.”
“Lachlan, I was naïve when I came here. Naïve about men, about love, about myself. You have taught me so much. I believe in myself now, thanks to you. If I had to do it all over again, I would have told you about my mother right away.” She swallowed. “I can only tell you how very sorry I am for not trusting you enough to be truthful. And for hurting you.”
A tear fell down her cheek. Her lips trembled. His anger melted, like a frozen loch in the spring. A slow thaw that left him hopeful for better times. He held out his hand, and she clutched it, pressing her lips to his skin. Her warmth seeped into him and chased the ice from his heart.Sweet Mary!He loved this woman. His days and nights had been miserable without her.
*
Fenella closed herlids, her lips brushing the warm skin, breathing in his musky, male scent. It had been torture, coming to the mill every day and bearing Lachlan’s icy indifference.It willna be easy,her grandmother had said. But she’d been right. Fenella needed to convince this man she would fight for him, that she would not give up on their love. Running away from his anger showed a weakness of character.
Take the consequences of your actions like a Franklin, her father had scolded.
Grandmama had come up with the idea for daily visits. She was to look him in the eye every day with a peace offering. Oh, how she’d dreaded each morning, wondering how long she would wait for that frosty glare. When Lachlan avoided the office, Colin would find a new place for the encounter.
“Fenella.” His voice was rough, and she peered up, holding her breath.
He squeezed her hand, then she was off her feet, crushed to his chest. Her arms went around his neck and his groan tickled her ear. His lips left a trail of fire across her jaw, the corners of her mouth and finally,finallyhis lips brushed hers. Gentle at first, then hard and bruising. She opened for him, his tongue delving inside, his hands roaming up and down her back. His hard length pressed against her, and she clung to him, not trusting her legs to hold her up.
“Lachlan,” she whispered, when he pulled back.
The pads of his thumbs wiped away the tears; his forehead leaned against hers. “Heaven help us, but I love ye.”
She nodded. “Can ye forgive me?”
He kissed her again. This time it was gentle and sweet. “What of yer mother?”
Fenella shook her head. “You may never be her favorite son-in-law, but she will not deny our marriage.”
“What changed her mind?” he asked, leaning back but keeping her hips tight against his.
“My father. He said he’d cut her allowance and keep her locked up in the house if she didn’t adjust her attitude toward Scotland—and Scots.” Fenella looked up at him, suddenly feeling shy. “He’s ready to come to Glasgow if I send word. He wants to meet you.”
A key sounded in the door. “Weel, if this isna a bonnie sight.” Colin filled the doorway, grinning and dangling the key in his huge paw. “My doaty cousin has found his gooolden angel again.”
Lachlan released her and stalked over to his cousin. With both hands, he pushed the giant from the doorway, the wood reverberating as the door slammed shut. “And stay out!”
He turned with a wink, and Fenella launched into his arms.
*
November 1819
Glasgow
Sir Horace shookLachlan’s hand. “Congratulations. I hope you enjoy the wedding gift.”
Lachlan grinned, standing on the threshold of their new home. Fenella’s father had bought the townhouse for them. It was in the most fashionable part of Glasgow, to please Lady Franklin when they visited, and large enough for a growing family and visiting relatives. He had argued at first, but his father-in-law could be as stubborn as a MacNaughton.
Both families had attended the wedding. Mrs. Douglas had kept everyone’s glass filled, including her daughter’s. After enough mead, it seemed, even Lady Franklin could be affable. She had regaled the guests with the story behind the couple’s unusual choice of shortbread instead of the traditional wedding cake.
“Thank you, Papa,” Fenella said, as she hugged her father goodbye, “for everything.”
“Remember our little talk.” He nodded at Lachlan.
“Aye, I willna forget.” Why the man thought he would ever hurt his daughter… well, perhaps he’d understand when he had his own. Lachlan shut the door and turned to Fenella with a grin.
“We’re alone.” Fenella gripped the lapels of his navy coat. He’d worn tails with his tartan kilt, hoping to impress Lady Franklin. “Shall we play a game of Spillikins?”
He scooped her in his arms and headed upstairs. “I have other games I’d prefer to play this evening.”
