Page 14 of No Rogue Like You (Rogues of Redemption #3)

F inlay never believed angels walked this earth—until Willamina Watson appeared in the aisle walking toward him on this, their wedding day.

She was a vision of beauty in her cream-colored gown, fitting as it wasn’t her first marriage. The lace bodice and silk skirt fit her perfectly. He looked forward to peeling the gloves off her slender arms, the urge to kiss the pulse point on each wrist strong.

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and as she stepped closer and closer, he lost the ability to form words.

When Gil stepped forward and handed Willamina over to Finlay, his breath caught in his throat as he caught her hand in his.

She smiled shyly as she looked at him through her lashes.

And his heart burst into a thousand pieces.

He had been a fool if he thought that he would ever get out of this arrangement with his heart intact.

Later, as he held her in his arms and they danced in celebration, he whispered against her ear, “Have I told ye how beautiful ye look today?”

Her musical laughter floated on the air. “Only e’ery few minutes, my lord.”

He growled low. “And I shall tell ye the same going forward.”

Rosewood Manor was decorated for the grandest of balls. His staff had taken a lot of care to ensure the house was filled with beautiful flowers and arrangements. On the morrow, they would surely be the talk of the city.

Anyone of importance was in attendance for the party and now that the night had worn on, the crowd was starting to dwindle.

Finlay could sense Willamina’s trepidation. As they bid their guests a good night, she began to get fidgety, a trait he had noticed she did when her nerves began to surface.

“Ye have no need to be nervous, Mina. The night is yours.” It killed him to say that. But he had made a promise to her. He would not force her into anything she did not want. Now that they were married, his mindset hadn’t changed. He would stay true to his word.

She would need to make the first steps to change their relationship—no matter how hard it would be to sit and wait, hoping that it would happen.

“Soon we shall leave for Primrose Castle.”

“Are we no’ staying here, at Rosewood?”

“Nay. With all of our guests staying here, no one expects us to spend our wedding night here. At Primrose we will have privacy.”

“I see. Will Joan go with us?” she asked, her voice a slightly higher pitch than usual.

“No’ tonight. But she will arrive in the next few days to assist ye with whate’er ye may need.”

She rolled her lips inward.

“What are ye thinking?” he asked, sipping his glass of champagne.

“Naught really.”

“Mina. I may no’ ken e’erything about ye, but I can tell when something is bothering ye.” He grabbed her hand. “And something is definitely bothering ye.”

“Tis no’ anything I wish to speak about at this time.”

“My lord and lady, your carriage awaits to take ye to Primrose Castle.”

“Thank ye, Archibald.” He stood and held out his hand to Willamina. “My lady.”

Her eyes were bright as she accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her up. And, getting lost in the moment, he planted a kiss on her lips, before quickly pulling away.

She brought her fingers up to her mouth, which was lifted in a smile. Mayhap there was hope for them yet.

*

Willamina had so many thoughts running through her head on the carriage ride over to Primrose Castle. Finlay sat beside her, his thigh touching hers, heating her whole body. Every time the carriage jostled, he bumped into her, making the space between them less.

“I look forward to seeing Primrose Castle,” she said, trying to change the subject so she would stop thinking about his closeness.

He gave her a smile. “I look forward to showing it to ye. ’Twill be yours to run as ye see fit from this point on, but ye will have a few days before having to take on such a task.”

She did not plan on taking over the Primrose Castle household, or any of Finlay’s holdings’ households. Those were his properties and should remain that way. The only household she was worried about was Warton House back in Inverness.

Any other residence belonged to Finlay and she did not expect him to turn anything over to her. Those should go to his wife.

Though she was his wife, his holdings should go to his real wife. The one that he would have in the future.

But I am his real wife. They had the papers to prove it.

“Ye needn’t do that, Finlay. I shouldna be made responsible for Primrose Castle. ’Tis your holding. It belongs in your family.”

His hand clasped hers. “And in my family it remains.”

“Finlay.”

“Willamina.”

She noticed he called her by her full name instead of the nickname he had taken to calling her lately.

“This is no’ real, remember.”

His ice-blue eyes clouded. “I remember,” he said stiffly. “However, for it to be believable for those around us, we still need to follow the steps that all newly married couples follow.”

She nodded.

The carriage came to a halt, jolting them into each other again. She straightened, trying to put a little distance between them.

The door swung open and Finlay exited, turning with a hand out to her to assist. Placing her hand in his, his fingers wrapped around hers as she stepped out of the carriage.

Her breath caught at the sight in front of her. Primrose Castle was a large tower house. Torches lit the exterior and also along the pathway leading up to the entry. She could hear the rush of water, letting her know they were close to the coast. It was too dark to see, so she would have to wait until the morrow to see more.

She followed him through the huge arched doorway, which opened to a massive space. Large arched windows blanketed the door. The floors were wood, polished to a shiny hue. She craned her neck to look at the tall ceilings. The walls were papered in a pretty multi-color flowered pattern with a yellow background.

“My lord,” a new butler that Willamina didn’t recognize addressed Finlay. “I have taken the initiative to move the lady’s belongings into the master suite.”

“Thank ye, Richard. And may I present to ye my wife, Willamina, Lady Primrose.”

It felt so odd to be presented as a wife. Also, to no longer be called Lady Watson. The last hold her late husband held on her was now gone. She would never have to be referred to as that name again. A sense of relief washed over her at that realization.

She dipped her head in greeting. “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye, Richard.”

He bowed, and disappeared through one of the doors.

“Shall we?” Finlay waved a hand toward the stairs.

In this house, a center staircase, so wide it appeared that eight people could climb it side by side, was the focal point of the entryway. The stairs were a rich, dark wood, with plush red carpet covering the center.

She inhaled a deep breath, and nodded. Up the stairs, they took a right and walked all the way to the end of the wood-paneled hall. Pausing in front of a set of massive double doors, Finlay gave her a wink before pushing the doors open and stepping aside to allow her entry.

Inside the room, her eyes widened. One massive four-poster bed was centered against the far wall. Plush pillows were piled high on top of a dark blue coverlet.

She looked around the room, searching for another bed, but found none.

“Finlay…”

“Och, aye. I know what ye are going to say. Though we are no’ at Rosewood, we still need to pass as wed in e’ery way. We canna do that in separate rooms. I shall sleep on the floor, and none will be the wiser.”

She was mortified at his statement. “Ye will do no such thing.” She eyed the bed. Its sheer size would fit four people. They were but two. She would probably regret the words that were about to spill from her lips, but there was no way that she was going to have the earl sleep on the floor. In his own home no less. Straightening her shoulders, she met his gaze. “The bed appears to be more than large enough to accommodate the both of us. I see no harm in sharing it.”

She did see the harm, but she was not about to admit that to Finlay.

He had a pained look on his face. Mayhap he did not like her suggestion.

“I, er, I am no’ sure that is the best idea.”

“Ye canna possibly sleep on the floor. I willna have it.”

“Mina, I dinna think ye ken the full breadth of what ye are suggesting.”

Finlay seemed visibly upset. Well, mayhap upset wasn’t the correct word. Perturbed? Nay. Distressed. Aye. That seemed a better fit for whatever emotions were dancing across his handsome face as he loosened his cravat and yanked it off his neck.

“I do, and I insist,” she pushed.

His eyes settled on the table that was loaded with dried meats, cheeses, and a decanter of wine. “It seems to have gotten quite warm in here.” He moved to the table and poured the wine. “Would ye like a glass?”

Thinking the wine may help settle her overactive nerves, she nodded. She accepted the glass with shaky hands. Now that they were wed, she did want to clarify some things. Taking a long sip of wine, she thought about the best way to approach the subject. Finally deciding that frankness was what was needed, she pushed forward.

“Finlay? Might I ask ye something?”

He sat in the mahogany armchair and crossed his legs. “Of course.”

She took a deep breath and blew it out through her teeth, trying to gain the courage to voice what was weighing on her mind. “’Tis more than likely no’ my place to ask, but I canna seem to move forward without putting forth the question.” She paced the length of the room, her feet unwilling to stand in the same spot. “Will ye be bringing mistresses home?”

Wine burst from Finlay’s mouth as he sputtered, his eyes wide. “Pardon? Certainly I misheard your question.”

She turned to him and met his eyes. “Your mistresses. Will ye be bringing them here?”

His eyes grew dark and his mouth set into a thin line as he searched her face. “Willamina,” he pushed off the chair and approached her.

She took a step back and he stopped his advance.

“I have no plans to take a mistress. A lover. A dalliance. Whate’er ye would like to call it. I will no’ break my vows.”

She shook her head. “Ye dinna have to deny yourself. I only ask that ye dinna parade them in front of me.”

He fisted his hands on his hips. “Where are these questions coming from?”

Worrying her lower lip, she looked away. She didn’t want him to see the pain that was surely evident in her eyes.

“Mina.” He closed the distance between them.

When she stepped back, he met her step.

“Tell me,” he demanded quietly.

*

Finlay held his patience in check as he waited for Willamina to answer him. She backed away another step, and he followed. She would not escape him nor this conversation. A conversation that she had begun. Need he remind her of that?

With her back against the wall, she couldn’t retreat any further and he waited. So close. He was so close to her, but he didn’t touch her. Tempting as it was. He wanted to reach out, stroke her cheek. Wrap her in an embrace while he whispered that everything would be well.

But he couldn’t. Not when she had something weighing on her mind so heavily.

“Is this about your first marriage?”

Tears made her eyes glisten and she blinked rapidly to try to disperse them. She pressed her lips together, looking everywhere in the room except at him, before finally throwing her hands up in the air. “I believe I mentioned afore, my late husband was no’ a good man to me.”

He nodded in encouragement.

She wet her lips before continuing. “Our marriage was no’ one of love, which isna necessarily uncommon. Sometimes love will develop, but for us, it didna. Nay, for him it didna, however, I grew to love Gerard. The feelings were one-sided and that ne’er changed. He found himself more interested in other,” she paused as if it pained her to continue, “In other more experienced women. More beautiful women. He had no qualms about traipsing them in front of me. Being as loud and rambunctious as they could whilst closed away in his bedchamber,” she sniffled.

“Willamina—”

She held her hand up and shook her head, swiping at her tears angrily. “I canna do that again. I ken our marriage is a ruse. But, I am sorry. I willna allow that again.”

The look of pure betrayal and pain on her face was more than he could bear. He wrapped her in his arms as she sobbed into his chest, her breaths shallow and ragged. He said naught. Just stroked her hair in comfort as he waited for her to calm down.

When the sobs subsided and all that was left was sniffling, he rested his chin on her head. “I vow to ye, Mina, I wouldna show ye such disrespect. Your late husband was a vile man of low character to do such a disgrace to ye.”

He handed her his handkerchief and she dabbed at her eyes and then her nose, which was now a bit pink from her crying. “That means a lot to me. I understand it is a sacrifice for ye to agree to such a demand.”

His hands on her shoulders, he forced her to look at him. “’Tis no sacrifice, Mina. I mean it.”

Her eyes bore into his, as if the deeper she tried to dig the more information she would find.

“I am an honest man.” He dipped his head sheepishly. “With the exception of my father’s will and I promise I will ne’er hide anything from ye again. Ken what I am saying as the truth. What we are doing is no’ a sacrifice. Taking a mistress has ne’er and will ne’er cross my mind. That is no’ something I would lie about.”

She nodded and took a step to the side, out of his arms and he felt the loss of contact immediately. Dropping his hands, he watched her. He could see she needed her space, and he would grant her that.

“I think I would like some more wine,” she said quietly.

He grabbed the decanter off the table and fetched her glass from the mantel and filled it before handing it over to her.

“My offer to sleep on the floor still stands.”

She took a long sip of wine and then shook her head. “The bed will be fine.” She bit her lower lip and he could almost see the wheels of her mind working. “Though I have an idea, if I may?”

He lifted his hand and shrugged. “Of course.”

Walking to the bed, she drew down the covers all the way to the foot of the bed. “How many pillows do ye sleep with?”

What was she getting at? “One,” he answered.

She turned back to the bed and gathered the pillows, leaving one on each side of the bed. Climbing on the mattress, she arranged the pillows in a line in the center, creating a barrier between them, while he admired her round bottom. He didn’t feel guilty about it one bit.

He dipped his head, hiding his smile. He had meant what he said when he told her he would never take advantage of her. But if a physical ‘wall’ between them set her mind to ease, then he would allow it. Whatever made her comfortable he was fine with.

If his friends could see him now they would never let him live it down. Before Alexander had married Clarissa, he was the one in their group that had a continuous stream of lassies warming his bed. But Finlay was a close second. But once he’d met Willamina he’d been like a whipped puppy when it came to her. Truly, the thought of taking a mistress disgusted him. Why would he do such a thing when he had perfection sitting right before him?

She looked over at him warily. “I hope ye dinna mind?”

Giving her what he hoped was a smile that would put her at ease, he shook his head. “No’ at all. Are ye hungry or are ye ready to retire for the night?”

“I think I have had enough excitement for the day and would like to go to bed.”

“I shall take me leave so that ye may ready yourself for bed in private.” He turned to leave, but she called him back.

“Finlay?”

He stopped and turned to her. “Aye?”

Wringing her hands together, her cheeks flushed. “I, um, er.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “I canna undo my gown.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Shall I call someone for assistance? I know Joan isna here yet, but I am certain another maid can help ye with what ye need.”

She shook her head. “That willna do. Just like we need to share the room, how do ye think it would look if ye send someone up to help me undress? On our wedding night?”

He chuckled. “I suppose ye are right. What shall we do then?”

She turned, giving him her back, and swept her hair to the front. “If ye could undo the buttons, I can take care of the rest.”

For a moment, he was frozen in his spot. “Right.” He approached her and with shaky fingers began releasing the buttons. With each button, more of her back was exposed to him. He wanted to run his tongue down her spine. His body roared to life. Her smell was divine and he inhaled deeply, like he wanted to have her assaulting all his senses. Pale, soft skin was uncovered in front of his eyes and he had to bite back a moan. The urge to pull her against him, to nuzzle her neck. To spin her around and bare her breasts to him was strong.

But he was a man of his word. As he undid the last of the buttons, which were very near to her buttocks, it took all of his strength not to squeeze the globes of her arse in his hands. He stepped back. “That should suffice. Whilst ye finish, I will just face the wall over here.” He pointed to the other side of the room. “Ye can let me know when ye are set.”

Stiffly, he walked over to the fireplace and stared into the flames.

Flames that matched his desire.