Page 22 of Snowbound Surrender

“They were happy, right enough.” The memory made Finlay ache inside, though in a way that felt fitting. His parents had been a love-match through and through—something he’d been adamant about for himself.

He only hoped it wasn’t too late.

She set down the cocoa cup. “I’d love a hot wash. If I go down and fetch back a full kettle, how long will it take to heat on our fire, do you think?”

“Nay need. It didn’t take much to get the embers in the big kitchen stove going again. Jamie must have banked it well. While making the cocoa, I left a good-sized pot of water to heat, thinking you’d likely be wanting a bath of some sort. It shouldn’t be far off boiling by now.”

She looked startled, but then gave him the widest smile.

“Nothing fancy, mind you. ’Twill be easiest to tip it straight into the tin bath kept down there. Topped up with cold water, it should be deep enough to sit in.”

“Well done, Dalreagh. You’ll make a lady’s maid yet. Perhaps you’d like to help me dress my hair afterwards?”

“Whatever the Countess of Dunrannoch wants, she shall have. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires; diamonds even, if they’re small ones.” He gave a wink.

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing of that sort! Something warmer to wear would be enough. Might Lorna have some clothes still here?”

“Perhaps…” He hoped the twinkle in his eye didn’t betray him. He’d a surprise waiting for her, which he was certain she’d like far better than some dusty old things left by his mother…but that could wait until later.

Laughing, he pulled her over to lay upon her stomach and slapped her arse playfully. “But I don’t think I want you dressed just yet. Once the bath is ready I’ll carry you down as you are, then back up again afterwards, straight to bed. That’s if I can hold out long enough. Watching you foaming up the soap may turn me bestial again.”

“Daft bampot!” Twisting about, she drew him down for a proper kiss.

He wondered if he’d ever been happier. ’Twas madness to think how he’d wasted the past year.

“Now, off you go.” She pushed him away. “I plan to eat more from the breakfast tray while you’re gone.”

“Keeping your strength up, wife. Good thinking.” He swung out of bed, donning the shirt once more.

My wife.

His heart swelled with pride.

He was a lucky man, and he supposed he had Alastair and Ailsa to thank for it. He’d been given a second chance to show Margaret how much she meant to him, and nothing was going to stand in his way this time, to make sure she was secure in that love.

CHAPTER 11

Bounding back up the stairs,Finlay could hardly control his excitement. Every minute away from his bride was a minute too long, as far as he was concerned.

While preparing the bath, he’d been formulating a plan. Now Dunrannoch Fine Soaps was thriving, he could rely more on the foreman at the workshop, and the two managers he’d appointed—one to handle distribution and invoicing, the other to oversee the resourcing of all that was needed, from their ingredients to the packaging for soaps and other products.

In fact, there was very little that commanded his close attention anymore, on a day-to-day basis. He had the services of a man of law, to draw up all commercial contracts and maintain a record of accounts. Beyond a trip to Glasgow every quarter to keep an eye on things, he could take several steps back. If he was based on the moor from now on, he could supervise the harvesting of the heather and transportation, while trusting his employees to run the other aspects of the enterprise.

Which leaves plenty of time for me to accompany Mags to Edinburgh, whenever she wishes to be there for the publishing house. She might even like to come with me to Glasgow, on occasion.

With a spring in his step, he entered the bedchamber, ready to whisk her into his arms. However, as soon as he set foot over the threshold, his heart sank.

She was no longer naked but wearing the nightgown, and no longer in bed but standing beside it. Moreover, she was holding the bagpipes.

“I take it this is what I heard last night, after you’d reminded me of the legend of the ghostly piper! I was looking under the bed for an old pair of slippers or some such.” Her eyes flashed fire, but she also appeared to be holding back tears.

“’Twas only a jest. You can’t be cross over some daft bagpipes.” Finlay laughed nervously.

“You made me worry, and you manipulated me. It was dishonest. I need to know I can trust you; that you aren’t just going your own merry way without thinking about how it affects me!”

“Come now, Magsie, you’re reading too much into this.” Finlay shifted his feet awkwardly.

Damn the bagpipes!