Page 16 of The Lady’s Reckless Abandon (Safely in Scotland #1)

F inn gathered up a bouquet of flowers as they took the longer path through the gardens on the way to the stables. Lily seemed to enjoy being there among the blooms. Mayhap it was simply something inherent to being a woman that drew them to the scent.

Finn shook his head and waited for her to finish inspecting the plants and catch up. While he saw she noticed the flowers in his hand, she didn’t ask.

He smiled again, remembering her story of her curiosity catching up with her. She looked lovely in the deep blue riding habit. He had no memory of ever seeing his sister wear it, but assumed it had come from June’s room.

He wanted to commission a proper wardrobe for Lily rather than have her use his sister’s older gowns, but he knew it would only make Lily feel as if she were more of a bother.

In truth, it would be no bother at all. He rather felt Lily could do with a bit of spoiling. Mayhap a frilly nightgown to replace the maidenly one she’d worn when she’d been sick.

He squeezed his eyes closed to dispel the vision that had arisen when thinking about Lily’s nightgowns. Unfortunately the vision wasn’t the only thing that had risen. He was uncomfortably hard and his riding breeches didn’t leave to hiding such things. Fortunately he managed before their horses were brought out. After he assisted her up into the saddle, without her needing to use the mounting block, he settled himself on his own horse. His groom handed up the bundle of blossoms he’d gathered.

Before heading out into the field to show her the irrigation improvements, he led them toward the place he’d spent many hours talking to his family.

One-handed, he dismounted and tied his horse to a low-hanging limb. He gave the bouquet to Lily and handed her down. She didn’t mistake them as a gift for her, but carried them as she walked next to him toward the spattering of gravestones on the rise of a slight hill.

“It is a beautiful view,” she mentioned.

He sniffed. “I’m not sure why cemeteries must be placed in picturesque settings. It’s not as if any of them can enjoy it,” he grumbled while waving his hand toward the stones marking the final resting places of generations of Lockharts and previous Dukes of Granton.

One day he would be placed here next to the others. And what difference would it make that there was a lovely view as the sun burned off the dew from the thick grass in the valley?

“Perhaps the view is not important for those buried here, but for those who come to visit them. I can see how this view might give someone peace when their heart is hurting.”

She was right, of course. That made much more sense. But it caused him to think of who might enjoy this view while coming to visit him here. When he was gone, who would care?

His friends Reese and Shay came to Scotland as often as they could. Would they think to visit him here? Would they share a good bottle of whisky and reminisce on the trouble they’d gotten into as lads?

Would he have a wife or children to mourn him?

He looked to Lily standing there patiently while holding the flowers he’d picked for his mother, and thought of her standing at the front of a church with a bouquet while they married.

Gracious, he was allowing his mind to run wild.

Clearing his throat, he reached out for the flowers, and Lily handed them over. Their fingers brushed and despite both of them wearing gloves, he felt the warmth of the leather covering her hands.

He thought of how warm she would be in other places as well.

Bloody hell.

He was in a cemetery holding flowers for his dead mother and thinking such things. Whatever was wrong with him?

With a sigh, he strode toward the newest stones that marked the graves of the family he’d loved. Still loved and missed every day.

Placing the flowers on his mother’s grave, he blew out a quick breath in an effort to rid him of the tightness in his throat.

“Happy birthday, mama,” he whispered quietly. But Lily was standing close enough to hear.

“It’s her birthday?”

“Actually, it is tomorrow, but my father always started the celebration with flowers the day before. My father used to make such a thing of our birthdays. We were allowed to choose everything that day. From what was served for each meal to what we did.”

“What meals did your mother request?”

He smiled, happy she wasn’t afraid to ask about his family. Oftentimes, people directed conversations around them, as if he wouldn’t want to be reminded of the loss. But it was a relief to speak of his fond memories.

“She would start with Cook’s lemon cake for breakfast. Of course, June and I never complained at being able to eat cake for breakfast and in fact, we asked for the same on our own birthdays. For dinner, my mother would ask for rais’d giblet pie, mainly because my father disliked it and we didn’t have it often the rest of the year. Blancmange and strawberries for dessert.”

“And what did you do on her birthday?”

He pressed his lips together and looked out at the valley, feeling the peace Lily had mentioned. One of his ancestors had done a good thing picking this plot.

“It being May and the gardens burgeoning with flowers, we spent the day digging in the dirt, pulling weeds and planting seeds for new things to grow. We had a very competent gardener, but she liked to do things herself.”

“As you have a competent steward?” she reminded him.

He’d not seen the similarity before but was pleased to think he shared something of his mother’s personality. Many that remembered Finn’s father thought him to be very much like him, from looks to temperament.

But he’d been closer to his mother. And now he thought he might be more like her.

Finn nodded. “Aye. I do like to get dirt on my hands as well.”

Clearing his throat, he moved on.

“We had a ball in the evening.” He laughed. “Though it was only the four of us so it wasn’t much of a ball as it was my mother having a bit too much madeira and dancing around with each of us. At first, we would sing, but later, my father would hire musicians to play as we were horrid at keeping a tune while laughing.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“It was. I remember when we were small, how we would stay up late into the evening. Somehow, I would fall asleep watching my parents dancing, and then wake up in my bed the next morning. I guess my father carried me. I’m not sure.”

“I imagine they both tucked each of you into your beds. From what you’ve said they sounded very much in love.”

Finn nodded. “Aye. They were. Ruined me for marriage, I think.”

“How so?”

“I’ll not take a wife who simply wants to be a duchess. Or someone who would make a good wife. I want what my mother and father had. I know it is a rare thing, but I’ll not settle for less than that kind of happiness.”

She nodded. “I understand. I am of the same mind after seeing how my parents behave with their lovers and mistresses. That is no kind of a marriage I want any part of. Now that I’m ruined, I’m sure I should not be choosy, but I’d rather spend my life alone than be in an unhappy match.”

“You are no less deserving of happiness than anyone else. It was a mistake, Lily, but dare I say, having married that lout would have been a much bigger one.”

“I agree.” Her face scrunched up adorably in distaste.

“Shall we be on our way?” he suggested.

She nodded, but instead of turning to leave, she crouched down to straighten the flowers on his mother’s grave and whispered loudly enough for him to hear.

“You raised a fine man, Your Grace.”

As if her comment hadn’t rattled him, he offered his arm to escort her back to their horses.

They continued on with their ride to the fields where he pointed out the work they had done. She asked informed questions and seemed to impress and befuddle his steward and a few farmers. He felt an unreasonable pride as they left to return to the castle. Lily was not his.

She was simply someone who’d needed his help. Though perhaps they were more. Friends.

He knew he was attracted to her, and was doing his best to keep that under his control. He had spent more than a few nights in his bed with his hand on himself thinking of her and hoping the release would keep him from doing something untoward when he was with her.

She was a beautiful woman, but he would respect her by keeping his hands, if not his thoughts, from being inappropriate at all times.

They shared a quiet dinner and she played two songs for him before saying she was tired and went up to bed, leaving him alone.

He wondered how much longer he would have before the letter arrived that would change everything. She would either leave to return home, something he should be hoping for. Or she would leave to find her own way in the world as a fallen woman. A term he despised for its unfairness.

He hated to think of Lily being rejected by her family, but if that came to be, he would step in to help. He might not be able to offer her a home at Gealach for that might be difficult to explain to a wife if he were ever to find one.

But he would see her safe at least. Just as he would for any person he called a friend.

After a restless night with his dreams interrupted by visions of Lily in his bed, Finn rose and dressed to go down to breakfast as he did every morning. But this morning was the first time Lily had arrived before him.

She was fairly beaming when he entered the room, though he saw the worry haunting her eyes as she twisted her fingers where she stood by his chair.

“What is this?” he asked at the same time his gaze fell upon a bouquet of flowers on the table next to a lemon cake. His mother’s favorite.