She lightly punched his arm. “I mean by material things.”
He sobered and lowered his forehead to hers. “You’re not that either. I’m sorry it took me so long to fully see you, Rose. To fully appreciate you.”
“How can you blame yourself when I don’t even know who I am anymore?” The confession bubbled out of her, and she almost clasped her hand over her mouth. She could not believe she’d just voiced that. She barely even allowed herself to acknowledge it.
“What do you mean?” His thumbs drifted over her cheekbones, and warmth gushed through her, soothing her embarrassment.
“I’ve been ... lost. Nothing gave me a thrill anymore. Not even racing,” she admitted. “That’s why I became an ambulance driver. I was running toward something I couldn’t define.”
“Rose, a satisfying life isn’t to be found in endless escapades. Reggie falsely believed that. He was always searching for the next charge of excitement, and when he attained one, he was after another. You’re more complex than that. Youknowyou’re more complex than that. And that’s wonderful. You will find what your purpose is, Rose. That I do not doubt.”
“I’m starting to,” Rose admitted, remembering her revelations in Edinburgh and on the flight home. “But I think you’re wrong about Reggie—at least in the end. He didn’t go back to France for glory but to save the woman who’d rescued him. He was investigating the spy ring not for the honor of uncovering it but to protectyouand the others whom he loved.”
Thorfinn closed his left eye, and a bit of moisture seeped out. Rose felt as if the tear had fallen on her own heart as she said, “I’m sorry I’ve pushed to make Hamarray a retreat for the wealthy. I didn’t understand what memories that would evoke for you.”
Thorfinn shook his head. “It’s time I stopped running from the past. There’s no need for us to meet just in my cottage. You’re transformingMuckle Skaill. It’s not the earl’s domain anymore. It’s yours. And I don’t mind entering a sphere that you preside over.”
A swell so strong and sweet swept through Rose that she couldn’t help but lean forward and touch her lips to his. His mouth opened eagerly over hers, and heat blasted through her. The embrace was as wild and unpredictable as the wind whipping the seas into a frenzy. Her heart rose like water rushing upward against the sea cliff. Even sitting in the hard-backed chairs, their upper bodies began to move against each other in a rhythm older than Scapa Flow itself.
Abruptly, he stopped and jerked away. A pang of hurt rang through Rose’s heart until she saw him struggling to retie his eye patch. Gently, she stayed his hand.
“You don’t need to hide that part of you from me.”
“It isn’t a pretty sight, lass.”
She lightly traced her finger along the pucker near his mouth. “Well, it certainly doesn’t make you less kissable. You’re a fierce Viking, after all.”
A chortle of surprise burst from him. Allowing all the warmth in her to blossom into a smile, Rose pulled Thorfinn toward her. He dropped his eye patch to the floor and buried his hands in her short hair. The kiss had a rawness to it that went beyond lust to something deeper, something more emotional yet still elemental.
When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily. The air felt like spring, laden with the sense of rebirth and beginnings. But before they could embrace the newness, there were still ghosts of the past to purge.
“With the earl returning, you should know that one of the reasons I chased him from Muckle Skaill is that he—unsuccessfully—tried to force himself upon me, but I stopped him. No harm was done to me.” Although Rose tried to make it stupendously clear that she was not injured in any way, Thorfinn’s grip on her tightened.
“What happened?” His voice was rough and desperate, and Rose let him hold her close.
“I pointed my gun at him, threatened to destroy his reputation with rumors of impotence, and forced him into selling Hamarray and Frest to me.”
Thorfinn blinked, and a shaky smile slipped over his lips. “Rose, you are a marvel.”
A marvel.She’d heard that before, but it had never felt right until now. Perhaps it was because she finally was starting to feel as if her boldness inside matched her outward show of strength.
“Are you certain that you are fine, though? Things like that—even if you fended him off—they linger,” Thorfinn said softly, brushing his finger over her cheekbones, concern etched into his familiar, handsome face.
Rose didn’t respond with blitheness but with the truth. “I was shaken in the moment, but it hasn’t haunted me. I am not worried about him coming back to the island, but I thought you should know my prior history with Mar as well. That way, when he comes, we can face himtogether.”
“I like the sound of you being by my side,” Thorfinn said. “It’s time that I confront him. He’s just a mere mortal, not some boogeyman or god—and I need to stop treating him as such.”
“He has no chance against either of us, Thorfinn.” Rose gave him a squeeze. “Even apart, we each are much more than he ever could be. His machinations are that of a child, but we—we fight with hard-won power.”
Thorfinn had called her strong, yet his resolve also humbled her. Rose knew what it was like to fight against memories—and how that battle could be even more bitter than a real one. With their strength combined, they could confront Mar and reveal the spies—no matter how painful it might be.
Chapter 15
Even with the Earl of Mar back on Hamarray and the riddles from Reggie’s letter still taunting Sinclair, there was nothing like playing his fiddle at a ceilidh, especially one held under a golden sky. The music swelled up inside of him. Instead of only temporarily displacing the worries that came with crofting life, it now also offered him a brief reprieve from the increasing pressure of trying to discover traitors on Frest.
The songs didn’t come from just Sinclair’s instrument or even the other players’. They were also the sound of dancing feet hitting the floor. The rhythmic clapping of the audience. The peals of laughter. Even the smell of the whiskey and beer mixing with the lingering scent of the shared meal. In this moment they were one, the whispers of espionage temporarily silenced.
Rose’s presence only intensified the wild, wonderful whirl of emotion inside Sinclair. She stood flanked by Barbara and Mary as the twins tried showing her, Miss Morningstar, and the Duke of Newsberry the proper steps. Rose missed most of them, but that made her seem all the more charming. She threw her head back and laughed each time she stumbled, her short black hair shining in the bright twilight of the simmer dim as the summer solstice drew near. She didn’t quite look like an island lass, but she didn’t appear like a toff either. She was simply ... Rose. Exuberant, passionate, wonderful Rose.
