Laughter erupted in the room as they continued sparring. When they switched out, Finlay still had frustrations he wanted to rid himself of. In the corner, hanging from the ceiling was a punching bag filled with sand. He approached it and poundedthe hell out of it. By the time he was done, he was breathing heavily, his knuckles bruised, and his brow sweaty.
His friends looked at him like he had lost his mind. Except Gunn. He looked at him with pride. Not surprising since Gunn was the fighter in the group.
“Feel better?” he asked.
Finlay gave him a curt nod and collapsed in a chair and watched as Alexander and Nicholas went at it in the ring.
“Anything I can help with?” Gunn asked.
“Nay, thank ye though. Just family stuff. That hopefully will be resolved once Willamina and I are wed.”
Gunn frowned but did not say anything further.
“Ow!” Alexander snarled as Nicholas connected with a right hook to the jaw. “If my face is all black and blue tomorrow, ye are going to have to answer to your sister.”
Nicholas laughed. “Are ye saying ye need your wife to stand up for ye?” He swung again, but Alexander ducked out of the way and countered with his own hook, but Nicholas stepped back and the swing went wide, connecting with nothing.
“I liked ye better when ye werena my brother-in-law.”
Peals of laughter filled the air, and Finlay found himself finally relaxing. This was what he needed. An afternoon out with his friends to take his mind off of everything that was happening.
“All right, ye two. Both of your wives will have our heads if ye both return with your faces smashed in,” Malcolm called out.
Nicholas jumped out of the ring, swiping the back of his hand against his bloodied lip. Alexander followed, his right eye already starting to swell.
“One final toast before we head back,” Gunn announced, pouring a dram of whisky for everyone. “Finlay, may your days be forever happy, and your nights e’en happier. Slainte!”
A chorus of cheers rose up and they all drank.
Finlay was thankful for the day. And the toast. If only his friends knew the truth. They would be trying to talk him out of committing to such a farce.
But no matter what, he would not back out.
And it was not because he needed to marry. That clause had become secondary to what he really wanted.
Nay, everything revolved around Willamina. He would not let her down.
*
Willamina, Finlay, allhis friends, their wives, his brother and his wife, along with Gil were all seated at the table in the dining hall. They had just finished dessert which consisted of the most divine pistachio ice that Willamina had ever tasted.
Just as the women were getting ready to step away with a cordial, and the men with their brandy, Fingal stood up, his spoon clinking against the crystal glass he was holding.
“Before we all retire, I thought I would say a word to theluckycouple.”
He put an odd emphasis on the word lucky and Willamina sought Finlay’s eyes. They were focused on his brother, his brows creased.
“As ye ken,” Fingal continued, pushing his chair back and standing. “My dear twin brother is to be married tomorrow.”
A cheer rose from the attendees, and he smiled. Not a particularly pleasant smile, Willamina noted.
“And while Lady Watson is lovely, indeed. more than capable of catching the eye of any man in the city, has no’ anyone wondered why, Finlay, who has notoriously said he willna marry, has had a sudden change of heart?”
“Brother,” Finlay growled.
“Och,brother,” Fingal countered.
Yvette placed a hand on her husband’s arm, but he shook it off.
