“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 cannado 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 thesubject. 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 hispatience 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.
