Page 164

“Now and always.”

Finn

In the aftermath, we lay together, bodies entwined. The fire crackles softly in the corner, its warmth a pale reflection of the heat still lingering between us. My chest rises and falls beneath her cheek, her breath brushing against my skin in a way that feels familiar. As her fingers brush against me, a flicker of worry surfaces. I shift slightly, tilting my head to look down at her. “Are you hurting?” I ask softly, concern thick in my tone.

A faint, wry smile tugs at her lips. “It’s a pain unlike any other,” she says, her voice soft and angelic. “It’s bittersweet, because I’ll miss it when it’s gone. It reminds me of something so beautiful it’s worth hurting for.”

A laugh breaks from my chest, warm and unrestrained. “Leave it to you to make that sound poetic,” I say, my grin widening as I brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “Ye’re impossible, you know that?”

Her soft laugh joins mine, the sound weaving its way into the quiet intimacy of the moment, and I can’t help but marvel at how perfectly she fits into my arms.

She continues to trace delicate, aimless patterns across my chest, each touch igniting something deeper than desire. It’s as if she’s trying to memorise me, to claim every inch of me, and I let her, gladly giving her all of me without hesitation.

“Ye’re the most stunnin’ woman in existence,” I murmur, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the delicate intimacy of the moment.

She looks at me then, her eyes—those captivating eyes—glistening with unspoken emotion.

“Your woman… And you, Finnis MacGregor, are mine now,” she mumbles, her voice tinged with a quiet, unshakable possessiveness. A declaration… a truth that settles over me like a warm, merciless embrace. My chest tightens, overwhelmed by the sheer power of her words and the depth of what they mean.

“Aye,” I whisper, my hand finding hers, threading our fingers together. “For every breath I take and long after I’m gone.”

Her lips curve into the faintest smile, and I press a kiss to her knuckles, lingering as if to seal the vow we just exchanged.

Her body curls into mine, soft and warm, her breathing even and peaceful. My arms wrap around her, protective and steadfast, and I press my lips to her hair, breathing in the faint scent of primrose that clings to her. The quiet rise and fall of her chest becomes my anchor, a rhythm that soothes every restless part of me I hadn’t realised was still there.

She isn’t a dream anymore. She is mine now. Every answered prayer, every whispered wish cast into the wind, every quiet hope I clung to in the darkest hours of my life. She is real—warm, soft, breathing steadily in my arms—and for the first time, the weight of what she means to me isn’t an ache, but a balm, soothing every broken piece of my soul.

I know with unshakable certainty that I’ll give her my last name. That she will be mine in every way the world will allow. The thought isn’t fleeting; it’s a truth that settles deep in my chest. Not a question of if, but when—when I’ll hear her say my name as hers, when I’ll see the joy in her eyes as she realises she is my future, my forever.

But tonight, this moment, holds something even more precious. For the first time in my life, I get to do the one thing I spent countless days only dreaming of doing.

I get to hold Triona while she sleeps.

30

Bold and Unyielding

Finn

Thursday, 5 June 1823

Casa da Prímula

If I knew nothing else, I knew this with unshakable certainty: no power, no force—neither of this world nor beyond it—would ever take her from me.

In this moment, with her in my arms, that vow feels less like a promise and more like the undeniable truth of my existence.

The first rays of dawn filter through the curtains, painting the room in a warm, golden hue. I stir slightly, her body pressed against mine, grounding me in a way I’ve never experienced before. For a fleeting moment, I stay motionless, reluctant to disrupt the serene intimacy of the morning, unwilling to let it slip away.

Her hair, sprawled across my chest in wild tangles, catches the sunlight like a golden halo. Her breathing is steady, her lips slightly parted in sleep. I trace a light touch along her shoulder, marveling at the softness of her skin beneath my fingers—so warm, so impossibly perfect.

Triona stirs, murmuring something unintelligible as she stretches lazily against me. Her eyes flutter open, those stormy depths meeting mine with a vulnerability that steals my breath. For a moment, neither of us speaks. We simply look at each other, the weight of what we shared lingering in the space between us.

“Morning,” she whispers, her voice husky with sleep, sending warmth coursing through me.

“Mornin’, mo ghrá,” I reply softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “How do you feel?”

Her lips curve into a slow, tender smile that seems to light her entire being before twisting into a devilish grin. “Deliciously sore… but safe.”