Page 169
Heat coils in me as I press my lips to his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. His response is immediate—a beast-like groan reverberates through his chest, sending a shiver down my spine. The sound fuels the reckless energy between us.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he puts me down just long enough for him to hoist me over his shoulder. In that instant, his strength makes me forget the formidable woman I am, replaced by a yearning to be carried and tossed about by the only man I’d ever let take control of me.
His hand lands on my arse with a sharp, possessive slap, the sting eliciting a gasp I can’t hold back. He strides forward, his voice dripping with dark amusement.
“That was just a wee taste.”
I meet his challenge with a swift, playful smack of my own, surprising him. “I thought you said I was woman enough to take more of you—someone you didn’t need to be gentle with, if I’m remembering correctly? I don’t want a ‘wee taste’, Finn.”
My taunt hangs in the air, charged with mischief and defiance. Finn bursts into raw, joyous laughter and dashes off, the sound of our shared mirth filling the room.
“Let’s put that sinful mouth of yours to work them, hmm?”
With. Pleasure.
Part 7 – The Arrival of Warriors
31
The Fallen
Triona
Friday, 6 June 1823
Casa da Prímula
The room is quiet, save for the crackle of the fire. Amelia sits near the hearth, her expression far off. There’s something about the way she carries herself tonight—sombre yet purposeful—that tells me her thoughts are far away, heavy with something that must be a great burden to bear.
Deidre gathered us here, emphasising the significance of listening to what Amelia has to say.
“Auntie, you requested an audience with us?” I ask, my voice breaking the stillness.
Her gaze meets mine, uncertain and vulnerable, a fleeting expression that looks misplaced on her face. “There’s something I must discuss with you—with all of you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “The other half of the reason you’ve come all this way to see me… to prepare you for what lies ahead.”
She studies me for a long moment before speaking again, her tone carefully measured. “Do you feel as if you might be ready to hear everything?”
I nod, the weight of inevitability settling over me. Our last conversation feels like it happened a lifetime ago, though only days have passed. So much has shifted, so much uncovered. Finn, as if sensing my unease, places a steadying hand on the small of my back. The simple gesture quiets my own mind.
Amelia’s hands are tightly clasped in her lap, her shoulders stiff as though holding herself together by sheer will. She gestures to the chair closest to her, and I lower myself into it. Finn stays close, standing protectively by my side.
A small, wistful smile tugs at her lips. “Some could spend a lifetime searching for what your parents had,” she says fondly. “Their efforts would be most unsuccessful. I have never seen a man so devoted to another as your father was to my sister.”
My chest tightens at her words.
“Sarah learned she was with child just before your father was apprehended, as I have recounted, but what I refrained from mentioning was that she blamed herself for his capture. For his death. For the loss of love and freedom of her country. Your father fought to be here for you and for Sarah, even as the rope rung ‘round his neck. This beautiful face was undoubtedly the last thing he thought of,” she says, reaching out and pinching my chin between two fingers.
“Amelia, I dinnae think—” Callan starts, but she hushes him quickly.
“Your sister is tougher than you give her credit for. She needs to hear this.” She speaks in a tone that suggests she doesn’t intend to take Callan’s opinion into account.
I’m truly tired of fearing the truth. Of running from the pain of loss. Of facing sacrifices made for me. It’s not fair to do so in honour of those who have lost their lives.
“She’s right, Cal. What’s sacrifice if not spoken of? What good is it if we don’t learn from it?”
A life I hadn’t even known about has been ripped away, and nothing I could do—nothing anyone could do—would ever give it back.
“I tried so hard to care for her, your mother,” Aunt Amelia recalls, her voice trembling now. “To protect her, but my father sent her away after Robert’s death, to live with good folk. The bastard felt his image was compromised. I went too, refusing to leave my dear sister alone. But Cooper Penrose…” She pauses, her face softening. “He was a kind and noble man. His whole family helped care for her through the pregnancy.”
