Findley's Lass

by Suzan Tisdale

  He pulled her close, giving her no time to object, and slanted his lips across hers. He growled low in his throat as he kissed her thoroughly and passionately. Nearly savage in its possessiveness, he forced his tongue into her mouth as he pulled her even closer.

  There was no resistance on Maggy’s part. She let loose with a growl of her own before melting into him, lost in the heat of the moment. She wrapped her free hand around his neck, holding on for fear he would stop. Why on earth did she lose her good senses whenever his lips touched hers? Why did he have this effect on her heart and head?

  The longer he kissed her the more he wanted her, not just now, but for the rest of his life. He could not fight the feelings that had been building for months. He was falling victim to his own heart.

  He knew that if he did not stop kissing her now, he’d not be able to stop himself from lowering her to the ground and having his way with her. He wondered if she would object.

  ‘Twas quite difficult to think of anything else with her pressed so closely to his chest, her mouth demanding more of his. Before he lost himself into the abyss of passion, he pulled away. He wanted her. All of her. But not like this, not until he knew he’d won her heart.

  Keeping his eyes closed, he took long, deep breaths and tried to regain his composure. Resting his forehead against hers, he searched for the right words to express what his heart felt.

  “Maggy,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “Marry me.”

  She was certain she had misunderstood him. “What?”

  “Marry me,” he repeated. He didn’t have the courage to open his eyes to see her reaction.

  Marry him? Her mind raced, knowing full well it would be impossible to marry him. There were too many reasons why she could not say yes, no matter what her heart begged for.

  “Findley,” she began, searching desperately for a way explain why she could not give in to the temptation.

  When he finally found the courage to open his eyes, disappointment filled his stomach. She needn’t say it aloud. He could see her answer simply by looking into her tear-filled green eyes.

  “Why?” he asked her.

  “Why what?” she whispered, still holding tightly to his tunic. She did not want to let him go, not now, not ever.

  “Why will ye no’ marry me?” he asked.

  She stammered and fought back tears. How could she explain it without breaking his heart? Without revealing all of her secrets?

  She took a deep breath and steeled herself. “There are many reasons why I can no’, Findley.”

  There was hope in that statement. She hadn’t said she didn’t want to marry him, only that she couldn’t. “And what might those reasons be?”

  As much as she wanted to tell him everything, she couldn’t. Remaining silent, she looked away, feeling ashamed as well as angry. Ashamed that she felt she could not confide in him and angry for the lot life had dealt her.

  “I ken there’s much yer no’ tellin’ me Maggy. Why do you no’ trust me enough to allow me to help ye?”

  She swallowed hard. “I dunna trust anyone Findley.”

  Her words stung. “Why? Ye trust me enough to get Ian back fer ye, but ye’ll no’ trust me beyond that. Why?”

  She knew if she looked up into those dark brown eyes she’d be lost in them. “Findley, ye dunna understand.”

  “Yer right,” he said, as his anger began to return. “I dunna understand many things. Do ye think I’m not intelligent enough to understand? Do ye think I be too daft? Too weak?”

  She still couldn’t look up at him. “Nay, ’tisn’t that.”

  “Then what?” he was growing exasperated.

  “I canna tell ye.” She swallowed hard.

  “Do ye think me too much of a coward?” His jaw tightened.

  Her head shot up to look him in the eyes. Guilt washed over her.

  “Nay!” she told him. “I only said that to-”

  He placed his fingertip on her lips to stop her. The look of guilt blended with sincerity told him she told the truth. Fighting a chuckle, he said, “’Ye angered me on purpose to get me to drink that night, didn’t ye lass?”

  She couldn’t deny it. “Aye, I did,” she answered before taking a deep cleansing breath.

  “Ye did it so ye could put these on me,” he said dangling the shackles between them.

  “Aye. ’Twas that or a sleepin’ powder.”

  He tilted his head, admiring her tenacity as well as her honesty. “Pray tell, where would ye get a sleepin’ powder?”

  A sly smile came to her lips. “I’ll no’ divulge that to ye Findley. I may still have a need fer it.”

  Findley shook his head and returned her smile. “I see. Ye wilna marry me, but ye’ve nothin’ against getting me drunk or givin’ me a sleepin’ powder?”

  Her eyes widened and she began to protest. “Now Findley,” she began before he stopped her again with his fingertip.

  “Haud yer wheest, lassie,” he told her. “If I didna know better, I’d think ye did want to marry me. After all, ye’ve shackled yerself to me, literally.” He dangled his wrist again.

  Her lips drew into a hard line. “I didna shackle meself to ye, I shackled ye to me so ye couldna get away.”

  He nodded his head thoughtfully. “’Tis the same thing. Ye didna want me gettin’ away. I think ye shackled me under false pretences. ’Twasn’t to keep me from leavin’ ye behind. I think ye love me and do no’ want me far from ye.”

  He smiled down at her, attempting to goad her into an admission she’d die before giving. “Nay!” she protested. “I dunna love ye!” she hissed. “And yer daft if ye think it!”

  Findley threw his head back and laughed. “Lass, ye can deny it all ye want, but I’ll no’ believe ye.” He touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “Ye love me. And what is there no’ to love about me?” He spread his arms out wide. “I be a handsome man, with a kind heart and a good disposition. I be strong as well. And I’m verra, verra honourable.”

  “Do no’ forget to mention arrogant, pig-headed, foolish, daft and an eejit!” she retorted.

  “So ye agree that I be handsome?” he teased.

  “Nay! I never said that, I won’t ever say that about ye!” She might well think it, but she’d never admit it aloud.

  “But ye do no’ deny it?”

  “Deny what?”

  “That ye find me handsome?”

  She growled at him. “Findley McKenna, ye are the most arrogant, self-centred, egotistical, illogical, foolish man I’ve ever kent in me life!”

  “But ye do no’ deny my handsomeness?”

  Forgetting they were tethered together, she shot to her feet in an attempt to get away from him, but she was yanked backward. Pulled into Findley’s chest, she gasped when his hand wrapped around her waist. He wouldn’t relinquish his hold on her.

  His hot breath brushed over her ear as he whispered to her. “I think yer beautiful,” He nibbled her earlobe and could not deny the satisfaction he felt when she gasped and sank into his chest.

  She could not allow her attraction to Findley to interfere with her plans. It was much easier on her heart when he was angry with her. Moments like these, when he was being sweet and horribly romantic, made her forget her mission and who she was.

  “I demand that ye stop,” she whispered as she offered him more of her neck.

  He nuzzled her neck and in between soft warm kisses that sent jolts of excitement coursing through her body, he said, “Nay. I like the way your breath hitches when I kiss ye.”

  She damned her body and heart for responding so eagerly. I need to keep me wits about me! The only time she felt in control of her good senses was when she thought of her sons. Maggy willed her mind in that direction and an image of Ian popped into her mind.

  Gathering her strength and resolve, she twisted out of his grasp. “Findley, I said nay!”

  She was determined not to allow him to dissuade her or distract her. “Do no’ kiss me again.”
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  The anger in her eyes was like a splash of cold water on his lustful thoughts. Why must she deny her feelings for him? Findley decided that one way or another he’d work all of her secrets out of her. Believing anything was possible and they could overcome whatever obstacles, real or imagined, he took a deep breath and chose his words carefully.

  “Ye canna deny how ye feel when I touch ye Maggy.”

  Anger simmered in her eyes. “Do no’ tell me how I feel.”

  “Give me the key,” he demanded quietly.

  “I dunna have a key.”

  Her fingers clutched at her skirts and Findley knew the key was hidden somewhere among them. Though he was half tempted to wrestle her to the ground, he would not be riffling through her skirts unless she were to invite him to do so.

  “Yer an exasperatin’ woman! Ye shackle yerself to me, forcin’ me to drag ye to Aberdeen! Ye trust me enough to get yer Ian back, but ye’ll no trust me with yer secrets!” he was yelling at her and didn’t care at all if he was about to hurt her feelings. “Is this the kind of treatment ye inflicted on yer first husband? Did ye drive him mad as well? Did ye make him beg fer yer affections?” he demanded, dangling the shackles in front of her face again.

  Maggy’s hand flew up before she could stop and landed a hard smack against his face. She felt instantly guilty but was too furious to apologize. Findley had no idea what kind of marriage she had suffered with Gawter. He couldn’t have known for she had refused to share any of her past with him. But that fact did not stop her from being hurt by his words.

  In truth, it had been the other way around. It had been Maggy who begged for her husband’s attention, at least in the beginning. After so many years of begging and pleading with him, she finally realized Gawter would never look at her as anything more than the woman who bore his legitimate heir. Gawter would never love her. He barely acknowledged her existence and he found his comforts in the arms and the heart of another woman.

  “Do no’ speak to me again, Findley, of things you ken nothin’ about! I’d no’ marry ye now if ye were the last man on the face of this earth!” She choked back stinging tears.

  His cheek stung, as did his pride. “As you wish, Maggy!” he bellowed before taking a deep breath and lowering his voice. “Ye may keep yer damned secrets. I formally withdraw my earlier proposal. Ye can do as ye wish. Once we get Ian back, ye can go yer own way and I’ll go mine.”

  The thought of never seeing him again clawed at her heart and made her stomach churn with regret and sadness. Silently she cursed and damned fate, her dead husband, her parents and everything else that had brought her to this point in her life.

  She looked into Findley’s eyes and saw his torment. Oh, how she wished she could take the pain away from his heart by giving him hers. But it was not meant to be, no matter how much she wished and prayed for it to be different. Findley shook his head at her. He picked up the full water bladders and led her back to the camp.

  Maggy walked behind him, not wanting him to see the tears that fell down her cheeks. Through no fault of her own, any freedom to choose her own way, her own destiny, had been ripped from her grasp ten years ago. Lies, greed, and betrayals by people she’d never even met had led her to this point in her life. Maggy’s heart ached, leaving her feeling empty and desperate.

  Those same lies, treacheries, infidelities, and greed seemed to chart her life’s course. Wiping tears from her eyes, she knew there wasn’t a thing she could do about any of it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After the argument with Maggy, Findley set a gruelling pace. He refused to stop for more than an hour or two at a time and ignored everyone’s grievances. They reached Dundee in the very early morning hours. They clopped quietly through the streets shrouded in dense fog, unable to see more than a few feet in front of them.

  They obtained rooms at the Crooked Arms Inn near the centre of the town. The inn was full and the only rooms available were on separate floors. Apparently many people were travelling this time of year, finishing up business or visiting with family before winter set in.

  The men and boys would stay on the second floor while Maggy and Findley took a room on the third. ’Twas habit now, each person knowing with whom they’d be sharing a room.

  Maggy and Findley collapsed into the small bed after washing off the road grime and dirt. They hadn’t said a word to each other in two days. Their stern silence had cast a cloud over the rest of their group but neither appeared to care.

  They had fallen asleep lying on their backs, each lost in lonely heartbreak. Maggy wanted to apologize and confess everything but she held back. Soon enough, when they reached her brother’s home, the truth would begin to unravel. Or at least parts of it. One of her secrets, the biggest of them all, were known only to two living beings; Maggy and one other. That secret, she was sure, would remain hidden for eternity.

  Findley wanted to apologize as well, for being so stubborn and pig-headed. As he lay in the dark listening to Maggy’s steady breathing, he wanted nothing more than to pull her to his chest and tell her how sorry he was for pushing her too hard. The secrets she held must be large and serious if she felt the need to suffer with them alone and to sacrifice any potential happiness the two of them could find together.

  He drifted off to sleep trying to figure out a way to express his regret and his feelings for her. He knew the only way to overcome the barrier between them was to know what these secrets were that she clung to with such vengeance. If he could learn the truth then he could develop a plan to defeat it. He fell asleep holding to the hope that nothing was insurmountable.

  ~~~

  Findley woke to a most pleasant feeling. Maggy had snuggled into him, her head resting on his chest, her free hand on his stomach and her leg tossed over his. Her long auburn tresses were splayed across the pillow and bit of it covered her face. She was beautiful, asleep or awake, happy or angry, it mattered not; her beauty oftentimes took his breath away.

  He held his breath, not wanting to disturb her or the wonderful sensation of having her so close. This is where ye belong, lass, he thought contentedly, here, with me, like this. Och! How I wish I could bring this kind of peace to ye, durin’ yer wakin’ hours. I wish ye’d believe in me enough to tell me what secrets ye hold.

  Unable to resist the urge, he carefully brushed the strands of hair away from her face. She snuggled in closer and let out a most contented sigh.

  While he lay there wishing that she would find contentment with him in other ways than sleeping, a light knock came to the door. A moment later he could hear Wee William’s voice from the other side.

  “Findley?” he whispered through the door.

  Maggy stirred again and hugged him tighter. He wished they weren’t shackled together so that he might allow her more time to sleep. He knew she was exhausted, worn and probably wanting a bath. As his mind wandered to mayhap being forced to share a bath with her, the shackles suddenly seemed more a blessing than a curse, Wee William knocked again.

  Findley gently nudged Maggy’s shoulder. “Lass, we need to wake now. I need to speak to Wee William.”

  Maggy mumbled something about damning Wee William to Hades if he didn’t go away. Findley chuckled and thought about searching for the key. Mayhap he could unlock the shackles, talk to Wee William for a moment, and then quietly come back to the bed. The image made him want to remain shackled to the lovely Maggy for a little while longer.

  “Findley!” Wee William spoke a little louder. “Ye need to wake now! ’Tis important!”

  The seriousness in Wee William’s voice caused them both to bolt upright. Maggy wiped sleep from her eyes as Findley climbed over her and headed for the door. One would think that after nearly a week of being shackled together, he would remember the shackles. As he stepped away from the bed, he pulled Maggy off it and she landed with a thud on the cold floor.

  Irritated with his forgetfulness, she let out a heavy sigh as he mumbled an apology and pulled her to her feet. To
gether they walked to the door to let Wee William in.

  Worry was imprinted on his face. He ducked into the room and shut the door behind him. “Findley,” he began before stopping himself. He looked down at the shackles and shook his head. “When are the two of ye goin’ to quit this nonsense?”

  Maggy pursed her lips together and stood taller. “’Tisn’t nonsense, Wee William!”

  He shook his head and looked at the two of them. “Yer both fools.” he told them. He made no attempt to hide his disgust.

  “I’m sure ye didna wake us to insult us, William. What be the matter?” Findley asked, choosing to ignore his friend’s insults.

  Wee William looked at Maggy before turning to Findley. Seeing there was no way around having a private conversation with Findley at the moment, he began. “There are Buchannan men about. Richard saw them below stairs a few minutes ago. Three of them.”

  Without thinking, Maggy stepped closer Findley. With a swoop of his arm, he pushed her to stand behind him. Maggy could feel his muscles grow tense with worry.

  “Where are they now?” Findley asked.

  “Still below stairs. Richard came to tell us and he’s gone back down to keep a close eye on them.”

  Findley thought on the situation for a moment. “I suppose they’re not here alone.”

  “’Tis my worry as well,” Wee William agreed. “We need more men and we’ve no time to purchase anyone’s fealty.”

  Findley understood the gravity of the situation far too well. He could only hope that the Buchannan men that were here were not well trained. It was the only hope he could cling to at the moment.

  Maggy spoke up. “I’ve a brother here, Findley. His home is not far from us. There’s naught he wouldna do fer me.”

  Findley turned to look at her. Her worry was quite evident, but her eyes glistened with hope as well as determination. “Give me the key, Maggy. We’ll go to yer brother and ask fer his help.”

  Maggy’s eyes widened with fear. “Nay!”

  “Maggy, ’tis no trick!” he pleaded with her. “’Tis only yer safety I have in mind. We’ve no time to waste on arguin’!”