Page 101 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
Someday, with any luck, she would be his. In his arms. In his bed. At his side, until he took his last breath.
They would forge an unbreakable bond, just as Logan and Amelia had.
Someday, very soon.
He led her to his carriage, held the door for her to enter, and instructed Reggie to take the long route back to her townhouse. His driver smiled a sly smile and tipped his cap.
He joined Macie in the coach. Sitting by her side, he held her hand in his, taking in the gentle, wistful expression on her face.
“Logan is certainly a wonderful husband, isn’t he?” she said as his driver cracked the reins and the carriage started its steady rumble over the pavement.
“As devoted as they come,” Finn agreed. “When we were younger, far more foolish men, if ye’d told me Logan MacLain would settle into a contented life of hearth and home, I would’ve scoffed. But now, I see what a lucky man he is.”
“Amelia is fortunate to have entered into marriage with a man who supports her endeavors. That is such a rare quality.”
“He respects Amelia for the woman she is. Logan would not want to change her. Not in any way.”
“Again, a rare quality,” she said. “Amelia’s ladies’ lending library is a vibrant haven for learning and discussion. And hercharitable pursuits are thriving. With all of it, Logan has offered his full-bodied support.”
“If need be, he’d move the moon and stars for her.” Finn considered his own words. He’d described his own feelings for Macie.
Why was it so hard to convey what was in his heart? Blast it, why hadn’t he told her?
The adventure of a lifetime.She’d deemed her description of the research trip to Athens as a bit of an exaggeration. But still, there’d been truth to her words. Seldom would she be offered such an opportunity to utilize her talents and display her artistry.
Bugger it, the very thought of her gallivanting off to Athens with the bloody arrogant professor dug into his gut. With him, or any other man under ninety. But he couldn’t stand in her way. He’d have to let her make up her mind. Only then could he tell her what was in his thoughts. And in his heart.
Leaning closer, Finn brushed a kiss against her lips. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he said, threading his fingers through her hair.
“Oh, you have, have you?” She flashed a teasing little grin. “Funny thing... I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
He turned. Gently, he framed her face in his hands.
“I never want ye to change, Macie.” He drew in a breath, inhaling the subtle aroma of lavender on her skin.
“That is a very good thing. I don’t think I’d even know how.”
“A very good thing, indeed.” He leaned in to kiss her again. “Ye’re bloody perfect... just the way ye are.”
*
In all hisyears, Finn had seldom suffered a sleepless night. Tothe contrary, he’d generally dozed off within moments of his head hitting the pillow. That was, until lovely Macie came into his life.
Between a too-short settee serving as a torturous, make-shift bed, a cat with fish breath breathing against his ear, and the assortment of peculiar snores, cries, and words that broke through the wall between his room and Mrs. Tuttle’s, he’d endured a variety of disturbances. But none of those annoyances compared with the insistent workings of his own mind and body.
He pounded the pillow with his fist and tossed about on the bed for good measure. As Mrs. Tuttle blurted out something about a gent named Arnie, he buried his head under the blankets.
Bloody hell, there was no rest for the weary.
His thoughts raced. Staring up at the ceiling in a pitch-dark room, he hungered for the touch of a woman who was—at least for now—off limits. His sweet fantasies of Macie had eased the need of his body, but he was by no means content. His wanting for her was intense, a deep-seated craving only she could entirely sate.
In the carriage, he’d loved her tenderly. The quiet, shy sounds of her pleasure were like a delicious elixir for his soul. But now, the mere memory of her muffled cry of bliss against his mouth had him hard again. If she were his, she’d be in his arms at the very moment, nestled against his chest as he drank in the satin feel of her skin.
If she were his . . .
He folded his arms behind his head and stared into the darkness. By thunder, he would not go another day without telling her what lay in his heart. He would not go another day without confessing the truth.
He loved her.
