Page 51 of Savage Blooms
“What do you need me for when you have Eileen to show you the old money ropes?”
“Nobody’s said anything about money yet. And I like Eileen. Maybe I even like her a lot. But she’s not you. No one is.”
Nicola looked up at him, eyes soft and shining, and now she was the one who had him feeling tangled up inside. She was his best friend, and they absolutely should not under any circumstances do anything as stupid as hooking up, but he had never in his life felt more grateful for her. A vision of slipping his hand down the waistband of her jeans and showing her just how grateful he was came to him just as easily as that vision of lifting Eileen onto the counter had.
“Found him with his nose in a book, as usual,” Eileen said, striding back into the kitchen with Finley close behind. Finley was dressed for the house today, not the grounds, in a cable-knit green sweater that made him look debonair. Adam caught himself staring at the way it hugged Finley’s pecs, then he dropped his eyes into the salad. He was going insane. He needed to get laid, or go for a long hard run, or discover religion and chastity along with it, anything to help him manage all the unruly, confusing desire inside him. He was so horny he wasn’t even sure exactly who or what it was he wanted, he just knew hewanted, so badly that it ached.
“In my defense, it was a very interesting book,” Finleyreplied. He scrubbed his hands clean in the sink, mindful to avoid the duck.
“Maritime history is interesting?” Eileen scoffed.
“Very, when lighthouse keepers go missing and are never found again. Do you know what happened in the Flannan Isles in 1900?”
Finley filled them all in on what he had learned about the strange incident that had happened off the coast of the Outer Hebrides, a chilling tale that made time pass quicker and reminded Adam of one of his mother’s true-crime podcasts. Finley had a nice voice for storytelling, low and smooth, and he didn’t need to raise it to have everyone in the kitchen hanging on his every word. By the time his story was done, it was time to set the table.
By then, Nicola had begun to laugh along with Adam’s jokes and shoot him the occasional smile, and Eileen was soaring high on the triumph of having successfully not burned the house down in pursuit of dinner, and Finley was grinning at the rise his spooky story had gotten out of all of them.
As they laid out forks and knives in the formal dining room (Eileen insisted the occasion called for it), their cooperation felt dangerously stable, like something that might last past the week, or even past the spring. It felt, Adam realized with a pang in his chest, like they were a family.
When Eileen disappeared to change out of her flour-stained clothes for dinner, Nicola took her leave to put on something more festive as well. This left Adam standingawkwardly with Finley in the kitchen, making a show of measuring the internal temperature of the duck for far longer than was necessary, just so he would have something to do with his hands. Finley examined his nails, which were already scrubbed spotless, and just about the moment Adam was working up the courage to be the one to break the awkward silence, Nicola came back into the room.
She looked as pretty as he had ever seen her, maybe even more so, if that were possible. She wore the one dress she had brought with her to Scotland, a confection of floral ruffles with a short hemline that showed off her creamy thighs. No shoes, no stockings, just little white socks.
Adam stared at her, a damning beat too long, but Finley and Nicola were too busy staring at each other to notice.
“Eileen will be right down,” Nicola said, cheeks dusted with pink. “I’m gonna go sit; see you both in there.”
As she disappeared, Finley and Adam shared a glance. Adam wasn’t sure what exactly that glance meant, but it felt warm and heavy, like a commanding hand settling onto the back of his neck. The look was only broken by Finley reaching around Adam to pluck up a bottle of claret from the counter and stride after Nicola.
Adam, who had always been one for adventure even when it wasn’t wise, squared his shoulders and followed Finley into the dining room.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Finley
The Americans were more than happy to sample the wine while they waited for Eileen to make her entrance at dinner, so Finley met her in the hallway to steal a private moment.
Old habits died hard, and they had been brought up sharing kisses in secret, careful not to rouse the ire of Eileen’s parents. James and Jennifer Kirkfoyle loved Finley desperately, but everyone knew well enough that there was no future for the clan heir and the groundskeeper’s son. Eileen was supposed to marry someone better born, definitely a boy and not a girl, and probably a friend of her mother’s family to bring in more English money to pad the dwindling Kirkfoyle coffers. Those had always been the parameters. A family-approved match had always been a foregone conclusion, even when Eileen and Finley began spending a concerning amount of time together.
Their puppy-dog romance had been discouraged, and then, when they had gotten older and their love had deepened and grown thorns, Eileen’s father had reminded her that it was a selfish dereliction of duty to be running around with the hired help. She needed to marry well, at the very least someone with enough money to shore up Craigmar against bankruptcy and dissolution. Eileen was deep in Finley’s heart by that point, like a sticky burr in a wool sweater, and there was no extracting her. So they had learned to lie. Eileen had made up a story about breaking things off, and they had gotten very good at pretending they barely knew each other in mixed company. Even now, with no one alive to judge them, they still lived separate lives, carried on their respective duties. Often, their lovemaking had a rushed, illicit tinge to it, as though they might be caught out at any moment.
Some days, it was thrilling, an elaborate game of fantasy and fulfillment that would never end. Other days, like today, it only made Finley sad.
“You decided to stick around to eat with us,” Eileen said, stopping a few inches shy of Finley. She was still wearing that tight pencil skirt and the nylons with the line up the back, but she had changed into a silk shirt and let down her hair.
“I’m not going to skip out on a dinner I helped prepare,” Finley said. Eileen was used to getting her way and she was certainly getting that, as far as Adam was concerned. Finley had no illusions that his position with Eileen was becoming more precarious the longer Adam was atCraigmar, and he knew it may be further jeopardized if Eileen’s vision for them all came to fruition. Finley still had his pride, though. He wasn’t going to beg, and he wasn’t going to simper. He was going to conduct himself with decorum. “I’ve got to eat some time.”
“Ah yes,” she said. “Wouldn’t want me to get the wrong idea about you wanting to spend time with me.”
“I saw you yesterday,” Finley said, exasperated.
“So tell me you aren’t jealous.”
“You know I am.”
“Then tell me you forgive me.”
Finley cupped the base of her skull in his hand and rubbed his thumb across Eileen’s lower lip.
