She gazed up at him for a moment and realized that she had been wrong. If Finn were taken away, her heart would break. She would never be the same again.
“I agree tae yer terms, M’Laird,” Finn assented. “I will take my punishment like a man.”
“And what if he hangs ye?” Greta asked, her voice trembling.
Finn saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes and was thrilled and despairing all at once because he knew now how she felt about him. But if he were executed, there would be no way to explore their love.
“Then so be it, darlin’,” he replied. It was the hardest thing he had ever said in his life. Then he looked at Laird Mackay. “Tell me what tae do, M’Laird.”
Greta sat a little way away while they talked. At any other time, she would have been enthralled by the rumbling of deep male voices speaking, sometimes shouting, sometimes almost whispering, but not now. Now all she could think about was that she was going to lose Finn, either through imprisonment or death, and she could not stand the thought.
Presently, the discussion stopped; the two men stood up and looked at each other warily for a moment. Then the laird put out his hand, and Finn took it, and they shook on their agreement.
“I do not trust you yet,” Mackay said. “But you are the best hope I have of ridding us of these monsters. Good luck.” He turned to Greta. “I do not like to leave a young lady such as yourself in so much danger. There is always work to be done in the castle, and you would have a roof over your head if you want it.”
“Thank ye, M’Laird,” Greta replied, smiling. “I will consider it.” However, she knew she would not. She wanted to be with Finn, and that was the end of it.
When he had gone, Finn turned to her angrily. “Greta, ye should have taken his offer!” he shouted angrily. “I am doomed. I am either goin’ tae go tae prison or they will hang me. Mackay has offered ye a way out o’ yer situation. Take it.”
“If ye are goin’ tae die,” Greta murmured, “I want tae spend every minute I can wi’ ye while ye are alive.”
Finn’s lips parted, and his eyes grew darker as he looked at her. “Why?” he asked.
“Because…I-I think I love ye,” she replied, her cheeks reddening. “But I have never been in love before, an’ I— ” She broke off and shrugged helplessly.
For a moment he stared at her, then a slow smile spread across Finn’s face. “I don’t care if ye are no’ sure, hen,” he murmured. “All I want tae know is if ye are glad tae be wi’ me.”
“I am,” Greta replied. “Finn, last night I heard ye talkin’ in yer sleep. Ye were talkin’ about yer mother, sayin’ her name over an’ over again. Ye said she died when ye were very young.”
“I don’t know if she did or no’,” he replied sadly. “One minute she was there, an’ the next she was gone.” He sighed and swallowed down some unwelcome tears. “I can still see her lovely face.”
“I lost mine too,” Greta told him, “an’ the pain never leaves ye, does it no’?”
Finn shook his head, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently at first, then he heard her moan and felt her fingers running back through his hair. He sank down with her on the forest floor, their bodies tangled together, then he explored her body all over, cupping her bottom, her breasts, running his hands over the flat plane of her stomach down to her most sensitive spot between her thighs. He could feel her warmth and dampness through her clothes, and it inflamed him even more, making him almost unbearably hard.
“Greta,” he whispered, “ye are drivin’ me mad.”
For an answer, she pulled him closer, grinding her hips against him as she felt his hardness digging into her flesh, hearing him moan with pleasure. She felt a pleasant pulsing, felt herself moisten with desire, then Finn’s mouth descended on her breasts, and her nipples hardened under the onslaught of his tongue and teeth, even through her clothes.
Just as she thought things could not become any better, Greta felt his hand moving up the inside of her thigh, and she drew in a sharp breath, a little unsure of what would happen next.
It was the little gasp that brought Finn to his senses. Greta was a virgin, an innocent, and he was about to take away her maidenhead—a privilege that should belong to her husband. He drew back with a great effort of will, then he closed his eyes and rolled away from her.
Greta, suddenly deprived of the pleasure that she had been anticipating, was baffled. She felt cold, bereft, and angry. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?” she asked anxiously. “Did I hurt ye, Finn?”
He shook his head, covering the evidence of his arousal with his cloak. “I am sorry, Greta,” he said, passing a hand over his eyes. “I should no’ have let that happen.”
“Why not?” Greta asked. She was shaking, and her one desire was to pull him back into her arms again, then begin where they had left off. She had done something wrong, she thought. She must have.
“Because ye will marry someday, an’ ye should be a virgin for yer husband,” he answered gloomily.
“An’ if I never marry?” She looked at him steadily, her eyebrows raised.
Finn stood up and walked a few yards away as if distancing himself from temptation. “I want tae leave ye as I found ye, Greta. Ye are just perfect as ye are, an’ I will no’ be the one who makes ye any different.”
“What if I don’t want tae be perfect?” she asked, but he did not answer.
18